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Showing posts from April, 2009

Sugar cane juice and other things

All pics clicked by me recently around where I live Many of you have written asking me to post about life here. Well—here is an honest take. It is nearly two months since we arrived here and I feel like the children in Narnia who discover a new world when they step inside a wardrobe and the back of the wardrobe opens out to a completely different land—the wardrobe in my case being a Jet airways flight that transported me from Mumbai to London. Everything is so sanitised, pristine and orderly here. The people are so nice and polite and oh so quiet. Most of all, it is the silence that strikes you initially. Everything is so q uiet. I feel like I am perpetually in a movie hall—except that I have stepped into the screen and somehow become a part of the grand saga unfolding before me. It feels so weird, to be actually living here as I have seen these scenes countless times in movies. It feels magical to look outside my window and see lovely English

Which? Who? Why?

Which song is this? Who has sung it? Why have I posted this? (Of course I love the song but that's not why I posted it!) [If you cannot see the media player click on the yellow bar at the top of the page to temporarily allow pop-ups and active-x controls for IE or wait till it loads] I am not going to tell you (like those over enthusiastic Television Promos) that you'll have a chance to win a Home theatre or a Skoda--after all I am not that rich or that famous. :) But if you are like me, then I know it's hard to resist a challenge. (The first two questions are easy--its the third one which I think might be a tie breaker.Lets see!) I shall wait for all your answers and then update this post with the link to all who answered it right. (Please don't spoil the fun for yourself by reading the comments before you before you answer!) Fret not--if you don't have a blog I shall link whatever page you ask me to link (FB profile, Orkut profile , Twitter--you surely have

Laughter is a gift

Really sorry--I have had to remove this post as it will soon appear in a book. Making it available online would have been very unfair to my publisher who has placed so much trust in me. I hope you enjoy the other posts as much as you enjoyed this one. A heartfelt thanks for your support and understanding.Thanks for continuing to read what I write.

What kind of music do you like?

“What kind of music do you like?” is a question asked often, very innocuously when you meet someone and are trying to make small talk, trying to discover common ground. And if the answers given by both parties match, there is an instant camaraderie struck up-- as instant as g-mail messaging --and foundations of a lifelong bond (Ok—at least a short term bond which could be a potential life time bond) are laid, over exchanging notes in eager tones, punctuated with “Oh have you heard this number?” and “Oh yes—I absolutely love it.” But if the answers given don’t match, a thin layer of frostiness develops and before you realise you are ensconced in a dungeon or a pedestal (depending on whether you have high self esteem or your self-image alternates with feelings of total worthlessness and despondency) where you can’t be reached, rescued, seen or even heard and the potential friend has turned into an object of disdain, not worth bothering over, banished mentally into the ‘land of awful m

A longing for things that can never be

Longings churn like lazy broth Bubbling from the depths of my soul Rising upwards like billowed smoke. Unable to contain themselves any longer Tears swell and fall Make their way down. At least they know where to go Unlike me For I am utterly lost without you. If a tear drop could speak, this is what it would say I yearn for a glimpse of you It would keep me going a long way I yearn to hear the sound of your laughter It would give me strength to face another day I yearn to feel the warmth of your hand in mine. It would make me believe that nothing else mattered. I seek out substitutes, Looking for you in others Hoping they will take away A part of the longing, or at least a part of the pain But none match up to you. Why did you have to be so perfect? And why can’t some things ever be? Why is finality all binding like death? I know you cannot answer me for you are helpless too Despite your irrefutable love for me Or perhaps because of it. And so, the broth brews Billowed