Navigating Solutions and Darkness

Photo by  Maid Milinkic  on  Unsplash Written August 24, 2014 I'm sure you've heard these words before  I'm sure these dreams have come a visiting Dropping in when you least expect them  Come to transport you  Back to a place you used to call home  A place where the roads were paved In the sounds of your footsteps  High heels running home  Feeling breathless and angry  Because they're all gone  They didn't care to wait for you  Didn't let you linger awhile  Sing a few more notes  Before the night takes its window signs down  A place where the air whispers of cinema  Of dreams you breathe in  Ballooning up within you  And you're rising up, up Up along with it  Because the cinema is just down the road All your paths take you  Back into the dreams you had  Of the boy in class who was/ Most definitely an actor's twin  A place where every night i...

Trying not to get starry eyed over this boy may have been the hardest thing I've ever done. Memories are tricky. You know how olfactory senses are supposed to be the greatest triggers for memory ever? Well, something that comes close is reopening an old, closed door... and then combining it with another old closed door opening up. Out of the blue. Man, I kind of feel like I got hit in the face by a whole bunch of doors, and yes, this is about the Backstreet Boys concert that just happened in Dubai. When I first heard about it, I remember thinking, whoa, my Instagram story feed is going to be insane when this is happening. And I was definitely right about that. I mean, damn Dubai, I thought you couldn't hurt me anymore, and now I feel like I'm fifteen all over again. I won't, I tell myself. I won't encourage these feelings, just because there's yet another lanky, chocolate boy involved. I won't long for what I can't have, won't start to imag...

വാക്കുകൾ കൂട്ടിച്ചൊല്ലാൻ വയ്യാത്ത കിടാങ്ങളെ  ദീർഘദർശനം ചെയ്യും ദൈവജ്ഞരല്ലോ നിങ്ങൾ  വൈലോപ്പിള്ളി ശ്രീധര മേനോന്റെ മാമ്പഴം എന്ന കവിത ഞാൻ ആദ്യം കേട്ടത് രണ്ടോ മൂന്നോ വയസ്സുള്ളപ്പോൾ ആയിരുന്നു. അമ്മച്ചി പാടിയാണോ അതോ അമ്മ പാടി ആണോ എന്നറിയില്ല - രണ്ടുപേർക്കും ഈ കവിത വലിയ ഇഷ്ടമായിരുന്നു. വെറുതെ കേൾക്കുക മാത്രം ചെയ്കേ ഈ കവിതയുടെ ചില വരികൾ എൻ്റെ ഓർമ്മയില്നിന്ന് മായാതെ തെളിഞ്ഞു നിന്നു. വാസന്തമഹോത്സവമാണവർക്കെന്നാൽ  അവൾക്കാ ഹന്ത! കണ്ണീരിനാൽ അന്ധമാം വർഷക്കാലം  കുറച്ചുംകൂടി പ്രായമായപ്പോൾ ഇതുപോലെ അനേകം കവിതകൾ ഞങ്ങളെ പഠിപ്പിച്ച്, മത്സരങ്ങളിലും വേറെ പരിപാടികളിലുമൊക്കെ പങ്കെടുപ്പിക്കുകയും ചെയ്തിരുന്നു. ഇതിൽ ഞങ്ങൾ അസാധാരണക്കാരായിരുന്നില്ല - ദുബൈയിലും, പിന്നെ വേറെ വിദേശ രാജ്യങ്ങളിൽ താമസിക്കുന്ന ഒത്തിരി മലയാളികൾക്കും അവരുടെ സംസ്കാരം നഷ്ടപ്പെടരുതെന്ന് വലിയ ആശ വരാറുണ്ട്. അതുകൊണ്ട് എൻ.ആർ.ഐ. കുട്ടികൾ നാട്ടിൽ ജനിച്ച് വളർന്ന കുട്ടികൾ ഒരിക്കലും പഠിക്കാത്ത രീതിയിൽ കവിതയും, നൃത്തവും, സംഗീതവും പഠിക്കുന്നു. ഒരോണം പോലും നാട്ടിൽ ആഘോഷിച്ചിട്ടാല്ലാത്തവർപോലും ഓണത്തെക്കുറിച്ച് മിടുമിടുക്കരായി പ്രസ...

Written March 15, 2010 Apocalyptic title, you think? Well, think again. In less than 20 days, I say goodbye to what has defined my life for so long: School Life. Yes, indeed, it is the end. And as pictures of farewell ceremonies and farewell notes throng Facebook profiles... I find myself assailed by a curious kind of wistfulness. Now you'll think, "Oh man, there she goes again, emo talk and senti crap. When the HELL does she NOT feel wistful?" I'm not gonna blame you, but I do like to think that this time I have ample reason for complaint. 'Cause going through all the pictures and shit (and I am not gonna bore you with how I was not reduced to tears by them), one line that kept recurring was:  14 wonderful years with you people, thank you so much. Our own farewell was no exception. The same old Ramayana, minus the Facebooking. 14 years together, yada yada, and I think, "Where the hell are MY 14 years together?" Shifting schools hasn't hurt ...

Soon this will feel like a distant dream.  Until then, may you rest in a deep and dreamless slumber. -  Elise,  Westworld I was introduced to Massari in high school - probably tenth grade, probably thanks to MTS and MTR, my tuition buddies. (MTR got married a couple of days ago, congrats, girl.) Tuitions were a real eye opener for me, socially speaking. It was my chance in a long time to interact with people outside of my very limited social circle. We weren't really in the habit of googling lyrics back then, except sometimes, so I didn't even understand half of what Massari's singing about for the longest time. And it really doesn't matter - even today, Be Easy  has a beat that makes it impossible to sit still. It is also so deeply coded to memories of that time that it can instantly catapult me back into that time. But Be Easy was always the consolation prize song. The palate cleanser for when you've had too many repeats of Real Love. This song has got ...

Written April 3, 2009 I've done it all. Gotten past the nightmarish nuns, and gotten through the endless nights of frustration. And I'm finally back. Back home. Home, the place where I belong. And when I got here, waiting for me on my doorstep was a question I never thought I'd have to face. Do I really wanna be here? Don't get me wrong. I never thought things would be hunky dory. But, you know what? I'm dismayed to find that I'm just a leetle bit disappointed. For one, there's none of the golden hilarious happiness I thought would be mine when I was finally back home. It just feels normal. Or even a bit desperate. Like, I'm still not sure whether this happiness is only on lease for a month, or whether its here to stay. So yeah, all this feels surreal. And to make things worse, there's a cold night outside my window... and the breeze is beckoning to me, calling me out... telling me to come and give myself upto the delicious joy of the nigh...

Photo by  Silas Baisch  on  Unsplash Parts of this country has literally been burning for months - years, in fact. North India is a veritable mess of communalism and a marked lack of sanity. South India is cashing in on the opportunity to prove their superiority, but honestly, it's as big a mess as it ever has been. I went on a couple of dates recently with someone I'd been talking to for like, 2-3 years. One of the things that brought us closer was cats. The other was the fact that he worked in Dubai. When I finally met him in person, I realized that Dubai was a subject we both loved more intensely than I had realized. He was brought up in India, notably in Bangalore, and shifted their to work. I came round to things the opposite way. And while literally all of my Indian friends know next to nothing about Dubai, none of my friends from Dubai are interested in eulogizing the place the way I want to. This put my date in a unique position in my friend circle - he ...

Photo by  David Rodrigo  on  Unsplash I'm currently awaiting my Burger King order to be home delivered, and reading Americanah . I'd delayed reading the book, not wanting to delve into something heavy. I was also under the impression (because I'm a moron) that the word "Americanah" referred to a stylized version of Americana - the telling of American folk stories. Americanah is, instead, the Nigerian word for "American" - it's used in the book to mockingly refer to Nigerians who become Americanized.  There's a lot to relate to in this book - most astonishing, perhaps, is how men manage to be the same around the world - always failing to come up to mark. Always immature. Always playing games. But in terms of what I relate to the most, it is perhaps the life of someone who has lived across borders, across cultures, who struggles with their identity.  Nine years ago was the beginning of the end. Almost a decade of my life not spent in...

Written on October 1, 2008 Photo by  Nadia Jamnik  on  Unsplash Now, what exactly made me choose that title? Frankly, I'm not so sure, except for the fact that everything's pretty much broken heart material pour moi  right now. Where do I begin? Maybe from the last post. Remember what I said about being hung from the yardarm? Very nearly happened. I guess it was stupid to think I could get away with it. I was caught and screwed for every bit of the time I took off. So what with my grandmother's lectures about cutting classes, and the nuns' horror at what I'd dared to do... And that too, a girl. Quel horreur! One of these days, I will bomb Brilliant Study Centre. And then news analysts all over the world will zoom in on my blog and go, "OMG, we should've seen it coming. I mean, look, it was all over her page!" I can only hope I'll be unavailable for comment. The microphones of World News may never recover from the filthy diatribe I...

Photo by  Priscilla Du Preez  on  Unsplash Getting Started (Femme Fatale) Baskin Robbins For President Summer of '69 Searcheth the Key Christmas Come Early Tale of a Broken Heart Hostel California Freecell King Sweet Summer Child: A Love Letter Between Ahab and the Whale This Last Strand Where Angels Fear to Tread Lady of the Land that isn't Really There The Choices That Dare to Cross My Path Will Be Taken Out and Shot The Bitter Taste of Freedom Salvation A New Year Poem 14 Years Together - The Beginning of the End Confessions of a Bored Website Hit(Wo)Man Beat the IIT Boy Awards Ceremony 2010 Waiting For the Roof to Fall In, Or For Me To Fall Off Lightning Dome Cuckolds: A Tale of Two Parties I'm From 'Nam Three Days Into Adulthood Sleepy Zonk - One Half-Firang Politician Stewed and Nettled Sierra's Fifth Circle of Hell - Citations  Alice Didn't Think There'd Be Midterms in Wonderland  Imaginarium That Elusive Frog W...