jesus

I never knew you,
You never knew me,
Say hello goodbye.

With every press on to the ugly grey keyboard, a small spasm of pain leaves me.

Because typing gives me grief?

No.

Because im pouring out my soul and all the angst is causing my heart to do cart wheels?

No.

Because im venting, my anger flows out with every word typed?

No.

Because I have a paper cut dammit. Because I tried to act smart yesterday with the Philadelphia cheese box and cut myself and injured my index finger. So, typing and writing and blah are all highly painful exercises now. Not to mention my bruised ego, yes everyone make fun of me but paper cuts are a bitch ok.

At this current moment in space and time, I am ordinary. My life consists of house and sleep, of books and notes and highlighters and pens. Of equations and time constraints and explanations. Of tangled hair and glasses, of pajamas and tea. Of mundane and monotonous.

Bleh.

Arey Champa.

O  Jesus. O lordy lordy lord.

Life is once again hard, exams in 10 days, SAT’s sooner, college stuff looming over my head.

Oh yes and my brain is doing weird spasm things which paralyze me for 15 seconds at a stretch. Very scary. The parents think im dying. I am too tired to disagree.

1-44 in the morning, and the nerd days have just begun.

What in the name of Hitler’s matching bra and panty set is the point of all this?

Arey Champa.

O Jesus. O lordy lordy lord.

Life is once again hard, exams in 10 days, SAT’s sooner, college stuff looming over my head.

Oh yes and my brain is doing weird spasm things which paralyze me for 15 seconds at a stretch. Very scary. The parents think im dying. I am too tired to disagree.

1-44 in the morning, and the nerd days have just begun.

What in the name of Hitler’s matching bra and panty set is the point of all this?

we all need a pantomine to remind us what is real

James Blunt deserves to die, even when im happy he manages to get me all introspective and blah. It’s odd, he says what you think, the ups and downs of his voice speak your story, he utters those things you’ll never say, your deepest darkest fears are reflected in his words.

This line, from a song named ‘out of my mind’ is one of his few upbeat numbers. This line made me playback the song on repeat. I wonder what he means by it.

Music is like literature, the words that make melody might be static, but the interpretations are infinite. You could think Macbeth was about hijrahs and heera mandi, and no matter how twisted that might be, it’s ok.

Why?

Because that’s the way you think, and really, the way you think is all the matters.

It would be nice if such free thought was so openly accepted in every sphere of life, not just in choruses and sonnets.


And I see no bravery in your eyes anymore,


Just sadness.

(see he did it again)

this is a bitter one.

So, on my way back from tuitions I was craving a drink, and seeing that I was quite broke I stopped at the local ‘super store’ which is ironically quite small and made my towards the nestle juice cold storage thingy (this has a more precise name, im just having a stupid day) and there I find two robust women blocking my way, sitting as if they own the damn store (maybe they did.). As I chose between grape and apple the two women came up to me, asking me inane questions. Convo with female one went like this-

‘So ma’am what energy drink do you prefer’

‘Red bull’

‘Why?’

‘It gives me wings’

Smart woman chose to give up then, seeing that I wasn’t purchasing something known as ‘Bomba’. Now woman number two, who represented nestle yoghurt is after my ass to get weighed in the middle of the store, so that based on my weight she could be like SEE SEE you don’t have my yoghurt then you could be 90 pounds or whatever. She brings out a weighing scale, asks me to take of my shoes and hop on.

That’s when I chose to say – ‘WHAT THE FUCK?’

I mean, Jesus. Firstly, I am A-ok with my weight, and secondly, I already use the damn nestle yoghurt. And thirdly WHICH MARKETING IDIOT CAME UP WITH THIS STRATEGY? I mean, if you were ok with being weighed that would mean you weighed close to nothing and therefore didn’t need the damn yoghurt and  if you were bigger you would have serious issues with being weighed in the middle of the damn store with the  naswar chewing men giving you ‘seductive’ looks.

What happened to straight forward banners and free promotional stuff? When did obese women selling low fat goods become the new money making venture?



Im never going back to that store again, even if they do have the freshest cancer sticks in town. I might end up causing unnecessary blood shed.

in search of fellow fools.

I have many many many reasons to be pissed, or ‘under the weather’ as R says. Its been a tough week, and work just keeps on piling up and no matter how hard I try, it seems like ill never be good enough.

Khair, the current reason to be pissed doesn’t include family sagas, mounting college aps, distant relative weddings or school load.

Im pissed coz no one blogs anymore.

Not that im one to talk, my bitter James Blunt one hardly counts for anything.

But hey, im seventeen, im allowed irrationality.

Blog you blogging bastards blog. (wow I found so angry, im quite proud of myself.)

in search of fellow fools.

I have many many many reasons to be pissed, or ‘under the weather’ as R says. Its been a tough week, and work just keeps on piling up and no matter how hard I try, it seems like ill never be good enough.

Khair, the current reason to be pissed doesn’t include family sagas, mounting college aps, distant relative weddings or school load.

Im pissed coz no one blogs anymore.

Not that im one to talk, my bitter James Blunt one hardly counts for anything.

But hey, im seventeen, im allowed irrationality.

Blog you blogging bastards blog. (wow I found so angry, im quite proud of myself.)

Blunt- depressing bastard.

Im so hollow baby,

Im so hollow.

Im so, im so, im so

Hollow.

look.

Between the white cotton sheets and the dupatta adorned with silver sequins that catches light every so softly- like wilted flowers after it rains for the very first time. Guide your eyes through the last verse with the high beat, right after the chorus. There, veiled by the first two words, hidden by the smudged black ink, so tactfully behind letters and punctuation.

Can’t see anything?

But its there, behind the rose mist of the early morning, behind the cloaked women, miles below the ocean, stuffed in between beds of clutter and feathers. Underneath the dotted skyline, and the glaring tube lights, right next to the flashy billboards and the bangles of motia flowers. Smell that? Smell the sweet scent waft right below you?

No?

Smear the mud away from your grimy window, focus your eyes, be led by intuition. Float, fly, dance. Please dance. Skip, let your clothes flutter, in a flurry of the citrus yellow and midnight charcoals of the dewy morning.

That’s where you lost me.

circles

It takes so little, to cause so very much that it’s almost scary. Here I sit, amongst books and pictures and the past, and all I can think about is the salt drop running down my right cheek. Glass beads catch hues of blue and pink, evidence of small tussles of rainbows in my eyes. There are crystallized thoughts, and efforts to blink and keep it all in, but it takes a quiver of your voice, a flash of your eyes and a nod of your head to open the flood gates. I knew I was weak, but I didn’t know just how much.

I do now.

I know that no matter how unbreakable I try to be you’ll see tears about half an hour after you start telling me how completely disappointing I am. Give me 15 minutes, and ill manage to choke them up, watch my face, and glare right back. I need that time, to be completely vulnerable, completely defenceless and completely small.

It’s funny; it’s been a great day. I felt like I had gotten so much done, I felt older, wiser, I actually liked me. I was laughing, I was getting through, and hell yes I had proved myself to anyone who had ever doubted me.

(‘You know how ive always told you how much everyone loves you and you used to smile that shocked smile of yours? In my head I was thinking- you don’t deserve it. That would take the smirk right out of your face’ that one hurt. It really truly hurt.)

and all that jazz

When you need to pee, you get off your fat ass and walk towards the pot.

When you need to sleep, you pop two Panadol CF’s.

When you need to forget, you read.

When you’re hungry, you order subway.

When you’re bored, you put on your huge (so big they make you look like that chick from star wars, princess layla?) headphones and belt out Pink Floyd or Pearl Jam with flagrant disregard for everyone else’s well being.

When you’re pms-y you snap at everyone, everyone. (sorry dadi)

When you’re tired, and flustered, and just mentally exhausted and frankly-hopeless…

What in fucks name do you do?

(Sat 2 tomorrow. Pray, please please please please please pray)

bloody hell

I woke up this morning to find something odd lingering about one millimetre away from my upper lip.

An over night moustache?

No.

Remnants from my nightly dose of coke?

No.

A huge mosquito bite.

Yes Ladies and Laydas, I have been kissed by a mosquito. And from the size of the damn thing, it was one of those 10 minute Indian movie-ish kisses, with background music and dancing extras in flamboyant garish getups.

Jesus.

Must go, an orgy of centipedes or any other member of the insect family awaits.

slipping

People are made out of glass, translucent, ethereal and lucid. We go about our daily routine, hiding, perpetually hiding. So scared, to be seen, to be noticed, to be realized. We crave attention, but of the wrong kind, perpetuated through beauty or humour- never through intellect. We laugh, we muse, we assume, we play our little designated roles till our mind fogs up with little nothingness. We lack truth, we choose not to embrace the facts, our real moral fibre, our real faces.

Why?

Because we’re inherently ugly.

and breakable.