Thursday, August 30, 2012

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

writing

When you know what you want to write about it becomes easy. When I write for the magazine the topics are pre decided and its easy but when I need to write for myself it's a much harder road. Not only is it hard it is winding and goes uphill and downhill at a moment's notice and when I write a thousand words I feel like at the end of the day it's all crap. So I wrote the long project yesterday after the longest time but after writing it I hated it. I've sent it to a friend so that he can give me some objective feedback. The office is good. Home is good. I'm good. I only wish I liked what I write. Sometimes I feel like I really don't have the talent but then again I try to hope that may be there's a little bit hidden somewhere and will come out at some point...

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

hello

It's been a long time since I've been here. What can I say... as always life took over. The eid break just wouldn't end as I spent many an hour in front of the idiot box as husband was away on holiday in Bombay. Old songs used to be so simple,"it's only words and words are all I have to take your heart away." The Bee Gees are crooning away. Actually sometimes they sound like they are shrieking so I've changed the song so Sting comes to the stage to perform. The song is called 'Wrapped around your finger'. I don't remember which album. I do remember the video in which thousands of candles are burning and sting is walking around. The candles always remind me of a sweet memory I have of Anshuman having put candles all over the floor one day before I reached home from work. It was a long time ago but I chesh this wonderful memory. It was before we got married I remember and it was so sweet.

What else can I say. I made the blog private and I feel much better because now only five people can access my blog. Suddenly I had started getting so many hits from weird countries like Latvia. I am so sure I don't know anyone from Latvia. And my blog was the first thing that would pop up when I googled my name. Amazing how google has become a word. Somehow it was time to create a boundry around my thoughts. I cannot share everything with the whole world.

So now I feel secure in the knowledge that my words aren't just going into the ether and being read by random people. There is a sense of control and I like it.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

House party in Dubai

There is a set formula to a party. People show up between 8pm to 10pm aside from the fashionably very late who have been party hopping. People come bearing gifts such as wine and/or flowers. I always forget even when it's a housewarming party. People drink and small groups have conversations ranging in subjects such as old colleagues, most of the time I will run out of polite conversation in about seven minutes on an average at which time I will excuse myself and sit in the bathroom where the music cannot reach. I sit and ponder who I would speak to next. I make a perfect triangle with the toilet paper. I make faces in the mirror. Dab a tissue on my face as my face glistens with the oil factory that is my nose. Finally I take a deep breath, smile and walk out. Invariably I end up apologising to friends I haven't seen for months and say with my hand on my heart,"It's entirely my fault that we haven't met for so long."

In the mean time the smokers are gathered in the balcony along with their drinks. The old stories of old colleagues come out and there is laughter heard many times. I don't know many of the colleagues so I concentrate on my fifth glass of Sprite. I rarely drink but sometimes I realise that I must drink if I am going to have any fun at a party. By now someone or the other has drunk themselves to sleep in the host's bed. The music has been changed to desi numbers from the latest hindi movie and people are on their feet. I have told myself that it is ok to have a beer or else I will literally die or fall asleep on the sofa. I have two beers and join the dancing ladies and gents.

The food is served. There is always excess food and the host offers to make everyone doggy bags and most politely decline. When everyone has been fed the party finally comes to an end and people get into cabs or their cars depending on their state of intoxication and head home to fall into bed. If they're smart they take a panadol and sleep otherwise they take two when they wake up the next morning with an oversized watermelon posing as a head.

Ok seriously I need to be more social.

Thursday, August 09, 2012

Waxing eloquent

So yesterday I went to the beauty salon for my monthly deforestation. It is not a pleasant experience and sometimes I wish I could just go without it but wearing skirts would be come a problem. So I do it not for myself but so as to not offend other people. OK may be I do it a little bit for myself too. I don't mind two women applying hot wax on my arms and legs and then taking it off in one smooth action with a paper strip but I absolutely hate getting my eye brows threaded. I curse the day I got them done for the first time and then throw in getting your mustache removed and it is truly one of the most painful things I go through voluntarily every month. No matter how much you stretch your skin it will still hurt when your hair is being plucked out of your skin. I have incredibly sensitive skin so I end up looking like a monkey's butt after going through the whole process.

Facials are not any less painful. I think I have about a million blackheads and about the same whiteheads on my face and the beautician painfully takes each one out pressing down with steel tongs or something. At the end of the process she will show me the labours of her hard work on a cotton ball where all the extra heads on my nose end up. I'm supposed to say,"Good job" but I feel like saying ," if I don't see them what does it matter and I only came her for the face massage and the shoulder rub." When the ordeal was over the massage seemed way too short but I came out looking better somehow.

Vanity I tell you thy name is pain.

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Papa

As I've grown older I've realised that I'm much like my father in more ways than one. In fact for the longest time I thought I was nothing like him but as the years have gone by and I've come to understand myself better I've realised the indelible effect his presence has had on me. The first thing I received from him is the gift of music. The sheer love of music beginning from the golden oldies by maestros like Shanker Jaikishan and many more. He is a veritable encyclopedia of old hindi music. When I was very very young, may be about five years old we used to live in a small room built on the terrace of the landlord.

Every Sunday the landlord's kids would come up to the huge terrace with their radio. There was this programme called Sangam and Geetmala that would play songs. My mother tells me when I was barely five they played the first few notes of a song and asked the audience to recognise which song it was and I chirped up,"Aayega aayega aane wala" and I was right! So music became a part of my life from an early age. I spent my childhood at my grandmother's home in Muradnagar defence colony in Uttar Pradesh. I was the only child in my maternal grandmother's home. My two uncles one of whom was married did not have any children then. I was thoroughly spoilt by everyone while my parents tried to make ends meet in Ghaziabad. Even there the morning began with the radio. My younger uncle loved to sing. One of my aunts did an MA in music and played the sitar. I inherited my love of music from these people and they are the roots that I grew up on.

Coming back to my father's love for music. There was always music in the car and at home. We had an LP player and then a cassette player and then a twin cassette player on which I copied music from friends' cassettes. My father was not really into English music but he did like Boney M and that was the first ever English band that I heard. Although even today if I play a song like 'Ticket to heaven' by Dire Straits he thoroughly enjoys the melody and the softness of the music. He just has an ear for it.

He retired about a year and a half ago and decided to concentrate on his music. He downloaded karaoke tracks of his favourite old hindi songs and sang to them. They are all uploaded on youtube and he has an incredibly sweet voice much like the famous singer of the yesteryear Mukesh. There is a song in the movie Teesri Kasam called 'Sajan re jhooth mat bolo" which is my all time favourite in my father's voice. He is getting older but his heart is ever youthful and his zest for life never wanes. He still loves his music. He still enjoys the beauty that life is and I'm thankful that I am his daughter here's the song in his voice.


Sajan re jhooth mat bolo
Khuda ke paas jaana hai
Na haathi hai na ghoda hai
wahan paidal hi jaana hai

Tumhare mehel chaubare
Yahin reh jayenge saare
Akad kis baat ki pyaare
Akad kis baat ki pyaare 
Ye sar phir bhi jhukana hai

Sajan re jhooth mat bolo
Khuda ke paas jaana hai

Bhala keeje bhala hoga
Bura keeje bura hoga
Bahi likh likh ke kya hoga
Bahi likh likh ke kya hoga
Yahin sabkuch chukana hai

Ladakpan khel mein khoya
Jawani neend bhar soya
Budhapa dekh kar roya
Wohi kissa purana hai

Sajan re jhooth mat bolo
Khuda ke paas jaana hai

New day

The most beautiful thing about life is that it is never still. It moves constantly, changing and evolving and growing. Another beautiful aspect of life is that we have the freedom to make choices. Sometimes we make the wrong ones but when we make the right ones life rewards you with a new day like this one. It's a beautiful new day and when I arrived to the office it was way too hot but I made the wise choice of turning up the air conditioning and now it's pleasant. The city is buzzing outside. The blue metro is taking people back and forth. The cars are zipping by. There's always music and there's always something productive to do in the day. I think may be I'm feeling so gung ho because I spent two days being sick. Don't ask. But now I'm all well and everything is fabulous with the world. I've found my words again and I feel like I could write forever. I'll be back later with lots and lots of words!

Thursday, August 02, 2012

The enemy, the alphabet

strings seem too weak to string together coherence of any kind with the alphabet which is playing the villain with much glee. Words that can create with ease many many songs which evoke images so concrete it's impossible to believe that the dream was just a dream even when you have proof and it's worse when there isn't any. The alphabet is the enemy and language is like a knife through the heart of reality randomly cutting tiny pieces only to be fed to the vultures of time. 

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

The block

I've been sitting staring at this blank page for quite some time now. The thing is I promised myself that I would continue to write on the blog regularly and like always I didn't keep that particular promise made to myself when writing seemed to flow easily like a waterfall or a forceful river. And as i write this I distinctly feel as though the words are drying up and it's such an effort to write anything. Writer's block they say... does everyone go through it? I wonder...

So I will write about the everyday small things because they are the easiest to come by. Someone said that it's the small things in life that matter so like always I will tell you that I'm listening to music and Enya just finished singing Caribbean blue. A soft song that can lull any insomniac to sleep... in a good way. The month of Ramadan is on and all the eating places are closed during the span of the day. (that's the thing you see when you get desperate to write something you say 'span of the day' instead of just 'the day').

I had a big English breakfast for lunch in one of the very few restaurants that are still serving during the day although their windows need to be shuttered according to the law. The office hours are shorter but everything is so quiet that you feel like making some noise just for the heck of it. I give up. I just don't feel like writing. Say nothing and be very very quiet for a long long time.