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for the one last time- To Twister

April 18, 2012

Dear Twister,

I miss you. I wish there was something more that I could say. I miss you buddy, that is it. If I had known that you would be with me for such a damn short stay, I would have given you chicken for all your days with me.

I miss you, kuku. There is not one moment when I am not thinking of you. I wish I could say you were just a dog to me. You were truly my best friend for all these 4 years and I know I never will find another like you. I thought I could control these grief that has coloured every bit of my life. I wish I could say that I am doing fine. Perhaps, the days are better. The pretense of normalcy seems convincing unitl I see another animal. It doesnt even have to be a dog anymore. It could be a damn cow, a bird or a goat and that triggers the whole collective memory-pain-grief.

I wish I could get you back Twister. I wish and I wish. And that is when the nights creep in. And it is hell. I can stave off the black cloud that looms at my doorstep the most till dinner time. But a lonely dinner without my favourite person watching me eat or generally creating mischief is kind of hard to swallow. Then it is just crying myself to sleep.

I still have not thrown away your dishes. They still are where you have left them. But those dishes are not you. Yesterday I found your sweater and how do I describe what that felt like. the wrenching doesn’t stop, buddy and there is no way to get you back.

i miss you twister. Please come back buddy. I miss you.

In another world some day you will read this. Read this please. Someday. Please you have to know that I miss you. You have to know how many times I have written about you. Not just here. In my books, in my cards, spoken to you to so many people. You were the pride of my life. And I just wish you were here.

Denial is the first step of grief, I had studied in college. I still feel that someday you will return to my life. And psychology can go fuck itself for this once. Because I know you will come back . You just have to. Because I miss you buddy.
I miss you.


February 29, 2012

Internet, this just has to stop.

Looking outside for inspiration, to do what you love doing, is like searching for your faith in someone else’s backyard. There is just no connect. Once upon a time, I could almost have died just with the thought of a wordless life. It is a reality so stark and in my face now, that I don’t even find the need to fight it. But I am not going to whine.

Since I have let go of words and the other two things that keep me going are travel and food, I thought well why not blog about them. But then that too would be a waste and ideas have remained ideas. I am now so proud of all my so many half baked plans.

Have patience. I am writing after what….months.  The narcissistic me won’t allow the other me to completely abandon this blog. There is so much cheap thrill to be got from some lone comment that comes across once in a year. Why would I want to miss on that?
Hi there internet,


I almost gave up on my dog. The constant barking, growling aggressiveness aimed at the world at large and sometimes me, really pushed me to my limit last week. And I put him up for adoption for about 5 mins. I had been warning him this will come one day if he doesn’t mend his ways. But what is love if it can give up so soon?

The dog resides in my backyard once again. Happy as ever. Happy as me. Did he know that one decision could have almost changed my uninspiring life? He would have got accustomed to his new family in about 30 days. And I would have lived, each moment wondering did they feed him, did they take him for his walk, do they love him, do they hit him, do they keep him warm, do they miss him when they part from him, do they this and do they that. And then there were worries like does he miss me, is he thinking of me, is he mad at me, is he waiting for me to take him back home…

Some part of me religiously believes that in my previous birth i was my dog’s step-mother and I did not treat him very well. So he killed me. Therefore, we are back as family in this life. Him as my dog coz dudes he is a murderer! And me as his owner coz I have to still pay for my ill-treatment of my step-son (in my previous birth, of course). There is no other explanation on how this dog, to whom I have surrendered my heart so completely, is stuck to me like glue.

I have travelled so much in these last few months that honestly, I just want to be at home for sometime. As I type this, I am away from where my house is. Travelling. There are 2 months to go before I can be back to my bed and my books and my rather barren garden. There is just about as much wanderlust as one can continually suffer from. There are the roots which one wants to dig back into the comfort of one’s home. The sands of home pass most easily through our toes. They feel most warm and free then.

Internet, please take me back home.

It is like I di…

December 12, 2011

It is like I did not have a life for a week. 

Hello Internet. You are such a forgiving mistress. No questions asked, no explanations expected. It is a shame how I treat you. But at least I don’t treat you like shit. Atleast, I keep returning to you. Are you my true love?

I am feeling lost in the mire of the all music bands that keep cropping up every time I switch on the idiot box. At one point in time, when I was listening to so much more music. Then I wanted new but new would not come. Now, out of habit and also because I get intimidated by all the variety, I stick to old. 

I am dealing with girls who are my age and younger to me, who come from villages. I am getting continually amazed at the openness that they exhibit. If you have lived in small towns and then lived in cities, I guess you would feel the same too. I love spending time with them. Their awe at things that would be largely inconsequential to me, its amazing. Or how openly they show their fondness for me. Such honest acts of concern and love. In some ways, they are making things easier for someone who desperately needed to believe in things like gratitude and inert goodness of humans. How will I ever explain to them how they are making life more simple for me with their open-faced honesty and inherent goodness. How. 

Some times you get kindness from unexpected quarters. When I shall go back to the world where lying is the norm, where there is competition when it is not required, where you are always involved in the game of oneupmanship, it is these girls that I will think of to get perspective. 

November 26, 2011

There is nothing fantastic about being a loner. Sometimes, few as they maybe, you wish for more friends and lots of noise around you. Sometimes meaningless-ness can be fun, no?

I don’t have those kind of friends. Friends that you would do insignificant things with like have an aimless afternoon doing nothing but talking about superficial things like how dark someone’s hair colour is or how lopsided someone’s frown is. This doesn’t mean that I don’t spend my pointless life talking about such trivial things. It is just that I don’t have special friends for that. I have empty talks but mostly they are with self. Petty and schizophrenic, aren’t we?

I want a trivial life, full of fair-weather friends. What I have is a life I chose with friends that are better people, better writers and more at peace than me. I don’t grudge them that. I just wish I too would have a slice of that what would give me that kind of satisfaction. Dear God, why for fuck’s sake can I not  be satisfied with what I have?

I hate weekends. They leave me feeling empty and like I don’t have a life that I  think I should have. Either the hubby is busy with all the work or there are formal social committments. The fact that I live in a bloody village does not help. DOES NOT.

I never considered myself the city-kinds. I thought I was the small-town/village kind of person. You know beauty of nature, innocence of people who are uncorrupted by the greeds of the big city. I am still that kind of person, except on weekends.


I am distressingly uninspired. And I don’t know what to do with myself.

October 8, 2011

In another life, I promise I will marry Gulzar. Yes, I will. Which man can write poetry as beautiful as him? Internet, I am getting enveloped in a sense of disgust at my petty life because I can’t write what gulzar writes.

I wrote for a friend today. A piece of 500 odd words. Serious shit that. Blogging does not come under serious shit. I doubt my kind of blogging come under writing at all. I felt nice. I felt like evading it. I kept thinking up of excuses to tell her that I could not help her out. But she is a rather good friend. And a wonderful person. That kind of combination is hard to ditch. So, after dilly dallying for about a week and half a day, I sat down post-lunch and wrote … for her. It was tough. To have regularly coherent sentences that show that you are not a dunce and to make it interesting while your heart is telling you to forget about the whole thing. I sacrificed my sleep for you today, S. Kindly note. Only because you are a good friend and a better person than me.

I am high on words today. 500 words. I feel worthwhile today. Smirk not. For me this is no mean achievement.

Let it be said. I miss working for my previous company. I miss you, Google. I really miss you. I had never been so excited about work . For more than 300 days that I worked for you, I wanted to come to your office EVERDAY. If issues were not going on between my parents about Universal Soldier & if life wasn’t as shitty as it was then, I would have been suffering an irreparable heartbreak for quitting you.

But life is about moving on. I got Universal Soldier for all the shit that I put up with. So even if I had to give up Google, I think I am better off in the bargain. Universal soldier, you rule.

I am currently in a place where the dawn breaks at bloody 0430 hrs. And by 1700 hrs it is nightfall. For someone who can sleep only till the sun doesn’t shine, I am facing major issues. By 5 in the morning I feel it is afternoon and I wake up. The biological clock has gone all wonky, internet.

I haven’t started on the book. I am thinking of giving up on it all together. It is just so tedious to think about the whole thing. I think I am feeling too lazy to write it. That too had to be said. So now, be rest assured that I shall find my solace in blogging. There is such comfort in having no ambitions.

I bought myself a nice, fancy black laptop. From the money that I earned. I feel quite proud of it. A camera would make my life more pleasant, definitely but let us not be too greedy.

I ate really nice chutney for lunch today. It looked too red without the necessary fire of red chilies. Or so I thought. The stomach is burning since evening and I have been sweating too randomly for comfort. Internet, do not trust red chutneys. There are hidden bombs in them that explode in your tummy.

I just re-read the previous paragraph and I find it was not needed in this world. But we are lazy. So things stay.

I am behind my time. One day I shall catch up. Till then I will live between red chutneys, deserted brave plans and half empty bottles of Pepsi. Life will always be wonderful, Internet.


September 27, 2011

I am about to set out the loftiest ambition of my life. I am about to. Begin. Writing. My. Book. In about three days, i should have donned the hat of a writer and begun towards the thriving, beating, the most alive part of my ambitious life.

Contrary to what I had been feeling all these years, I am feeling light and airy. Like well-made cake. There is no heavy weight of expectations and fears and impending failures burdening my tiny, little heart. No. There is no nonsense of that sort. So what if I fail. So what if I am scared. So what if it all comes down to nothing. The worst that it will be is a collection of badly written language, uncomfortable words. No hell will break lose because, I , wrote a bad book. The WORLD WILL NOT COME TO AN END.

I think I am finally superior to myself. 🙂

This blog is not a blog. I can’t really help it. I tried and tried and then it still is like a journal. What do I do now?

A friend is on his way to become the next political satirist/cartoonist/poking-fun-at-stupid-dumb-corrupt-politicians person. I am loving that good things are happening to him. When I come to think of it, good things are happening to all my friends. It feels good when life it working out for everyone at the same time. We all can be happy together.

The dog is doing well. Thanks for asking. He has learnt a funny way to whine-bark-howl all at the same time. It is irritating to say the least. Makes you want to tear his tongue out or chop your ears off. Universal Soldier is happy. I am happy. Dog is happy. World is happy.

I am living this joyous life, that I feel I do not deserve at all. I am waiting for the ax to fall on me soon.

Till good things are  happening.

September 8, 2011

I have been living a life of total uselessness. Not one activity in my day is towards any larger goal or purpose. And I am thoroughly happy in this state of being. Internet, for the very first time in my life, I am at peace.

These sound such stuffed-up, important words. Peace etc. It is all in the state of mind? May be not. At least not for me. The circumstances outside of my control pretty much dictate the levels of my peacefulness.

However, we are trying to be all zen like. And the effort stretches to the old hags and dumb fucks we meet. We are going to be the better people, Internet.

I have such an itch to share the picture of where I stay and I will.

Beautiful. It is very very beeeeutiphool 🙂 Can the heart ask for more? Yes it can but we will ignore that bit for now.

I am happy. Gloriously happy.

Till I feel like meeting you again, Internet.