Wednesday, August 30, 2006

So long, maestro.

You have given us great joy.
Tashkor, Hrishida.
So, I really love these guys.

Can someone get them to come over? Please? For a small little private concert here in Bangalore?

Thanks very much.
Black Veil, Long

Monday, August 28, 2006

How Green Is My Valley. Larks!

Ma and Abba are having a grand time up in the mountains. Them and their frund-couples from the last generation, having relievedly [and finally] dispensed with such afflictions as: [1] Us kids, [2] Us kids' weddings/educations/miseries, [3] Each family's private scandals and heartaches, have all come to that beautiful phase of life where, hopefully, it's all done with.
They're having a mad picnic in a place untouched by silly things as electricity, noise, and yes, even the wrong kind of people. There is a grounded goodness in our villages that one can only hope never dies. Ma's giggling over the phone yesterday telling me about it warmed me to the cockles of my heat, whatever that means. She was telling me about all those things I remember from my holidays there: misty days, cold breeze, hurts-your-eyes-green hills, sweet water springs, wooden cottages, bonfires, buffaloes, sheep and.... the inevitable- shish kebabs and barbecues! [Mooahaha. Sorry, Giggly.]
We are lucky to have that beautiful village on top of that remote mountain. Where Abba spends a lot of the year being a Son of the Soil. He revels in it. It has taken years off his considerable years. By the time I'm as old as him, I'll probably need an voice-driven wheelchair and 12 helpers. (I shall make sure they are good-looking and well-toned just for the heck of it.) But there be's my pater, swinging a scythe with the best of them. Turning over leaves in the apple orchards looking for tell-tale signs of things only he knows. Watching the movement of bees to predict whether we'll have honey this year. Sitting outside the village mosque after the evening prayers with friends, telling tales. [Some tall tales, granted, but...] He's happy and I'm happier for him.
As for Ma, if anyone ever deserved a break from life, she did. She's taken our family through it all. She is the mother from The Grapes of Wrath. I think a million times to myself, "How much more can she take?" And then I promptly go and add my own little two-bit to her world of troubles. There's a beautiful, she is. What I mean to say is, I hope we're done tormenting her for the anon. That laugh of hers yesterday- it was gorgeous.

Here's to you, my Parentals. Enjaii like anything.


It is so tiring to have to be pleasant and chirpy allll the bleddy time. It is.
Sometimes I don't want to, okay?

Friday, August 25, 2006

So, yesterday was an old, old Friend's birthday. From way back when I was a gawky, unsure teenager. I mean, she used to be a friend though I won't say we were ever tight. It's just that growing up with someone, no matter how weak the link be, feels like a whole new feel when you look back years later. So anyway, it was her hap-birthday. And it was an annual ritual of mine to write her a few wishful words on her big day. No matter that the greetings weren't ever returned or that we really had nothing else to say otherwise. Whatever. I liked to wish my friends, and I would. It was my thing.
Except all of that changed last year. What with leaving an unspeakably ugly phase of my life behind, severing ties with an Unwholesome Lot of People [ULP] I am glad to be rid of- [definitely very Killable - have formed vivid, graphic, and eerily doable plans of how to dismember, hang, quater etc. etc. one particular Festering Individual among them all, and say victoriously at the end of the Operation: "Said Fester Has Been Neutralised."]- it just so happens that leaving the Ugly also made me leave a large portion of the Nice behind. Persons from the Past I actually really liked, old acquaintances, a whole photo-montage of faces that I have grown up with. A whole childhood worth of memories. Have tied them up in pretty purple string and locked them in a cabinet. But the cabinet is at eye-level. And it has a glass door, so I cannot entirely forget.

'Tis a shame, what else? Tsk tsk.

So, on that note, Happy Birthday, Old Frund.
(And to hell with the rest of you!)

"A loss of something ever felt I—
The first that I could recollect
Bereft I was—of what I knew not
Too young that any should suspect

Elder, Today, a session wiser
And fainter, too, as Wiseness is—
I find myself still softly searching
For my Delinguent Palaces—"

-Emily Dickinson

Thursday, August 17, 2006

It's a bleddy shame!

Getting your period very young

Makes you wise beyond your years
Makes you cries a lot of tears
Makes you lies to your peers
Makes you wish you was not heres
Makes you aches everywheres

If only I had got a comma instead.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I learnt the same stuff as everyone else in school
Then Life taught me other things
And Boomsa still udders

Dear Mad Cow
It is nice living with you.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Cheers and good luck!

A not so nice month

Actually, a very bad one. I speak of the first week of July through to the first week of August.
In no particular order, recent events that have really disturbed one :
-The Mumbai blasts. Inhumans, sullying the name of religion, and what's more, the whole world lapping it up so that now Islam=Terrorism=Jehad and some such claptrap. My friends and I talk about this often and it is relieving to know that they DO understand that that's not the equation, but really, how many people do? Or care? This is the pits. Especially since I for one, am proud as dammit of Islam.
-Israel: Has 2 soldiers kidnapped and unleash an unbelievably cruel assault on Lebanon as the world watches and the US [but of course!] pats its back. Hello? Civilians being killed. Women and kids in Qana. I suppose state-backed terrorism is okay because really, what else can one call this? Growl.
-Yet another tsunami hits Indonesia. This time round, it doesn't even make it to the front page of any newspaper.
-Alonso doesn't win any and Schumi takes many. Damn it!
-Sania hasn;t been winning ANYTHING either. What's up with that? I'm a big fan ever since I've seen her play up close and personal. Very infuriating to see her throw it all away. Over and over.
-More locally: Deeply respected guru-entity Long Legs left work. Mins like, all louww for her. Deeply saddened [to a surprisingly extreme degree] by her departure etc. and was in blue funk for days. Shortly followed by departure of another old hand, Long Locks, which sort of takes care of the Age of Experience at the Orifice. Feel especially bad for the Reams who pines and weeps silently in her deserted aisle.
-Felt a little at sea after the Mater left for back home. Little at sea means sadness.
-There were other things I'm sure, that made it distasteful, but I forget. Waste.

On a high note, after the dreaded past month, the 2nd week of August on is looking pretty spiffy. My dorling Boomsa has moved in with me. That makes it three mad cats in our cosy flat: Skinny, Boomsa and I. We are parting with all borrowed furniture of yore, and Boomsa and I have been frantically running around procuring essentials. Skinny is on work in the US of [barf] A. She'll be surprised when she gets back. As a helpful note to personalities looking for cheap treasures to strew around the house, I suggest you head to Shivajinagar and discover the whole new world you'll see there. It is a lovely!

And now, enough.