Archive | June, 2009

Tweet This

30 Jun

So confess, how many of you actually glance over at the sidebar on this page?

For those who don’t, read this:

India Helps is now also on Twitter. We’re at If you’re a fellow Twitterer, follow us for updates and ways to learn how you can help. We’re likely to be most active during and immediately after a disaster, but do keep yourself in the loop because we’ll have regular updates too. Already, we’re looking for a physiotherapist in the Vikhroli, Mumbai, area for a 26/11 victim and a monsoon shelter for our pavement school children. Please spread the word, retweet and help us help India.

Many thanks to Chandni, who’s already twittered about us and puts up so many of our causes on her Fund-a-Cause page.

Thank you for your time, people. Regular programming resumes tomorrow.

Shooting From The Hippo

27 Jun

a.k.a. Unpublishable Saturday Afternoon Whimsy


Jamshedji the Hippo lived in Cooverbai Pond

He was born and raised in its glorious mud

After his Daddy did abscond.

Growing up among sisters, he would pluck lotus flowers,

String them, wear them, and play pretend

For many afternoon hours.

Listening to Beethoven, he would twirl a dainty leg,

And settle down at the end of day

To swig a Parsi peg.

He would pray a tad too earnestly for pretty, pretty Daisy

To waddle over and say hello

But no, she was too lazy.

His hairdresser was Suki the Stork, who labored all in vain,

Try as she might, it was a fight,

To manicure that mane.

If you’re trying to glean exactly where this ditty is going,

Let me know, will you, kind soul,

For I am certainly not knowing.

Stop by, say hi and share a drink, these lines will shortly end,

The author doesn’t appear to think,

But will be glad to see a friend.

On Writing

25 Jun

It starts with the mildest of anticipation, a sense of prelude, the uncharted liberation of an empty Word document.

I pause, even though the sketch has been formed, for the lines to get darker, firmer, definitive. Shards cohere into rapidly swirling aerial whirlpools, spilling out into letters, words, and then lines sliding off the page. I can take no credit—I will not—only convey what needs must be told, for holding words within, like ingesting too many groundnuts, routinely fosters belly aches.

And finally, when it leaves you, there is a sense of relief. A package sealed, a job done, the closing of another sub-chapter in that coffee table tome we only occasionally browse. Applause is extraneous, the act itself organic, a past I am all too comfortable leaving behind.

In Honor of the Coming

23 Jun

Storm over the Mandovi

Credits: OJ and her Canon Powershot. And the Boy, for being my watermarking teacher.

This is not a black and white picture. The ambient lighting makes it appear so. It was taken in regular scenery mode, less than 5 seconds before the storm broke over our heads. I have put it up in celebration of our first day of rain today, the latest arrival in a decade.

Guess Who’s Back, Back Again

21 Jun

It’s a good thing today is the longest day of the year. Because I needed pretty much all 13 hours of daylight to hike beyond Bombay and into an adjoining district to reclaim Lapwanti from Mr. Fixit Superhero Whose Hands I Forever Worship.

So yes, she’s back, is good old Lappie. And consequently, I am too. (Okay that sentence was completely unnecessary. As is this one. And the one I’m going to type after this before I finally close the parenthesis. Allow me the thrill of caressing old familiar keys, even if they produce meaningless garbage such as this.)

Getting down to business, here’s two of the three tags/awards a response is overdue on:

June passed on a “Your Blog is Awesome” award and needs me to list 7 reasons why I am awesome. Sigh, the things I do for the blog world:

1. I am awesome because I possess perfect, kidney-shaped nostrils. I saw that, you know, that rolling of the eyes. Allow a girl her vanity, will ya?

2.I am awesome because I am one of 66,000 Parsis left in the world. That’s how small my ethnic group is, so I’m not even one in a million. (Don’t try calling me a dodo, though. It isn’t polite.)

3. I am awesome because I remember dates. All dates, any dates. But of course, this cruel world won’t appreciate my stellar talent when I remind them about the 34th birthday of their ex,ex. Sigh.

4. I am awesome because I’m cringing through this tag and will have to fabricate the remaining three points just to amuse you.

5. I am awesome because I’m a miserable failure at taking myself seriously.

6. I am awesome because I plant crumpled paper balls in hard-to-reach places just to check if my cleaning maids are doing their job.

7. I am awesome because even if you think I’m the crazy lady from hell for doing it, I’ll just go back and plant more balls.

Thanks, June!


Anu and The Girl on the Bridge and D passed on this


and need me to list seven things I love. (How easy would that be, were I Snow White.)

1. Girlfriends. A woman can never have enough close, supportive pals who tell it like it is and ply her with mint chocolate chip ice cream and tissues.

2. History. Specifically, the Partition, the Raj and my own. Generally, that of a mansion, a city and a filigreed silver teapot.

3. Water. Of the rain, pool, ocean, guzzle variety.

4. Flying. Nothing quite like the thrill of a plane sluicing the air.

5. My work with children. It’s probably one of the few things I take very seriously.

6. Bombay. The one I grew up in, the one I live in now, the one I’ve heard tales about from three generations of family.

7. Indulgence. Read spas, chocolate, diamonds, shoes, candles, hair masques, king-size beds.

Thanks, ladies. I accept the bling in chandelier earrings and Manish Malhotra threads.*


Mirror, Mirror

19 Jun

Why your legs are so fat?

~One of my kindergarteners to me, looking up my skirt whilst I bent over her written work last term.

Is your nose usually that bulbous or is it water retention?

~My doctor to me, a few days ago.

That’s right. Pile it on. It’s a good thing I was born with the vanity gene missing.

But Then Again, (Sometimes) You Just Gotta Let It Flow

14 Jun

a.k.a. Ooze

Sometimes the ties that bind me

to this relationship are so

slender, I spend afternoons

squinting at them;

At others, they are a noose,

sadistic knots chafing under my chin,

reminding me you must exist.

Questions coagulate around

the snapping,

Crackle with the inquisitiveness of aunts.

Neurons hum about me

I will not drift away

I am here,

I am still,

I am rooted,

I am.

Tug and summon your presence

I blindly chase blank skies;

Laugh into wells of rocks and

mocking echoes

that draw the pulley in.

We are an advert for glue

but my will is crueler,

Me of the inbuilt blades.

Sever in slow motion

Pull the screen on madness

And perform your last ablutions

in its entrails.