Monday, March 31, 2008
Every naked truth had foggy dresses to wear.
They pranced around the hidden alleys of the mind,
Wearing blue roses in their hair.
It was a foggy night,
And the radio played sad songs.
I ran my fingers trough the album,
And saw sepia eyes talking of joys yet unborn.
A beaten grey Ambassador screeched to a halt somewhere,
The headlight gleam pierced through the fingers of night-
It twisted and turned in the long necked refuge of the red wine.
It moved and it churned till it could churn no more-
The wine painted designs of love on the white marble floor.
I think I wrote my last wish on the shards of glass with cigarette smoke,
Before I walked out into the embrace of the night, and-
Heard the whisky coloured snores of the city folk.
I walked on and I saw those dresses being shed,
All the truths, now, danced around naked-
Naked, in my head.
Monday, March 24, 2008
i went visiting my grandma yesterday-my Ma's Ma.she looked better than the last time i saw her (touch wood!)
considering that she always lived faraway,i never really got very close to her.but there were times when i went there and went running out into the "uthon" and invariably ran into ant hills.Dida always used to put "choon" over my feet as an antidote for the ant stings.
she was this woman who ran around that huge L-shaped house-managing the kitchen,looking after the "uthon" and "pukur" and attending to Ranga (my grand aunt) and Aku (my grand dad).Dida always brimmed with energy...so much so that she managed to dislocate her hip joint twice and fracture her leg!
but all that changed when Aku passed away.within days of his death,she became recluse-like...reading spiritual books and centering her day around "pujo".with Aku,my Dida died-she became this another person who was nothing like my Dida-she chopped off her waist length hair and ceased to be the Dida i knew-the huge bindi was gone,her hair parting looked bare without the streak of red.she looked pale in her white saris.
yesterday,when we sat chatting over our cups of tea,she spoke of Aku.she didn't cry but i knew she missed him.I knew this was what they call "love".here was this woman-who was born much before St. Valentine became a celebrity,before white teddy bears holding red hearts became famous and even before love letters became an institution in themselves-who felt lost without her husband,even years after his death.she made me read his letters (he was in the army,and had been transferred to Kashmir and Burma a lot of times)-none of them qualified as "mush".he asked her of their children's health,whether the house was been properly looked after,whether she needed money and other such mundane things.so what was it that "drove" this love?i can't say...probably because i have been born to these times.
it's been 3 years since Aku and 10 years since Ranga left us...that huge house,with just 2 people living inside, looks scary now...except the little space where my Dida sits in silence and reads,sews and,perhaps,cries.the house has remained strong-witnessing births and deaths.it has been my Dida's haven.it was this house she came into as a child bride,it was this house she breathed life into and,maybe,this is the house that will be handed over to promoters after she,too,is gone.
as i left,she hugged me and i,for some queer reason,cried.i cried as i silently prayed to Dida to be there the next time i come down.she doesn't have to be active,she doesn't have to run around,she just needs to be there...she just has to be there.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
A is for Amnesia. Of the selective kind. So that I can forget all the shit life has thrown up at me.
B is for my name-Bedatri. I hated it as a kid, but love it now for being one of its kind. And Blue. The colour.
C is for Citrus. The smell. Especially when it comes from soaps. And for
D is for “Duh” and “Dodo”-two words which punctuate my sentences.
E is for Eggs. In any form-poached, fried, scrambled, with cheese, without cheese, omlette....
F is for Finding money in some trousers' pocket when you’re broke, and for Faith. In yourself.
G is for Gariahat...the pavement libraries, Iceberg rolls, cheap clothes and cheaper jewellery...
H is for “Him”...God and “him”...the two most important people in my life.
I is for Irish Coffee, Inshallah and Ice creams...the first because I love the cream topping, the second because the word exudes hope and the third because they are man’s greatest creation after safety pins.
J is for Jealousy. The green monster strikes me anytime, anywhere.
K is for Kitsch Art.Specially when they’re on tees :)
L is for Love and Lollypops...one cant live his youth without the first and childhood without the second.
M is for Maach and Mishti...in any shape, form or colour. And Momos...steamed.
N is for the “New” smell-the smell of new things-new books, clothes, houses or rains. And the not so new New Market.
O is for Oshos. Specifically from Janpath (the 90 bucks ones with flat straps)
P is for Phuchka,
Q is for Quirks...these make people worth loving.
R is for Rains.they do something to me.
S is for School and its insanity.
T is for Tea.
U is for Unidentifiable...there are times I wish to know no one and to be known by none.
V is for Violet. The colour. And Violins in a rainy night and funerals.
W is for “What re?”...something
X is for the kisses in XOXO,the red marks which plagued me through school and for mystery.
Y is for Yes...it’s amazing what all this little word can express!
Z is for Zeeshan rolls and Biryani...Slurp!
And thanks to Mandy for tagging me.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Things at home have changed, people have changed...or maybe, I have.
I feel stupid and wronged. But maybe, even I have wronged.
For now, I move-just move without a meaning. I forget her. I forget that there was someone I walked this road with...till we forced each other out of our orbits. But somewhere, sometime I look at a shooting star and wish...wish that that long forgotten person would forgive me. Once again, forgive me. Forgive me for making it my tragedy.
P.S:huge problem with formatting