Wednesday, August 29, 2007


CK and Bindu (my friends) gave me a clock radio cd player, a belated birthday gift. I've tuned it to 5 stations which play western music. Just a while back a song was playing by this woman called Martika. I know 3 of her songs. Toy soldiers. Love thy will be done. Martika's kitchen. I used to love the first two songs. recorded them on the vcr and watched over and over again.
I like listening to the radio. Sometimes I feel like it has a much wider memory and coincides with mine often. And then there are times 4 channels play the news and the fifth some stupid song.
And then Don Henley sings Boys of summer and my faith in he utility of radio is restored till the dj starts jabbering like a fool.
I was just trying to upload yet another picture of myself and the blogger photo upload went phut. I think it's in no mood to put any more pictures of me on the blog. I totally understand.

Saturday, August 25, 2007


Everyone suddenly goes offline on saturday night and Sunday morning. It's people like me who keep checking their contact list anyways knowing full well that everyone in different parts of the world is meeting the very people they probably chat with during the week. My friends have gone off to see Hey Baby and don't like Salman Khan so I bowed out. Anshuman is watching 24 season 4. I have already seen it so no option of watching tv now.
Listening to the radio has made me realise that I like a lot more music than I initially thought I did. I tend to be very( found someone online, lone ranger on a saturday night like myself. brb. ranger not replying. LR going for dinne. said ciao. i only ever come across this word on chat. no one says it in real life.) finicky about the music I listen to. I try to keep it as soothing and soulful as possible. Although listening to Wanted( Dead or alive) by Bon Jovi made me realise that I do like a lot of songs by them and Def leppard and Guns and Roses and even some stuff by Aerosmith and Metallica. ( My darling friend with the musical name is online and having maid troubles in bangalore. My other friend who has a picture in which he looks like de Niro is leaving for home in UK)
Some posts are like literary marshlands and when you get one foot out of the mud the other one goes in deeper and you hope that you'll make it to the end however slow or an idea will come like an intelligent monkey and rescue you swinging from a banyan tree saying- wheeeeeee! ( Even I think that's funny) ok No monkey in sight yet...sinking deeper by the second...
I had a dream today in which I saw a friend singing and glowing like an angel. I tried to touch him but he always seemed out of reach. This friend M is seriously ill with cancer in real life. The doctors in India have given up. He may not make it. I did a tarot reading for him because another friend of mine S ( we all went to college together) insisted I do it. So I did and it wasn't good. I hated telling her about it. It was awful to write the words. I hope that I am wrong. I've been wrong before so I wouldn't be surprised if I'm wrong again. Strangely S also dreamt of M last night. A friend called her and said M passed away. My prayers are with him and I hope he will recover. Somehow.
Everyone has gone offline. It sounds so ominous...and eerie as if all the lights just went out. I should leave too. Ciao.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Hunger, cold and Hamam Zait

I am so hungry and cold I could die. Aaaaachhhhooo! I had some maggi for lunch and then munched on salted cashew nuts with ginger tea which was all very well for 6 'O clock. but it's 9:20pm now. I spent 40 minutes taking a bath as compared to my normal 10. I have started doing this thing for my hair called Hamam Zait. Essentially it means bath oil. My throat is hurting a little bit and I am not sure if it's hunger or cold. So you have to shampoo your hair, then put conditioner and then put this cream and massage it in. Then you have to let it soak in for 10 minutes if you cover your head with a hot towel or for 20 minutes minus the hot towel. I had the brilliant idea of soaking in the tub for 20 minutes and then washing my hair for the final time. I turned into a prune at the end of it and it didn't help that Anshuman was banging the door demanding use of the bathroom. I must have checked the watch for about 5 times waiting to get out of the water which was slowly turning cold. I took an extra hot shower and have been sneezing at regular intervals since then, although my hair feels and smells good. The question is- Is it really worth it to go to all this trouble to make your hair last a few years longer than it normally would? More importantly when is the take out guy going to ring the damn doorbell? I am going to die in the next three minutes if some food doesn't travel down my food pipe.
The radio is playing some disco music which I know has been copied by some hindi film music director in all probability Bappi Lahiri. By the way the priginal music is playing not the Bappi da version. I could listen to Dire Straits yet again but I have a feeling Mark Knopfler is frankly quite sick of performing the same song over and over again for me. No the take out guy is not here. I could be working but I'm not because I cannot work when I'm hungry plus when I still have a couple of hours to do it a little later anyway.
He's here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Palak Paneer and Rotis I ate in record time I'm sure. I'm happy now and I need to get to work.

the painting i made

i finally took a picture of the painting I made at that gallery in Dubai. I forgot the name. Man! the number of things I manage to forget is not funny. It's like everything goes into the spam folder and gets deleted on a monthly basis.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Profile foto

I've been trying to change it for some time and it just won't. It's eerie. It's like it just doesn't want to go away and keeps staring back at me like it's looking through layers of time reminding me that I am still the same in so many places. Eerie I tell you. I'm not the same. I want the photo to change too. But it won't. It just won't. It will stare at me like it knows something I don't. It probably knows the future just like my new photo will know it ten years from now.

Simply generally

I want to write something today because I'm sick of seeing my pictures. I don't know what I was thinking when I put up three identical ones. I could take them off but I am not going to make the effort of deleting the posts. So I'm going to try something new. I will write exactly what comes into my head.

Dire Straits is my favourite band these days. I have been listening to the album Brothers in arms ( just logged into yahoomail. I keep forgetting my new password...takes me a second to recall) I love Mark Knopfler's voice. It's like a soft caress that falls like petals on my palms. ( Yahoomail is full of forwarded mail from friend. Will do time pass and tell you about it so you can do timepass as well) I especially like the song Brothers in arms because it ( Anshuman called and asked me to google and check who sang the song Mast Mast in Guru so will do that. There is a hollywood kung fu type movie called Guru I stumbled upon on and the .org doesn't have credits. I don't wanna do this any more. Trying musicindiaonline now. Pop up flashed open saying Do you want to miss your chance of staying and working in USA. Bingo! A.R. Rahman and Chinmayee sang the song Tere bina same as mast mast. Phew! Anshuman tells me he and his friend were confused about who sang the song so...) has words like baptisms of fire and Now the sun's gone to hell and it makes me wonderfully meloncholy. Another song I really love from the album is Why worry. I always get the image of twinkling stars when I listen to this song. All through my college life I wrote over and over again on all sorts of surfaces These things have always been the same.

It's 9:50 in the morning and normally I am asleep at this time but I had a vivid dream in the morning which woke me up. The radio is playing Eye of the tiger. Still playing. I am clearly out of words but I refuse to give up because this post has to be long enough to fill the page so I don't have to see the pics. News happening now. Eagles are set to release a new album and Gwen Stefani promises not to wear revealing costumes in Malaysia. Some strange song plays. This experiment in writing is falling flat on it's face I think but who cares. That's the thing about blogs. You can write whatever you bloody well feel like and people can stop reading whenever they bloody well feel like. If you're still sticking with me give yourself a badge for patience because even I have no clue where this is going and when it's going to end.

I think it just did.

Saturday, August 18, 2007


Do you see me like I see you
through the mirrors...


I flutter behind you so many times...
every second... making you smile
for no reason


I will wait with my eyes of stone...
for you to return...
through the magical doors of the evening...
into the living room of night

Saturday, August 11, 2007

It should rain

And then there are days when it should rain...
when you should be 7 and walk deliberately slow
from the bus stop...
get wet in the rain...
let it be drops of water instead of words...
let it rain

Friday, August 10, 2007

Here's to winners and losers

and winners who know how to lose. So I saw Chak de and really enjoyed it. The feeling of being in a team is unique and of winning even better. Even when I watch Tobey Maguire winning a horse race or Iqbal doing a chakravyuh or an all girls team winning the world cup it makes me clap with joy and I'm ever so happy.
What I didn't know was that I was just being set up for real life disappointment. I am a really sore loser. I think I already said that a few posts ago. I cry and cry and cry and indulge is self pity all the while telling everyone what a good sport I am and how it's no big deal that I didn't get what I had been working for and waiting for. So today I cried a little bit which is better than my usual bawling. I indulged in self pity for a while. Why isn't anything good happening to me? Why do good things only seem to happen to other people? Am I a good enough writer, poet, painter, film maker, wife, potential mother, dog owner, daughter, sister, daughter in law, sister in law and any other roles I may have forgotten. I kick myself and I feel like there's no place good to go from here.
Am I making a big deal out of everything? Ours is but to do and His is to give and He is ever so selective in what he gives us. I want to be a good loser since I am clearly not winning anything today. So I will try to forget about my disappointment and gear myself up to do it all over again and this time be better. That's what I was told to do. But for some time I just want to pay respect to tears because on the journey towards the sun they are like the wings of Icarus which melt and fall to the earth and the through the fire in one's heart the Phoenix rises defying death.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

New look

So I went to this store called Zara yesterday to get a birthday gift for a friend. It is an expensive store and has some beautiful dresses. For some reason I have not realised yet that I am too fat and too old to be wearing dresses. I just love spending time in the changing room. I get out of one dress and get into another one and then get stuck in another one and then struggle to get out of it and end up huffing and puffing looking through my dark glasses which have slid in front of my eyes from the top of my head. I promise myself I will try no more and then I come across another dress and then another one and I walk into the changing room again getting dirty looks from the sullen faced attendant. I change again and again till I finally get out with one final effort I decide I've just wasted an hour getting in and out of clothes that look pretty but don't fit.

So I went to the foodcourt and had really bad chinese which tasted like absolutely nothing.
And then I walked into The Body Shop and began buying some make up and before I knew it I had bought quite a lot of it. I was smitten. I couldn't stop. I bought beautiful bottles full of mysterious promises. Went to my friend's place all made up and felt really good complete with silver jewellery I recently polished.

When we left as we waited for the taxi I asked Anshuman- ' How do I look?'
'Nice' He said. ' Is it different?' I asked. 'No you look the same' He replied
So today I changed all my passwords and the look of my blog. Enjoy the new look!

Monday, August 06, 2007


and then there are days that begin beautifully with two kisses on the cheek and a ' Have a nice day' and then two hours of sleep during which you dream of poodles and other breeds of only recognize French Bulldogs and poodles and the rest are a kind of blur that only dreams can achieve. You finally get up and sit in bed for a while thinking about film stars and musing over questions like ' Does Shah Rukh Khan really believe that he is a king?' You get out of bed and smile at the way your new calf length pajamas feel against the stubble on your legs. You thank God for cotton and other mercies.

You brush your teeth with extra vigour because this day has promise. You make the extra effort of reaching in the inner surfaces of some teeth and a fulfilled cavity. You love the taste of the 100% Indian Red Dabur toothpaste and check your teeth. It reminds you of a friend who reminded you recently that you were called Dracula in college due to the two protruding teeth in front. You smile. You like the idea of being a vampire. Never having to die. You smile.

You go to the kitchen and take out the dog's food. You put on the tea. You straighten up the living room. You go back to the kitchen. Water is boiling. You put milk. Lots of it. You switch on the computer and leave it to warm up. You go back to the kitchen. The water and milk hasn't boiled over like it does everyday. You smile. This day has promise. You put in the tea. You swish the tea around till it's the right colour. You put in your password on the computer. You go back to the kitchen. You take the tea in an Archies mug which says happy birthday. A gift from a close friend.

You sit down in front of the laptop and put on Dire straits and get online. You take a sip of the tea. It's perfect. You begin to dance sitting on your chair. You're happy. Truly happy. Then you chat with a friend about inane stuff. You finally get to work. You open the relevant word file. You think about the second draft of a script which does not deserve a second draft. You remember you had a brilliant idea last night but now you're blank. So you concentrate hard on Dire straits instead. You check your blog. No new comments. You instinctively click on blogger. You begin writing and before you know it the tea is finished and so is the new post.

Friday, August 03, 2007

some small stuff

a. Orkut is banned in UAE. Apparently it has a community called Dubai sex and the government banned it. Apparently it had 200 members. All sorts of porn and Hi5 type sites are already banned. Facebook is not banned although it also has a community called Dubai sex. If you're working in Dubai Media city you can access all sites. Nothing is banned there. The point? Those of you who have been sending me messages on orkut please e mail me instead.

b. Anshuman woke me up yesterday at a time that I am usually dancing or flying in my dreams. The tea strainer had gone missing. I woke up instantly knowing that like most people Anshuman cannot function without his morning cup of tea. I got up and looked everywhere including under the washing machine in the kitchen. I apologised and he said he was already having tea. So I called for a new strainer. He left. The strainer came. It's three times as big as my usual one. I thought may be I could use it to strain juice but I never make juice. I kept wondering where could the strainer have gone. I thought may be the guy who comes to work at our place took it but then couldn't believe that he would steal an old strainer with tea stuck in it's holes on the sides. ( By the way in order to clean yoyur strainer of chai bits you should burn it on the gas. It may smell for a while but it will get cleaned. Mom said.) Finally I looked in the spoons drawer one last time and found the strainer under the big ladle I use for tadka. I ended up feeling so guilty for doubting that my man Friday had stolen it. Awful.

c. I love 300 the movie. I am unable to decide why. The hero Leonidas speaks with a slight lisp and yet it sounds so good. I love it when he screams things like - Spartans! Tonight we dine in hell! Many times I scream the same thing when there's nothing for dinner. I love the dark and saturated colours of the visuals. I love the way the hero defends his wife. Most of all I find the character of Xerexes really amazing. His towering presence and the homosexual overtones and deep voice. I think it's strange that I enjoy seeing men in briefs and capes killing mercilessly...but I do.

d. Most shops in Sharjah do not sell bras without padding. The only reason I can think of is that Arab woman are small breasted and need structural help. Considering they are covered from head to toe in an abaya they seem to have expensive and sexy taste in their innerwear. There are all sorts of thongs, bras, leotards and silk lingerie available... and all the while women covered in black browse with glee.

e. My work table looks like a bomb blast with three computers and all sorts of other assorted stuff and I'm really hungry. I will eat then clean then may be draw something....may be

Wednesday, August 01, 2007


Cricket and I have had a long, uncomfortable and interesting history. It has been in my life ever since the time I have had a man sitting next to me beginning with my father. I have wanted to write about it for a long time but I always felt that I would be biased and negative. So I've decided to tell you a little bit about the good things about cricket which ofcourse are few and far between but there nevertheless.

The very first memory I have is when we had a black and white tv and my father would sit in front of it and my mother and I would give him company. At this point I think I was too young to have had any real opinion. When my father shouted in excitement- 'Chakka!!!' I would happily clap along with him bringing the house down banging his palms against one another. I am yet to meet someone who can clap louder than my father or for that matter laugh louder and more openly than him. He clearly enjoys his happiness and cricket is a big part of it.

So let's talk about Pakistan. Yes obviously we want them to lose but what about Imran Khan. I still remember the slow motion shots of him taking a run up and his beautiful hair bouncing up and down. It almost made me wish he would get a wicket even when he was bowling against India.

In any case I have seen that whenever I show any real interest in a cricket match India loses. As a matter of fact if I root for any person or team they lose. If I make a bet on a sport I lose. If I play cards I lose. If I play scrabble I lose. If I play pictionary I lose. If I play tabboo ( this new game I've recently discovered) I lose. I always win at Ludo. I used to insist Anshuman play with me so I could win and be happy. He actually did play for some time till we both got bored of it and switched to playing rummy. I did win at rummy sometimes. I think I used to keep playing till I won. It made for long nights but finally I found happiness in winning and Anshuman relief in finally having lost.

So let's get back to cricket. One day a friend of mine told me that someone in the neighbourhood had got a colour tv. I was so excited that I couldn't hold myself. We ran to that house which was on the ground floor fortunately. We hung from the veranda wall and looked into the living room with the beautiful colour tv. Naturally there was a cricket match on. For a long time I hung from that wall with my feet dangling below and enjoyed the match with the green grass and colourful audience. It was lovely.

Then there was the time India won the world cup. Ravi Shastri won an Audi and the whole team sat in the car and roamed around the cricket ground. I remember feeling very happy. Unfortunately India has not repeated that feat. I hate to admit there have been times when I have sat in front of the tv hoping India would win and they lose and I feel cheated and it makes me wonder if it's me or them.

Earlier people loved cricket just as much as today but now when I look at the tv screen and go through the pre match and the mid match and the post match analysis. It makes me bonkers. Earlier I can hardly remember who were the commentators or for that matter who the umpire was. Ok I do remember Dicky Bird but that's just because he has a funny name.

Anyway I think nowadays the match has become more of a power point presentation when all that matters finally is whether the 11 idiots on our side can get the 11 idiots on their side out or not. Then there is the cricket technology no that is not typo it is not just technique which is totally another ball game but the technology. The stupid banners which come on in between selling cell phones and some little animated people come and dance when someone goes out. I remember one really nice animation of a duck walking along a player when he got out on Zero. Now that used to be fun.

Someone please tell the commentators to stop talking about the weather. It's like they REALLY have nothing better to talk about. I can actually empathise with Harsha Bhogle's daily struggle formulating the same question in 50 different ways so that Gawaskar and Shastri can sound intelligent about the freaking weather.

That's it I'm too pissed now. Even writing about it pisses me off. I started out with all good intentions and look where I am now.

So I'll give it another shot.

Andrew Flintoff.

I forgive cricket for him.