Where’s my paradise?

Butterflies upon their wings,

Fluttering as angels sing.

Blossoms swaying in the breeze,

With careless mirth of a reckless tease.

Nature beckons, she calls to me,

Open your heart and try to see.

Wonders that lay bare before you,

Of shiny petals and morning dew.

Sunshine, rain and misty fog,

Tender creepers colouring logs.

Smooth pebbles, brown and gray

Under gushing river, they quietly lay

Peaks, valleys, creeks and hills,

Of countryside and rundown mills.

I run with arms open wide,

As drops of rain roll down my side.

But city lights now dim them all

with their stark lights and shimmering malls.

Where O where, have those simple pleasures gone

of a purple sunset and a golden dawn

Butterflies upon their wings,

Fluttering as angels sing.

Blossoms swaying in the breeze,

With careless mirth of a reckless tease.

Nature beckons, she calls to me,

Open your heart and try to see.

Wonders that lay bare before you,

Of shiny petals and morning dew.

Sunshine, rain and misty fog,

Tender creepers colouring logs.

Smooth pebbles, brown and gray

Under gushing river, they quietly lay

Peaks, valleys, creeks and hills,

Of countryside and rundown mills.

I run with arms open wide,

As drops of rain roll down my side.

But city lights now dim them all

with their stark lights and shimmering malls.

Where O where, have those simple pleasures gone

of a purple sunset and a golden dawn

The Möbius strip called life…

Been running a marathon,

on this road called life.

Been running for a while now,

yet there was no end in site.

An invention got on my way once

saw this satellite device.

Wohoo I could see myself from above

but – hey – look – what the heck

it’s a Möbius strip I was running on

Been running a marathon,

on this road called life.

Been running for a while now,

yet there was no end in sight.

An invention got on my way once

saw this satellite device.

Wohoo I could see myself from above

but – hey – look – what the heck!

it’s a Möbius strip I was running on

(Inspired by logic behind the Möbius strip )

Lenny and Mike…

Lenny rode a motor bike
thinking he was zany smart
but when he was hit by Mike
he knew he was just a tart.

When you have your silk
In green and pink
Any colour will do
Except green and pink

daydream through a day
and sleep too is a reverie
because there is no other way
to see dreams through reality.

When people think you are a fool
and know not what gems you hide
should you then as a rule
protest that you are not a fool?

When there is someone to love
one who cares to hold your hand
and guide you through this life
is it only then that life finds its meaning?

Goblins at my door…

Knocking at the door,
in the middle of the night,
at half past four
when i switched off the light
came five little goblins
with red satin caps
a basket full of clanging tins
and strange coloured maps.

I blinked hard twice
and pinched
yet could not believe my eyes
I flinched!
Goblins at my door?!?
It shook me to my core!

And then, the eldest spoke!
With his wiry finger did he poke-
“howdy miss, how do you do?
We’re the goblins of the far north
we’ve come to visit you!”

And so they marched in
right upto the den
all five little goblins
with such confidence!
When I rushed back
they told me to calm
handed me some chocolate
and an ache curing balm!

“We read in the papers
you’ve been a little low
this is not caper
to you, this we shall show
we’re your angels in disguise
here to love, not despise
lovelorn maidens we cure
of this you can be sure”

so they wished me night
off they were out of sight
again I blinked hard twice,
and pinched
I could not believe my eyes,
I flinched!

I sat upon the bed
and did all that they said
I chomped on the chocolate
and rubbed on some balm
have I lost my mind
or is this a joke of some kind??

Suddenly heavy lids overcame me
I flopped on the bed
could not think or see
off to sleep I fell dead!

Letters to Miko…

Dear Miko,

I suppose you’ll never get the chance to read this, and maybe I will never get to even tell you that inspite of the slight nature of our acquaintance, you have in some strange way touched my heart. I really do not know what first drew me to you, I suppose I have always been attracted to eccentric people and you have been just that, the little that we know of you. I liked that you love to walk, that you are tall and lanky, and a little weird, quiet and withdrawn, maybe shy, and so very proper and polite. You inspired me to read a little more, work a little harder on my English; listen to that extra bit of music, love my Ipod even more, read up a little more on the sixties and the seventies and so on. I loved that you made me listen to Harry Belafonte, Miles and told me about the bands, Bread and Cream. I love The Bread, by the way.

Life on a trip revolves around some very simple things for me. I wish I could tear you away from the humdrum of class, professors and friends and take you to Marine Drive once again to watch the sun set a few more times. I have always thought it a miracle that the sun would set the same time for ever and ever. I want to steal a little bit of that beauty and keep it in my heart. It is like tearing a small piece of bread from a loaf when you are hungry, there maybe many more loaves but this one particular one would always have that one bite off it. I suppose I make little sense.

I had this dream the other night, where we sat side by side facing an “electric blue” river and what seemed like the ruins of Guatemala, and certain specimens of big horned deer who miraculously changed to people right before my eyes. When this happened you just put your arm around my waist and pulled me close and kissed me gently on my cheek and softly said: what a dangerous t-shirt… ! (referring to the people I thought were deer but were actually dressed in some sort of costume possibly) All this was very nice and I felt extraordinarily close to you. For a long time after I woke I shut my mind to the clutter of the outside world and hugged onto my dream like a precious secret till slowly its sensuality began to wane.

I don’t know what this year holds for me, but of all the things that I dearly wish for, I would certainly like to wish to get to know you a little better, spend some more time with you and maybe, even get a chance to call you this – “Miko”.

Love,
A

In search of memories…

It’s exasperating to think how well I remember you, every miniscule detail – it seems to me that the essence of your being is etched into my mind with golden liquid paint. Your memory continues to sink in deeper and deeper so that one day all that my life shall be, would be an extension of this memory.

Nothing is so permanent as this, no change in this, only I continue to get molded more and more into different shapes, but my void remains but a void.

Everything that remains incomplete has a much stronger memory than those that we aspire and achieve. The broken edges jab at my heart every now and then and I long to reach out and touch something that will sooth the pain. Our lives are but reflections of the cosmos that envelopes us, it is rich with the things we touch, the hearts we love, the tastes we swallow and the rivers that we go floating down. Every life is but a fleeting moment in the endless continuum of time and space, each likened to the other, linked by a thread that is only too bare but unbreakable.

But it is not to despair, for although a meaningless life as this is, there are joys too. We look for happiness in every little crevice of this universe, standing tall as we do, each one is a manifestation of the untold truth, as the centre of the universe…at the centre of the universe; we are all the essentials of our own little world. For man, and indeed all animals, life begins from the core, our egos – the self. For it is in all our similarities and differences that constitute each self, every one of us is a strategist in the world’s warfare. In being who we are we are constantly changing, moulding re-moulding ourselves in accordance with the ideals that constitute ourselves. And it is in this Herculean change that we find the constancy that we crave for. What an odd little world.

I digressed.

The moment is lost; you are lost in the depth of my memory. I cannot close my eyes and feel any longer the wet kiss on my nose. Will my memories fade? Will another one overshadow this memory? If all our memories happen only to be written over then what is the meaning of our experiences. The present is so fleeting and yet man gives up his all just for a moment of ecstasy… a single moment of the emotion that he craves for. The tears that I shed have no meaning any longer, for that was in the past, and my present will not form a memory, as vivid as it is in passing, in the future. But a lingering fragrance must remain and I guess it shall remain… Our lives are like traces of a perfume that we had put on once, our memories are its fragrance, at its best when it has begun to fade, but a whiff returns to us its former glory filling our senses with fulfillment of remembrance…

Well…Well…

Something that I had read sometime back…

It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn’t know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren’t exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don’t recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren’t really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job… and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn’t. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure.

You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can’t meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you’re doing this because you know that you aren’t a bad person. One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself… and while winning the race would be great, right now you’d just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that every one reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out. Send this to your twenty-something friends… maybe it will help someone feel like they aren’t alone in their state of confusion…

We call it the “Quarter-life Crisis.”

Letters…

Dear Homeless Man,

I hope your tap-dancing lessons are going well! I found out today that you have a twin brother, who looks exactly like you. Does he have the same Nike Shoes as you? If so, I think I may always think you are the same person. Sorry for the confusion, no wonder you looked at me like I was the crazy one when I asked you if you ever got a new oar.

I saw you and your brother fighting today. It saddened me deeply – families are the most important people in your life. Perhaps you were fighting over a female? Trust me, that bong woman who yells at people on patios and tries to grab their food is not worth a family feud.

Sure, if she stopped doing the crack and brushed her hair a little she could be pretty. If she ate something she could even be quite lovely but I’m sure there are more ladies for you two to deal with? I thought I’d let you know that that new wave you are doing with your hair? Very Donald-Trumpesque! Dress for success they say!

Kudo!

Alice

Raging Retrospection

Pungent madness…

Sudden theories of anger…

Recluse of pain…

Inertia in thoughts…

Abrupt pockets of sunshine…

Dark shadows of soul…

Bigotry thoughts…

Screaming lies…

Sardonic laughter…

Derisive tears…

Glimmering smiles…

Soulful afterglow…

Lonely walks…

Sorry cries…

Willful psychosis…

Sparks of fire…

Raging retrospection…

Inherent truth…

Bruised blues…

Sweaty palms…

Anorexic feet…

Panging pain…

Crushed emotions…

Bittersweet moonlight…

Howling hormones…

Haunting melodies…

Crucifying past…

Surreal light…

Make yourself at home

“Make yourself at home” she says. As if this is a relaxing visit to Great Aunt Shobha and at any moment the old dear herself will appear with gajar-ka-halwa and tea. Instead, you’ve spent the last half an hour reading several out-of-date gardening and parenting magazines, after which, the receptionist lead you to the high-backed, plastic coated chair upon which you sit now.

After deliberating where to place your purse and bags (are one of those chairs ok? Does she use both of those? Is the floor clean? What about this counter?) The smiling dental hygienist enters the room. She clicks her tongue at you after hearing your response to the dreaded floss question:

“Well, I floss sometimes…I guess. Maybe once a week…?!?!”

Meanwhile in your head you mentally search for the last time you ate chicken tikka, corn or a lettuce sandwich, knowing that that was probably the last time a ribbon of minty fresh plastic coated string saw the inside of your mouth.

The thought of chicken tikka reminds you that you haven’t even eaten breakfast for fear of a wayward chicken’s chick squeaking and getting caught in your molars, causing the dentist to think that you are incapable of even a simple task like brushing your teeth.

As your stomach growls, the hygienist ties a grown-up bib around your neck and pats it down approvingly. The tray of hooked instruments glints in the sun. Probes, picks and other periodontal punishment tools are just waiting to be jabbed into your vulnerable mouth.

Thankfully there’s a television in the ceiling and while worrying about your mouth hurting may seem trivial compared to wondering just who exactly installed that television and whether or not they knew what they were doing, it is a welcome distraction from the scraping of layers off your teeth.

That is, until you realize they’re showing the food network. Thanks geniuses, now I’m even more starving. Wishing you were as cheerful as Kylie Kwong looks, talking about her olive and chickpea salad and risottos simmering in sausage rice, you realize the hygienist has finally finished with her incessant scraping.

The polishing is almost worse, the gritty blue paste getting caught between your newly cleaned spaces, although you’re hungry enough to consider swallowing it. What is it about the dentist that causes you to feel as though you haven’t eaten in days?

Fluoride is next on the docket. At least you have the choice between bubblegum or mint. The former tastes so sweet you wonder if maybe the dentist is really just trying to drum up a little extra business, while the latter burns every last millimeter of your mouth that you thought was free of pain.

Next you’re shuffled off to another room to wait for the Doctor. He enters in a flurry papers and running shoes, his tie thrown over his shoulder and shirt sleeves rolled up as though he’s about to operate.

You wonder how he remembers every detail about you (“why yes Dr. I did get that promotion three months ago, it’s going well and yes, my brother is great. No, I haven’t yet enrolled in those Salsa dance classes…) and rack your brain to remember something, anything, personal about him (…is he married?)

Luckily your teeth are fine, so you sign your name on the insurance papers, book another appointment for six months from now and think about what you’re going to have for lunch. As you stroll out the doors into the fresh morning air you hear the hygienist call after you:

“Remember not to eat for at least half an hour! Have a great day!” I curse under my breath and I wish she first gets punched so that all her molars fall off and then she dies starving in a remote corner of Mesopotamia.

But at least you got a new toothbrush out of the deal.

Waiting for forty winks…

It’s more of a brawl with me and the world around. People have come and gone but my idiosyncratic beliefs have always stayed back. With the emergence of my new mental capabilities and observational skills, somewhere life is back to square one. It doesn’t feel good… it doesn’t feel bad… it simply feels anesthetized. Have met quite a lot of people whose claim to fame has been understanding the nuances of my brain… people keep saying they know me and ‘understand’ me but somewhere they are oh so wrong… its nothing to do with the way I am or the way they are… somewhere I feel there is a gaping discrepancy between thoughts and perceptions… I don’t hate them… I don’t love them… I simply pity them… somewhere I hate sitting on the pedestal with the pink champagne twinkling in my crystal goblet… sometimes I wish I was someone they could relate to… probably someone easier to understand… probably someone who could be like them… as time flies away from my glass window, I sit back and laugh at the world around… not because of self righteousness but out of world misery… my penchant for the unusual and the extraordinary fail to arouse me from my gloom as the day somewhere has nothing to hold… the bourgeoisies taper my soul and cling to the fringes of my existence… no matter how hard I try, the feeling of helpless does not evaporate… no matter how much I beg, these iconoclasts refuse to leave the race of life… the hovering continues like an infuriating honeybee… the droning spirals in my ears and seeps into my heart… I wake up from my reverie to find the nauseating drink splattered on my muslin gown… the crystal mingling with my blood and the pain knowing no bounds… I sigh in despondency… throw my head back, not in pain or despair… but out of my sheer will to survive this grotesque world… where there are irate wolves and jackals under a human’s hide… where there are poisonous butterflies who pretend to be breathtakingly beautiful… where the world is nothing but a black coliseum… and look up at the sky to find my guiding light… the light that is the rationale behind my survival… and I see you… smiling… mocking… cajoling… my soul… and I chant my swansong to you till I wait for my forty winks to envelop me forever…

Awards time…again…!

Nimmy gave me the following awards in this post… thanks Nimmy… its because of friends like you that I can be myself and dont have to worry that I will be scrutinized by your judgements…

Thanks once again…

I would like to give the same awards to Su,  Nikhil, Manushee,  Withering Willow, Chiranjib, Reema, Antara, Cupid, Hope, Amit, Vijay, Vivek and ofcourse to Nimmy as I totally love these  bloggers. Somewhere I love the way they write and their attitude towards life. Thanks guys, for making my blogging life so wonderful and accepting me the way I am…

Ps- I am too bored to create links for the rest of the names… sorry guys but please accept ur awards… it would mean a lot to me

Weaving Dreams…

So I’ve heard when you’re pregnant you have really strange dreams. I happen to have really strange dreams all the time (and no I’m not perpetually pregnant because that would be more than a little awkward).

For example last night I dreamt that I missed work (as a copywriter!), ran into my boss and her (yes, it was a fat harrowed chick in my dream!) mountain bike and proceeded to explain to her that my key wasn’t working so I couldn’t go to work. We then went on a bike ride out to the Himalayas where she proceeded to cry about some guy and we ate apple muffins with raisins (ugh!)

I used to have a reoccurring dream that I was in a red convertible (with different people in each dream) driving through the mountains. Then the car would either fall off a cliff or a bridge or take a weird turn of unfortunate events and I would wake up being on a rollercoaster.

I’ve dreamt that I was a camp counselor and the kids were trying to light shit on fire all the time. To get them to stop we had to throw ribbons around and braid each others hair. Oh hell! Wait, that was actually a scene in PollyAnna.

I’ve dreamt about pigs that danced (Madagascar style) in the rain dressed as police officers. Under their overcoats (since that’s obviously what dancing pigs wear) they all had knock-off watches they were trying to sell.

The weirdest thing that happens to me by far while I’m sleeping (other then Pistols watching through my window – I’m on to you buddy) is sleep-paralysis. I “wake up” but my body is still asleep. Basically, what happens is that you are totally completely paralyzed but your brain is awake.

Sometimes you even get fun hallucinations, like seeing a man standing at the end of your bed. Of course, you can’t turn on the light because you’re absolutely paralyzed and your brain doesn’t send signals to your body.

Now, it sounds terrifying and mostly it is, but the fun part about it is that a lot of people who get it think they’ve been abducted by aliens, had an out-of-body experience or seen a ghost. So any time I want to make up wild crazy stories about green toothed Martians whisking me away to play bridge and drink swamp water, I have the perfect alibi!

No wonder my dreams are so messed up.

whatever….! I guess it’s the Monday morning blues…!

Time to know the truth of life…

Somebody told me that my life is erratic, has crossed all limits of insanity and somewhere I will shock and scare myself if I look back at all the things that I have done and threatened the world to do (not that I regret it though!). I confess that I have a tendency to get into unimaginable situations and then my foot-in-da-mouth syndrome puts me into deep shit! But who cares… that’s me and always will be me…!

So guys its time you have to decide for me… yes the only time you get to decide my life… it’s a rare opportunity for sure… so go ahead and take the poll… lemme know your reviews on it then… have fun…

My Version of Cafe Gazing…

I take a sip of my cinnamon flavored latte. The sickly sweetness of the syrup offset by the rich bitterness of the dark espresso. Luckily my favorite chair, by the fireplace, is vacant. The ultra-suede still slightly imprinted with the shape of its last occupant. As I remove my gloves and toss my jacket carelessly across one of the arms, I catch the eye of one of the girls at the next table over. She gives me the quick smile of one stranger acknowledging another and continues chatting with her friend.

I tuck my feet up under myself and open my book. The guy beside me is engrossed in a copy of Shantaram. He casually sips his Styrofoam-encased coffee while idly turning a page. With a gust of cold air the door opens and a young girl joins him at his table. Her enthusiasm is a deep contrast to his relaxed demeanor. She tells him of her dance practice for the annual function of her college, her plans for her next years education including a semester abroad and maybe a wild trek in the summer, if she can find an internship first, to pay for all the incidentals. Her speech is peppered with interjections (such as “like”), making it hard to concentrate on the meaning of her sentences.

I smile and think of a recent conversation with a good friend, worrying about her vocabulary. “I need to work on my vernacular,” she laughed, “I mean, I still say “like” and I’m doing my masters in Sociology. Maybe I should enroll in English 0130.”

There’s a man typing away on his laptop, barely audible over the coffee house music, a pacifying blend of piano chords and string instruments. His glasses are neatly folded and placed on a book beside him. Every so often he gets up for a cigarette, for a refill, for a bathroom break. The intensity with which he is concentrating on his screen reminds me of my boss filling his financial reports and I imagine this man is doing the same.

A girl heaves into a chair across the room, sighing loudly as she places her text book down. I recognize her as the girl who made my latte. She works here a few days a week while she’s in University studying chemistry, economics or perhaps philosophy. The free coffee and quiet place to study almost make up for the endless parade of odd people she deals with on a daily basis.

I pull my gloves and jacket on, in preparation for the chill that awaits me outside. It’s not yet that cold though there’s the feeling of a crisp chill in the air. The quiet, brittle cold and lack of clouds almost guarantee the morning will bring the gloominess of a new sorrow. I adjust my jacket and step outside, the soft chords following me as I make my way up the street, back home.

Waiting for better days…

It can only get better” they say tritely
“Next year will be different”
“Things have to start looking up for you”

Every year I go through these bouts. These periods where my mind can’t stop thinking negatively. I want to curl in a ball on my couch and never leave the house. I don’t eat all day or I eat everything I can grab. I feel like crying but my eyes are selfish and hold the tears to themselves.

I wear pajamas from the moment I walk in the door and find excuses not to answer my phone. I watch TV but don’t really see anything. I can’t sleep so I try reading, I try sleeping pills, I try a bath. I try tea, I try writing, I try lying in bed thinking of nothing and everything. I try imagining somewhere hot, and listening to waves on a beach.

I am awake but my mind is confused. How did I end up here? Like this? Lonely, sad, unable to express myself and not understanding what it is that has brought me down so low. Some nights I might go have a drink at my very own Cheers with friends but this is a temporary distraction.

I wander around the museum for hours, wishing I could disappear into the paintings, into the sculptures and be a part of history instead of making my own. I wander around the library even longer – until the librarian announces the imminent closing – picking up books and flipping through the pages.

I read comedic memoirs which remind me all too well how mine would suffer in comparison. I read serious books about war and crimes against humanity. They say misery loves company. I read books about love, about pain, about reality. Sometimes I read a book so densely and intricately worded I have to reread paragraphs three times just to understand what is happening. These are my favorite of all; they take up the most time.

Once the cold goes away, once the grass returns, once the sun again has the starring role and not just a cameo, I’ll be okay. But for now, for now I’ll sit waiting.

Tears and smiles…

Tears,
the only way to see her pain.
Smiles,
the only window to her heart.
Her eyes,
Show so much of her emotion.
She tries to hide it,
but everyone knows.
Smiles and tears,
Only shows her character.
Tries to be strong for everyone,
Hides her tears.
But in her weakness
Others step up to be her smiles.
Her tears never out weight the smiles,
But the smiles come naturally.
Smiles hide her tears.
Her tears of sadness.
Tears flow freely,
But only when she is alone.
Smiles flow freely
All the time!
She hides her tears
To keep others from worrying.
She suppresses her feelings
To allow others their freedom.
Her smiles always available
But tears hidden away.
Her tears, to show pain
Yet never seen.
Her smiles to show her true self
Her ever sunny personality.
Her smiles
Her tears
The sum of myself

My Unborn Child

to the man I will never know,
or the woman that will never be,
I’m sorry for all the times you weren’t sick,
and I’m sorry for the times you never needed me.

I’m sorry for all the joys of life,
you never got to feel.
I’m sorry for all the childhood dreams,
that never will become real.

I sit and wonder of what you are like,
as a man or a woman that may have been.
It seems strange to have this face full of tears,
over someone I have never seen.

but I can feel you are there, you are part of me,
and your safe in your mothers womb.
Your growing each day as does my love for you,
but the safety you feel will end soon.

if this decision was up to me to decide,
then the adult in you I will know.
I would cherish the memories of your younger years,
and watch from a child as you grow.

but never will I hold you secure in my arms,
and wipe all the tears from your eyes.
or see your first steps and the words that you say,
or feel the pain of your cries.

your mother’s not strong in her mind and her heart,
so I hope you’ll forgive what she’ll do.
the doctors will soon end this life that you know,
and a big part of me will die too.

Love is in the air… !

I think it’s time I stopped philosophising and started living so from now on, I am going to make a dedicated effort (trying to keep a straight face…) to just vent. I’ve been going through incredible mood swings (no, it’s not cuz of those male chauvinist pigs) for the past week. It’s led to my being either extremely sensitive and unhappy or extremely positive and happy. Right now, I’m just incredibly sleepy.

I’m also trying to figure out if I am indeed in love with *ahem* him. Here are the symptoms that make me suspect that Cupid has struck again:

• A tendency to stare at him
• Smiling more when he’s around, though not without reason (I’m not an absolute idiot.)
• Wanting to hug and kiss and do other stuff at him at times…
• …quite often
• Treating every direct comment to me as a declaration of his undying though latent love
• Feeling like he’s pining away for me every time he looks at me
• Wanting to do unholy things (not the sexual kind, you pervert!) to the women he flirts with
• Actually believing that we getting together will not make things awkward in our lives.

I’m hoping that this time it’s terminal. I’m getting a little embarrassed by Cupid’s fickle behaviour. Have had to resort to baring my heart on the World Wide Web, as my friends no longer take me seriously and think that I am too blithe to be ever understood or taken seriously…!

Tragedy, thy name is…!

*Sigh!

Alcoholic Anomalies

Ah...a dream...!

Hope inspired me to write this post and I am grateful to her for reminding me about my uselessness. Well this is that much awaited post… today I have realized that I am discovering things that were hidden away in the closet of my brain since quite sometime…. like Ayn Rand, Shakespeare and now it has to be alcohol….

Well I am not the typical girly vodka drinker… infact I love whiskey, beer and wine the most… and I would do anything to have a sip of my favourite wine right now… grrr… call it boredom at work…! Phew!

Well here it goes….

• Whenever I am drinking with Cupid and my other friends, I tend to start laughing without any rhyme or reason and in no time I am rolling on the floor (literally..!)
• I tend to go online and I try to find my elf name and then keep rolling in laughter all the more
• I pretend to cook and my friends pretend to eat what I have cooked!
• I start counting the stars
• I run around in circles and behave I am running in Olympics
• I start writing some random ad campaign and start pretending that I am the next Leo Burnett or Ogilvy in making (I wish…!)
• I start drinking more water and then like everyone else, I keep going to the loo without any rhyme or reason… once I was found sleeping in the loo… actually I wasn’t sleeping… I had just passed out… thanks to those excess whiskey rampages that I went on…
• Once I had started singing on the top of my voice and in no time the donkeys were also braying along with me….!
• I started giving advices on people’s careers and start having heated debates on various topics of economics, law, current affairs and metaphysics… in short I make a complete ass of myself as I was nothing but the butt of every joke…
• I suddenly start adoring someone around me….I start uttering lines from various Shakespearean sonnets, pluck wild flowers and pull that person to dance with me around the trees (sometimes I think I have just tore the screen and come from some rundown Hollywood flick…!) all in all, I embarrass whoever the girl (!) or the guy is…
• I feel like swimming and I make a huge ruckus if I don’t get a chance to swim…! My friends actually run helter-skelter whenever I get those bouts of swimming…
• I pretend that I am not drunk and force people to give me more alcohol… and then fall flat on my face when I am unable to take more of it…
• I start to dance… (How could I forget that!!!?) And people around me get the heebie-jeebies as I tend to start dancing around them and force them to dance as well… I threaten to kill myself if they don’t dance with me….err… and at the end, we are a bunch of idiots who are dancing the night away…!
• If I happen to like a song during those liquid moments (!) then the song HAS to be played on loop till I don’t pass out… to cut a long story short I end up boring people and make them feel useless about their existence…!

But but but… I am always the heart of the party… for I surely know how to entertain my fellow mad-hatters with my randomly nonsensical antics…