Pause.
Play!
Pause.
Why can't I just hit the stop button!
The same reel going over and over…
Not jaded, yet.

Dodging through the busses, cars and autos
Unscathed, not sure how,
For fatalism has just one drawback,
It leaves one on the driver’s seat, but with no control.
Pause…

…a few hours later
‘The General’ shoves me into my suit and latches on my seatbelt.
Cruising past the same ol’ beggars
Through the same lanes and potholes,
Tears over the same grievances
And laughter too seems simply so forced.

Not jaded, yet.
Hopefully just need to hit the eject button,
And throw in
An unused cassette.


* ‘The General’ is the song on my alarm :)

No black feathered ravens, but white feathered birds
Stoically perched, before the threshold
Of mourning mortals, and silent souls.
Stood long with my head bowed,
Until invited inside…

Soaking in the Grief,
Instinctively initiating chants in my head
Of a lord long ignored.

A day of endings this,
Of reminders and silent tears,
Ironically some for those not even known
And then some more,
For those who once meant all the world to me…
Misunderstandings, regrets,
And an unwilling acceptance
Of how all will now always be.

Aye, been a while since I rambled… soumabh, mate, I hate to see my blog rust away too, just not allowed myself the time to think and relax and indulge in the little things of life… but today, is just not the same as usual… its cooler, there's a soft breeze in the air, and… a smile in place of the etchings of tense determined lines… aye, blue be do, come ramble on with me…

A little beggar girl and an even littler babe, cart-wheeling at the centre of the road and then the show winded up by the elder sitting down and playing the dholki as the other dirty lil cherub continued to go round and round… one minute it's the hard earth under her head, and then the cool blue sky…

We sunk out together today once again, not to the gates of Bacchus this time though, but to the less intoxicating getaways of city life – the movies. Alas! The newspaper had mislead us and not a single watchable flick was on at that time : ( but then… it was all for the best, for what could two girls possibly like more than the next idea that struck us next– shopping! And so we went right ahead! … and bought a pair of slippers, two stoles, a sweater and several pairs of ear rings between the two of us, a lunch of American chopsuey and soup, and our wallets lighter by way too much for me to dare to count…. : ) aye me be happy! Blue be do, I love my sadu : P no… trust me I really didn't go get drunk... just feel light…

Wrote the above two days ago...while sitting at office waiting for the clock to strike six. Rushed home and then got dressed up to party! had fun. good fun. dressed up all pretty making full use of the goodies from my afternoon shopping spree : ) ...and the evening was purely divine... i let the music take me away... and the rest well was just very very cool : )

Got a rude shock last evening. three blasts in my own dear city- Delhi. One in a market where my sadu was shopping just about an hour before. aye.. lots of people, all gone.. and yet i hear crackers outside. I agree we've got to get back to normalcy and not let the terrorists gleefully grin away at a city robbed of its happiness, yet crackers- already?? the show goes on I guess...

My guess is the Kashmir terrorists might be behind it- what with the recent earth quake their suffering would have only increased. They did not like the sight of a nation celebrating and revelling in the joys of life... probably wanted us to feel, experience all that they do, day after day... since decades.

...been growing, way too fast for my liking...

A sweltering hot afternoon, the sun’s rays makes us flinch a step back. A little poem hidden away amidst the criss-crossed bands, safety pins, combs, notes…, peals of unfamiliar laughter replacing the old loved ones ring in my ear, yet another pair of moist eyes spill into mine own, whilst the all too familiar songs play on while older boys look upto me… Experiences, yes…the world spilling into my little cup…period.

Glistening eyes looking through the slightly smudged glasses, tufts of hair on either side of his temples. A dark goblin like man sitting opposite to me, a small stuffy canteen…my cup absorbing his beads of sorrow, at first trickling, and then gushing out… twice my age, looking for momentary peace, atleast. A long tale and a short hour later, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, a little lighter, yes?

Suffering from two days of silence, light headed me and one more quite so like me, stepped out of the factory of words for, a simple, slightly silly, little date with Bacchus. Aye, I was an old though not too familiar guest at his courts, and took it completely upon my two shoulders to introduce her to this world of spirits, at 2 in the afternoon, with fingers crossed that none would miss the two pixies missing from their machines. After a lie and a ride on a noisy three wheeler leaving us 15 bucks lighter, we got onto the asphalt road of the cottage that promised to be the tavern of spirits we’d come seeking.

Accustoming to the dim lights we made our way to a table, past the odd middle aged couple and settled into the sofas. On the far end another couple queerer to my eyes as they assiduously avoided their child left in the care of an ayah. Stretching my hand for the menu and asking the waiter for the drinks menu while I followed the trained polite eyes for the thoughts squirming beneath the uniform. In the ensuing hour, two or maybe three (what was it!?) vodkas and a trembling breathing heart, poured into my cup, whilst an absolutely absurd selection of music from Abba to Avril whispered away at the back. Out of the doors of the tavern we drew back blinking as the sun sore at the shoddy ladies shoved us into the shadows of the plank above. Mustering up courage, hand in hand, laughing, dizzy, happy, crossing the road, talking, we made our way back….topping the silliness (now I can say it all here right?) I reached back absolutely straight faced only to realize that all through the way back my fly had been …. (LOL) (somebody shut (atleast) me up!)

Seems to be my gift (or curse?) at how my cup just keeps taking in all else’s weight. No wonder then how little poems come into being that I refuse to call my own, and lie wrinkled in the crevices of my handbags. Or when the littlest thing makes me fear the worst. Paranoid? Or just a bit too sensitive? Yet to figure this one out.

The golden haired witch with a heart of gold living with me, can apparently heal a person, no matter how far he/she might me. She’s gonna climb onto her little broom and fly into floots’s world (Scotland, yes?) once again, in a very short while…

just because... i still can't get over this song!

BULLA KI JAANA

A Kafi written by Sufi Saint Bulla Shah, sometime in the 18th century

Bulla1 ki Jaana main kaun

Bulla ki Jaana main lkaun

(Bulla! I know not who I am)

(Bulla! I know not who I am)

Na main moman2 vich maseetan3

Na main vich kufar4 dian reetan5

Na main pakan6 vich paleetan7

(Nor am I the believer in mosque)

(Nor am I in the rituals of the infidel)

(Nor am I the pure in the impure)

Na main andar bed-kitiban8

Na main rehnda bhang-sharaban9

Na main rehnda mast-kharaban

(Nor am I inherent in the Vedas)

(Nor am I present in intoxicants)

(Nor am I lost nor the corrupt)

Na main shadi na gamnaki10

Na main vich paleetan pakeen

Na main aabi na main khaki

(Nor am I union nor grief)

(Nor am I intrinsic in the pure/impure)

(Nor am I of the water nor of the land)

Na main aatish na main paun

Bulla ki Jaana main kaun

(Nor am I fire nor air)

(Bulla! I know not what I am)

Na main arabi na lahouri

Na main hindi shahar nagouri

Na hindu na turk pashouri

(Nor am I Arabic nor from Lahore)

(Nor am I the Indian City of Nagaur)

(Nor a Hindu nor a Peshawri turk)

Na main bhet mazhab da paya

Na main aadam-havva jaya

Na koi apna naam dharaya

(Nor did I create the difference of faith)

(Nor did I create adam-eve)

(Nor did I name myself)

Avval-akhar aap nu Jaana

Na koi duja hor pachhana

Maithon na koi har syana

(Beginning or end I know just the self)

(Do not acknowledge duality)

(There's none wiser than I)

Bulla shauh Kharha hai kaun

Bulla ki Jaana main kaun

(Who is this Bulla Shah)

(Bulla! I know not who I am)

Meanings of words in the song: 1 Bulla - Bulla Shah, sufi saint2 Moman - muslim3 Maseetan - mosques4 Kufar - idolatry5 Reetan - rituals6 Pakan - the pure7 Paleetan - the impure8 Bed-kitaban -- Vedas & Islamic scriptures9 Bhang-sharaban -- opium & liquor10 Gamnaki -- funeral

Hush now, you don’t want to startle it, do you?
Perched on the lowest branch,
It's magnificent feathers almost touching the ground.
The bark would peel off if we try,
Rich brown, moistened by the season’s first monsoon.
Careful, we mustn’t frighten it!
Deep Blue, as though the azure Delhi sky
Had dripped into it's skin.
Proud, as the lineage of rulers
Who once strutted on this soil.
Hush! Listen to them calling out!

Pursue the sight of this enchanting bird I must,
Sighing, for this is all that remains
Of a once fascinating life
Donne the clothes of a lady I must
But for one passion to legally own,
To scamper into the wild,
For the prize of a token left behind,
In the flight of
The first lady of our nation’s birds.

First, I was blazing with rage. Then I was left simply dumfounded. And now I'm having difficulty arranging my scattered thoughts. I think I've reached one of those points in my life again when I'm letting my parents down again. Come to think of it in personal matters I moved away from the ‘ideal’ image a while ago, and now I’ve let them down professionally as well. “So it's a business magazine you’re writing for, then why don’t you write articles on economic issues as well? When are you going to put the MBA knowledge to use?” My dad despondently attempting at altering my professional course. In my head I recall the time when in 10th grade my marks were good, but not great, and listening to dad’s silence at the other end of the phone had completely broken me down. Responsibility. I have a warped idea that I need to perform well, for my parents, if not for myself. And there that day I felt like a looser who had only one primary responsibility and was not competent enough to fulfil that one role properly. Subsequent years I went on to perform well enough, except this morning the conversation with my dad made me feel like I was back in 10th grade on the other end of that phone. The pace at which I've been running at, did not allow me the luxury to spare a few tears to pamper myself with, and there that comment’s been rotting in my head until this evening’s events.

It's the first time I'm listening to my heart. I'm writing. I'm doing what I dreamt of as a little girl. Except the hitch is of the doubts in my head, afterall I'm not trained to write for magazines. Plus my dad will probably never show my relatives what his girl writes. I write for the back pages of the magazine where my headlines are about dipping cleavage lines and silicon implants. If that was not bad enough, the copy team has added and subtracted seemingly according to the fancy of a nine year old, where meanings are fumbled up, writing style is ravaged and the entire course of the story is severely mutilated! I am scared of reading my article once again, it's an absolute catastrophe!

So I'm this lil girl who knows squat about media or journalism, and from one end am being led to believe I'm good enough to be in the editorial team, and from the other end that perhaps I’m just a blue-eyed girl better fitted in any place but here!

Tabloids. The thought scares me.

No matter how hard you try, you just don’t find a place to belong to. Like a tempest, never to settle down. Raging. Raging.

I wonder why civilised people must be as crass and bawdy as a bunch of drunken monkeys! Na, lets not insult monkeys now. There are some levels of baseness that only humans can achieve. So what brings about my wrath against these uncouth individuals? A stupid little incident where as my friends n I made our way through the crowd of students in our institute and as my friend who led the bunch of us apologized as she made her way through, one of the students replied to her ‘Excuse me’ with a ‘squeezzed!’. My did we all get mad, while the insolent boy had the nerve to try and tell us that we were only a year or so senior to him and hence we ought to take his brazen attitude without a single protest! Arse. Yeah well, I’m not sure what my pal intends to do his with his name she demanded out of him, I just got pissed with the idea that uncouth rogues like those were coming into my institute. Hope its possible to make a gentleman out of such idiotic boys as well. Most probably, he will probably leave the institute in two years time and similarly harass his lady colleagues. Stupid chauvinistic men who just cannot swallow the fact that their jobs are being taken in by little girls with lot more brains and attitude than the cheeky doofuses can ever dream of.

Just needed to rant a little. Back to work now.

I’m listening to a tamil song…don’t have a clue about what it means :) aye long back when I used to live down south I’d spent an evening in a net café doing some work, and the entire evening the net café owner repeatedly kept playing one single track… kannathil muttha mittal – I know that’s the wrong spelling for sure! It's a very catchy track, or maybe after listening to it 25 times it kinda tends to linger in your memory… :-D A couple of days ago I decided to search for it on the net, landed up downloading a lot of other tamil songs from the same movie until I finally got my hands on the song. Aye, it's nice.

It's Friday….27th may, the day I've been waiting for since last 2 months. The day I write the last of my exams… last, feels so good to say that! It's going to take a while to sink in, that I finally can stop mugging and studying through the nights, and above all, I can stop worrying! It still doesn’t feel real!! Please lord don’t let me flunk in any of the exams, I so won’t be able to bear looking through any of those texts ever again! So much for education.

My net’s bust :( . Hope I get to post my random ramblings without too much delay….

It has been a very long silence. I have been aching to blog again, but time just has not been on amiable terms with me since quite a while. No matter how long I get to sleep, it just never seems to be enough. I think the enormous amounts of experiences have been leaving me a tad bit drained. That’s not to say they were not pleasant, well apart for the seemingly endless exams, almost all were exceptionally interesting. I give a big thumb up to my job; I think I’m going to immensely enjoy it. Though I have to say, I still have some qualms whether I will be able to eventually fit into the garments of a writer. Time alone will tell I guess.

People in India beware- the Gul has been unleashed into the already maddening Indian roads! Boy you should see the ‘L’ sign at the back of my car, it's huggge! Well since life must run at the pace it does I figured I need to get myself a pair of wheels! (or 2 of them as in this case!). My ma got a little worried about her baby driving on the roads, and so like a good mama took the job of putting the ‘L” at the front and back of my car, to let the world know not to honk too loud, or coldly size her up while glaring from within their cars. Now I’m glad she did that, except that she’s gone a bit overboard with it, and the biggest L that ever adorned a car now sits pretty at the back of my car (the one at the front was already put up by the time she came in to help!)

Life leaves me bewildered and baffled even more now days. I feel so spaced out, terrible timing though, as now is when I'm being sized up at work as the new chick at office and need to be on my tippy toes. One more exam this Friday, after that, the Gul will be reborn. Until then, I write, I ‘network’, I smile and walk in my new pair of heels I think I’ve wasted thousand bucks on.

Shiny little danglers appear as I blink my sleepy eyes. Furling up… disappearing into nowhere… I feel light, slightly woozy… blinking my eyes, real, unreal, it all gets bewildering at times. Frankly wonder why it's so important to keep it real at all. Lying in anther dimension of reality, I can hear the soft sound of my wind chimes. Met a nun in my dream, peaceful, old, beautiful. I remember asking her about how Sister Basil was doing. Sister Basil is a wonderful nun who used to live in the convent attached with my school. I didn’t know her much, but simply adored her. There was a light around her, the type that makes you feel good being around, leading you to quite simply just liking her very much, even if you don’t end spending much time with her. The nun I met in my dreams told me that something terrible had happened to Sister Basil.

Early morning dreams. I’m getting a little superstitious about them. I sms’ed my friend in Chennai about my dream hoping she’d have some news of sister. And there came the reply, sister was suffering from Cancer.

No doubt, felt terrible that sister was going through such an ordeal. There are some people who one feels should never have to suffer, simply because of all the love they’ve achieved in spreading. Can’t really say anything more, but ask God to take care of her. If there is a God. There is right? Dunno. Maybe. Most probably not. Not really much to debate on considering either of the stands are basically based on personal opinions. On this topic, I prefer to have none.

More exams coming up, joined work as well. Been juggling a lot of balls for quite a while now. A little tired frankly, but then this is no time to get tired I guess. Aye, this is afterall, just the beginning.

So there are mountains to climb afterall.
All I can do is believe.
Starry eyed
Feeling your arms around
Knowing no harm could possibly come
While I lay protected within.

And I'm listening to music. It doesn’t allow me to continue with a verse of my own. Goo goo dolls-
And I don’t want the world to see me
Cos I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

Aye, and then again you do know. And I'm lucky to have you in my life. To look upto you and peer into those kind eyes, knowing there’s no monster hiding behind who’ll ever break my spirit. For the simply reason that you’re a part of the same spirit. Just kills me to know that it's not going to be an easy road we’ve begun our journey upon. Life’s silly. People are silly. There are stupid hang-ups that these elders must have and well make so many beautiful things in life simply so screwed up. And that doesn’t make us love them any less now does it.

Why can’t life be simply about music, chocolates, love, rain, friends, love, lavender, blue, pink, little girls and boys, love, swings, fields, eagles, love, moon, hugs, kisses, love. Why cannot life simply be? The music continues, a little out of tune, nevertheless, plays on.

Sew it back once more,
And watch it beat, as it rests in your palms.
Look beneath the sham of her fragile boldness
Undress her
Free her
And let your soul entwine with hers.
Hold her hand and take the leap!
Falling upwards,
Into the blazing light of a rising sun.

Tuning into an unknown frequency,
Chords never struck before,
Beguile us into a realm unchartered.
Moist eyes, yours and mine.
Blaring horns, condescending cold glares size us up,
Arching eyebrows,
Open Secrets never to be told,
Forgiveness never to be sought,
Our soul leading us on.
Shame, we refuse to do penance for
For laws we believe, conflict with that of the world.
Moist eyes, arching eyebrows
Our soul, for which we refuse to do penance for.

There’s something known as ‘bursting the bubble’ and then there is me floating merrily in the bubble, all the while dissecting each moment with the cynical attitude I've developed over the years. Staring out into the world, grasping everything and simply feeling numb. Some times there are things that you’re convinced will just not be a part of your world. Hence, you build yourself to fence all possible outcomes of having this hole in the wall. And then you find a brick to fit it perfectly, and yet, there’s a part of you scrutinizing the wall from every conceivable angle, trying to find a fault with the way things have turned out. Or simply not knowing how to react to this new brick in the wall.

And there I am, watching him intently from across the table, wondering how someone could be this untouched, could smile so much, and never feign it even once. How I could have all of a sudden made someone this happy, and if at all I deserve that adoration I see in his eyes. It's knowing his faults, eccentricities and abilities as well, and being at peace with all, and wondering if I haven’t tossed a priceless friendship for the sake of finding my man in him. It's holding his hand and wondering why it took so long, or simply praying that I'll never have to let go of it.

He’s trying to teach me his art of smiling at all that life throws on your face. Smile Gulz. Smile. Peeping through my falling hair to check if it's a tear I'm hiding. A Tear, when you’re around! I just pray my jaded self stays away and doesn’t let me ever hurt you. Somehow I just cant convince myself that these last few days have been true, there’s a part nagging me telling me that everything’s wrong, scaring me that I'll regret this decision. I've been so messed up… there’s this part of me that I'd just locked up and hidden away…I've been making frail attempts at reviving that part, and hey look here’s you now, I've brought in to wrestle me out from beneath this avalanche of forgotten memories... Good luck my mate.

And I’m looking at the sky outside, wishing upon the stars to not let this be just a dream… so blow on wind, and let me dance with you as I loose hold of reality… aye n when the sun comes out in the morn, let me not wake up, not if the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through my window, or the pigeons cooed on softly outside.. don’t let me stop, don’t let me fall back into the dreary existence, don’t let me float back into that horrible little hole again… so hold my hand and lets not look back at what was, what could be, might be, should be…. But cherish what we have- for however few or many pages this chapter might last…

I’m not sure what brought us to this stage. I’m not sure if my uncertainties make me hold onto you so hard. Not sure since when I’ve cared for you, or when ill turn into a stalactite once again… not sure if any of this makes sense. Never thought ill fall, fall for someone like you, someone so similar yet completely different from myself. Not sure if we’ll get the blessings of people we care about, not sure if either of us cares for that. Not sure if we’ll be laughing over today a little while later- if we do stop floating, and land on the ground with our heads caught between our legs, toppling down the moss… landing in a helpless heap dazed with our leap into the unknown….

Not sure what brought u to my house when u needed counsel so many years ago… or why all this while we sought each other when we shunned all else away… not sure how my past suddenly came n leapt at us, as we sat charting out our new course, felt good to know how insignificant the past had become…

What I do know is, I’m wishing on a star and waiting to be with you again. For once I’m floating, and I’m not alone in this flight…not as yet at least. All I do know is, it’ll never be all or nothing with us. Love you, for all its worth.

How do you write when there are currents flowing within you that completely overpower your senses? People, places, horns, beggars banging at my door, holding my best friends hand for one last time yet again… it's the feeling of being empty, yet so completely bombarded with life, with all it's smells and sounds. It's walking all the way back home without thinking of a single thing about my own life. Thoughts tinkering in my head for a while and then just leaving me, letting me just be. Disgruntled faces staring at me, waiting for their buses, staring onto the road, scanning me, judging me… rushing to fit me into a little box with a nice little label on it…

How do people make the decisions they take? Do people really care when they say they do? Can you really take the liberty of taking decisions that are completely selfish? Are we so important to ourselves that forget about thinking twice, we don’t think at all before blatantly hurting the people we love. To what heights of conceitedness are we ready to fall to, before we hold ourselves responsible for the damage we’re directly responsible for?

And so I stand in the midst of all this chaos, watching loved ones bleed as the dagger is pushed deeper and deeper in… dry eyed, weary people meet my gaze and size me up… standing on the pavement waiting for my insides to hurled out, or perhaps to simply pass out. Listening to bright-eyed girls describe their ideal match, or simply prattling on endlessly...

Spent my better years in trying to undone the pain that I never did cause myself… and yet when I see the same old phantom looming back into my life, I’m left standing watching it come and wrench out the heart of my loved ones. And so I run, for I cant watch the world destroying itself, little by little…

It's about being still, about feeling each of the beggars pleas, about listening intently to each of the songs of the little birds, about chasing after a peacock only to have it's magnificence in view for a while longer. It's about knowing just how much you are loved, walking endlessly, watching people wither away like the tress in the month of January, holding your best friend’s hand for one last time yet again… wondering why the world doesn’t stop spinning and just rest for a while.

Made of glass,
Reflecting your smile
And your frowns,
Playing the game
Just as I think, you want me to
But I am not a mirror...
Not like it matters, nothing does
I'm getting numb as the wind
Pierces through
Drying the kohl filled eyes
Don’t point at me
No longer please

I saw a peacock today
Wished it would leave me a feather or two
Hovering over my eyes
Are the fingers that point
I've tired so hard
To learn
To be
So forgive me for all I'll never be
And maybe someday
I'll forgive myself too.

Poetry they say is a song that arises from a bleeding wound or a smiling mouth. The song that immortalises feats of bravery, captures forever the fleeting moments of ecstasy, comforts the soul of the forlorn poet, and paints vivid pictures of the world before the eyes of the reader. Poetry has been my friend when words otherwise have failed me. When feelings overcome my being, rationality diminishes into insignificance and sleep comes only once I've poured my angst out onto a sheet of paper. The truth is when I'm writing my thoughts down it's a completely selfish act, I don’t give a single thought to the reader. I suppose that’s the difference between amateurs and professionals. I've officially entered the world of these professionals. I finally resolved my dilemma and chose the option I knew I would enjoy the most, that of a writer. I'm treading the road less travelled as opposed to the more safer option that had confronted me not so long ago, which I talked about in my last blog. What remains to be seen is how successful I will turn out to be, or whether this would be only the first of the seven careers of my life! (I'm referring to Ailyn’s comment in my previous blog)

The world of bloggers has brought me onto many people’s pages who've expressed themselves through rhyming, through verses that take innumerable number of meanings for each of us. Scores of faceless people, posting their poems on the internet…

For a second just stop reading this and think of the names of the famous poets that come to your mind…..the ones that come in my mind are Shakespeare, Homer, Keats, Wordsworth, Milton, Rumi, … the thing that strikes me here is how none of them belong to this era…Where are the poets of this generation? Who are the poets of this generation? Thousands of faceless people, putting their thoughts in verses…. Yet where is the beacon of light who speaks of our culture the way Homer immortalised that of the Greeks? Or are there people among us about whom I'm blissfully unaware of… there must be surely poets among us that a large number of us enjoy reading, a favourite of people like you and me... So tell me, who is your favourite poet?

“And we’ve come so far,
And we’ve reached so high
And we’ve looked each day and every night in the eye.
And we’re still so young….”

This song’s in my head and I cannot remember for nuts the rest of the song, or the name of the artist whose sung it… For the last few days, I've been caught in a dilemma, to put it as simply as possible- career choices. Two words that can make me brood for endless hours, and at the end of such reverie, I still find myself exactly where I started. I read in GK’s blog a quote where Alice asks the Cheshire cat which of the two roads she ought to take. The Cat asked her if she knew where she was going, and well Alice was clueless of where she wanted to go. Therefore, pat came the reply of the cat, in that case it really doesn’t matter which road you take! I can so sympathise with little Alice, I feel as confused and lost as she does. My question for everyone reading this, how did you decide which career to pursue?

I have two options staring at me right now. One is marketing. I applied for the post of a Management Trainee, in a company offering integrated marketing solutions. Got through the Group Discussion, gave the interview yesterday, as of now waiting for the list of the shortlisted candidates who will appear in the next round. Point here is even if I don’t get through to the next round, just the fact that I got through to this point means I have a pretty good shot at making it in other companies as well. Until here, it sounds good.

Now for some more good news- my Professor working in a consultancy also run by my college’s management has offered me a job. The job requires me to do a lot of research and come up with articles for the Lifestyle segment of the magazines published by the company. Growth within the company would include rising to editorial positions, and would require me to put my little nose into a number of other avenues as well, for example teaching in the institute. I've at times thought of doing a course in Mass Communications and Journalism, except I don’t have much faith in my writing abilities. The line that I choose is going to earn me my bread and butter for the next forty years. Suppose I later realize that I am just not good enough, what do I fall back upon? There are doubts gnawing at my head, and well I'm tired of thinking!

The work my professor is offering is something I know I enjoy, I’m just doubtful of whether I will be able to sufficiently improve myself in this avenue. Marketing may require me to move to any part of India. It's work I know which is going to be very taxing and demanding, but I also know that it's nothing I cannot handle (got a taste of it during my internship).

Told ya…no matter how long I think about it, I always find myself right where I started! I have to make up my mind, and make it up real soon!

A ring made of five metals, specially concocted in some obscure factory, to allure us all, making us believe of its power to empower the one, on whose finger it rests upon. I'm the one who searches for the fakir, to tell me tales of a beautiful tomorrow. Sure it had sentimental value as well, but as I felt it slipping through my finger, I realized it was time for me to finally let go of it. It was meant to bring me luck, and I liked the way it looked as well. For three years I've had it on, not relying so much on it, but my faith in hocus-pocus simply did not allow me to let go of it!

New Year brings along with it a lot of new things with it. One of these things would be the new editions of the astrology books predicting the future for millions of people categorized under twelve broad categories. Not to forget the scores of magazines and newspapers, minting money as well, counting completely on the curiosity and implicit faith of us mere mortals. I read each and every single one of them, not sure exactly why. Entertainment? Faith? And If so, then faith in exactly what, and in which one of those several versions of my future?!

The unreal at times is as real to me as the chocolate ice-cream lying in the freezer of my refrigerator :)( I sincerely revolt against the idea of ice-cream being treated as if it were a seasonal fruit!). At times I wonder if this virtual world is our attempt to set up an improved imitation of real life. Is it the pursuit of things deemed unreal in the light of the day that brings us dreamers to live this dual existence?

Networking, people, relationships, soul mates….our relentless pursuit to connect; belong, unconditionally- if there could ever be such a relationship. Alexander’s (Alexander, the movie) mother warned him to be most careful with the people closest to him. She compared people to snakes, the minute you hesitate, they will strike you. People like snakes have the capability to turn against you when you least expect them too. The thought provoked me; no I've not had someone turn on me. Just that I'm loosing the faith I used to have in people, I'm beginning to trust people as little as the trust I have in snakes. People from Orkut, in case I don’t reply, which will most probably be the case, don’t take it personally. And if you’re just another one running after a pretty face, you’ve landed up at a completely wrong page. Click back on your window and begin your search all over again!

There isn’t much respite for people who refuse to sleep when the clock sternly points out to you to well hit the sack. And much worse is when you’re up at 2 deciding to say hi to some ol chap you used to know once upon a time over the net. Especially if the topic goes to how much fun he’s having in New York and goes on to diagnose my lack of being in a relationship or the presence of pals who prefer going to parties as stags, by the reluctance of Indian girls to shown a lil skin. To be more precise we don’t know how to dress up, the Europeans n the Americans r well just so much more happening. I'm not sure why I was talking to such a prick in the first place. But I remembered him to be a pretty decent chap, once upon a time. *Sigh* Assumptions… we always end up cursing that one word don’t we? Well there wasn’t really much to say, I'm the last person to pick arguments with people, plus well I really didn’t care to explain anything to him. He was ofcourse quite happy in the judgement he pronounced, announced me to be obviously ruffled by his comments…I simply wondered upon how people develop such lack of respect for anything vaguely smelling of India.

Time and again, the same enchanted eyes meet mine and tell me stories of how beautiful everything is once they step out of India. I stepped out too but was glad to get back home. Home…gimme any part of India n I love it with every breath in my body. Not like I have something against other countries, my sister tells me I will fall in love with Europe once I go there, no doubt about that. Sure there are plenty of chances that I most probably will, but nothing could ever make me hold my nose up at the land I've grown up in. US was cool, frankly I'd found the people as cold as the wind that unceasingly blows upon your face there. People are trained to be polite and hence they are, but the look in their eyes….

My friend told me my diary had reminded him of Bridget Jones diary. I mocked at that ofcourse- for one I'm way thinner than her n two c’mon there isn’t a thing common in her life n mine. Or maybe I don’t remember the movie well enough. It's still bugging me that that guy on the net presumed I'm this shyte looking gal who needs the advice to go out and have fun. Well I suppose my lack of a social life (I'm saying that inspite of havin a lotta friends) does indicate that. There are questions in my head, and well no I'm not sad or particularly bugged, I'm just sitting and picking threads of my life and wondering how the present patterns ended up there. Almost like at times I wonder how or why exactly I'm here at all in the first place. I'm one of those romantics who paint their pictures with utopian dreams in their eyes. Trouble is when confronted with the way things are I'm left absolutely clueless about how to go about them. And I'm confusing everything up, muddling everything up… all I want is the clear bonnie blue sky, and nothing inbetween.

New year resolution – break free.