Posts

sacrificial lamb post

I don’t know anything other than wriing. This is what I have been doing for the longest time ever. This is what I return to when everything else disappears, leaves me alone. This is what I have been trained to do. This is all I know. This is what I always wanted to do. But I ask myself often why haven’t been doing this if it matters to me so much. I haven’t written in a year or so. Made space for everything but this. Why? Did I not have enough time to do it? Did I not have enough things to write about or did I not care enough for my own self? I think the last one is somewhat true. I hardly ever do things for my own self. Why is it that then I complain? Have I been programmed (in modern day jargon) or destined (in ancient jargon) to comply? Why is it that every thought that I ever have is about another person rather than it being about me myself? And then someone calls me as portraying as the injured, devious. Really? I wanted to tell him good now that you have seen beyond the façade wh

boom boom

scraed of the boom in my own voice. i hve become loud. i hardly speak. rather i think i am shouting all the time, even when i am holding a normal conversation. alearned man says that ths agitation is the sign of me being unhappy with my own self. i agree something is exasperating me. driving me up the wall. can't put my finger on to it. but i thought i was at peace. a misgiving may be, now that i am showing signs of fraying at the edges. missing gym might have contributed to it. but i know its not entirely this or that. it is a bit of all the this and that. but what to do? some me-time should help. but i got lot of it this gone weekend owing to the fact that Friday was a holiday and S was saat samundar paar and dear darling daadi was available to look after chun. what is it then, that would heal me? a sumptuous lunch may be?

of new years

i love those times in a year when one can freely look back, sum up things and get retrospective. birthdays are one such occasion and the other one is the year enders. like this one. this year for me has been one that brought with it the joys of seeing netra turn in to a chatter box-motor-mouth kid who actually started to behave her age and the naughtiness quotient touched new heights. it has been remarkable in terms of the new things that netra has brought home in the form of never-ever-heard-before nursery rhymes and songs. and we are thankful for them because i can cope with them better than the cockroaches and big black ants, dead and at times alive, that she would often bring like the prized catch. the year has been a good one in terms of work as well. freelanced (still to get paid but what the heck) i hv managed to loose the grumpiness somewhat. managed an outing. a break from the usual suspects. watch a few movies that i had been wanting to see for a while (x-men origins: wolveri

what women need?

something's gotta be wrong with me. i have somehow lost the ability to do what i want to, say what i mean, thankfully i still mean what i say (well, almost, ummm...largely). why? i have often asked myself. the answer is not too direct or clear. but it borders around the fact that i have been brought up to believe that if you do anything putting your'self' first you are selfish and you know, being selfish is not a good thing. but of late i have realised that though certain things have stood the test of time hold good even today as they would in 'satyug'. there are things that have changed dramatically. now to teach a child to put herself at the bottom is to take away a lot from her. to train her for a lifetime to put herself and her needs on the backburner. and i dnt think that is fair. mothers and grandmothers are a classic example of this. looking after their families' every need they drive their minds and bodies to a great extent forgetting in turn that they a

dinner guests

would like to invite Jane Austen, my aunty Mrs Misri, a friend Tenzin nangsyal and ace choreographer-cum-director Farah khan. Jane Austen the English novelist whose romantic fiction are social commentaries laced with biting criticism. What attracts me to Jane Austen are the plots of her work which are comic in nature but highlight the dependence of women on marriage to secure a social standing. This interesting a phase in a girl’s life is something that I have been through. The importance of getting married to the right guy of some social standing can not be undermined in today’s educated society even. The love for Jane Austen is something that I share with my other two guests Misri aunty and Tenzi as my friend is fondly called. The importance of marriage and hooking the right guy in the times of Austen, youth of Mrs Misri and the Tibetan society will become a great topic for conversation. Farha Khan who married quite late as per Indian standards and did so on her own terms as in marry