Emptiness.

The last time i cried in to these, the paneer went salty. I will thence let emptiness prevail.

Early Morning Indulgences.

Rain drops in my tea.
Maroon umbrella yet dry.
Periodic motions of the slinging camera.
Humming a song I go by.
Stack of daily newspapers,
I pull out the lucky one.
Still tells me about the blasts.
Leaving me more waiting for the sun.
But world is still good,
And so are its men.
This however is not something,
I had intended to pen.
The faint smile of a rainy morning
Seldom fades with the day
The worldly woes i sip with tea
I so merry so gay!

A Paunchy Patriotic Independence Day!

No Prime Minisiter's politicized speech. No Tak Tak of the thal-jal-vayu sena jawans marching. Its just the Girl's hostel and Boy's hostel guards. Posing for the camera, baien muding!

A simple Independence Day, with the same patriotic songs playing in the same order as they had played on Republic day.

Same flag. Washed. Dried. Ironed.

61 years of freedom.

In all its reduced non virulent and non infectious form, Independence day still elicited from my within a surge of love for my country. As i clicked the paunchy guards early morning in my pajamas, I promised myself that i did need not yet another 100 years of foreign rule to get my Country freed and display my lowe for it.

I don't know what i would do. I dont want u to know what i would do, even if I do. I remember what Mr. Williams had said (for those who accidentally follow my blog!)

Sigh.

Yes India, i love you and though this seems an inappropriate place for such talks... i m proud to be an Indian, i shall prove to be a true Indian!

Jai Hind.


(P.S: Laugh. Its ok. At times you feel that you expressed ...in writing or though spoken words...somethign overridden with emotions at a particular point and u regret it subsequently. Sometimes you thanks yourself that u were so overridden for otherwise you wud have never said it....this is one of the later times and i m so glad bout it!)

Soaked.

I m loving it.
~Mc Donalds.


There is a joy in wetness.
There is a joy in shabbiness.
And i love rains!
Mostly, coz it legitimizes such chappali- jeans folding shabbiness!


Rain rain come again.
Let Little Johny go to hell.

Now this too is a Rights Based Approach, Really!

Can a moment of weakness justify an act/acts otherwise in private understanding between two people as unpardonable?
If yes, then should not doing of your 'unpardonable' act in fact become a right as soon as the other individual gives in to weakness?
Or now will you resort to the defence of subjectivity of weakness?

I detest the plea of weakness. Completely.
God has made woman strong enough and if one uses the pronoun He for God, conceding He is a male entity, it is obvious and in fact a deductive logic that he would make like pronoun holders at least as strong as the women, if not stronger.
So plea of weakness, momentary or otherwise for doing nething, ANYTHING does not hold good.
And if you have gone weak and expect others to understand, the only thing you deserve is the other one going weak.

I don't know/care how much of it makes sense, but as i write i have in my mind a definite Man, Woman and corresponding weaknesses.
And it shall be of use to know that I m currently at the verge of decision making: whether or not to excercise my right- the weakness fortified in to right!

Shout. Right click. Properties. Background. Novelty!

I am fickleminded.
And I m sensitive.
Unlinked as they might be, it truly shows on my desktop background.

It is like a Kuhnian Paradigm Shift.
The entity on the desktop background as soon as becomes one with sour recent memories loses the space to the next best competitor in My Pictures.
Am i OK? Is it kiddish? Or is it crazy? To shift alternately between your boyfriend, mother and dead grandmother's picture in the order of altercation you have with them in the day. There being a sense of practical impossibility for the change from the last one being caused coz of altercation.

Whatever it be. Pictures speak a thousand words they say, but when i leave a conversation in a thump-feet-leave-room manner, i do the same mentally and desktopically.
Won't you call that being consistent with yourself?

Painfully and Guiltfully Wishful.

The library seems like a strange place. Books books books.
Stored in them the fights, the misunderstandings, the sorrows, the victories, the losses, the yet-another-tries, the patience.
Law. A law library.

Who will cry if a law library gets burnt up?
Most definitely not the students i hope. Excuse for extension in deadlines.
Others glad to keep to themselves stealthily the issued copies to themselves.
Teh librarian happy to have off for a week or two.
Scholars yes might die, but relevance? Lessened contributions towards a hypothetical library which the next generation might have to itself.
My dislike towards libraries is not usual. I was tolerable of libraries as a child.
Nancy Drews. Hardy Boys. Agatha Christies. Robin Cooks. Sweet Valleys. Grishams.
I have grown up envying the book racks taller than me.
Never having ever thought of even a spark in the same. And here i think of a burning library.
I guess its memories the place creates.

Library period coming only once a week, it used to be a joy escaping the tyrannies of the Ma'ams and Sirs for a span of thirty minutes, making the library a desirable place to be at.
But when you begin to associate libraries with deadlines, sleeplessness, surprise tests, issuing/loaning disputes, book hiding, there is not much to look forward to.

Yes, I would pity the burning copy of the day's Hyderabad Times and those books in the fiction section. But the rest of the meek-turned-violent me might not feel a trace of sadness as the contractual violation enumerated on a page goes up in flame.

PS: This is a phasic feeling, which is essentially temporary. This should not be seen as contempt towards books: fiction, scholarly, legal ne sort! This is a meagre expression of disgust of a student who has been recently exposed to the worthlessness of her library having been stuck in the middle of her research with a deadline approaching her at the speed of light.

She surely loves books, even now.