Sleepless in Song

It is long past the
Forsaken hour of midnight,
I lie against my pillows
As sleep eludes my eyes.
I read aloud thy verses and
The walls my voices mime.
I wait restless for thee
To share my solitude tonight.
Your footsteps sound against
The glacial stones outside
An ethereal being now stands
At my chamber doors open wide.
Is it sleep or intoxication
That obscures my sight?
I peer at thy unearthly presence
While against my will I fight.
My hands stretched out, long to
Hold thee in their own right,
But instead I am falling, falling back
Into a dreamy ravine.

What some people think I am...

It is Tuesday evening and I am still my Client's office for discussing a project we intend to do for them. Everything was wrapped up by the afternoon, however, it is the documentation that is taking so long. While I wait, I thought I should share something with my virtual world.

Here are the top five things that people tell/ask me regarding my nativity. Listing them in reverse of order of hilarity:

No. 5
"You look like a south Indian." That is what soooo many people have told me.

No. 4
"You are Christian, G, is it not?" I wonder how people come to that conclusion just from a person's appearance. Blah!

N0. 3
This was my masseuse asked me while she massaged my back. "You are a Goan, are you not?"

No. 2
"Are you Madrasi?" That is the question that my Professor always flicked at me in spite of reminding him several times that I belong to the same region as he.

Now for the gem of all and this one is also my favourite.

No. 1
"G, you are Sri Lankan." That is not even a question but an affirmative statement from the same gentleman who asked me if I was Madrasi.

Ohh good. Everything wrapped up. It is time to leave. This meeting is over for good.
Leaving for Chennai tomorrow.

A Letter for *****

This was originally supposed to be an email for a friend, but then I changed my mind because I didn't want to be so explicit to a man and so it finds its place here. I hope he would visit my page to read this.

Dearest *****,

Remember that some time back you asked me to be straightforward with you. I never thought I would have to put it so explicitly to any man, but there is this thing that I think I should tell you. It's about why women are the way they are. Why do they seem so be such an entangled mass of thoughts that a man could very easily lose himself in there. He is just lost in some women but then he also finds himself when he is lost in thoughts for that one woman. You will come across a number of women who will mesmerize you, flabbergast you, disgust you, love you, hate you, make you come across a zillions emotions you never knew you had the capacity to feel. That is the power we hold, though we are all females of the same species, we don't have much in common.

There are a number to things we do because it feels good, it feels right. Do not go around pushing a woman for reason about why she feels the way she feels unless it is physics or any other scientific subject. You will need to have a lot of patience with her. Let her take her time when she is arguing but never leave her in the middle of it.

When we feel strongly about someone, we hesitate to admit it, even to ourselves. We know that post admission it becomes difficult to move on especially when the feelings are not reciprocated. When we ask a question, there is no right answer or wrong answer but the answer that we want to hear and it will not be difficult figuring out what we want to hear. We love to hear someone speak what we think. So, may be once in a while you can let go off you staunch stance and take our side. Also, when we ask a question, we do not like having a no for an answer, unless that is what we are expecting, but then once we have it, we feel disappointed for a moment. Always avoid answering in ‘hmm’ too much. It makes us wonder if it is a yes or a no. Please save us the trouble.

It is also very easy to bring a cheer on our faces or make us feel truly happy. A genuine compliment, a smiling "Good Morning", a flower, a good movie or book, a lovely walk or a talk, a nicely brewed cup of coffee or ale, a refreshing breeze, the smell of wet earth, a good shop, fresh grocery, absolutely anything could make our day but the catch is, you'll need to mix and match, find what goes with who. That is where you will need to use the grey cells in your head.

We take a hell lot time when we have to get dressed for a special occasion, but you cannot blame us, we like being complimented and feeling good about ourselves. We have a penchant for sweet, romantic, emotional flicks, after all that is what we wanted to be seeing in one of you. We all love to shop and spend hours at it. When you find one your good friends downcast, take her shopping, she will be all fixed up in a jiffy. However, a word of caution, the whole thing could backfire if she does not find what she is looking for.

Some of us might remain as stagnant as a pond while some of us might be a gurgling stream, but then all of us share the same passion, the same nameless mysterious entity, that you call ‘complicated’ which makes each one of us who we are.

We have tricks that will outlast a lifetime. You will never get bored with us. Every day is new adventure, because, even after spending a lifetime with us, you will find yourself being surprised on more than just one occasion.

Though I have not more 24 years of experience in this field, but then there might a thing or two that I should know.

“Patience is virtue” was never truer than when you are with us.

Eventually, it is this virtue that will lead you to her who will make you experience what we truly stand for.

Love,
G

A Tale Waiting to Unfold

The song might be pretty relevant to the post below. It is another one of the songs in my life which weaves a tale of its own spanning ages and I mean this literally.

Thanks to Chantal Kreviazuk and John Denver for the song.

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

I'm ...

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

And I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

But I'm leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)

Two Weeks Ago…was when it all happened!

It’s been an unusually long amount of time since I did a crib-post. Well, I have been venting out myself so often that I have decided to reserve this place for more sacred topics! So, that brings me to the current topic and no I am not cribbing tonight.

Something really interesting happened last week. After having slogged for almost 11 months in the profession of a BD executive, I got to do what they really ought to do. I got to meet the Clients in person and sell myself (all you guys, relax your grey cells, no pun intended here.) and it was to be not just one Client but three of them across two metros. Yes! I was on official trip to Bombay and Delhi for almost 10 days. Amazing, is it not? Actually, it is my equivalent of being on an all expenses paid trip except that one has a baby to babysit. So, what does one do in this case? Very easy, put the baby to bed, and all the remaining time is yours! However, the trick is how one goes about that as it is one’s profession after all and one is there on the trip just for that. That was really made extremely convenient by one’s manager A who had to prove to his boss that he is providing this executive with enough exposure to the Client and in putting up the entire trip, he considered letting me have the extra work-free days. Yippie and I am definitely not complaining.

Rewind to a day before the trip starts.

Time - 14:00 Hrs

A’s Boss: What is your name?

G: It is G Sir.

A’s Boss: Could you help me with this please?

G: Sure Sir, may I have a look at it.

A’s Boss: Hmm.

G: Oh, it’s your daughter’s history project! Which class is she in, Sir? (Why me?)

A’s Boss: She is in 10^th. If you need any help you get in touch with her.

G: Sure Sir. (I’ll take help from a 15 year old to do her history homework!:( )

A’s Boss: And make sure you finish this off before you leave on your business trip.

Boss struts off.

I slog on and on while aware of the other commitments of the day. I still have some pending work to finish off and A checks on me every now and then if I am free. Eventually he gives up and tells me he’ll do my work as well but I should make sure that I do the homework. Wow, I love him. Plus, I have to also meet Dad for dinner.

Around 20:00 Hrs

A’s Boss: How are things?

G: Still going Sir, should take some more time.

A’s Boss: It’s alright, take your time. Work on it during you free time and make sure you send it to me within next two days.

There I have my baby.

I meet Dad for dinner at around 20:30 hours, and we have splendid time together. I get back to my place, clean up, pack up and by the time I get into bed it’s already around two hours past midnight. Late, isn’t it?

A few hours later.

I wake up with a start and squint at my wrist watch. It’s 05:45 in the morning. Oh bad! My plane leaves at 7:10 and I have to get ready and get to the airport. So, I get into my business suit while I am still gathering my stuff, run out of my apartments while straightening my clothing, get almost run down by a lorry, get a cab to drop me off to airport in record breaking 15 minutes and I pay the driver 200 bucks for driving me 15 kilometres at breakneck speed so that I don’t miss my debut business trip. I love him too. I meet my manager at the airport and all is well.

Two hours later, I am in Bombay. It shall always be Bombay as it was when I visited it for the first time and Ma and Pa tell me, it was the place where I was conceived.

Next two days are spent in meeting up with the Clients and I go to see off my manager at the airport who decides to share some words of wisdom with me, “G, try not getting too adventurous here in the evening” while I try maintain a totally innocent look on my face and totally failing at it. And yeah, Bombay traffic sucks big time but nightlife, malls, eateries, shopping streets and what not, make up for it. I meet the really old time friend I am staying with on the second day and it’s amazing. The no-man’s-woman is now R-man’s-woman. I love you Cat. Weird, I think to myself though it is all a jubilant feeling for me!

The following day, I hang up on the Boss because I thought it was some random call from some random number. They do a lot these days. He informs me of his identity through an SMS. I finish off the history homework for the Boss’s kid well within the schedule and go on a shopping spree to Linking Road with S and get back at around midnight and totally exhausted. We fall asleep talking to each other. The following evening I leave for Delhi and which is an entirely different tale, or a fairytale maybe.

More Nostalgia

In this post, I introduce some lyrics that I came across a long time back when I did not care to find out who their progenitor was. I was, I guess, then lost in a world that was not much different from what most of us find in our dreams, and now I am wide awake, I see things clearly, I am conscious and curious of things around me. It also reminds me of what my auricle or ventricle (or maybe it was whole of my heart) told me that I could dream all I want but while I lay there snoozing on my own, I was surely going to miss out on a lot of things in the real world.

The following lyrics were conceived by the early fourteenth century Persian poet who went by the name Hāfez.

It Felt Love

How

Did the rose

Ever open its heart

And give to this world

All its

Beauty?

It felt the encouragement of light

Against its

Being.

Otherwise,

We all remain

Too

Frightened.

Friends Do Things Like This

Friends do things like this:

Tell which mat their house key is

Hidden under.

Hafiz, jump over, cut through

All the small talk today:

Look beneath the right-hand corner

Of the Kirman behind

The barn

(Where my sweet dog is usually

Sleeping

Don’t worry, she won’t bite)

For you would not believe

The extraordinary view

Of God

From my bedroom

Window.

A song that reminds me of so many things...

As I lie in my bed tonight, some how this song starts playing by itself in my head. It has been ages since I last heard it or thought about it. It has been almost 9 years! And tonight, it suddenly pops out of nowhere bringing back memories of so many things I couldn't hold on to and that many of them were such trivial things and but they did not seem so then. For instance, I had this really cute pen drive that Dad had gifted me (I could never find anything like that again.) I lost it in about a year of using it and I remember how I had cried (I was 21 then.) It's not so long ago if you see.

The song also forces me to think about the other things that I would not mind parting away with and the ones I would find it difficult to give up on but would eventually move on and be all fine, as good as ever actually. Ohh, on a brighter note, the pen drive was of course replaced, though I couldn't get one as cute or sturdy but yes, Dad got me another one, and this time he travelled over a 500km just to bring it to me, just to give it to me himself. Changing my mind, I think this one is much better than the previous one and I still hold on to it like all the other beautiful things and people in my life.

Ohh, and here's the song. It was performed by Emilia then, I am not sure who it really belongs to but I'll credit this to her.

I'm a big big girl

in a big big world

It's not a big big thing if you leave me

but I do do feel that

I too too will miss you much

miss you much...

I can see the first leaf falling

It's all yellow and nice

It's so very cold outside

like the way I'm feeling inside

Outside it's now raining

And tears are falling from my eyes

Why did it have to happen

Why did it all have to end

I have your arms around me ooooh like fire

But when I open my eyes

You're gone...

I'm a big big girl

in a big big world

It's not a big big thing if you leave me

but I do do feel that

I too too will miss you much

miss you much...

Hmmm, Good night. :)

A Poem...

...I wrote it down in such a hurry, I wanted to send this across to him, to tell him a zillion things...to scream at him, with him, but it's still here with me...

I took a walk down the memory lane

Making my way past the yesterday

Washed down by the anxious rain

Keeping me from straying away

The rain gradually dissolved in to the mist

Trying to find shape in my imagination,

Leading me to the one I thought I missed,

Leading me to a precious manifestation.

I pursued the haze as if in trance

Finding my way into emotion true.

What brilliant blend of time and chance,

(I wondered) Had led me to you!

Homed

The roads stretched ahead

Into thousands of winding miles

And I quietly led myself to venture

Through invisible rooms and aisles.

I knew not where I was being taken to,

For I let the merry breeze be my guide

To the new and the untouched realms,

To the one, in who I must confide.

I longed for the thrill that novelty brought

But alas! How long does novelty last?

“The world is all new”, they say, “until

You have not discovered it fast.”

Or could it be the familiarity that

I craved for, which I found in you?

A safe hide-out for all my thoughts

That shall forever be new.

I wished to get lost yet not lose myself

In your deep and meaningful eyes,

Promising me the delight of adventure

Non-existent under the deep blue skies.

And while I slumbered in your arms

I heard voices from the whispering dome

Waiting for me to decipher them.

Softly they answer, “I am home.”

Love?

It is the topic most widely written on, it is the word most softly whispered about and it is the emotion most desperately desired to be felt. Many people say love is all about sacrifice, about selfless giving but somehow I have never been able to see them eye to eye on the notion. Like all the zillion times before, and again today, I wish somebody could define accurately what it is all about. Why does it capture one’s fascination the way it does and make most of us feel like some starved souls ever hungry for that piece of love? And does pain essentially have to be associated with love. Why did a human being ever come up with its depiction of an arrow brutally piercing a red heart! I never intended to think on those lines but my thoughts themselves seem to carve out a course when this topic creeps up. Yes, it creeps up close stealthily, lodging itself in all those places where one is sure to take notice of it which would then give it the liberty to divulge more about what it is capable of!

What fascinates me even more is how it transcends all barriers! In a country like mine, where marriage is a much rationalised event, where for centuries it has been a ground to breed superior progeny, where the groom and the bride are practically oblivious of each other’s existence until the day they are told that who they are to be spending the rest of their live with, one does not come across existence of a reality from the last century where love did transcend barriers. On the brighter side, thing are changing but on the darker side is it for the good? I don’t intend to spark of a debate and somehow every topic not matter how remotely it is related to love is so debatable.

Now, what I truly intended pen down was that I did come across one such reality that though they do not transcend many big barriers but are no less than a fairytale. Imagine a young man five feet and five inches tall, weighing seventy-six kilograms proposing to a young woman standing five feet nine inches tall and weighing thirty-eight kilograms at the very first meeting! A stark contrast, is it not? Further, the two are extremely ambitious and have ambitions that no matter how much they try will not let them stay together. Call me myopic or what you may, but I shall have never considered this relationship successful if it was narrated to me by someone other than the five feet five inches tall young man, Robert (though old now and a father to two beautiful young ladies). Robert tells me that love is important, but what is even more important is the understanding that he shares with Dorothy. They never left trivial things disrupt their conjugal relationship and that they had taken a vow together to deal with any matter of such consequence within the very period of twenty four hours and never to sleep on it. He further adds with a satisfied smile that their children are the strongest bonds that hold them from drifting apart. A successful relationship is one which matures with the time spent on it, nurturing and tending to it like a well-kept garden. A fruitful twenty-two years later, he lives in Madras with his two princesses while she lives in Bombay and comes home to her family every two weeks. Robert looks at me excitedly when he speaks about her being home this weekend!

I don’t know why I am more satisfied with the thought of love being the consequence of an association rather than the other way round. Like always, this debate will forever go on!

The DRAGON of an Energy Within

As I browsed through some old pictures that I clicked as someone with a new found interest in photography, I came across a picture of a Gothic architectural piece that captured my fascination like it never had before, even stranger was that it had always been there waiting for me to take notice of it. Dragon sculptures have been one of the most exploited features of Gothic architecture and why shouldn’t they be after all they have long been an embodiment of enormous strength and a courage which doesn’t mean absence of fear but the existence of something far more important than fear. They have been featured everywhere from the cathedral tympanums to the gargoyles which drain out water. If that’s not all then there are the stories spun in mythology and folklore about them which span continents and every culture has conceived its own native version.

The first time I came across these fanciful creatures was through the Chinese cartoons where the creatures had long serpentine bodies with large fearsome fire-breathing whiskered heads. There were both benevolent and malevolent dragons and in the particular cartoon show that I remember, a red dragon (malevolent) and a white dragon (benevolent) battle again each other across the skies over a village and towards the end culminating into one to create a richly coloured golden dragon, the sacred protector of the village. I instantly fell in love with the symbolism – synchronising the aggressor and harmonious to bring out the best in oneself. We have our very own native version of the dragon – The Seshnāga, I knew them more as Lord Vishnu’s recliner. I apologise for being blasphemous. Then there is the evil five-hooded serpent, the Kāliyā, who was defeated by a dancing juvenile Krishna. These Indian serpents are designed to look more like Chinese dragons in the Thai or Malay or Indonesian adaptation of the mythology. The dragon territories were then diversified by the Greco-Roman and the Norse mythology. They made such lovely bedtime stories. A same culture seems to have mothered all other culture, it but another diaspora.

Growing up, I came across the Dragonheart – the best dragon movie with the best “dragon-effects” and yes, for a change a male dragon which I realised later on. Later, Harry Potter happened to me which plunged me into this new found world of sorcery laden with every mythical creature encountered in the Greek and Roman mythology. Many thanks to Ms. JK Rowling and the Goblet of Fire. Would it be same without the ruthless Hungarian Horntail of a mother that Potter was to get across? I wish there were as detailed descriptions of the Chinese Fireball, the Common Welsh Green and the Swedish Short-Snout. I wish I could in real life run into some Charlie Weasley who rears dragons in Romania and wish I could have Hagrid’s Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback for a pet.  Finally, I think I should get a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Salamander (note the play of words in the name).

However, the same creatures were cast in my favourite manner by Mr. JRR Tolkien. Though there weren’t many of them, but then Smaug satisfied my palate. Reflections on the power accorded to these gigantic creatures, the fire they breathed was sure to destroy the One-Ring but there being no more of the kind after Smaug, the entire journey to the Mount Doom had to be undertaken, hence, the legend of the Lord of the Rings is born! His creations are a complete epic in themselves. Oh, there was this creature which could come in as a close ancestor to the dragons, the Nazgûl-birds. It’s possible they were once benign dragons fallen to the power of Lord Sauron who turned them into evil just as he did to the Ringwraiths. One must definitely see the last flick, The Return of the King. 

Last night I finished watching the Eragon. It had been on my mind ever since it was released over two years ago and last night was when I finally got through with it. In fact, the tale of Eragon and Saphira inspired me to type down this post. The bond the dragon shares with it’s rider that his death results in the death of the dragon as well and that dragon would  wait forever to hatch from it’s egg if it has to before it finds its rider. It’s the again the hidden power that needs a the guidance of conscious soul. Most importantly, it’s been emphasized in every creation about them that the blood of a dragon has magical properties. Another dragon that I instantly fell in love with was Mushu, the cute little red guardian spirit of Mulan.

Talking about how some people are crazy for dragons, the Welsh national flag features a dragon which goes by the name of Y Ddraig Goch. Just so you know, it is always a red coloured dragon which defeated the white coloured Saxon dragon. And more, there’s a proposal to alter the union flag of Great Britain so as to feature the Welsh Dragon on it. Speculating further on the matter, I think the Scottish Loch Nessie could be a distant relative to the Goch. Speculating further, I feel they are the imaginative descendants of our prehistoric friend the Pterodactyl thought they were discovered only in the late 18^th century and the dragon legends predate the event. “MAYBE”, they were discovered by someone long back and spun into tales which would survive for ages and ages. But we have a big maybe in double quotes! Oh damn, how I love speculating.

Now, when I have typed all that, it’s time for some afterthought. Incidentally, the word dragon derives from the Greek drakōn from Greek derkomai which means “I see clearly”. Does that mean anything further? Why are most of the dragons females? HP has more female dragons mentioned in the books than the male ones. Sephira is again a female dragon! I am back to the same thought stream as when I think why all hurricane names are feminine. Is it because of the power they posses? But hell, men are physically stronger than women. Then, maybe it doesn’t have to deal with physical strength at all. Maybe, it is because it calls for both physical and emotional integrity, an inherently feminine trait, which sanctuaries great power. “With great power there must also come - great responsibility.” A woman when benign is a nurturer and when infuriated she is nothing short of a catastrophe and then, women are more responsible which is a very emotional trait. We in India worship the Goddess Shakti, the active feminine energy. So, all these dragons in all the various cultures speak of something - the immense reservoir of energy that lies hidden in each one of us and which if unchecked could reduced the world to ashes - we need to tap this potential and bring out the compassionate dragons in us, the highest level of personal development. I am already bonding with my Dragon, she is called Gnosiofera.

A Little Love Story

Lady Rosanne Ran into Sir Damien
At the royal regatta in Cayenne.

Strangers, acquaintances, friends, lovers.

A love so red that made the most crimson rose blush.
An affair of the hearts which was also kept hush hush.

Lovers, consort, parents, and grandparents.

31 summers later oblivious again
With their house masse-en
At Cayenne.

55 Fiction

G was bored and lazily browsed through the limp WebPages.

It had been days since she had written something that kept her obsessed until she came across the addictive idea - 55 fiction - a sure something that is going to keep her glued to it for some (maybe long) time.

Yes, my first 55 fiction story!

Attachments of the Trivial Kind

I never knew that an early morning bath would make me this sick! I have been nursing a bad bout of cold for the last three days and it is still as persistent as ever, cannot believe I have my nose and throat blocked in this sweltering weather which could literally fry eggs on the pavement. And now that I have my olfactory avenues are all stuffed and I am oblivious of all the smells and odours around me, I think of the various smells that remind and reminded me of so many things. Each smell weaves a singular story in itself.

How strange it is that the smell from freshly washed hair of every person is so...umm...indescribable. I wish I knew the word that could be used to describe such a fragrance. Though the fragrance of the hair product used makes a huge difference, but a non-fragrant shampoo wouldn’t fail to create a similar. I remember as a child clinging to Ma, my nose buried in her freshly washed wet hair, when she stepped out of the bath. I have found the same smell in the hair of all the men that I have dated; it is so pure - maybe as pure as the smell from the hot soil when it is cooled by the first spell of rain.

Lately I have also come to realise how I get so attached to little things in my life. I remember losing a pendrive way back in my senior year of college, I missed it terribly then and spilled gallons of tears over it! Yeah, tears are like always on the brink of spilling out of my eyes but that was a good pendrive. Same with my cellphone, though I know that I have lost it and it’s not coming back, when I hear the old ringtone ringing I start rummaging my pockets and bag only to let the realisation set in that it’s another goner.

Getting back to smells, I use a certain nails and hands lotion which has this peculiar smell that reminds me Grandma’s pickled mangoes. Curious, is it not? Yet again, there’s this smell of sundried clothes washed in surf excel that remind me of Ma and makes me feel so warm and safe. Ma’s wardrobe smells so pleasantly of it. And Dad still smells of some cologne he used long back though he doesn’t use it any longer, it seems that fragrance has stuck to his personality or maybe it was always the smell of his persona.

Then there are the scary smells, I detested and to this day detest the smell of diesel from the public buses. I have suffered from motion sickness for a long time and this particular odour happens to be single reason to which the cause can be attributed. I also remember being told as child that one could also smells snakes and I thought that I did smell one on some such occasion. I was never the kind who would go chasing after a snake but I do remember giving one particular snaky creature the fright of its life. Rather we both scared the life out of each other and backed away at such awesome speeds! It was on that night I realised that they were as scared of us as we were wary of them.

However, the most heavenly fragrance is the fragrance of love. How one tends to attach oneself to the smells and odours and fragrances of the one person one is in love with. Having been in a romantic relationship for a brief period of my life, I remember how I had become attached to the fragrance that was soaked in his shirt, his skin and I would smell it around me when I was alone. It’s eerie. I always thought it to be his deodorant but only later realised it was more of his sweat than anything else. I never knew the smell of sweat could be so intoxicating, is it not supposed to stink? There have also been a couple of occasions that I have picked up the same fragrances while passing by total strangers and it’s plunged into such nostalgic desires of longing.

But then, it is very human to be human, I am sure. We readily attach ourselves to these really trivial phenomena, and these become permanently etched in our memories like the beautifully stained glass works. Just as easy it is to recall the stories associated with them, as difficult it is to get rid of them. They stay on like the decorative vestiges.

98840***** reinstated...

...as the chief wand to my magical contacts circle.

Yup, trying to make it sound like “Dumbledore reinstated as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot ” and totally failing at it. Never mind!

Now the reason I sound so high spirited - nah, I am not drunk. Drinking and driving is totally against the law. There are so many analogies between driving and writing because both of them could be equally dangerous under intoxication. With the former, you never know what you are going to hit into and with the latter you never know what you are going to hit at. What the beep (nope, this is not exactly a family blog but still no swear words)! Khay, so where was I? Yes, the reason I am so high spirited tonight but I guess it’s not too drunk to have had only a couple of drinks knowing that I have a good stamina, that is what I believe and so do Cat and Newt too! Cat is pathetic with spirits but very entertaining once she is drunk and Newt she is...umm what? I forgot the words, never mind again.

So, back to square one, I am high spirited tonight because I am finally in touch with the part of me that had been separated from me by some sonofabeep. Over a week ago some sonofabeep flicked my cellphone, it was a Navigator! Right to property might have been a fundamental right some time back, but it’s been ages since it got retracted, and right so someone else’s property is definitely not a right! It’s totally wrong! I miss my phone. But I have the right to freedom of speech and expression and I shalt have it!

Anyways, I managed to get to the Vodafone store today before eight, and yes now my cellphone number is all up and functioning and ringing non-stop (Das ist nicht zehr gut)! But still yippie! And it’s my old K350i from college and Dad hates this phone and that is why he got me a Navigator in the first place so I’d stop using K350i. I miss Dad! I miss Navigator!

Errr, now that I have my cellphone number back, he still has not called me up! He has forgotten me. Nobody called me up over the last week when I didn’t have a phone! People could be so callous at times. Gosh! I am still such a hopeless romantic, but no, I am not going to call him up! Maybe tomorrow in the morning, but definitely not tonight when I am all so weird! Pushing the thought aside. Tomorrow, rather in a few hours people across the country will be celebrating Uttarayan. Happy Uttarayan! I wish I was home! And the thought pushes back at me hard, should I call him up? Yes, no, no, no, no, yes why not, no, yes, nooooooo! Fine, don’t call him up! Too many exclamatory marks there I guess! One more there! And lo! One more and more! Khay, I really need to get some sleep now.

Blink...blink...

The Today

Like always I reached my workplace late (we don’t have flexi timings), made it there at 9:10:57 (the time displayed on the fingerprint scanner). Had I made it before 9:05, I would have been considered to have come on time. So, I got late by a bloody 5 minutes and whatever seconds. This is my daily morning routine, take a 21G at 8:30, then a 54 or M49 at 8:40, and try to get to work by 8:55 but that rarely works out as there is a considerable idle (waiting) time in the process, thought I’ve made it to work on time on more than a surprising number of occasions, but somehow punctuality is a difficult tea to drink, or maybe vodka, I find it too bitter to sip, have to tipple the whole of it down my throat. Otherwise, Chennai has a fairly decent city transport service, however, they are all always overflowing with people, carrying thrice their actual capacity I believe or maybe it’s only twice but it’s still more than the rated capacity.

I work with this Business Development Cell and my manager (A) is really cool. A never minds my turning up late everyday. It was to be my first busy day in the last 6 months since I’ve had my first ever full-time job. I was receiving offers for all the product enquiries I had sent over the last week. The work day was all reading mails, replying to them, calling up the suppliers, clarifying and making queries, in short really busy. Also, there was this call I had to make to one of the suppliers. Let’s call this gentleman D. D called me up confirm if I had received their offer which I did. About an hour later, I called up D as there were a few things in the offer I did not understand. D explained me things for a good half hour and by this time my head had gone whizzy and damn, flirt bug had bitten me bad and then there was this moral self in me that said “Darling, try behaving like a professional once” and I reasoned with myself that I am happy being an amateur flirt, don’t want to be a professional flirt so soon. Khay, I can crack PJ’s with myself, I know. Anyways, D had a nice voice and was very courteous. Towards the end of our discussion, D cleared his throat and hesitated when he asked this, “So S (yup, that's me), you are not from Chennai, are you?” I had to muster all my will so that I did not make any cheeky replies. Boy, was that tough? I hung up five minutes later, giggling. And for all you wondering, no, I did not get asked out for lunch or dinner or anything.

Also, there’s this sweet kid (R) who occupies the cubicle next to mine. Though, he’s not really a kid, but he’s a chartered accountant, totally naïve and uncorrupted. So, I call him a kid. When he has the urge to laugh, he has to rush to bathroom to laugh out all loud, which he does quite often. R told in the morning about the Satyam fracas. I was so busy all morning; I could not logon to timesofindia.com which I usually check every hour. However, the Satyam fraud was the biggest story of the day, the confession letter from Mr. Ramalinga Raju, the plummeting share prices, all the speculation, it sure must have been a crazy day for the lot. And then R began speculating on PwC’s collusion in the fraud.

Finally, on my way back to my place, I came across two middle-aged gentlemen debating over Satyam’s market-close share prices and in the night, when I called my little brother to check up on him, he asked me, “Did you learn of the Satyam fraud?” When I answered in affirmative, he enquired, “When?” I replied it must have haven been around eleven then. He said, “Oh, I did not get to know about it until some time later!” Then the usual stuff about his grades that he always tries not to discuss with me thought this I congratulated him on his performance which he again defended saying that it was not good. The guy cannot take either a compliment or a criticism from me, but he’s a good child.

That was today, and now it’s goodnight.

Nostalgia - New Year, Old Memories

Though this might be another post for the series titled Nostalgia but, no dear reader, it’s not digging up old graves. Let one subtly put it as taking a nice light stroll down the memory lane. It doesn’t concern a specific memory or event but rather the whole chain of happenings happening around us that we were too absorbed to take even little notice of or give a thought or two to. I dedicate this post to the music and the adfilms that people from my generation grew up listening to and watching.

Before going to bed on the New Year’s Eve, I had this urge in me to listen to this old number “Someone out there” by Code Red. I am not sure how many people still remember but they were touring this part of the world about 10 years ago, they released a single with Asha Bhonsle and were driving girls crazy with their boyhood. How could we forget the phenomenon that we were so much a part of? Remember the boyband mania that gripped us like bad bouts of flu which would make us get together in groups and swing to the melodies of OTT, Backstreet Boys, The Moffats, Boyzone, A1, Westlife, 911 and so many more and not forgetting the girl bands, Spice Girls, Solid Harmonie, B*Witched, Dixie Chicks, Destiny’s Child, well, until they all split up. How naive were we then!  Though, it’s nice to see groups like PCD still making it big, the new age girl power music. However, now our mature music sense translates into rock and metal bands like “Linkin Park, Avril Lavigne, Pink Floyd, Scorpions, Eagles, etc.” and “Def Lepard, Korn, Iron Maiden, Rammstein, Pantera, etc.” respectively, but I am not complaining. I like my new music so much better, so much more like me – rebellious, gregarious, high-spirited, loud, passionate!

Now what really got me going with this post did not take place until the first morning of 2009 when my dear friend Ghanshu (as we so affectionately call him) decided to im me url’s of old adfilms on youtube. It started with the dusty old advertisement for Hajmola masterji, and making its way to Vicks ki goli lo, khich khich door karo. I was so immersed in the feeling of nostalgia (How I wish there were a word without the root ‘algos’ and instead the Greek root for joy!) by now that I spent the next two hours cleaning off dust and cobwebs that had settled on a section of my memories. It was pure joy watching the ‘Mile sur mera tumhara’ and ‘Purab se surya uga’ (The National Literacy Mission Promotional Film), running across my then favourite Cadbury ad: “Kuch khaas hai hum sabhi mein”; the Mentos, “fresh goes better, fresh goes fresher with mentos fresh and full of life”, “I love you...Rasna” and humara Bajaj, “Buland Bharat ki buland tasveer”. Remember the Titan piano theme, or the catchy Complan song “The skirt can’t you see, is so high above the knee, but I am growing mummy. You play basketball and don’t come when I call, but I am growing mummy. You put doggie up so high, can you please tell me why, but I am growing mummy!” All of it feels so vintage now, like those semi-precious nuggets which adorn the antique shops. It makes me sigh and gaze and smile to myself.

Wow, time is swift, it does race by.