tra la lee

i was gonna watch ratatoille (spelling is galat, i the know)
got together a bunch of friends
got husband to agree
got cousin to agree
and then got stuck in a meeting that went on.
and on.

the friends left for the theater
husband and cousin reached the theater

while i sat in a meeting ...

the point being, i missed the movie
but i did make it to the mall... where i waited for the people-who-got-to-see-the-rat-that-cooked

i waited in a bookstore
and i ended up buying 11 books and placing an order for 4 more

the day was not all that bad now was it?

The sign

Show me a sign that you exist, I pleaded.
God said, you think of me.

Realization...

I do not love him anymore
Probably never did ...

sigh*
Growing up simply kills all your youthful fantasies …

And to think I moped around for almost 14 years over it.

Bloody hell.

Good, bad and a happy friendship day

Monsoon has become a crazy time. Sometimes I pray with all my heart for a few stray showers and sometimes I keep my fingers tightly crossed, wishing the clouds away. The emotion is directly controlled by the day, traffic and road conditions.

Friday was a bad day. A few hours of rain and Delhi was flooded. Roads caved in, traffic signals failed, chaos ensued... and it took me a long, long time to get to work. Despite it all, not once did the thought of turning back occur to me... all those years in Mumbai have me well trained. The times we waded through knee deep water and other flotsam are memories I cherish now (though I wished to throttle the municipality back then)... and for a moment, when I reached office, I felt this rush of cheer... a feeling of achievement... rubbish I know but what the heck.

Little did I know that it was indeed going to be a long day. By the time we were done for the day, the car broke down on us. If it hadn’t been for the non-poetry appreciating caveman I would have been royally jacked. Didn’t expect to find help, don’t usually accept help… but cars and such are so not my forte.

Then I hear of a friend’s father being grievously hurt.

A few hours later, I hear of another friend’s mother being critically ill.

And all I could do was pray. And worry. And pray some more.

Time has this strange way of becoming sluggish when mental trauma is at its peak. The minutes ticked by like they were tied to enormously heavy metal balls. The wait to hear the all well sign played havoc on my nerves and once again I realized what I wanted most out of life … proximity to my friends… to people I could talk with …

It was then that I turned to my ever present buddies. Books. Marley & Me by John Grogon is an amazing tale of the relationship between a dog and the family that adopts him.

Just the right book to read on Friendship day.

Hope you guys had a great one…

So, who am i?

i speak in english, i think in english
i speak hindi, sometimes i think in hindi
i speak in marathi, seldom think in marathi
i speak in tamil, i concentrate to be able to speak in tamil

i listen to songs
english, hindi, marathi, tamil
i love them all...

english and hindi are just languages to me. a way to communicate... and i always felt closer to marathi than tamil despite being a tamilian.

the other day i listened to carnatic music and abhangs back to back.
both managed to touch me... deeply.

and suddenly, today i dont know where i belong anymore.
it would be so much easier to say i am an indian and go on with life.