In a chocolate cloud of chocolaty love
I melt in the arms of chocolate biscotti
And flow in the river of chocolate coffee
With the sauce that drips and dances around my face
To the crumbs that line my teeth as I giggle in delight
You are the chocolate and I am the wonderer
Wondering at the marvel of all recipes that can be made
Of all the praise you can bake
From minutes to hours
And seconds to present, you are my fantasy, you are my reality
Not a day goes when I don’t look at you in my fridge
Sitting there in all happiness in summers
And warm outside in the winter sun
In all seasons you are loved
In all generations you are adored
You are a treat, you are a mystery
In the darkness you have a wonderful scent that attracts me
You are the smile of my life; you are the naughty apple of my eye
You are a celebration to rejoice on
You are the bestest thing that ever happened to me.
You are the chocolate and I am your lover :)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Can you BE more random?!
The girl in the purple shirt wondered whether she looked nice. She was simple and down-to-earth, and thought good thoughts about people within her heart. Yet, on the surface, she showed herself to be cold and uncaring. Pretense was her everyday life, yet she came alive being with herself, for she was never scared to reveal her true self and celebrate her being with so much enthusiasm and excitement when she was alone.
She danced in the night, staring into the glass window and posing. She danced in the shower and made curves and circles on the wall next to the shower and making designs with the froth of the shampoo. She listened to music dancing in front of the bathroom mirror and tried clothes in different styles, just being herself. She sang a tune a low a high - she never sang yet she did once in a blue moon when she opened the fridge and drank water, or holding the coke bottle in her hand as she dragged the heel of her toe because she was too lazy to pretend to be sophisticated at night.
She watched the food heat up on the stove and turned circles on her toe like she was taught in her jazz class, as tired as she was; she loved to show off whenever she could. And though she showed she hated change, she loved change from the core of her heart. Inventing a new step every time she danced to invisible music on the kitchen floor seemed refreshing to her tired body.
From the time she reached back home to the time she slept, the fridge was opened at least 5 times as she gazed inside and bent on her knees to search for ingredients, for junk food - not knowing what she wanted really; just that she wanted 'something'. And that was enough to make her open kitchen cabinets and search and wonder and search some more. She talked to herself, exclaiming and thinking out loud when she felt she was heading nowhere. She called out to food, asking it to appear in front of her, sometimes in frustration 'where ARE you'.
She smiled at the tv when her favorite television shows were coming, and as she saw the scenes roll by, she pictured herself and wondered what role she would fit in - her deep desire to act and be known for her talent, to get applause and rejoice in the same. She munched on what she could find, and kept sipping on a warm water bottle in the middle of the summer till she realized there was no other way but to get up and fetch something from the kitchen herself. She eagerly flicked through television channels to see any shows where food was being made - ah, the love of her life, the love of her very existence and living. And as she saw those chefs cook up something in the matter of minutes, she paid attention like she has never done through the day, and watched as they piled on ingredients to make a dish look so simple and marvelous in taste.
She is a funny person, who loves to be known for making people laugh - she can't crack jokes, yet she tries so hard to make people laugh by being goofy. That's her second name by the way - Goofy.
She danced in the night, staring into the glass window and posing. She danced in the shower and made curves and circles on the wall next to the shower and making designs with the froth of the shampoo. She listened to music dancing in front of the bathroom mirror and tried clothes in different styles, just being herself. She sang a tune a low a high - she never sang yet she did once in a blue moon when she opened the fridge and drank water, or holding the coke bottle in her hand as she dragged the heel of her toe because she was too lazy to pretend to be sophisticated at night.
She watched the food heat up on the stove and turned circles on her toe like she was taught in her jazz class, as tired as she was; she loved to show off whenever she could. And though she showed she hated change, she loved change from the core of her heart. Inventing a new step every time she danced to invisible music on the kitchen floor seemed refreshing to her tired body.
From the time she reached back home to the time she slept, the fridge was opened at least 5 times as she gazed inside and bent on her knees to search for ingredients, for junk food - not knowing what she wanted really; just that she wanted 'something'. And that was enough to make her open kitchen cabinets and search and wonder and search some more. She talked to herself, exclaiming and thinking out loud when she felt she was heading nowhere. She called out to food, asking it to appear in front of her, sometimes in frustration 'where ARE you'.
She smiled at the tv when her favorite television shows were coming, and as she saw the scenes roll by, she pictured herself and wondered what role she would fit in - her deep desire to act and be known for her talent, to get applause and rejoice in the same. She munched on what she could find, and kept sipping on a warm water bottle in the middle of the summer till she realized there was no other way but to get up and fetch something from the kitchen herself. She eagerly flicked through television channels to see any shows where food was being made - ah, the love of her life, the love of her very existence and living. And as she saw those chefs cook up something in the matter of minutes, she paid attention like she has never done through the day, and watched as they piled on ingredients to make a dish look so simple and marvelous in taste.
She is a funny person, who loves to be known for making people laugh - she can't crack jokes, yet she tries so hard to make people laugh by being goofy. That's her second name by the way - Goofy.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
An ounce of jealousy, a pound of unhappiness
As the work piles up like a growing stack of blocks, I hit rock bottom with no idea of action or intent or purpose. I consider myself sincerely selfish but people tell me my intentions are often borne out of love and care i.e. I am a beautiful person at heart.
I should be happy knowing people really like me, but somewhere I can't seem to tune the wires of my precious brain into parallel lines. They are tangled like a mess of wires lying in the attic gathering dust.
For starters, I am jealous. Jealous of success (of others obviously), of achievements and all the gold medals people bring back home to their mummas and papas. Recently, my jealous streak has shifted to an insanely higher level, thanks to my peers doing extremely well. I have a respectable job, earn an amount which is not at par with others but definitely not so low that I can't live comfortably, I stay in a beautiful house and love all things random and beautiful - from chocolates in a fridge to my novels. Yes, I ought to be content with my life for the way it's shaping up. I am trying something new, a different path, which makes my life all the more challenging and exciting.
But there is the factor of jealousy that resides in an unknown place and comes to haunt me - from the middle of a telephonic conversation to a small thought that's blown out of proportion.
In such times, I am gripped by what is known as 'you-are-nowhere' talk. A creepy little side to me loves to see me drown myself in negative feelings and pulls me down to a sinking level of unimaginable depth. And the tiny creature/voice has power over my nice and perfectly normal feelings. It's a very uneasy interruption in my casual flow of thoughts.
Its power is immense. A lot of optimists would tell me 'You have the power in your hands'. Yes, I very well know my life's power is in my hands - but what about these times when all the power of the world seems to have disappeared into outer space?
I can control the effect of jealousy but the initial milli-second response to someone's achievements is terrible. I try not to let the factor of jealousy go to my head, for that is the art of controlling your emotions. Yet I fail miserably certain times. And those are the times when my failures are highlighted in colors worse than neon lights, and my image is reduced to that of a small, sad beast.
I certainly have to pretend I am happy for people around me; if I show my jealousy they will think I am evil and can't be genuine for someone’s success. So this rotten feeling eats me up from within, and my thoughts drown me even further. Sometimes it takes a minute to snap out of it, other times it haunts me for days in a row.
I should be happy knowing people really like me, but somewhere I can't seem to tune the wires of my precious brain into parallel lines. They are tangled like a mess of wires lying in the attic gathering dust.
For starters, I am jealous. Jealous of success (of others obviously), of achievements and all the gold medals people bring back home to their mummas and papas. Recently, my jealous streak has shifted to an insanely higher level, thanks to my peers doing extremely well. I have a respectable job, earn an amount which is not at par with others but definitely not so low that I can't live comfortably, I stay in a beautiful house and love all things random and beautiful - from chocolates in a fridge to my novels. Yes, I ought to be content with my life for the way it's shaping up. I am trying something new, a different path, which makes my life all the more challenging and exciting.
But there is the factor of jealousy that resides in an unknown place and comes to haunt me - from the middle of a telephonic conversation to a small thought that's blown out of proportion.
In such times, I am gripped by what is known as 'you-are-nowhere' talk. A creepy little side to me loves to see me drown myself in negative feelings and pulls me down to a sinking level of unimaginable depth. And the tiny creature/voice has power over my nice and perfectly normal feelings. It's a very uneasy interruption in my casual flow of thoughts.
Its power is immense. A lot of optimists would tell me 'You have the power in your hands'. Yes, I very well know my life's power is in my hands - but what about these times when all the power of the world seems to have disappeared into outer space?
I can control the effect of jealousy but the initial milli-second response to someone's achievements is terrible. I try not to let the factor of jealousy go to my head, for that is the art of controlling your emotions. Yet I fail miserably certain times. And those are the times when my failures are highlighted in colors worse than neon lights, and my image is reduced to that of a small, sad beast.
I certainly have to pretend I am happy for people around me; if I show my jealousy they will think I am evil and can't be genuine for someone’s success. So this rotten feeling eats me up from within, and my thoughts drown me even further. Sometimes it takes a minute to snap out of it, other times it haunts me for days in a row.
My eyes, they lie...
From a saturated vision
Of gleaming paleness of sight
With shifting of glance of mere surprise
A shape of molten liquid, weak yet strong
Crossing the bridge of unparallel twigs
A myth of fog, of descent and high
Of slight shadow with hands so shy
The beat of small feet, the beat of raw heat
Prying eyes of known fright
Of stillness a mirage of perfection
Swaying rivers so distant a call
A touch of finger, with melting desire
An embrace of passion alive beneath
A blurring face of distortion revealed
Crossing the bridge of unparallel twigs
Of futile vision and burning dream.
Of gleaming paleness of sight
With shifting of glance of mere surprise
A shape of molten liquid, weak yet strong
Crossing the bridge of unparallel twigs
A myth of fog, of descent and high
Of slight shadow with hands so shy
The beat of small feet, the beat of raw heat
Prying eyes of known fright
Of stillness a mirage of perfection
Swaying rivers so distant a call
A touch of finger, with melting desire
An embrace of passion alive beneath
A blurring face of distortion revealed
Crossing the bridge of unparallel twigs
Of futile vision and burning dream.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Let's travel !!!
So you speak Hindi and I speak English. How do we communicate? Sign language.
Here's another situation: You speak English and I speak English. How do we communicate? In a version which is understood by both.
Days of sign language existed primarily in rural areas where foreigners went to explore 'real' India and faced language issues, apart from dust and clothing ones. With rural India becoming urban at a decent pace (yes, ours is a brilliant country, and we are embracing technology as fast as possible - yet with the size of our country and the uncommon platforms, decent is what we can muster in such a short span of time), foreigners are coming face-to-face with a new problem. How to converse in English.
What is known as British or American English has been adapted by people in India (for promoting tourism, or pocketing money for showing visitors around), but is vastly different from their rendition of it. The conversion wasn't such a good idea frankly. For the problem of visitors getting lost or confused in the maze of roads and people jostling and zero directions still holds true.
Sentences such as 'I show you' and 'Best price, you wait here I come soon' might be a thing left for movies and past images, yet the educated people who can make living and travel easier for visitors are busy interacting with important clients and globe-trotting. With this trickle down effect, what remains is the command over broken English which visitors have to wiggle their way around.
Let's turn some tables over here. The tourism industry, instead of claiming to build food joints for 'Americans' such that they can't get food poisoning, should teach people the art of talking to those who qualify as foreigners in our country.
This goes for taxi drivers, people at railway stations who are there for assistance at platforms (expecting all coolies to learn English will be stretching the band a bit too much), traffic police (yes, this is of utmost importance - their role is not restricted to collecting bribes or issuing senseless tickets in the name of law), and auto/rickshaw drivers. (Including manners and how-to-behave lessons is a separate issue, and will be covered some other time).
Our country has spare money that can be used to make a trip to India a hassle-free journey. Let's make it work. Communication is the key - we have the monuments, the heritage and the culture to back us up. It's time to make the travel memorable - one happy traveler will lead to many. And as the numbers grow, we will be the ones happy, and proud.
Here's another situation: You speak English and I speak English. How do we communicate? In a version which is understood by both.
Days of sign language existed primarily in rural areas where foreigners went to explore 'real' India and faced language issues, apart from dust and clothing ones. With rural India becoming urban at a decent pace (yes, ours is a brilliant country, and we are embracing technology as fast as possible - yet with the size of our country and the uncommon platforms, decent is what we can muster in such a short span of time), foreigners are coming face-to-face with a new problem. How to converse in English.
What is known as British or American English has been adapted by people in India (for promoting tourism, or pocketing money for showing visitors around), but is vastly different from their rendition of it. The conversion wasn't such a good idea frankly. For the problem of visitors getting lost or confused in the maze of roads and people jostling and zero directions still holds true.
Sentences such as 'I show you' and 'Best price, you wait here I come soon' might be a thing left for movies and past images, yet the educated people who can make living and travel easier for visitors are busy interacting with important clients and globe-trotting. With this trickle down effect, what remains is the command over broken English which visitors have to wiggle their way around.
Let's turn some tables over here. The tourism industry, instead of claiming to build food joints for 'Americans' such that they can't get food poisoning, should teach people the art of talking to those who qualify as foreigners in our country.
This goes for taxi drivers, people at railway stations who are there for assistance at platforms (expecting all coolies to learn English will be stretching the band a bit too much), traffic police (yes, this is of utmost importance - their role is not restricted to collecting bribes or issuing senseless tickets in the name of law), and auto/rickshaw drivers. (Including manners and how-to-behave lessons is a separate issue, and will be covered some other time).
Our country has spare money that can be used to make a trip to India a hassle-free journey. Let's make it work. Communication is the key - we have the monuments, the heritage and the culture to back us up. It's time to make the travel memorable - one happy traveler will lead to many. And as the numbers grow, we will be the ones happy, and proud.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Quote 'un'quote
I have, so far, read at least 100 quotes related to love, and have come across more than 100 viewpoints, because each person who quotes something has at least 2 points to make - each contradictory to another. In the same sentence. And sometimes, these quotes run a paragraph long.
It's not that love is such a beautiful and painful topic, it's the simplest fact that EVERYONE wants to make their opinion heard - and love is a 'feeling' and requires no prior knowledge, so anyone can speak anything, and get away with it.
Most of the thoughts are repetitive by the way. Love binds us all, not for the beauty or pain of it, but for being the most sought after topic to comment on. We all love to comment and quote. Yes, we certainly do.
And it rules our lives.
Don’t say it doesn't - have you seen the amount of time you have wasted crying in heartbreak or feeling lonely? And this includes listening to songs that remind you of the person, or those feelings that are now memories.
All a waste. I'm one of the 'in love' people on the planet. So this is not a mockery session out here. I'm all for 'eternal love' and 'may you live happily ever after' love. But there appear those rare times when this beautiful unmeasured feeling called 'love' is not welcomed in my life.
I wonder what people will talk about the day the entire human species is asked 'not' to talk about love (this includes staying away from songs and cute messages and gazing dreamy-eyed at photos). Maybe we will get a great, fat purpose in life. A purpose that goes beyond feeling low or high or sweet.
It will enable us to have 'focus' - in work, in life, in society. Thoughts related to our living, our health, our achievements will be brought in front of our eyes. Love is what I call as the biggest chain reaction. It sparks off an intense overdose of feelings that would otherwise be wrapped up in the cocoon of our hearts.
One day away from love will also bring focus to something else - Ourselves. It's a very normal case that we end up feeling emotions (negative or positive) for the 'other' person, not necessarily 'special someone' anymore. But where are we in this entire ball of love?
Love is a huge emotion, but the power it has on men and women alike is maddening, to say the least. Drawing oneself away from love can actually help one get a grip.
And more than anything else, it helps you 'get a life' when everything around you seems to be shattered to pieces.
It's not that love is such a beautiful and painful topic, it's the simplest fact that EVERYONE wants to make their opinion heard - and love is a 'feeling' and requires no prior knowledge, so anyone can speak anything, and get away with it.
Most of the thoughts are repetitive by the way. Love binds us all, not for the beauty or pain of it, but for being the most sought after topic to comment on. We all love to comment and quote. Yes, we certainly do.
And it rules our lives.
Don’t say it doesn't - have you seen the amount of time you have wasted crying in heartbreak or feeling lonely? And this includes listening to songs that remind you of the person, or those feelings that are now memories.
All a waste. I'm one of the 'in love' people on the planet. So this is not a mockery session out here. I'm all for 'eternal love' and 'may you live happily ever after' love. But there appear those rare times when this beautiful unmeasured feeling called 'love' is not welcomed in my life.
I wonder what people will talk about the day the entire human species is asked 'not' to talk about love (this includes staying away from songs and cute messages and gazing dreamy-eyed at photos). Maybe we will get a great, fat purpose in life. A purpose that goes beyond feeling low or high or sweet.
It will enable us to have 'focus' - in work, in life, in society. Thoughts related to our living, our health, our achievements will be brought in front of our eyes. Love is what I call as the biggest chain reaction. It sparks off an intense overdose of feelings that would otherwise be wrapped up in the cocoon of our hearts.
One day away from love will also bring focus to something else - Ourselves. It's a very normal case that we end up feeling emotions (negative or positive) for the 'other' person, not necessarily 'special someone' anymore. But where are we in this entire ball of love?
Love is a huge emotion, but the power it has on men and women alike is maddening, to say the least. Drawing oneself away from love can actually help one get a grip.
And more than anything else, it helps you 'get a life' when everything around you seems to be shattered to pieces.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The Time Traveller
The time traveller is someone who is thought about at times, is used as an expression when boredom sets in, gets a look of wonder on the faces that are lost in the journey of one.
Oh, what it would be like, to be a time traveller. To travel along paths unknown, bending around rising peaks, crawling along silent streams, unevenly branched out around lush forests, slipping on windy sand dunes; and all but a travel of mystery and depth.
A time traveller conjures varying images, from a poor boy that travels miles to seek fortune, to wisps of air that look like thin long strands of thread as it rushes past you to travel through ages unseen - spinning from history to future in a blur, in a moment which is unthinkable.
It is a fantasy to be the time traveller we dream to be. Be it travelling through time, or travelling along with time on your side, there is something dreamy about being a traveller. It represents motion, action, excitement, passion in times when life seems to revolve around beautiful yet all-too-simple facts and figures of hours ticking by.
The power associated with being a time traveller is unusual and gripping. There are no boundaries or rules, and life is an adventure without any plane tickets or visa hassles. It’s a journey where one chooses a destination and is transported to the land in a matter of milliseconds. It satisfies the curiosity of a past we only manage to read in politically correct textbooks. It shows us the world we all seek to know yet only manage to console ourselves with blinding headlines and exaggerated reports - the Truth.
The world is your oyster explains the mystical nature that comes alive with being a time taveller. Everything is defined in our lives. From searching on Google for all and sundry information, to 'genres' that help us classify music and data, to 'departments' where companies and universities can manage their work load better and avoid confusion of mixing everything up under one roof. We live by the rules, play by them (abiding by them is a different issue altogether) and define our moral stands and ways of living by them. Yet, our happiness is there when there is a sense of charge, purpose and energy in life. And this is an aspect which cannot be governed by rules or terms and conditions.
Gone are the days when sailing like Vasco da Gama was normal. The eternal purpose of filling our curious minds with answers and journeys has diminished or subsided, with the age of technology answering whatever possible question a human mind can think of.
Setting off to unknown destinations is declared as 'madness' and one is expected (and required) to attend dinners and live their lives as indicated by social norms. Yes, our lives aren't our own anymore, no matter how much we claim our 'individuality' as our own. Maybe it's the safe shell in which we live - boring yet safe, or maybe it's a pattern we were meant to and longed to follow all these centuries.
But we are still the way we really are - restless. With Google and other websites at your feet to serve every possible whim of your mind, we are still curious. What is the world truly like? Are we put on this planet to only drive that one way home, what is the life beyond what we see?
Books can explain civilizations, activities can help us understand the joy of living in different era, yet the feeling of 'being' in one is truly satisfied when one is present there. And this is where our wonder for time travellers arises. When you visit a chocolate factory, you see chocolate being made - the joy and amazement when you see that process is beyond words. And it isn't even remotely close to the novels that (try to) explain the mechanism by posting pictures of fancy plants and boilers. When we come face-to-face with an object, it stays with us, unlike an image that barely registers in our mind while flipping through descriptive magazines.
All of us, at some stage, have wondered or wanted, to be a time traveller - to live that life when time is all we have, when the world is all we see, when words and voices are incomparable to action and drama seen live, when facts are defied by experience of seeing the world the way it existed, when knowledge takes a whole new meaning in observant eyes.
The world is your oyster, my time traveller. It is a mystical journey, a dream we might achieve when human beings cease to exist. It is a fantasy beyond the realm of technology. It is, The Time Traveller.
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