Starved of conversation. Starved of companionship.

Starved – stricken to the very bones. Starved of genial compassion.

Starved of hunger, even.

Just starved to the very bones and, then some more.

But, that’s what propels me to move on. Pure passion, above all.

I see so much more, now that I am stripped of all things awry.

Clarity brings it all together.

Feeds my very core.

A new dawn puts me back together.

Sunlight melds my scraps tight.

I’m whole once more.

Om.

But, something was not right. She was not enjoying herself because she was, in reality, living in the past. Not because it held such precious memories (which, it did, by the way) but, because she was afraid she’d move too fast if she didn’t hold on to the past. Seemed silly when she thought about it but, regrettably, that is where she was at. Maybe it was more than that but, she was clearly not thinking right to figure it all yet. ‘So close yet, so far’ seemed to be an apt subtitle for this part of her life.

But, today, all of that would change. Little did she know when she woke up to the shrill default alarm tone of ‘Good Morning’ she set on her barely functional ‘Samsung Duos’ for Nine a.m. on the morning of March 25, 2013 that something unexpected was going to turn it all around.

She brushed off the copper bangs from her forehead and looked at herself in a frosty windowpane as she walked into her tiny pink wallpapered bathroom. She could just about make out the Donald Duck on her over-sized night tee in the foggy pane. She cinched the tee and looked at her silhouette with the critical eye only females engage while checking out themselves and their counterparts. She’d lost a couple of pounds and it was beginning to show now. She liked that. Having had her fill of her hazy outline she turned around to look around the bath. “This fluer-de-lis pattern is beginning to get overwhelming,” she decided, as she turned her attention to the cabinet mirror.

She sighed as she picked up her toothpaste, glancing at her chipping purple nail enamel and made a mental note to go for a manicure the coming weekend. As she brushed her short, square teeth, a bit of foam flew to her freckled button nose. “Maybe I should get a nose ring, I think a black one would be pretty damn nice – it would give some color to my pale face… Hmmmn, Jeanette mentioned a place in SoHo which did piercings and tattoos. But, it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? Maybe a nice tan would be better instead. But, aren’t those potentially cancerous? Well, I guess I look fine just like this… what the hell!”

Forever second guessing herself and not fully charging into anything. That was Marianne. Her whole life had become a one-step-forward-two-steps-back sort of situation and she was slowly starting to tire of it all.

On the ‘R’ train, Marianne gazed listlessy at her fellow commuters and wondered if they too had faced an impasse such as hers in life. And, how many were, like her, pretending to get by while actually being stuck in the same spot. As she walked into the swanky building of ‘Simon & Schumster’, she wondered what the day had in store for her. Surely, some oddly tiresome jobs – that being a secretary to one of the junior partners of the equity firm was not all that time consuming, or that exciting, was one of the recent realizations that had dawned on her. “Why am I even doing this job?”, she asked herself for the millionth time in five months. “To be in New York,” was her first and last thought on the matter as she reached her desk.

Chastising herself for not having adequate enough goals, Marianne took off her comfy Toms and put on her Miu Miu four inch heels. “It’s funny how I wear Toms when there isn’t much running to do and wear these God awful heels when I have to rush during work! Aaaargh! I hate this!”, she moaned to Jeanette, who was at the work station next to her. They had become sort of work friends, bonding over office politics gossip and Marianne had developed a soft corner for the African-Chinese single mother of three. “You’re preaching to the choir, sister! I ask myself the same thing all the time!”, nodded back Jeanette as she stapled documents with the efficiency of a well oiled machine.

The big beige office clock’s brown hands ticked slowly and Marianne kept glancing at it in anticipation all day. After a bit of light conversation, about ten coffee breaks and a smidgeon of filing and paper pushing, Marianne glanced at the hands of the clock as they pointed at 5:00 p.m. and decided to call it a day and head home.

“Hey, Marianne! Wait up!” called out Umang Mehrang, her boss. She turned around praying for anything but more work, although she had done pretty much zilch the whole day. “I was wondering if you would mind terribly drafting out this letter and then sending a facsimilie to this list of people before you leave?”, he said as he handed her a two page draft of an official looking letter and a list of names which was five pages long. “Now I know it’s 5:15 p.m. on a Friday and a pretty girl like you must have a lot of fun parties to go to but, work is worship, eh?”, Mehrang genially flapped his head from side to side and  Marianne was momentarily distracted by the salt and pepper tufts of hair jauntily swaying on his partially bald head. “Of course, I’ll just do it!”, she cringed inwardly and grinned outwardly as she trudged back to her desk. “Who says facsimilie anymore? Aaargh! I can’t believe I have to sit here and type this stuff when most of these morons have left for the weekend!”

An hour and forty-five minutes, not to mention a thousand grumbles later, Marianne finally left the now empty office for home. “Oh Christ! Don’t tell me it’s raining! Aaargh! I just can’t take this anymore. I think I need a drink.” She spotted a dike on the corner of Rector and Wall Street, its neon pink letters screaming, ‘Jamie’s Tavern’ and scooted inside.

The bar was dimly lit and it took a few seconds for Marianne’s light green eyes to adjust to. It smelled of Bourbon and stale trail mix, an odd combination but, soothing, nonetheless. The pink sign outside cast the bar in a rose light and Marianne had to squint to make out the cracked black and yellowed-white tiles on the floor. The walls had pictures all over and a dart board hung in one corner as people in ties and work dresses talked over each other while sipping on their drinks and munching tidbits. Well, this would have to do – it was now raining heavily and it was far too windy for Marianne to get to the station at this point. “Where are the empty seats?” she thought to herself, craning her neck as she paid for her Grasshopper.

As her eyes scanned the crowded bar, Marianne spotted an empty stool and lunged for it. Instead of the chintz-patterned velvet cushion seat, her fingers grabbed a bristly-hair covered, calloused hand. And, that’s when their eyes met.

Just like that.

All the news channels are holding hour long debates where the same four – five stalwarts namely, Sheila Dikshit, Suhel Seth, Meenakshi Lekhi, Renuka Chowdhury and one or two extra fittings vehemently discuss how brutal the rape was, what the most tortuous punishment ought to be for the rapists, the hard-heartedness of the Delhiites who let ‘Nirbhaya’ lie sans help and the horrendous justice system with appropriately pained faces and a forced tear and anguished plea for sanity interjected once in a while when things get monotonous.

Basically, my head is spinning after watching, reading and endlessly discussing all this nonsense with every second person I meet. The basic problem is that all we are doing is just that. Discussing, probing, arguing. Conjecture is an art the idle Indian has perfected. We take an issue and dissect it limb-by-limb, criticizing everything and everyone associated with it, proclaiming ourselves to be judges of morality and civility while shaking our heads disapprovingly at others. But, do these so-called debates ever pan out to anything?

Take the case of Priyadarshini Mattoo. Or Ruchika Gehrotra. Or Aarushi Talwar. Or Soumya Vishwanathan. All these are high profile cases. All caused furore in the media and within the Indian community. There were rallies, heated debates and a lot of campaigning here and there (just as is going on with the ‘Nirbhaya’ case). But, a few months down the lane, all that remains is a hurried whisper and a stifled sigh. No new laws have been made, nothing has really changed, we’ve just moved onto a new story. Where is the action that follows a heartfelt discussion? Where is the law that follows a petition signed by a million odd Indians? Where is the court sentence that follows the endless chasing of the judicial system?

Who cares, right? Let us all just watch these debates, make some poignant comments here and there and then return to our old ways of turning the other cheek when we see someone teasing a young girl on her way home from college. Let us all ‘Like’ Facebook pages devoted to the ‘Nirbhaya’ case – albeit the only posts on them being photoshopped pictures of the nth India Gate candlelit-midnight peace walk or some passionate sloganeering-type quote that rouses the emotionally charged Indian to ‘Share’ the post on her/his feed, and feel good about herself/himself. ‘Cause like hell we’ll actually do something about it.

In reality, it is easier to make lofty speeches and discuss intelligently but, are we doing something constructive about the issue? It need not be a massive gesture or something groundbreaking – although those would be awesome – something thoughtful, I would imagine as being enough for beginners. Lighting a candle shows respect, I agree but, berating someone eve-teasing a young girl is what would actually make a difference. It is high time we stopped pretending to care and actually took action. After all, these are our lives, our people and our society we are talking about.

This WordPress page is so white

Looks so smooth and creamy,

like an ice-cream on Sunday (or any other day)

KT Tunstall’s ‘Black Horse and Cherry Tree’ plays on at 2:55 on Youtube

Oops! It just slowed down, gotta play it again

Just rambling on with this blink-blink-blinking cursor with my thoughts (not too many and, not too worthy of penning down here )

2. Stupid Girls – Pink!

3. The Lazy Song – Bruno Mars

4. Smooth Criminal – 2Cellos (Cover)

5. Anything by Yo-Yo Honey Singh

I’m sitting in the train, my legs hurt. I take out a book, it’s wet but, whatever… I need to read something. And, then I just forget about everything else. The fairly written chick-lit I’m reading pushes all other thoughts from my mind. That is the greatest gift a book gives one. The power to transport oneself from whatever muck one is in and into a brand new experience – sans anything that one wants to get away from.

It’s reading for me, it could be something else for you. Music transports people to a different plane, fashion does it for others… photography, gadgets, theology, arctophilia… take your pick. The main thing is to have a hobby worth your while – something that is a joy – anytime, every time.

Such is life. There are twists, turns and atishoos all over. But, find a hobby worth your while and everything feels just right!

1. $3-$5 for a pint!!

2. Almost always 50+ years old. Love, LOVE the ambiance – the old wood, the worn-out leather seats, the regulars, the friendly bartenders.

3. The li’l notes patrons pin on the walls, carve into the maturing wood, hide somewhere in one of the corners of the walls.

4. JUKEBOX. YES, PLEASE.

5. Conversation with… everyone possible.

On Happiness

Hey, Y’all!

I’ve been nominated by the scrumptious Cass for the ‘One Lovely Blog’ award! Well, I really hope I win ‘cuz… well, why wouldn’t I want to win? So, help a buddy out, yo?!

Here goes nothin’ :-

Seven Things About Me:-

1. I’m reserved when you meet me but, I’m pretty fun to hang out with once I’ve known you for a while. So, stick around, a’rite?

2. I love roaming around my city all alone.

3. I’m a sucker for anything vintage. That stuff is just classy, classy, classy.

4. I adore Entenmann’s ‘All Butter Loaf Cake’.

5. I LOVE reading. Like, I would mate with my favorite books if I could.

6. One of my favorite things to do is just hop off on a random stop from the subway and find a quiet bar and read whatever I have on me that day. (With a Stella Artois to keep me company, of course.)

7. I’m really hoping to get into full time writing or journalism someday.

My Five Nominees:

Mathangi Jeyabaul

Turkischland

Mike_Reverb

In My Opinion…

HELLA SYDNEY

The Rules:-

1. Copy/paste the award logo onto a post.
2. Thank and link back to the person who nominated you.
3. List 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 5 other blogs.
5. Let your nominees know you’ve chosen them.

My heartfelt thanks to Cass for the nomination! Big hug and all the best!!

*Appendages Crossed*