Sunday, June 24, 2012

*Paaarp!* "Ahh, that's better!"


I wonder if there is a laxative for all emotions and poison that brews within. How exhilarating that would be - to shit your problems away. Initially. of course, it would be very debilitating; overwhelming, even. But imagine, once it's over and you recuperate, you are empty! Your mind is clear, emotionless, hurtless, and it's ready to be filled again with new feelings.


I think the pills should be candy colours and flavours. You should feel good taking it and feel good after it's had its effect.


Suggestions for names:


ReLAX
Laxofeel
Emodrain 25 mg
ShitTOX 500 mg

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Things I Miss

February 22nd, 2009


Endless summer holidays, where the days are a happy Aqua Blue and the nights a fuzzy olive brown. And Swat Kats was on Cartoon Network at 4:30 pm and was watched with a snack in my parents bedroom.

Paddle Pool that fit in four children. But eventually only two fit in (My brother and I, because our cousin sisters were too fat and sensitive to cold water)

Playing Holi with all the different bright colours and the water pistols and buckets of warm, coloured water drowning everyone in unending laughter and euphoria. Back then, girls were girls and boys were boys. And then were no creepy men. And no beer.

The bell ringing to announce that the next period is BREAK, when hot hot samosas were bought from Dave's Farsan Market opposite my school and were sold to select classes who could afford maybe more than one at a time (since they were limited). Since I was in the senior class, I got preference.

The poisonous looking Pepsi ice thingies that I wasn't allowed to have, but had every other day (if not everyday) at the end of school, in my school bus. The black and red lips that followed were scrubbed clean before I met my mother after getting home. Often my lips would turn red anyway, and my mom wouldnt bother cos I always had some colour or paint on some part of. I was clean and well groomed, but scruffy-at-heart as a child.

Elephants on Sunday morning walking by the street. At that time, they were exotic out-of-city creatures, carrying stories of adventure and magic and prayer. back then I didn't see the reality that the poor animal walked miles and miles and hardly gets any food or sleep.

Horse rides at Breach Candy. And the flaming orange sunset. And the smell of the sand and the sea. And the Breach Candy park where I played on the Jungle gym (which isn't there anymore). I used to feel I was in that movie :"Swiss Family Robinson" when I went up that Jungle gym. Like I was stranded on a faraway island full of wild beasts and abundant greenery.

The sewage/drainage holes in the wall in my sister's building's playground. I was told not to go near them because snakes lived in them. I never saw any snakes but was seriously seriously afraid to go near them and if we were playing with a ball which ventured there, I would be on the point of tears if it meant I had to go fetch it.

Wondering when I'd grow up and finally pass out of STD 4.

Painting my arm green again n again in nursery instead of the sheet given to me.

Playing with the stray cats in my schools playground and the feeling of kittens nibbling on my finger.

Collecting caterpillars and putting them in bottles with leaves and watching every morning how little by little the leaves are being nibbled away, the caterpillars are getting fatter and eventually they freeze into this morbid looking web (cocoon) and then eventually bloom into butterflies one day, which I set free outside my window.

The wasp nest that was made on my favourite soft toy. Which I did not destroy, until all the eggs hatched and one by one I let the wasp babies fly out of my window every morning.

The mangoes I stole from a tree of the neighbouring building late at night. We built a contraption with a long stick with a hook at the end and a net at the bottom and stole the mangoes.

The mosaic tiles on the terrace and how the moon glittered on them. Broken shimmer

The first time I fell in love. In the Second grade. with my friend's brother. Who played the piano. I couldn't say a word when he was in the room. I couldn't look up. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I froze. And turned into stone. And blushed a deep maroon.

The first time I played music on stage. It was a tiny white CASIO keyboard. We had singing and music assemblies every year in school. I never sang, always played. And everytime I played "Chariots of fire" or the Top gun theme song.

How we never found out whether Angad would go out with you or not.

Walking from College to colaba causeway and walking up and down it till I was so bored I walked back to college and sat on marine drive with a friend and begged all our friends who passed by to buy us red bulls, in return for singing. Naturally, noone bought us red bulls.

All the red bulls I had before the band competition at Malhar every year. And how it gave me wings.

College. College. College

My first bus ride. When I was 17. From Wilson college to Churchgate. I think I sitll have my first bus ticket somewhere...Only maybe I wont be able to identify it.
My first train ride. When I was18-19.

Nobody knew about my first bus or train rides until much later.

My first ride alone in a taxi--when I was 16. And although my driver had warned me to check, I was too shy to argue so I paid the Rs 15 he asked for when I only had to pay Rs 13.

The time you socked me in the head with your leg when you were in the roda.

The times I made the mistake of being a goalkeeper when we played handball.

the time I practiced the basic amazonica with you.

The time me and dyuti were teaching harsh how to dance.

Gloria Jeans. Ronnie. Shridhar. Berry chiller. The doors. The friends. The smiles. The dancing. The silliness. The awestruckedness. The exhaustion. The excitement. The adrenaline. The coffee. the jokes. the taunts. The fun. The connection. The Bond.

The intelligence. The humour. The brains and the heart. The sarcasm and the tenderness. The artistic fingers and the long legs. And the injuries. And the money. And the honda CR V Truck. and the Toppers list I never saw, which you claim to feature in. (yes, I believe you....if you really want me to)

The on cue laughter.

My little pekingnese dog who recently was put to sleep. I remember his first day. He came into the house. Peed in the garden and sat quietly in my grandmother's room for a long time. Back then he couldn't bark or whine. Too young. and we kept him in a big blue balti, which he could climb out of then... and his attempts at barking sounded like a man with asthma laughing.

all the little sparrows who got hurt that I kept as pets and tended to till they were ok or died. I named them all Nell after the one I really was attached to. And all the goldfish we kept. We named them all Tang. After the first one that I was attached to. We buried all the birds inthe garden. With little crosses.
I think the fish were flushed away though, now that I think about it.

My childhood dream of owning a cat. And watching in glee every october at the fresh litter of adorable kittens that the compound cat always delivered in a corner in my garden. So cutely they were piled up on one another and fast asleep.

The fat rat in my garden, that my brother once tried to shoot with his rifle. But he couldnt get out of his seat or move towards his rifle, because he found that when the fat rat came as close to him as his feet, he was terrified of it and froze in fear of it knowing he was there. He never tried to shoot the rat again.

My walking shoes when I was a kid.

My riding boots my Grand aunt gave to me.

Amateurs Riding Club. And the big, tall old trees that my brother and I climbed. With ants in our pants, but at that age we dont care about such things. I dont think i ever grew up in that respect though.

Dinners at china garden. And how i HAD to have those hard, fried crunchy noodle things with my food. And I almost ALWAYs had to be taken home early.

Car "Trips" from my house to Parla. Taht's a town trip to suburb trip. I took my pillow, blanket, archie comics, (my mom packed food and water) and I fell asleep at the back of our Tata Estate.

My father driving me to the edge of nariman point at full speed in his olive green gypsy. At that time there were no railings, no traffic and no speed limits. And then feeding the pigeons.

Watching the rain from my special spot in marine lines. without my spectacles. and with a friend.

Making music on my keyboard.

Playing with wet squishy clay and creating beautiful models that would harden up in ten minutes. The smell of wet clay on my hands. Something very natural and earthy about it. I find that smell very comforting.

Swimming in a pool of muck during the monsoons while we played football in our PE class. And getting jaundice three days later and missing three weeks of school.

Being a child, and nothing more expected from me.

My mother holding my hand TIGHTLY (pronounced TIGHT-TELL-LEE when I was a kid) when we were walking through crowds. The physical closeness to someone I love. Being held close and tight. The ultimate ultimate ultimate form of security. Being held Tightelly.

Sleeping with my ears covered by someone's hands. So that they stay warm and evil spirits dont enter my brain through them.

Drawing on my wall with my fingers while I tried to go to sleep at night.

Drawing on the ceiling with my toes.

Eating cement.

Drawing on everything. Walls, paper, furniture, clothes, sewing machines, toilet seats. Drawing with anything. Felt pens. Ink pens. Paint. Crayons. Ink. Blood (this is when i'd scratch a scab out and the blood would ooze out and the colour was mesmerising), tube paint, glitter glue, vegetable curry.

Chem class. I love playing with chemicals and fire and the scary acidic smell scared ande xcited me at the same time. I love the Chromatography experiment where we played with colour.

Art class.

March Past.

Sports Day.

Singing "Im horny" without a care.

Sleeping knowing that the day is over, and the next day is fresh, without any of yesterday's rubbish (except the Homework i hadn't finished)

Working as the youngest, newest employee, with the worst category and making it th ebest category, smartest employee and most loved employee

My short hair.

My cheeks (they werenn't so sharp and thin always)

my butt (i know it's fitter and tighter now, but I liked it when it was bigger)

My long hair when I was growing up. It was so long and had flecks of red in it... (i guess it's still there only when it's long i can make out better)... and how I left the house without making my hair. even after a shower. and dried it in the sun or on the bus. And looked like I had been hit by a hurricane.

Sleeping in the AV room during understanding cinema class.

Being asked to leave the AV room for sleeping in class

Finding a better way to sleepin the AV room class without getting caught.

Christmas. The magic that surrounded it every year. Decking up the tree on the 23rd. Making caramel apple candy. The turkey/ roast chiken. The Pink champagne i got to drink in a small bowl. The carols. The Salvation army and their routine. The feeling that angels were dancing around me as I sang to them and that someone magical would come in the night and see my decorated tree and leave me presents. I could never sleep that easily on Christmas Eve. the house would be brimming with magic. And I was in another world for those few days of Christmas celebrations. And all the countdowns to the new year on TV. Each channel having a different countdowns. And my grandmother slipping of her chair, tipsy on Tia Maria.


The idea that this is how life will always be.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

The Immortal

I have grown in a very spiritual and religious environment. Followers of Sanatana Dharma, my family brought me up on a regular dose of spiritual discourse, poojas, mantras and kirtans. Although when I grew up I went further away from religion and embraced my own version of spirituality, I was left fascinated by one aspect of my childhood. Lord Shiva, to whom my family offers prayers.

I have been afraid of the divine as a child - this great entity with insurmountable power and energy, from whom light shines and radiates to all corners of the world. This great person who both gentle and fierce at the same time. This person whom I cannot see, touch, feel, encounter unless I am of divine soil myself. In short, this entity that surrounds me but is intangible.



As I grew up, and my own thoughts took over, the image of the 'divine' changed for me. Gods became people that once existed. Their energies are what set them apart - what make them divine. And all the Hindu deities have their special energies for which they are revered and famous.

Lord Shiva, to me, has remained the humblest, simplest and least assuming. He was powerful but vulnerable. He could create and destroy. He was supreme to all gods but lived among the dredges of society - he loved all the unwanted, rejected, ostracised 'vermin' that others spurned away. He protected the weak, sided with the underdog, and on several occasions, has been the underdog himself. He absorbed the poison of the world and maintained the balance of live and death. Yet, he does not come to the forefront.

And it is rare to find people like him among us now. My fascination with this divine existence remains.

Perhaps that's why I'm latched onto this new TV series called Devon ke Dev Mahadev. I'm not one for Hindi TV serials, what with the current melodrama that's been churning out over the years. But as of late, mythology has become a prominent theme across media - The Immortals of Meluha has a very interested take on the story of Lord Shiva. Even more interesting still, is the TV series DKDM. I didn't think anyone would do justice to this divine existence, but actor Mohit Raina seems to have done hardcore research and hours of method acting to get under the skin of his character, which under normal circumstances can prove to be quite a challenge. Under these circumstances, chances are negligible. But I'm overwhelmed by the depth of him.

Perhaps he is a very good actor. But I like to believe, that somewhere deep down, he has connected with this entity. And for all we know he may not be that religious or even believe in folklore of generations ago, but the intensity of his emotions indicate a deep spiritual connection with hisself. I don't mean he is god, or otherworldly. He is Mohit Raina. It just takes a lot of inner strength and calm to be able to portray such a strong and difficult character. And for that, I respect him. And he is supported by an equally dedicated cast and crew. The graphics are phenomenal, especially in the Indian telly scenario. The music is intense. I can see this show has been created with passion from every person part of it. And I'm a thriver on passion. I am an avid watcher of this series, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in a very refreshing and believable depiction of the life of Lord Shiva.