RandoMusings

Yet another day!

2011-03-11T11:20:00.000-08:00

For Zaara who always kissed her mom and dad goodnight,
For Yamini who shared her father's bed so he wouldn't go near her paralysed mother,
For Xena who led her daughter down the aisle,
For Wahida who uses the weighing scale as a footstool in her loo,
For Vanitha who bit into her shoulder when the cop marauded her body, so her man could flee,
For Urmila who got through school and college cleaning floors,
For Thangam who hopes for a baby girl so she can finally have a doll,
For Sunaina who writes 'erotic literature' for her girlfriends,
For Rose who likes a good butt on a man,
For Qismat who thinks pink colour sucks,
For Palak who has a crush on her brother's girlfriend,
For Ofelia who runs into her mother's arms after school every evening,
For Nisha who longs for yet another glimpse of her neighbour's hot son,
For Meena who does not miss karate even during her periods,
For Lekha who wakes up every morning with heavy make-up on so her little ones don't notice the fingerprints on her face,
For Kanchan who likes to roughhouse with her girls,
For Jessy who took her uncle to court for molesting her,
For Indu who carries pepper spray in her hand-bag,
For Harshita who likes roti with manchurian gravy,
For Gayatri who is the life of every party,
For Fathima who doubled as her twin for the driving test,
For Eva who loves to do it on the dining table,
For Donna who hopes the boyfriend will remember the anniversary this year,
For Chanda who eats from her husband's plate,
For Bani who is yet to be kissed
And for Arunima who refuses to give up even as her mind and body desert her.
For all the women we are...

ON WOMEN'S DAY

Scent of a (child) woman

2010-12-05T07:36:00.000-08:00

She leaned against him, her tiny frame cuddled in his youthful masculinity. He ran his rough fingers gently up and down her silken arms coaxing her to sleep. She keenly followed his every word as he spun yarns to keep her by his side. She broke into tiny bursts of laughter as his fingertips fondled the smooth inners of her warm armpits. She playfully pushed his strong hands away. They returned, this time resting on her naked thigh. He bided his time, stroking her slender girlish legs. She was in a tizzy. His stories amused her, but his roving hands titillated her no end. Even as she glided between sleep and wakefulness, little ants slowly inched their way up the soft insides of her thighs. She shuddered. His fingers gently stroked the cotton covering her soft mound. She pulled up her legs in protest. He quietly retreated and began anew another tale. She smiled. With every word, his hands firmly closed the distance between his desire and her innocence. She held back, not wanting the story to end. His fingers found home. Deftly, he slided his big hand under the thick band of her knickers. She sucked in. He slowly lowered his palm over her warmth. He touched, stroked, probed her. Not satisfied, he tried to finger his way in. She winced and shoved his hands aside with all the might her 7-year-old body could summon. She looked at him, her eyes filled with annoyance. He smiled at her and sniffed his fingers.

Random sigh-ing

2009-06-26T08:43:00.001-07:00

Two years at the great ‘Symbi’ and I have longed for a ‘warning letter’ or a ‘sought explanation’. Well, the latter did happen, but it was for a ‘good cause’ we gave a fight for, rather than any misdeed on my part. So, it wasn’t as ‘thrilling’ as being issued a ‘warning letter.’

Now hardly two months into work, and I have been asked to give a ‘written explanation’ for an oversight of mine that lead to a language/grammatical error in a copy I was responsible for. Well, well, some progress since college days, I must say. One of those moments that you will, not cherish exactly, but remember for a long time. Sigh!

I quite deserve the reproach, in this case. Ouch, that hurts.

Love in Lavale

2009-03-15T04:42:00.000-07:00

The girls call me a hopeless romantic, but heavens help me, if I inhabit a land where the sunrays break through my windows to kiss me good morning, where the sparkling blue waters envelope me in a bear hug as I gingerly step into the swimming pool, and where the cool evening breeze plays naughty with my chandelier earrings as I stroll down the winding paths.

The haughty city girl in me never thought that ‘gram Lavale’ would one day feature in my random everyday musings. Spread over 300-acres, the Lavale campus with its Buddhist-style pagoda and open air amphitheatre are all the tonic, a stressed-out Symbian needs at the end of a long day. And that’s not all. While some hang out near the man-made pond (in fond terms, the frog pond!) sipping frothy coffee, others like to lounge in the spacious Symbi canteen. Groups of people trailing down this hill for night walks is a common enough sight here. And no, we are not just talking about your average nature-enthusiasts.

And as yet another day comes to an end, I retire with a sigh. Pulling back the curtains, I gaze at the silvery slice in the velvety sky. Did I just spot someone winking at me from up above? Or are the stars trying to tell me something?

Yes, JOURNALIST.

2008-11-12T07:23:00.000-08:00

MURDER. No clues, no suspects, all four gone in a single stroke.

Would have normally invoked shock and terror; and set off thoughts on the state of affairs in the world, growing intolerance, need for love and understanding. Not this time. The news was pronounced to me like a sentence and I had no escape. I was there to do my job; and fulfill it to the best extend possible, I must.

Calls were made to the law enforcers. My identity deemed that I be paid respect. I asked and received much more than expected. Neither did they know this was my first, nor did i try to hide it. I guess, the simple fact of my "necessary evil" kinda existence in society brings with it certain powers. The boss however pointed out flaws and a great learning it turned out to be. I knew I was right in having decided to come here.

At the end, I was surprised at my own lack of emotion. I was completely antiseptic to the turn of events. And to think I am not even a few months old here. Professional hazard, they call it. I pray it doesn't rob my soul.

My Dad agrees too - "Girls just wanna have fun!"

2008-08-28T00:31:00.000-07:00

(My personalised version of Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls just wanna have fun')

I stay up late at night,
My father says "When you gonna live your life right?"
Oh, daddy, dear
We're not the naughty ones,
And we won’t let you down,
But girls, just wanna have some fun,
Read a book, or watch a flick, and slip into slumber, curled up on the couch,
Oh, girls just wanna have some innocent fun.

The phone rings in the middle of the night,
My father yells "What you gonna do with your life?"
Oh, daddy dear,
You know you're still number one,
And there’s no boy in my life yet,
Oh, girls, just wanna have some innocent fun.
That's all they really want,
When the working day is done,
Girls just wanna have fun.

Some boys take a beautiful girl,
And ask to be compensated with cars and cash, or gold and gifts,
I am not a ‘Buy One, Get One Free’ product,
I wanna be the one to walk in the sun with my head held high.
So, daddy please, believe in me,
And don’t care about a society that can’t respect or understand me.

Girls just wanna have fun,That's all they really want,
Before the sun sets on a short life, full of responsibilities and worries,
Girls just wanna have some fun.
******************************

I sent these verses to my "super dude Dad", and he responded with a "God bless you, my super cool daughter." Awwww.....

A dream!?

2008-08-28T00:23:00.000-07:00

Wild with passion, raw yet tender, unstoppable and unimaginable… a torrid love affair, as they call it. To enjoy love, like it will be gone the next moment. To throw caution to the winds, to stop thinking, to keep looking into the eyes of the lover, to feel love all over your body and soul. Make love till you’re completely spent and then fall apart. To sit back leaning against your lover… talk about nothing, just listen to the heartbeats in the room. Then, sit by the window, covered in moonlight, cuddled in your lover’s arms.

To wake up to a day in heaven… with a loving smile on the face… to say nothing, yet know all and understand all. A peck on the cheek and ‘I love you’ in the eyes, calm and peace in the mind, knowing and believing that it’s going to last forever.

Waiting with love, waiting in anticipation, for the moment… to run into the arms of the lover, take in the scent and feel the rush. With music in the head, to dance with the wind and swirl in abandon in those caring arms, to laugh till it hurts and then fall on the floor and lie back. Loud heartbeats silenced by a sweet, lovely kiss.

Jack and Jill – Innocence lost

2008-08-28T00:20:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack and a girl named Jill. They were good friends and lived in the same neighbourhood. They went to school together, shared their tiffins with each other and played in the park every evening. Then one fine day, Jack and Jill heard and saw something about ‘the birds and the bees’. They were curious to know more but did not dare to ask their parents. Jack’s buddies showed him some magazines and Jill’s friends whispered something in her ears. On the way back from school, Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.

Has the popular nursery rhyme gone haywire? Going by the number of instances of child rape and molestation that one comes across in the media today, it would not be too surprising if old nursery rhymes were to be modified thus. Circa 2008 is at a stage when schools and colleges in countries abroad are advocating installation of condom vending machines in campuses to dissuade teenagers from engaging in unsafe sex. But what about our young Jack and Jill to whom ‘Moods’ or ‘Kamasutra’ mean nothing beyond “chee chee” product brands shown on television. These young impressionable minds exposed to suggestive graphics and images, raunchy lyrics and explicit music videos have nowhere to turn to for help.

The recent cases of nine and ten year olds being charged with sexual offences are appalling. This is more serious than perverted men abusing innocent lives. So, how do we prevent our tiny tots from falling prey to these life-sized threats? Proper sex education imparted in the right way, at the right time – it is not enough to learn the diagrammatic representation of the human reproductive system in Biology textbooks at the age of 15. With changing patterns of living, the onset of puberty has also advanced. It is therefore important that parents and teachers provide adequate information and emotional support to children as they go through this turbulent period in their lives. Shying away from such issues will lead curious minds to tread risky paths. Let us not be responsible for innocence lost.

FUN Things to do before getting MARRIED

2008-08-28T00:16:00.000-07:00

1. Learn DJ-ing
2. Learn Bharata Natyam – Mohiniyattom
3. Learn Salsa
4. Learn Kalaripayattu/Karate/Boxing
5. Learn to ride a motorbike
6. Get a tattoo
7. Get a dog
8. Work for an NGO
9. Bungee-jump
10. Sky-dive
11. Go on a shopping-eating out spree with Mom (repetitive)
12. Help Jen to get her hair coloured and ears/nose pierced
13. Buy F.R.I.E.N.D.S. complete VCD/DVD
14. Own an SLR camera
15. Own a handycam
16. Frame pictures for the wall
17. Go on a date for Valentine’s Day
18. Send mom and dad for a candle-lit dinner date
19, 20,… to be updated.

Thank God, it’s Thursday

2007-08-18T07:39:00.000-07:00

No hurried dressing-up, no scurrying for the first and best ones of the uttapams and idlis, no 8:50 or 8:55 or 9 o’clock bus to catch.

Thank God, it’s Thursday.

The clock ticks away, mobile phones cry out ‘alarm’-ingly in monophonic and polyphonic tones, reminding their masters of commitments and deadlines – MRM presentations, Visual Communication assignment, Photoshop paths and layers. Yawn!

Sometime close to noon, a head creeps out of floral prints and dishevelled hair. Throwing my pretty blanket aside, I sit up with a shock. Damn, missed breakfast again. This happens every Thursday. I turn to my right, Susy kutty is fast asleep. Is she snoring? To my left, Sammy Whammy lies on her bed like a defeated warrior. Cool, I’m the first one to wake up.

As I move about the place ‘noiselessly’, the other two heads pop out of blanketed enclosures. In a matter of a few minutes, everyone is on their feet, going about their respective chores. What follows is a series of logical and rational reasoning, in an attempt to find solutions. ‘How can they shut the mess room by 9.30? Breakfast should go on till 11, maybe even 12’, ‘They should provide bed-tea-breakfast’, ‘Maybe we should talk to Colonel?’ Absolutely pragmatic ideas and suggestions. We marvel at our own ingenuity. One leads to another. Not on a hungry stomach though, thanks to the abundant supply of cookies and chips and cakes in our room. Ya, ya, we come from ‘khaate peete khandaan’. We totally look the part. No denying that.

As Kishore Kumar and Abba and Sean Paul conduct a hopeless symphony in the background, we turn into ‘homemaker’ mode. Swinging and lip-syncing to the tunes of our respective idols, we go about our household chores – directing the cleaning lady not to miss that little corner there, instructing the laundry woman to handle the clothes delicately. At the end of the exercise, we look at the outcome proudly. We’ll make great home managers in the future.

Lunch time, and yes, we’re on time for that. After all, one can’t survive on snacks and savouries the whole day. Over roti, dal and curry, we discuss the politically volatile situation in the major cities of our country. ‘After all, FOOTPRINTS and CAMPUS OLYMPICS are team efforts’, ‘How can s/he behave like a dictator?’ We end our conference with a mention about the virtues of ‘people skills and collective responsibility’ and affirming the importance of event management. Yeah, way to go!

Back into our clean rooms, we decide to now utilise the time in a more productive manner. Settled on our respective beds with a book in hand, we turn the pages of history. Quite unconsciously, siesta takes us into the world of fact-based fiction – we roam through the streets of Lappierre’s City of Joy, swim through the waters of the Meenachal in Roy’s God of Small Things and ponder upon Desai’s (The) Better Man. Overcome by ‘intensity and purpose’, we decide to replace these novels with less-novel creations like Mass Communication In India or the like by you-know-who!!!

An unusually long period of ‘intensity and purpose’ puts us in philosophical mode. We ‘communicate’ in profound terms and discuss the vagaries of the male psyche. The study of mass communication has led us to dissect and critically analyze the words and thoughts of the ‘men in our lives’. Brooding over our unrealised/unfulfilled/uninteresting love lives, we sink into deeper thought at the cost of the peril of God knows who.

Dinner is followed by good night calls and long-distance kisses. What would we do without such doting families? Yet another day passes. Rather uneventful, just the way I like it. Thank God, it was a Thursday.

Lovefool

2007-08-18T07:11:00.000-07:00

Love is for you... love is for her and love is for him… love is not for emotional fools like me…

With nothing but make-believe love and misunderstood hope, I trudge along. Not once, not twice, again and again and again, I let myself get carried away. I let myself believe that this time it is true… it is for life… he is the one for me… but every time, I end up feeling lost and betrayed… no one to blame… every time it is me…

Why do I let myself go through this every time? Why don’t I ever learn… why is my heart such an emotional wreck? Why doesn’t my silly heart ever listen to my wise head? Why do I choose to be blind? Why do I see what’s not there and conveniently turn my face away from what’s there in front of me. Why Lord? Why... I ask of you. Please don’t let me get hurt again… please let my head rule over my heart.

Chai, biscuit and heart-shaped moth balls

2007-05-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

Well, that’s not quite an appetizing title. On the contrary, that might just put you off food. But pardon me. That was the least of my intentions.

I am not suggesting here, a case of food-adulteration or anything of the sort that one hears from hostel friends. (God save you, if you find your tea smelling of naphthalene!) Chai, biscuit and the moth/naphthalene balls are simply three independent yet related themes in my life currently.
After having spent almost a month lazing at home post-*TYBMM, I got a much awaited opportunity to work for a month until college began. Well, since the job profile was suited to my interest areas, I was more than glad. Added to this the fact that, in my present state of bankruptcy (and anticipated expenditures!), any remuneration is welcome. And well, luckily I was promised a more than decent pay-check. Without diverting any more from the topic, let’s start with the chai…

So, I leave home for work at around eight in the morning. The wait for the bus and the ride to office leave me sweating and hurrying to get into the air-conditioned comfort of my office. Phew! From Sahara to Antarctica (that’s how my sister puts it… Oh yeah, my kid sister also works with me.) A few minutes into work, I start feeling cold. In fact, so cold that I am forced to wrap a stole around myself. As one senior colleague put it, there’s a “BLUESTAR” kinda problem with the office air-conditioning which needs to be fixed. Added to this the fact that I have low-tolerance for cold—I complain about the ‘winter’ in Mumbai!!! So well, the end result is that I soon feel sleepy because I’m cold and snug, and yeah, the work is also quite monotonous. Therefore, the next plan of action is to get my a** up and make some hot piping chai that’ll keep me wide-awake and warm too.

During the initial days at work, I wouldn’t even consider drinking tea, because well, I’m not a tea/coffee drinker. I have often received wide-mouthed reactions to the above statement. Being a “South Indian” how can I deprive myself of my ‘birth-right’ to excellent tea/coffee?! Yeah, whatever! So the first few days, upon feeling drowsy, I would go into the pantry and pour myself a cold glass of TANG instead. Ahem! I realized soon enough that TANG did not solve my ‘sleepiness/coldness’ issues. In fact, it just added to the ‘chill’. I ended up visiting the ladies room more. So, in the end I had to succumb to the chai. Now two cups of very strong chai everyday, ensure I remain awake.

Biscuits are a must-accompaniment with chai almost everywhere. That’s the case at work too. All are free to help themselves to an assortment of biscuits kept in the pantry. But the Good-Days and Bourbons and Milk-Bikis have never quite fancied me. Since time immemorial, I can remember our Mom complaining about how spoilt we brats were and so unlike all the other children in the world. After all, who does not like biscuits? But well, we liked only noodles and fries and oily/tasty, spicy, roasted stuff. Sigh! But when one has access to nothing but biscuits, what to do? Today, biscuits are an integral part of my diet. Gulp!

So, what role do the heart-shaped moth balls play? Well, nothing really. Lately, we have found that the moth balls being used in the wash basins and elsewhere in the office are tiny heart-shaped ones. A colleague expressed her shock thus: “Who in the world would think of making moth balls (of all things) in this shape?”

Sigh! I wonder what those manufacturers had in mind while conceptualising this unique idea.

(*TYBMM-Third Year Bachelor of Mass Media, University of Mumbai.)

I am in love!

2007-05-23T01:55:00.000-07:00

How I love you, my love. You make me feel wanted. I could ask for nothing more. In my heart you’ll always be my special one… my only one. Like Shania twain croons… you’re still the one… the only one I dream of… you’re still the one I kiss goodnight.

You have brought a new colour into my life. A colour I did not wish for… at least not yet. But now I can’t live without it. Every moment I yearn for it. My heart-strings are tugging at me. It makes no sense. What is happening? What will happen later? I am scared of being hopeful. What if it’s not to be? What is to happen then? How will I live then? How will I control myself? Have I gone too far already?? I do not know. All I know is that I feel you are the one for me.

I love the way you call me… nobody else is allowed to call me thus… I can handle it only from you. I love the way you make me feel… love the way u tease me… the way you condone me… I love the way u make me feel adorable.

Will I love everything about you? I am not sure. I am scared to know. But, what about you? Will you love me the way I do??? Will you like me despite everything else? Will our love be… ‘but, I love you’ or ‘I love you, but’?! It hurts to even think about it. What is to become of this? I have not the slightest idea in the world.

Tell me… how do you feel about me??? Am I just another one? Or am I like no other? Am I special… different???
What is it about me???

A Random Musing!!!

2007-05-23T00:38:00.000-07:00

How can u simply tie a lasso around the moon and pull it down? How did Bruce Almighty do it??? Bah…humbug. That is impossible. That was just a foolery using modern technology. And can we ride on the sun??? Nope. Yet another impossible thing. Well, I guess the list ends here. The list of impossibilities, that is. Are there others? Maybe there are. But this is all I can think of at this moment. Maybe I’ll add on to this later.

I am not always like this. Such outpourings occur only when I am too bored or have flipped slightly. Most often I am ‘serious’ n ‘worldly wise’. I can write about sensible things - things that make sense to me. I am not that intelligent or knowledgeable – but I look the part. That’s what everyone says…. “I sooo look serious”. My sis Jen says I must smile more, or else people will think I am unapproachable. Hmmm…. Don’t quite agree with her. We have fought a lot over this. But well, I don’t think I wanna change that part about me. One of my juniors recently commented upon my being sophisticated. Wow! That is sooo not me. I don’t have a sophisticated hair on my body. I look serious, well coz that’s how I wanna be considered. I don’t wanna walk on the road smiling like a fool and making everyone feel that I am approachable and friendly. Hell no, I dont wanna make friends with every Tom, D*** and Harry on the road. I don’t even wanna make friends with everyone I know. When I feel it’s safe and harmless (ya, I know, both words mean the same) or if I feel like being friends with someone, however good or bad they may be, then I shall smile, joke, fool around. I’m sure not a single person who knows me even a little, will say that I am unapproachable. I may seem so to people who do not know me. That’s fine, let them feel so… no harm in that. I do not wish for them to feel any other way about me.

God, I feel like a talking parrot. Hmmm.... Why couldn’t I simply write in my diary? Why put it up here for public to see? Well, I am so overtaken by technology that I no longer feel attached to a book. I can type away at the keypad, but find it too boring to write in a pretty little book and then keep it hidden. Too much of a bother, considering how lazy I am. So, wel this is it. Im gonna write in my blog.
Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhhh……. Fun….. fun… this is fun….