Archive | November, 2009


29 Nov

Roses given after a fight do not count.

Reset to previous date of gifting.


[Rule 1.1. Acquire man who goes along with rule #1]

Still Home, Still Heart, Still Horror

26 Nov

Time has done nothing to heal this wound.  I still come perilously close to tears each time I pick at the scab that has barely formed. What did help, though, was putting myself to use.  And it was only as I spoke about it at a couple of media interviews this past week that I realized how blessed I am to have found this route to sanity. With me in this journey have been 39 wonderful people in 5 countries around the world. For our stories, head to the India Helps blog where some of us will write about the year that was, beginning today all the way up to the India Helps anniversary on December 3. Wish us luck in the times ahead. Join us, because we need you. Tell your friends to spread word of our movement. And before you go, answer this: Whom Have You Helped Today?


23 Nov


Credits: OJ and her Panasonic Lumix LS 80. And the spectacularly garish Zerza restaurant.

To the Caterpillar I Love/d:

19 Nov

In you I sought the

steadiness of rock

and found

an ocean



So I clung to driftwood

and rode the waves,

eyes burning for the sight

of crust and spores;

My feet, like

drunken sailors

enjoying the air,

shifted lurchingly above

merry waltzing sands.



fish they tittered,


sparkles they winked,

and I held on, held on,

melted my meat,

gulped the terror,

blew back at the wind

with lopsided cheeks.


Then your wings,

gossamer like stone, earth, sky,

they closed around me

and I built

my castle

on a houseboat

that rocked my

crinkled notions

to sleep.

No OJ No Cry

17 Nov

First break-ups are particularly traumatic.

After that, it’s a matter of practiced pain.

~Me to Aunty G, during an online conversation


Oh Mad Mommaaaaa, I’m by the phone!! :mrgreen:

Q & A (ii)

13 Nov

Q: So what if you can’t stop the tears?

A: Locate the nearest salon and get something, anything on your face threaded. That’s justification enough for overflowing eyes.

Land, Mine

10 Nov

My path to creativity lies in the no man’s land that is post-tears exhaustion, proximity to a keyboard and permission to hit the snooze button more than thrice the next morning.

All That Glistens

4 Nov

When Sujin called, Valli was already halfway through re-organizing the kitchen cabinets. Perspiration on her face and resentment in her heart, she silently cursed herself for taking on the mantle of the cleaner one. The maid had disappeared two weeks ago and with Diwali around the corner, chances of finding a substitute were slimmer than the size she aspired to be. So when he uttered something a shade thoughtless, she was ripe for the mother of all tantrums.

They fought for 47 minutes. 47:28, to be precise. And as they raged back and forth and spewed acrimony into the cellular heavens, tears poured down her cheeks unchecked. Grabbing the nearest available towel, she wiped her eyes and blew hard. Pale yellow mucus stared placidly back at her. She raged some more. She blew some more. Until the mustard-colored towel glistened evenly and she carefully arranged it on the back of his chair, right on top of the cleaner blue one, exactly as she had found it.

Two hours later, her run ended abruptly. The neighbor’s dog had mistaken her leg for a lamppost and she hurried home to shower.  Sujin was going to be late. So she put on La Boheme at glass-shattering decibels, poured herself some cranberry juice, stripped off her soiled track pants, grabbed the topmost towel off the chair and let the hot jets of water drain her cares away.