Carnival of Rust

D' you breathe the name of your savior in your hour of need,
And taste the blame if the flavor should remind you of greed?
Of implication, insinuation and ill will, 'til you cannot lie still,
In all this turmoil, before red cape and foil come closing in for a kill

Come feed the rain
'cause I'm thirsty for your love dancing underneath the skies of lust
Yeah, feed the rain
'cause without your love my life ain't nothing but this carnival of rust

It's all a game, avoiding failure, when true colors will bleed
All in the name of misbehavior and the things we don't need
I lust for after no disaster can touch, touch us anymore
And more than ever, I hope to never fall, where enough is not the same it was before

Come feed the rain...
'cause I'm thirsty for your love dancing underneath the skies of lust
Yeah, feed the rain
'cause without your love my life ain't nothing but this carnival of rust 

And the chords and the words all seem like a story written anew...

:-)

Post rains. Calm air. No voices in head. Silence. Music. A special playlist. Little moments. Daal tadka. Fix you. Yellow light. Breezy balcony. No mosquitoes. Black sky. Music getting louder. Further silenced. High hopes. Fresh ideas. Blank paper. Work. Enjoyment. Together. Creation. Indulgence in nothing. Smiling to yourself. Peace. Alone and happy. In a long time. Bliss.

P.S. Edits - Can't help my 'coolness' but notice, one day at a time, yes one day at a time. :-)

THE Elusive Dream

Disclaimer – this is going to be an obsessive account of a much elusive dream. Reasoning other than to support me and the L word – Logic, to be *strictly* kept aside.

23 is when you have gathered enough cynicism to falsify the fairy-tales, the wonderful worlds of ‘happily-ever-afters’. And you move on, to real-life elusive dreams. I said move on, not grow up.

I fantasized about it, I don’t remember since when – long before when I knew people who went there, are studying there, or would be going there for sure.
Also long long before I actually visited the place. And was swayed by the campus. Many times over.
The crisp winter air. THE aura.
Harvard Business School.

I think about it and reasoning ends.
Huge student loan debts, ROIs, economic-cycles, ‘on time’ marriage, persistent career blues post MBA, several more. More and more.
I go blind, I go deaf, I go numb.
Not that I don’t get any of it. That’s exactly why I said logic aside, please.
If and when realized, there might be a ‘bubble-burst’ moment. Many such ones. Very well, in all probability.
Elusive dreams are stuff of deceptions.

That I’d be in my late twenties and still be an ‘Associate/ Sr. Associate’ somewhere, that I can do so many other things with my two years and with my money, that I can even start a business, that Indian B-schools might not ‘add as much value’ but are good places to ‘differentiate yourself’, that Indian B-schools also open doors, faster enough. Etcetera. Etcetera.

That when it comes to money, I see it as a luxury I want to buy for myself. That that’s why I don’t really care about ROIs. That when it comes to 'value add', I do want to see for real what's "world's best". That it’s just an experience I don’t want to miss living. That I am smitten and perceptibly stupid. That I am fine with all of it. That I have to spin stories and 'do big things' to get in. That stories will flow.

Much has been said, discussed and thought about. Much still remains.
If I ever get in, I will have and remember this day to thank for.
If not, I will have this post…to remind me of the elusive dream.
Of the feeling of having one.
And of this red, black and white object of my fondness.

Between us..

Is there something you want to tell me?
Something you want to share
How kisses melted the hour hand
Time became a slave in lover’s land
How promises were made to make it last
Lifetime planned out from a handful of past

Is there something you want to tell me?
Something you want to share
Of past loves and lost loves
Of dreams shared and the nights passed
What slithered out that you couldn’t stop
Strangers were born from a familiar spot

Is there something you want to tell me?
Something you want to share
Or are you still clinging on
To hopes and memories all along
Are you holding me to hold onto her
You’re buried inside to let outside blur?

Catch 23!

Caught between appearances and disappearances…

Of whims, ambitions, people, love…

Unimaginable dreams, confined reality…

Unafraid grit, passing determination…

Understanding silence, misinterpreted words…

Unfolding magic, seeming illusion…

Caught between appearances and disappearances…

Self and myself…

In her shoes...

I was running to get to work this morning. Blame the wait for coffee, the long queue for reloading subway card, messed up hair, un-ironed clothes, or an alarm that forgets to go off. These excuses keep taking turns to add up to the ten minute delay every day I keep running in to cover for.

This was the ‘great rush’ time of the day. I got out of the path station at WTC and darted up the stairs to the cross-way. Everyone around me was caught up by this upset sense of hurry. Mine was tortured by a sore knee which cringed every time I took a quick step.
And there I skipped one.
I couldn’t even look ahead to the person who thrust past me and left me with a twisted ankle and a knee which won’t speak to me for long. And so will my black work heels. A shoe disaster and a sprain – there are more conspiring agents working against (or for?) the great rush.

With the broken heel in one hand, I was hopping back to the station on one foot trying to bother the other one as little as possible.
My numb-minded ‘sprint’ was interrupted by a construction worker at the WTC site.
“I am sorry miss, betrayed by those lovely heels?”
As he walked towards me, I noticed him lurch a little too. Perhaps we were victimized together.
“Oh no, just a busy gentleman who bullied me out of his way. The shoes were at his mercy too.” I looked down at my Aldo heels; it’s too soon too sad to part with them.
“Are you going to go back? You don’t seem like you can walk even the next ten steps.”
Now that was true.
“Yeah, I was thinking I could buy a new pair at Century 21 but realized it is not yet open. I will just head home.”
“If it helps miss, you can try my daughter’s shoes, my place is right there.” He pointed to a dingy building at a corner right across the street.
That would be faster and easier.
Fast. Easy. Yes.
“You think I can take one, thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

Thanks to my feet, we stretched the five minute walk to a good twenty minutes.
He asked me where I was from, what was I doing here.
“I am from India, working here with a consultancy firm” is my usual take on the question.
But today, my disappointment from the morning joined hands with my persistently numbing frustration. I told him how I loved being in New York but hated my job. That I rush in every day only to go wait for the day to pass by. How I just go about doing whatever I am asked without a delta level of motivation. How much I loathe myself for wasting days. And how much I loathe everyone around who assumes this ‘corporate American’ air and act all oh-so-superficial-get-a-life-get-out-of-my-way. How brutally dispensable each one is, yet how carelessly incognizant each one appears.
How disappointing is the fact that I had answers to ‘what I want to be’ at five. I have lost all of them now.
He just listened.
Listened to it all; nodded but said nothing.
“Right here this is my place.”
“I am sorry I guess I talk too much.”
“Not an issue…You sound just like my daughter…A year after she graduated she complained about the same things at work, all the time. Just take it easy. This is what I told her. This is what I tell you.”
So even before I had her shoes, I was in her shoes.


We went in, the place was disturbingly clean. Like no one has ever touched anything around.
There was a visible layer of dust on the side tables. Dust! That was a first in New York.
So nobody really touched anything around.
“Do you stay here alone?”
“Uhmm, here you go, try these on…what size are you?” He handed me a pair of black heels, just like mine.
“38…these look like they are my size. Wow, this is really helpful. I can’t thank you enough. Or for that matter, thank your daughter.” I tried them on. Perfect fit. Some other shoe-loving, life-loving girl like me I thought, I was in her shoes.
“You are all set miss, don’t bother returning them. At least they’ll be put to some use.”
“Oh no, I can’t keep them. I will get it back tomorrow. These are lovely, your daughter would hate to part with them.” I looked at him, he looked away.
“Really, keep those; she would like them to see the light of the day. Only she parted with them too soon.”
“I am sorry…” I didn’t get him. His voice sounded like it was coming from a tunnel a mile away.
He turned to look at me. And looked at me for long. Long enough for me to see that tear tickle down from his eyes.
“When she was working in Boston, she traveled for work just like you. She loved those new places she visited and told me happily about how she was enjoying the new experiences, yet how numbed she was getting by the day. My only daughter, on our way here, you talked just like her.”
I am literally in her shoes. I wondered.
“That day she called me excitedly before boarding her flight saying she can’t wait to see me. I could hear the boarding announcements. She had to drop off the line.
I can still hear the announcements. Loud and clear. All passengers, please proceed to gate number five.
She flew on September 11th, eight years ago, she flew right into those towers.”

My feet froze in my shoes. In her shoes.
I looked at him again, but I had nothing to say to him. I can’t be sorry enough for his loss.
As we walked back to the construction site, he told me he worked here because he feels close to his family. He fishes for familiarity through all the scraps in the debris and underground.

I could not reflect upon it much. Here I was complaining about an all so lovely life with a mundane job…and here he was, trying to see his only dead child, every day at work.

The ‘great rush’ subsided. Work waited. My everyday restlessness was silenced.

He then told me he was not always a construction worker. He worked at the fire control department. He fell down from a crane lift at an ‘urgent situation’ and hurt his leg. It was the ‘urgent 9/11’. He was fighting the fire which had already won. Taken his everything, without his knowledge, at one go.

What was unbearably disturbing for me to hear, he is living it.
Every day.
Alone.

Now and then we are bolted by events and stories happening elsewhere, to people in far-away lands , stories about loss, unfair unavoidable-have-to-live-with-it-loss.
Only we don’t run into those ourselves...this morning I did.
I did run into one… in her shoes.

Weirdo - Kiddo - Weirdo

This is the first ever tag I am taking an attempt at - across blogger, mails and FB! It started when in conversation with a friend about our quirks and loony habits I re-discovered me. OK without making this a prologue, here I go!

1. I say sorry to non-living things and I talk to my plants when I water them.

2. I obsess about my eye-brows.

3. I love to wear 'pour homme' fragrances. There’s a theory – fragrances for men are supposed to woo females. Agreed, and if I am so wooed, I’d rather have it around all the time…so I’d rather have it on me!

4. I save the nut less part of the dessert and cheesiest piece till the end. Oh and I decorate every bite on my plate to make sure all the items are equally distributed and wisely consumed throughout the meal.

5. I often pat myself.

6. I always wanted to work part-time and support myself as a student. I especially wanted to work at cafés and fast food outlets. I would still love to do it sometime, for fun.

7. I have an extra strong digestive system given to the fact that as a kid, besides slate chalk, I used to nibble on wood – especially painted wood.

8. I can sleep in the tiniest, dirtiest, noisiest corner if I have to and I am also known to make a big fuss about perfumed and washed bed-sheets and stuffed pillows! Dual sleeping personality or sleep disorder!?

9. And while we are at sleeping, I am defamed as a sound sleeper…I am completely deaf to door knocks and ringing cell phones (deliberately, you may keep wondering…).

10. I smile to strangers (especially kids and old people) on the road, in the trains, at the stores, like almost everywhere a lot.

11. I type mostly with two fingers means I really don’t know typing. Yet ironically, I work on the laptop almost 50-60 hours a week. And hey, my friend once titled me “the fastest two finger typist” Yay!

12. I am averse to the idea of coloring my hair. So, to satisfy my urge to have a ‘change in look’ I once bought blue colored contact lenses. I am planning again on hazel or green soon.

13. As a kid, I displayed anti-kid behavior at stores. I remember crying out loud when my parents tried to get me clothes/toys to convince them otherwise.

14. I enjoy gymming. Like literally enjoy…I close my eyes and do a little rap on the treadmill or the cycle with the music plugged in.

15. I have fasted for 9 days during ‘Navratra’ once - voluntarily. Though when I was younger…like in class 5, my mom successfully tricked me into fasting for ‘Sawan k Somvar’ (16 Mondays in a row for Lord Shiva – girls do this for a ‘good husband’!)

16. After watching a movie with a dominant female character, I often feel like she had my mannerisms and idiosyncrasies or vice versa :-)

17. I used to collect quotations – from everywhere as a kid. I manually copied (hard copies) three entire books of quotations I borrowed from my aunt because I could not find them in the stores. Each with more than 300 pages…written throughout!

18. I love planning surprises and have successfully executed many mega ones (both for my friends, their gfs/bfs etc.) where the receiver had no clue whatsoever of what was in store. Sadly, I have never been on the other side as much (except may be twice --- naah not AS much!)

19. I dig chocolates in all forms and take it as my official responsibility to fish it off the plate – in its entirety. I testify, all the inches around my waist is pure dark chocolate fat though I somehow still call it beer belly. I work out mostly to be able to devour my desserts well.

20. This one’s well known – I love to laugh – out loud. Like REALLY LOUD. And I am more prone on doing so in quite places like in cinema theatres in between non-comic scenes.

21. I had my first serious crush in 3rd grade. Really and it kind of stayed on till 8th grade. And every place I visited in my summer vacations, I made a mental note to visit it again with him when “we would be together, happily ever after”. After all, I don’t call it serious for nothing!

22. I think I have been in love with the idea of being in love so much that I practically lived there.

23. I would call my life 100% perfect and well lived if I did one each of: a professional theater performance, display my artworks at an exhibition and write a bestseller.

24. I am scared and disgusted with the rituals and wastage in Indian weddings but I am amazed with the institution of marriage. I will marry – for companionship rather than ‘love’.

25. I develop instant respect for anyone who can play a musical instrument or sing in public because I can’t do any of it. I missed the Floyd concert in Bombay coz I was not into their music a lot then. Ever since I realized what I missed, I make it a point to go to the concerts while I can irrespective of who the artist is. Just in case I fall in love with them in future, I would live with the satisfaction of “been there, gotten high” :-)

When we were talking I thought I would be able to list down at max 10-15...that's when I started draftiing...now I realize I can go on and on...

Doll's House

As a kid I used to play ‘ghar-ghar’ with my friends – we used to pile up pillows as the four walls and shelter ourselves and our dolls inside. And we role-played as ‘responsible adults’ fetching back food to our small house, cooking and enjoying every single tiny crumb and singing till we slept.

For 21 years, I pretty much lived in this doll’s house, only as one of the dolls.

No role plays. Protected. Cosseted. And Oblivious.

Back in college, we were told “there is a world of difference between either sides of the main gate”.

I can only fathom now what “world of difference” meant. The course of events you are exposed to, left to deal with yourself, the magnitude and the nature. And that when the role play becomes real, the drama only starts!

While personally ‘my other world experiences’ are largely restricted to seeing my heroes (a term I use collectively for everything and everyone I once idolized) fall, thawing of expectations, being led on by deception. And my greatest realization can be summed up to the fact that loneliness can be scary. Scary to the extent that your romanticism of being a pseud satisfied loner becomes your worst nightmare. Scary to the extent that you fear having a conversation. Creepy scary. And then the realization like you never realized before and never meant much – importance of certain people in your life. Importance of family. How blessed you are to have two parents. Equally or rather competitively loving! And a bonus brother ;) And friends to top it all - both sane and drunk!

But largely, within my circle of friends and relatives I have been witness to a lot. A lot of which can be summed up as loss. The feeling of losing a parent and how it is incomparable to losing any other loved one. The falling apart of a more than half a decade long relationship on issues of uniting forever… calling off a marriage. And the after effects that I was a witness to. And being a witness is not the same as being a spectator coz you can’t escape the feeling, or the whirlwind of thoughts.

Add to that, my house of cards was blown off at the time of economic crisis.

Honestly, a few months ago, all the recession furor sounded distant…like it was happening elsewhere…like ‘we’ were secured.

Until I saw my juniors not getting placed. Until I saw my friends getting laid off. One after the other. Until I saw my colleagues getting laid off. One after the other.

Yes, thankfully, I am still a witness but this has been really up close and personal. How in a moment, through a mail or through a piece of paper, your life takes a 180 degree turn. In multi directions! You go to work one day. And then you don’t. You are suddenly told “you’re not a fit” and the least you have on your mind is to worry about being competent. The purpose seems to be dissolved. The entire ‘future planning’ takes a backseat. You move back to your home countries. You lose your life’s savings in real estate losses. You rethink about that fancy MBA degree. Really – like 80 lacs! 80+ lacs of investment and what if one day you are just laid off! You are expecting a baby – life’s every moment is excitement until you realize you are the only earning member or rather you ‘were’.

And then you realize that today you are a witness. Rather now you are witness. You can’t say about next. You realize how much your life has come to revolve around your job which was virtually non-existent a couple of months back! It’s not about the attachment at all but purely about the involvement.

When the enormity of it all strikes, it mostly humbles you down rather than de-motivate you. But surely, the motivation is crippled.

I don’t want to sound all morose if I have not already done that. Life still is full on with moments of ecstasy, of pleasant nothings and special somethings and then sights and gestures which just take your breath away. What I do mean is, in the last eight months I feel like I have grown 21 twice over!

The ‘living in the moment’ prophecy is continuously challenged by ‘securing a future’ which in turn is mocked upon by ‘uncertainty and its recklessness’.

What’s the start and what’s the end…

What to bank on and where to watch out…

If something to anchor upon and sail through helps…

If any of the anything helps…anything at all.

All I can say is…

When the world becomes your ‘doll’s house’…the most you can do is put on your best dancing shoes and make sure you are always on the go!

Dated – March 14^th, 2008

Am I looking for signs!?

Dated - 15th Feb 2009
Location - Starbucks Cafe, The Garage, Harvard Square, Cambridge.
Treated to - Tall signature hot chocolate
Accompanied by - Nicole Krauss' 'The History of Love'
Amused by - the Harvard student working part-time behind the coffee machines on a Saturday evening, discussing her work, finances, assignments, deadlines, family...everything all the way!
Charmed by - this very cute stranger I could see now and then behind his Mac on the round bar like table we sat at.
Taken over suddenly and completely by - Starbucks #76 on my own cup. Pretty much the only way in which all the questions in my head could have been answered.
No, I wasn't looking for signs. I may have given up on them. I may refuse to acknowledge any, ignore many and so on. But this one, I was taken over by.
The way it came to me, the time it came to me and the place it came to me.
Yes, words, they work in the most amazing ways.

Ever since - thoughtfully overwhelmed.

Ah, the good life?

Isolation is a funny thing.

And so is company. You miss one in the presence of the other. It’s like a seven piece puzzle which fits up randomly, rarely but beautifully. Perfect isolation and perfect company. Random, rare and beautiful.

I come back from work to an empty apartment. It’s a corporate service apartment over-equipped with facilities and exuberantly furnished. It has glass windows, gigantic windows, windows with a view of far spread snow crowned on tall trees and lined in gray roads. Serene, white, and empty.

I try my best to keep me company on the weekdays to circumvent the feeling of being haunted.

I keep the music on, call up friends and family… avoid staring at one corner for too long.

Sometimes I succeed, but sometimes, the ghosts win.

And today, they seemed to be well-prepared. When I was waiting for the cab, this sinking sensation kicked in...If not for the weather, I have no qualms against the wait.

I am as fine here outside the office as I am at home. And just as alone.

There was no urgency to go back home. I literally felt homeless. I turned around and went to a store.

But how much time can one kill grocery shopping for one person. And how much retail therapy can one actually undergo. Even if it’s Maybelline.

My apartment was incisively undone…exactly how I left it. The housekeeping didn’t make it up today. So there was absolutely no sign of intrusion whatsoever. Intrusion! I would more than welcome invasion if only…

I rearranged the things in place. I did laundry. I arranged my already arranged closet. I did the dishes. I heated dinner.

Going round and round, taking a crack at retrieving comfort in domesticity, I turned on the music.

It’s still on. I can’t make out the bands or the lyrics. I can’t distinguish the noises. The ones outside and the ones in my mind. I am calling it noise. Nevertheless, on it is.

And in my mind, I am still going round and round.

With smiles, from 'Me'

For a long time now, I have stopped writing – correction writing on my page for anyone.

For a long long time now, I have been a student of unlearning the concept of ‘dedications’, ‘compositions’ and ‘here’s from-me-to-you’.
In short for a long time now, I have kept ‘heart-to-heart’ one way… (If it could still be called heart-to-heart!)
For an equally long time, I have wondered why!?
I was (self) accused of exaggeration in the moment or I was accused of overwhelming the subject (mostly in a happy way!)…nonetheless I was accused. Questioned. And scrutinized. Equally.

To be honest, it took me some courage (for the lack of choice of another appropriate word) to go back to the ‘me’ I once was,
To shed the ‘I don’t give a damn’ skin and let in some warmth,
To finally let them know how I feel (Felt?)
With the lines from my personal epic resonating in my mind...
"I know now that when the loving, honest moment comes it should be seized, and spoken, because it may never come again. And unvoiced, unmoving, unlived in the things we declare from heart to heart, those true and real feelings wither and crumble in the remembering hand that tries too late to reach for them."

Here’s what I wrote post one of the best evenings here in New York…
Here’s to Rockefeller and to those who made it all worth a while…
Here’s to the people I have crossed paths with in ways I never knew I would…
Here it is in all honesty, after a long time, an honest me…

You live in the moment and follow your heart
Chasing the ostensible reality, you evade from your path
Innumerable roads, all enchanting
A tune in your heart you just can’t sing

And someone comes along and walks you through…
Brings back the lyrics and whistles with you

You think of the past and ruminate too much
Try clinging to lessons absurd enough as such
Drawing connections which never existed
Sticking onto ‘one’, in the process all drifted

And someone comes along and walks you through…
Blurs the past and makes ‘now’ all true

You think of the future and snicker at its futility
Ambition becomes but just an ongoing utility
The vastness of it all engulfs your spirits
You build walls all around and tame your limits

And someone comes along and walks you through…
Builds the bridges and paint your blues

And someone comes along and walks you through…
Makes you see the reflection, the real you!

~ Dated: Dec 6th, 2008.

All in good time...

Time to flip on another calendar and go back to crossing/ omitting all the ’08s I write/type before I could build on the habit of writing/typing ’09.

What more, before I could acknowledge the ‘new year’ is here! It’s easier to comprehend and welcome it if you are a ‘date/day person’. When you try intemperately to celebrate on New Year Eve for one dim-witted rationale…it’s New Year Eve, everyone’s partying and I need to be rocking on my toes as well! So much on the lines of the much-loathed-several-times-before “it’s Valentine’s Day”; gives you the excuse to exhibit your “love” in an ostentatiously popular, apparently cliché and entirely superfluous manner!

Sadly or gladly, I am just not one. I spent last night in a train with complete strangers in the midst of a nowhere land. (Oh yes, on a friend’s suggestion, I did do a 5 minute act in the washroom…!)

Established: I don’t intend to add on to the hype about new-found beginnings and new resolutions when all it takes for them is a day to be old and gone...

Well, why then an urgency to mark this particular day here!?

Coz it’s a milestone. And I acknowledge those. In all capacity.

Six months. July 1^st 2008 - Jan 1^st 2009.

Six official months since I started working, officially.

Six months crammed with a lot of (anticipated and otherwise) learning. LOT-OF.

The first four months in Delhi (two months of a diagnostic and two months of pieces which do not add up to a sum) and then the last two months on what I call my first engagement. That’s how it works in my firm since the clientele is largely based out of the States.

I did go to New York. To live. To work. To feel independent. Not necessarily ‘free’. But, independent. And I did experience some or all of the many: to work in a global environment, with a culturally diverse team, to strive and add value, to foresee the impact and try hard to see through, to see clearly, to face the disillusionment and ground some of the earlier set cynicism.

In essence, after six months, I finally have an inkling of what it feels to be in “the consultant’s shoes”…it looks all designer, keeps you on your toes, irks at unpremeditated times, makes you yearn for the good old sneakers you had…at times all you want to do is pull’em off and throw’em away but at some very rare times, on your heels by yourself, you fly.

It’s these rare times or the visions of these rare times that keeps you going.

On and on. And on.

So it’s a six month anniversary. Marked. Noted.

It’s also an end of a “grace period”, a “personal vacation in my mind”.

Back in July when I was starting off, my parents were concerned “What next? Grad school in some time? When will you write your GMAT?”

Honestly, I had no clue. Nothing on my mind. Zott. Zilch. Blank. For the first time in a long time, no plans, no goals. It’s been some years of chasing one thing after the other…and all of it without such a thing as a personal inclination…competitive exams, IIT, internships, semesters, jobs. For once, I wanted to feel the blind chase did lead somewhere. I wanted to feel like I have arrived.

Away from all the competition, review, feedback, judgments, I wanted to just be.

And it was just these six months I wanted for myself, officially.

Good enough to feel the slow-down, and good enough to keep me paced.

And so, today is a milestone twice. Do I know my way here on?

If you ask me, I still don’t know “what next”. I am even more perplexed than I was before.

For a little knowledge is a dangerous thing but a little more is sometimes lethal.

I am not sure I look at consulting like I looked at it before. I am not sure if I will ever be attached, in a real passionate way to my work. Or to anything. I take my work seriously but I am not sure if I take my job seriously. I am not sure for how long will I say the best part about my firm is the people and the travel. I am not sure if what I do for 12-16 hours a day will ever give me the orgasmic exaltation I seek for once through my work. I am not sure if I want to get into a B-school for all the pretentious reasons. I am not sure if I care enough for any global impact deep down. Or anything.

The six months have not led me anywhere. But I still feel I have come a long way. I have a feeling I will figure it out. I will connect the dots where I can and put new ones where I can’t.

Six months of a vacation in my mind. My mind’s back at work now.

I am sure my heart will follow soon.

Currently writing in...

New York State of Mind

Lost In Transition

More than a month and nothing here, wow! I feel like I am back from a sabbatical from my world of words! While the absence should not be mistaken for my being in depression/ euphoric interludes/ moving on and getting over crap blah blah…in more than one ways, it has turned out to be a concoction of it all. But in true sense of a sabbatical, I was really in transit all this while…not premeditated but deftly placed in time.

In transit from being a working woman to a mamma’s girl…twice in the past month…a birthday surprise for my mom and of course Diwali.

Trips back home always take me into this ephemeral parallel world where everything else remains impervious…to everything else which can closely be termed an alteration.
Literally…routines, weather, people, trends…just where I left them last time. Gives me a sense that time is on a standstill in my town, always waiting for me to give me this remarkably strong sense of homecoming. And I move back to being what I always was there…so I no more am a newly born professional…I am suddenly this girl who still needs her mom to take her shopping, who loves cooking and doing arty stuff...designing greeting cards and rangolis and just enjoying being. Yes, admittedly stretched stays makes me restless for the same, but these duo in a row as I said were all perfect.

In transit from being a working woman to once again this carefree college goer…for twenty straight hours to get back to my beloved, another date with my city!
No advance booking, nothing planned, no boyfriend to desperately meet up with there, but just this forever longing…to be there, follow my heart. While someone once curtly remarked that ‘Bombay chucked you out at the first instant it had’, I totally maintain ‘Delhi and everywhere else is for work, Bombay is for love’ and it totally works for the two of us!

A long weekend around Dussera, and it was all taken care of…a special train unexpectedly appeared and before I could even gather it all, I was gleefully playing scrabble in a train on my way to Bombay on a Wednesday afternoon.

Four days for myself, of myself and my city, overwhelming friends with the spontaneity, reunions and conversations and like always, I was all smiles and came back to the capital with this huge piece of my heart left behind. Yes, I may sound like this romantic I always despise, but admittedly I am one. While people, phases and everything else will come and go, and I might lose my mind, my peace, myself on the track…I can always find a part of me there…safe in the city…

And then the paramount of them all…

In transit from being a working woman to actually, for the first time for real, being a ‘working’ woman…

My erratic unpredictable transient moves and thoughts converged to the much coveted focal… and almost two weeks back, got me to THE place I once wrote about…the place where I always wanted to come…not as a tourist, but to stay, to work, to figure out more than many things…

To the land of possibilities, to New York!

While it may befall and sound very mundane to many, to me, it will always remain big. It’s a much desired first and now a ‘checked’ on my bucket list. And while I write this, it makes me smile that I am overlooking this skyline which has always mesmerized me besides Mr. Big of Sex and THIS city! (Sorry for the tramping there!)

Much has changed in my life since then apart from the time zones…

To all the up comings, the many of the firsts, the good and bad of New York and the better and the worse of me…pieces of my mind and heart felts…all together in a different state…

An attempt at assortment…
now served at New York State Of Mind!

I don't know...

What perturbs me more...
people who pretend or people who pretend not to...