Friday, 6 December 2013


Thanks for dropping by.

Sorry, but I’m not here anymore. I bought a new place. No Jacuzzi, but there’s a nice garden.



Wednesday, 9 January 2013

How to...



(The top 10 suggestions on Google if you type ‘how to’)
Probably it all began with a man and his search on how to download movies to learn English so as to impress a girl who didn’t really need to lose weight but was too afraid of the potential to gain weight when she would get pregnant and give orders to her man to make pizza and not make love, and who promised herself she would take time out to maybe improve English or learn to make chocolate and went on to do neither and now wonders how she got here in the first place and then remembered that innocent day in May when she stepped forward for that first kiss.

Monday, 31 December 2012

Season's Grievings

There is something sick in the pit of my stomach
There is something stuck in my chest
There is pain from something I’ve lost
Wound around in place of my heart.   

I search for hope in the clamour of noise
Ban skirts, bring to justice, no short of death
The voices in my head are out on the streets
Did you hear what I said?

Scream in a dream and be done with rage
Breathe in silence, find your answer
Mistress of my own destiny?
Permission please to walk this way.

Read aloud, talk nonstop
Wring my hands in the air if I must
Be like the lotus, flowering among the filth
Smile through the worst for something to give

Stay calm, hold still, this will hurt a bit
Walk away and wait for dawn to break
Nothing happy about this New Year
Can tomorrow be another day?

Friday, 2 November 2012

Fast, Abuse, Hate

If you didn’t know it this morning, you would probably have figured it out on your way to work. And by ‘you’ I mean a man who would never fast for his wife or a woman who hasn’t taken a day off to fast for her beloved husband. The metro was filled with women in their glitzy best, strutting along in high heels and dangling mangal-sutras. The only thing dangling from my neck were the quintessential outdoor aviators. In an Indian soap-opera on TV I would be the English-speaking, Western-clothes wearing vamp. In real life I believe more in eat, pray, love. Every day.
It amuses me no end that some women will go all about town crying about their horrible husbands and their miserable married lives. But on one day in the year they will miraculously forget it all and ‘pretend’ that their husband is the centre of the universe. Why they can’t choose a consistent love or hate relationship to last them through the year is beyond me. Maybe they have nothing better to do in life so getting all excited about this one day keeps them on a temporary high. Or perhaps it marks the one day when the husband will pander to her wishes because on all others he will continue to belittle her and she will continue to hate him. That, I’m told is the sacred institution of the Indian marriage. Let’s all pretend to be happy on certain occasions (especially for relatives, cameras and the like) but continue to hate each other every other moment of our long (un) happily married lives. It’s beautiful.
In this entire hullabaloo over our traditions and our culture and hamare-ghar-mein-yeh-hota-hai and tumhare-ghar-mein-woh-hota-hai type nonsense, real love has escaped without notice. You can wear all the bangles and necklaces and rings in the world and hate your marriage (and husband) or wear no such ‘mark’ of matrimony and still love your husband to death. Unfortunately pretence makes for easier selling.

This is exactly how some men get away with waxing eloquent about women’s rights outside the house and belittling their wives at home. It is all a marvellous sham which plays itself out in many a home and many a woman’s sordid life. What can she do except celebrate wonderful festivals in all their glory and be happy that at least she’s got a husband.
Well, she can do a whole lot else, but it requires oodles of courage and layers of thick skin. ‘Tis so much easier to fast (on occasion), cry on cue and watch for opportunities to be one up. Because, marriage, apparently, is a game in which partners are competitors rather than running mates.
Caveat: You (and/or) your partner may not fall in the above-described categories. Good for you.

Wednesday, 19 September 2012

New Beginnings

This right here is supposed to be the new me, whatever that means. I continue to discover new things about myself and those around me everyday. Some of these things will find their way to this space.

I didn't have to go out there and kill the old me (read disappear from cyberspace). Or maybe I did. We'll find out in time. For now its enough to know that I'm rising from the ashes <insert throwing up sequence for cliche delivered>. This resurrection better not cost me a dime. Everything else should be fine. Amen.