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i told my cook yesterday at 10 am that i’d be appointing someone else from december 1. so she gets a three week notice period. i told my cleaning lady and driver to look for a cook for me, someone who can handle my kitchen and not rush from my house to the next.

today at 8 am, before i have even finished my first cup of tea, the watchman introduces me to a prospective cook.

and i haven’t even spoken to him in two years.

dear s,

this year i didn’t write about you. so the something out there that makes sure i do, every year, made me finally read a book that was lying in my bookcase for three years. aruna’s story. and today as i started to write a little note about what the book did to me, i thought of you.

i pray for both of you.

every day i want to do one thing i love and one thing i fear

the same things will keep happening in your life again and again till you don't learn your lesson.

sometimes the lesson is as simple as - get off your ass.

the bridge over the sea

twice a day i fly over the sea. from the slits in my cement wings i watch grey waves gather up their white hems. i hear their breath. i inhale their voice. as the day wakes up i tell them what i’m afraid might happen or not happen today. later, as i hurl myself into the fist of night i whisper to them what happened today. they listen and they speak all together. (i must learn how)

"geet boodhe nahin hotey, unke chehron par jhooriyaan nahin girtin, woh paltey rehtey hain chaltey rehtey hain"

dexter season 3 is getting lax. c'mon dex, don't make me kill you.

i watched four seasons of desperate housewives back to back and i was hooked. then i waited for season 5 to be available to watch (i don't like watching a series in pieces, i prefer watching all of it at one go.)
finally, i had all the episodes with me. i eagerly watched the first episode. it was suddenly unbearable. i was not just bored, i was disgusted. it seemed so stupid, so loose, so forced. the writing was just a poor play on words all the time. the characters were suddenly fake. the sets seemed tacky. the plot was too pat and where it wasn't, i couldn't really care less what the mystery was, where it was heading.
what is this shit, i was asking myself. did they lose it in season 5? no, it was pretty much the same kind of stuff i was hooked to in the previous 4 seasons.
then i realised that while i was waiting for season 5, i had watched six feet under. and the sopranos. a bit of curb your enthusiasm. sarah connor chronicles. tru blood.

i guess this is what happens when you see something far superior to what you thought was good.

i'm on to dexter now. planning band of brothers, in treatment, the wire. and maybe six feet under again.

i am a cat

i don’t come running to you because

i don’t really miss you much.

i’m not a pet.

i don’t like being touched.

i’m wild. i’m a hunter. i can find my own food.

i don’t make demands over your time.

i don’t smell.

i don’t need to be bathed.

i hate dirty toilets.

yes, i like to have my own toilet.

and i like the feeling

that there’s enough food around for me.

i know there are psychoanalysts

who slot people as selfish if they love me and

caring & warm if they love dogs.

the basic truth is deep down,

you humans like being needed.

you humans can’t imagine an existence where you are a by-the-way.

well to me you are and always will be.

it’s not an agenda i made, it’s just the way i am.

i don’t hate dogs.

they’re not so important that i should have an opinion about them.

i just wish they had a little more dignity.

a little more independence.

a little less smell.

anyway. coming back to me.

sorry but i don’t need you.

i know that frustrates you.

i don’t care if you understand me.

or misunderstand me.

who’re you anyway.

sometimes you need to see light

to see the tunnel

it’s ok to want attention

really. just don’t act like you don’t want it. don’t pretend like you don’t like it. don’t talk of it like it just happened. like you didn’t work tirelessly silently stubbornly for it. like you don’t have that deep unbearable desire to be liked by e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. you have it. you like it. you toil bloody hard for it. you want it. you live for it. you pose out every action, every stance, every smile, every flick of hair, every word, every advise, every display of skin and charm and wit, every wistful look out of the window, every soulful crypticism if there ever is a word like that, you pose for it subconsciously as if you know there is someone in the room with a camera. the point is, you fool no one. you crave it. so enjoy it. you’re terrified of losing it. so protect it. don’t hide it. it’s ok. it’s sad but it’s ok. really. you’re worried sick that one day you will wake up and nobody will miss you. because you wouldn’t know what you are without another’s opinion of you. you’d be broken, undone, unfinished without someone else talking about you. you’d be like a child who fears the dark, left in a room without light, without windows, without doors. groping smooth ice walls for the switch. panting drooling grovelling for a hug. looking for anything except the mirror. anything but that. please. afraid of finally facing the real you. with no one around to click on like.

in the past one year, i didn’t lose my temper even when i was furious.

i learnt that people can be talented and not be evil at the same time.

i unlearnt to write.

i applied cancelled applied postponed shortened and finally went on leave.

made retirement plans. again.

decided never to work with people who don’t respect me. or my team. or my friends.

smiled at white hair.

smiled at white cat.

discovered new music.

discovered new wrinkles.

i stopped running. i stopped asking. i stopped waiting. i stopped looking back.

i jumped off the cliff with eyes shut and without parachute and discovered that i have wings. whoever wants to fly with me, my hands are always outstretched.

i decided that it’s nicer to watch others fighting over my ideas. i believe i'm beginning to win now, slowly, painfully, definitely.

i heard the unique sound effects of pressing the clutch and accelerator together.

i didn’t write as much as i love to.

i didn’t publish much of what i wrote.

i cried through a movie. but then it could be pms.

i met people i’d love to be like.

i met people i’d shudder to be like.

i met peace.

i decided that i have so much to be thankful for. most of all, the gift of seeing what i have.

i decided to see more of my country.

for that i need a retirement plan. again.

i realised that for a lot of people, sorrow is a shiny disco ball. they hang it up when they want to get noticed.

then there are those for whom grief is blood, thought and heartbeat. it will show or vanish only when one of these stops.

i turned vegetarian. no eggs either. it's been a few months and i'm feeling great. i'm weak, but clean.

i made plans to start an animal shelter.

i seriously considered shaving my head. like so many times in the past decade.

i can now talk in decade-terms.

i’m turning 33. but my waist is still 26.

not bad.

i'm slowly beginning to see that i'm like most others. i write not for you but for myself. i hope the rain reaches you and delights you and that you know that what you are feeling is delight and that you can spell it and pronounce it and roll the r as you say rain like you used to when you used to say rain. when you could say rain and when you could say all the things i still do and i'm afraid you probably still can't. i wish every new day takes you back and keeps going back till the day you were you and we were just a bunch of foolish young nods and heys and wassups. dear dear s. my hair is turning grey and my joints are creaking and i can no longer write this without crying freely so i am doing this alone so late in the night and you're still such a heartbreaker.

we move on in a steel bubble no one can burst or see through
in turns
clanging against
clinging to
what we hate
what we are

only loss is constant

i will always be me and it will always be bombay.

you don't qualify to judge till you don't know all the sides of the coin.

you win only when you have nothing to lose

seams

funny how sometimes they hold you together
and sometimes pull you apart,
tug tug tug.