thoughts
Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: none
Slowly the feeling of living alone is sinking in again. The nights are always tough, especially when all that I care about is back home. I never made the mistake of thinking that I wouldn't experience loneliness again, but a lot of time has passed since the last time I was feeling lonely and it still bites. I think this is the first time I have had a longing for home. Usually I just tune myself out but this time, things are different.
I am buying a lot of new stuff, and that is always uplifting. Tearing oen the wrapping off a new purchase, accompanied by 2 or 3 days of loving obsessing, such as folding the new quilt as soon as i get up, taking care that it never touches the floor and making sure all the new toiletries have their own spots on the shelves (if i had chalk, i'd draw chalk circles to mark their spots) .
There has been a lot of looking around. Some stuff like batteries, I can look at 2 brands and make a quick choice, but when I have to buy a cell phone or say, ummmm, a car (yay!) my legs are getting very weary with all the looking around.
Also when a person is making so many purchases, he is bound to be faced with a million salespeople and Bangalore has some of the most irritatingly dedicated salesmen/women in the world. I almost kissed that girl who wouldn't pay me attention when I went to the Webworld on Brigade road. All the stories you hear about car salesmen being evil and manipulative....all 100% true. All of them are such BITCHES. It seems all the companies' sales talk and campaign material is written by old ladies who ran out of wool. All they can do is tell the customer how bad the other company's product is. I had a headache by the time I was through the day. But there was a payoff. I could drive the cars to the limit on the highway, the inner ringroad, the city. Man, it was awesome when the Tata salesman almost hit his head on the windshield when I was "testing" the brakes. He looked so bewildered and sputtered like a goldfish out of water. Beee yooo ti ful. "Oh! aren't you wearing your seat belt??", I admonished him and rammed the car into first and took off again.
There was the guy who sold me the well loved quilt. (In a mallu accent) "Sir, this is a compact model. You can carry it anywhere you go....see.. there is a handle on the cover that is made of best quality plastic. But, sir, that is not the specialty. This blanket will keep you warm in the winter, and also give you cooling sensation in the summer".
Quite impressive, my quilt. Compact, comes with plastic handle that allows me to carry it anywhere, in-built thermostat. I felt like Jackie Chan in the Tuxedo.
ok..back to work...
For the uninformed, aloque has had to leave his beloved Hyderabad again.
I am glad that I can keep in touch through fh. Its quite strange to stay alone again after being fussed by my mother for an entire year. I was getting soft and this can only be good for me. I am back to eating off the roads again. And the roads can offer the most amazing fare. All those who disagree may do so and they may also take a hike. Remember to pack a lot of food for the journey though.
I am going to inflict upon readers here aloque's gustatory gallivanting. First I thought I'd call it aloque's gastric escapades but that sounds a
lot more like what goes out than what goes in.
This morning for breakfast, I had the opportunity to visit a small
joint called The Veg Edge (specialist in Davanegere benne dose). So, I
order the special and i got the opportunity to watch the cook make it.
He spread about a cupful of batter and made out a 12" big dose and,
here is the insane part, he put about 12 dollops of butter on the dose
each about half a table spoon large. Man, thats a lot of butter, my
coronaries were protesting, but I was fascinated to say the least. He
let it simmer for a while and when it was a nice light brown, turned
it over. I was expecting him to put it in a plate and hand it over,
but what does he do? Thats's right, he put another dozen dollops of
butter on this side of the damn dose. I tell you the dose was floating
about 2 cms off the tava, with melted butter crackling mockingly at my
impending myocardial infarction.
My fascination gave way to salivation and despite my MBBS degree I
managed to absolutely enjoy the crispy, buttery Davanegere benne
dose...
To say that I have missed this space would be a lie. To say that I missed writing would be true. My thoughts weren't of myself and the thoughts I had were too personal to put down anywhere. The past month has been such a whirwind of emotions, that I have had no time for myself. Last evening, reality caught up to me, as it has to. Answering to parents, mine and others', thinking about her, spending every spare moment with her, I forgot a lot of other things. A loss of balance means that I have to hit the floor sometime. And I have.
I am glad to have come back to the world, because it makes things more real. It puts my mast month in perspective and I do not view us any differently. That makes me glad, almost relieved. I didn't want to wake up and see that my world was a dream.
There are some tough times ahead. I have got to be there for a lot of people, and not forget myself. That sounds so much easier than it is. Being here for myself has become so tough lately.
Settling down to a working atmosphere, missing the group of awesome people I spent the last month with, finally finding the time to realise that my focus is wandering, and that my goals seem as undefined as the day I was born, I sit here today determined to do differently.
I always thought myself to be cold-hearted and callous when my grandparents or aunts and uncles reprimanded me for forgetting to call them up once in a while and then regale me with stories of their magnanimity. They tell me how much they had taken care of me when I was a defenseless waif whose parents were too busy pursuing their careers when I was born. And implied in the nostalgic reverie is an enormously huge guilt trip. It always worked on me and I always felt like an unfeeling brute. Try as I might, the best I could do was offer them my respect during my short and infrequent encounters with them. No amount of persuasion ever got me to call them. I thought a couple of times that I could do it just to make them happy, or to get them off my back for at least a little while, but I felt so horrible. I figured I'd rather be just cold than be cold AND hypocritical.
My family is just as screwed up as any other family. We have our little issues and our prejudices. I have never been affected much by anything they have said or done in their lives, except maybe laugh or sigh, listening to their craziness, over a evening cuppa tea in the native town during vacation. And I never felt like I belonged. I couldn't relate to their wish for my involvement in family matters, especially since I am the oldest of my generation in the family. Today I realised as I was talking to K that it was for the best that I had kept my distance.
Family needs to be judged just as any other stranger is before letting them into out lives, maybe even more closely. Blood is thicker than water, or so goes the famous saying. What exactly is the water that was being talked about? It surely isn't friendship, or love. Maybe family is equated to blood because we cannot live without feeding on some of it every now and then.
Its such a pity that one cannot choose one's family. We are stuck with one another for life and each person of the family will have some kind of obligation to the other members, irrespective of their preference. I suppose that is an unwritten rule. But then that is not so bad when everyone adheres to it. It might even be nice. There are, however, those people who understand this obligation and use it against us and these are the worst kind of people in my opinion. I would prefer being stabbed in my privates by a stranger than be stabbed in my back by someone I know. Its when our family are snakes in disguise waiting for an opportunity to strike, that I feel glad that I have always chosen friendship over family ties. That isn't to say that I have chosen my friends over my family. What I mean, is that the only family that I consider myself a relation to are those that I have made friends with. The rest can go suck a dinosaur's egg. I already have a phone bill I cannot afford. So fuck off and leave me alone.
Don't fret my love,
for our worlds are
happier than ever.
When clouds gather,
menacing dark,
we have each other.
Streaks of lightning
are but silver linings
when love is our umbrella.
Eyes closed, in embrace,
in the midst of
earth's sweet vapours,
We'll dance in the rain
and drown our worlds
with our laughter.
Tears trickle, clouds rain, gales howl, and floods drown. Rules of nature.
Truth bridges, friendship binds, time heals, hearts feel. Rules of nature.
By the way, where is Lily?
Dreams of the day, my waking beams
of sunshine in faraway fields of green,
Thoughts of abandon, happiness bought
with strange currencies as yet unseen,
Laughter and mirth, my face and hers
lost hopelessly in our own reflections.
These were the ways I counted the bliss
that I was sure was too good to happen
Yet, I woke up today and heard the notes
of her laughter as the sun rose over green.
So lucky.
Heart's going to explode.
This is the face of a wanted woman. Well, its a question mark in the hollow carved out by the MS paint eraser in a Mona Lisa image, but thats besides the point. Even though I do not have the photoshop skills of d underscore r underscore p, I am quite nifty with the eraser, and as to question marks, no one comes close to aloque.
Nevertheless, a short desription of the wanted woman. She is 19 to 25 years of age, 5 foot 5 inches or less in height, attractive to the above average onlooker, of physical form decidedly better than Mona Lisa's, and should be willing to dedicate 2 hours every evening for at least 6 weeks at the end of which she will be taken out of station for a once in a lifetime experience. An interest in acting, the theatre and a good humour is vital.
Too specific, you think? A little offensive for being so blatantly discriminative against the looks and form of physically less fortunate beings? There is a reason.
This is a shameless piece of advertising for finding Sophie Rauschmeyer, a attractive buxom southern American woman who causes havoc in the lives of 2 average american men with below average indian incomes, triggering the most hilarious chain of events this side of The Birdcage. This is a play by Neil Simon that is scheduled to be enacted at the prestigious Deccan Herald Theatre Festival in Bangalore in late October. The group that is acting this out is called Expressions and is one of 6 groups that has been selected for the festival, and the only group from Hyderabad.
All those people who have made the effort to read this page, I thank you and request you to please inform any of your friends that might be interested.
Interested Sophie wannabes, please contact Expressions, director Arvind Mittal at 32472788.
And by the way, what the hell is happening to this site? Am I the only one having to go through hell trying to access it?
I promise to.....
Always trust my instinct.
Always follow my gut.
Always respect my conscience.
Be less of a coward.
Blame myself less.
Not be ashamed of my confusion.
Never forget who I am.
Remember that truth simplifies.
Remember that trust liberates.
Remember that love is a choice, and to last has to be renewed.
Remember that true understanding requires detachment from ego.
I just got a feel of my own insignificance, and how everything about and around me is so temporary. The stars that pass over my head everyday and night unnoticed have seen millions like me, all self absorbed, all immersed in their own importance. The ground I walk on has been walked on by scores of people before me, each oblivious to the people that might have walked before them or will do so after.
I guess we are not designed to comprehend the enormity of the Universe, but there are those who try and I imagine they are very humble people.
This is an image from the Hubble deep field images which is the deepest picture of space recorded by mankind, and shows various galaxies at various stages of evolution, bringing us closer to the understanding of our own origin.
Everytime I study these lines
I can see I am someone else
I can sense I am someone new,
someone I shouldn't like, but do.
Parts of him I identify in myself;
the coward in hero's disguise,
the foolish moments forgiven
in anticipation of greatness.
I wonder when my name comes
up for its final call, will I have
lived a true moment, one that
is devoid of the confusion?
or will I finally show my colours,
as the violent shades of realization
finally paint me as I was and am,
a coward in a hero's disguise.