Blue Seas

Don’t fall in love with me. I drink tea without sugar. And I marathon Jurassic Park when I’m feeling down. I make jokes exclusively in bad puns. I count the hours every day till the sun sets. Don’t fall in love with me. I talk to strangers in banks and at airports. I can’t have blended whisky anymore. I let my dog sit on my lap and occasionally kick me off the bed. And I always lose at Monopoly. Don’t fall in love with me. I leave plastic wine glasses with lipstick marks on the dresser. I wear jeans and t-shirts and boots every day. I am a little intimidated by beautiful girls. And I drink coffee with two espresso shots in them. Don’t fall in love with me. I will say exactly what I think of you without pausing to think If it will cause you hurt I’m too short and I will have to stand on tiptoe around you And you will always have to hold my umbrella in the rain. Don’t fall in love with me. I’m too tired in the mornings. I gent...

Sunset in Jaipur. At long last I realise, Why it's called 'Pink City'.

The thing about friends is they are the most malleable creatures I know. They come in many shapes, sizes and colours and they fit into any role you need them to. They fill the holes of affection we expect our parents will fulfil.  They sit next to you in movie theatres when your significant other is miles away.  They will never let you be alone on Valentine's Day.  They fight with you like the sibling you never had or the one you lost.  They are your friend, father and confidante.  They are your shrink, and they don't draw the line there. They come to you with problems of their own and suddenly you're a parent to an agonising adolescent.  The pet you, stroke your hair, eat your food, sleep on your bed, listen to your music.  They fit into your life seamlessly and the best part about that is that you are the one that put them there.  They let you give them hell and they give it right back to you. They love you till their cup ru...

Because I miss uni, so I dug up one of my older works from my laptop. ...................................................................................................................... It’s funny how once you mention it, you realise that it’s true. And that you can’t help but keep noticing it everyday. The business students always seem to have time for make-up. And hairdos. And nice shoes, either heels or loafers or the expensive strappy ones you can buy online. And they come in off- shoulder sun-dresses. The accountancy and law students are like each other. Too engrossed with the reality of their world to notice the fiction of everything else. But in their profession, power is everything and so powerfully their women must dress. Their attire suggests less college student and more working girl on the brink of becoming a woman. The IS students are a tell-tale breed by themselves. The shorts, the slippers, the plaid shirts, the hair aggressively tied in a bun or...

Pretty much ever since I was born, I've heard the words, "Oh, you look just like your father!" coming out everyone's mouths - strangers, family, relatives, friends. It makes me happy, to hear those words. I look like my father. I can see the similarities for myself. The long nose, the thin, overarching eyebrows, the way our cheekbones draw in and the sides of our eyes crinkle when we smile. The similarities are not skin deep. I've noticed our matching, even tempers, our preference for inane humour, our passion for economics and football, among other things. People keep pointing out how very similar we are. But there's so much more to me than just that. Parts of me and sides of me that I discover as I grow older. Those parts and those sides that my reflect my mother. I've watched her since I was born, and from her, I've imbibed my thirst for knowledge, my pursuit of perfection, my need to complete a task to my satisfaction once I've start...

For Astha I felt the sadness seeping out of my bones, Pouring out of my mouth with word after word That came crashing like waves. Small blue waves we saw bobbing in the ocean When the green flag was waving, And it was safe for us to swim. So we swam along the reef, holding hands, Because we were large compared to the fishes. But so very small compared to the sea.

"Sleeping?" I felt a finger poke me in the ribs through my thin blanket. I huffed in reply. "How long have you been sleeping?" "I didn't get any sleep last night." I protested in a muffled voice, from under the covers. A soft thump told me that my dog, Ben, had joined my father's side to wake me up from my afternoon nap. "Why?" Dad prodded. "I was scared, after watching that...horror...film." I said, refusing to take my head out from under the blanket. Dad clucked in response, probably in derision, to voice his disappointment at his twenty two year old's reaction to a B-grade exorcism. "Oh, by the way, after I climbed into your's and Mom's bed last night, you asked me, forty minutes later, mind you, 'Is it you, mamma ?' Honestly Dad, who else would it have been?" Ben was now standing on the bed, his front paws, on my Dad's chest, leaning over and trying to lick my face. I burr...

One chilly winter evening, we had an unexpected visitor drop by at our house. My grandfather had just gotten up from his nap and was pulling the curtains that covered the glass doors that led to his balcony. My brother and I were loitering around the house since it was too dark to go out and play and my mother had just set the kettle to boil for tea. Our dog Ben was waiting patiently for my grandfather to open the doors of the balcony so that he could sit outside and survey the scenery and occasionally growl at the children and street dogs that passed by below. All of a sudden, I saw Ben become tense. His hackles raised, a soft, predatory growl at the back of his throat; he began to paw furiously at the glass door.  "What is it, Ben?" I asked curiously. Ben let out a thin, reedy whine and continued to paw, his long nails hitting the marbonite floor as he bumped his nose against the glass. The unfamiliar cheep-cheep of a small bird greeted us from the other side....

The days are long and the nights are long. The hours are too short to cram in the inhuman number of chapters per subject, much less for revision. My usual, narcissistic, self-centred ways magnify manifold. My room mates more than put up with it. I find my hair tied, knotted, plaited. A cup of coffee (my third for the day) left next to my notes. Cereal for breakfast, with freshly cut strawberries waiting at the dining table. What did I do to deserve such altruistic souls in my life? Friends who will walk with you to the grocery store in the middle of the night. Buying crackers so you won't go hungry during the marathon late-night study sessions, then forgetting to eat them anyway. Hop on a bus. Go to their house. Take over their study desk for the rest of the day. Stay for dinner. Dark circles that are indistinguishable from eyeliner. Cola-flavoured lollipops while I work on editing the magazine, because of course, that has to coincide with the midterms. Buying...

N: You know why I love hanging out with you guys? P: I don't know, our charming personalities? S laughs out aloud. N: No. I mean yeah, that is there. But besides that...you guys don't have problems. I mean, you guys don't sit around and mope and be miserable all day. You're genuinely happy. P and S exchange looks. P: Clearly, you haven't scratched our surfaces deep enough. S: Yeah, we do have problems... P: Just because we don't let them get the better of us all the time, doesn't mean...oh my God! Is that a dog? P runs to admire a stuffed French bulldog in the display window of a chocolate shop. N: See. This is what I'm talking about.

For Neeti In the brightness of day You found me, you found me; Reflecting your own light, You were sitting there. In the darkness of night I found you, I found you. I borrowed your light To light up myself. In the shadow of eclipse You hid me, you hid me. Little did I know You were trying to protect. In the void of space Across time, across time, I saw in you A reflection of mine.

For Kritika Goenka What do you do when life becomes scary? When your heart grows fond And your mind grows weary? When your soul is caught between the two, Tell me, friend, what are you expected to do? Since when have you been preparing for this? What do you know? You’ve spent your life in bliss. And now you have to wake up and see This is not how your life was meant to be. You thought your path ahead was clear. You couldn’t be more wrong. I feel sorry for you, dear. There’s only so much you can plan, so much you can follow. What do you do when you’re overtaken by sorrow? You can wait, and cry, and wait some more. You can scream and shout; You can lie on the floor. I don’t know, perhaps that’s as bad as it gets. In real life, there are no placing bets. Or, maybe you should get up and keep going. I know life is scary, There’s no denying. See, you’re expected to fall, but I want you to stay. It’s just a bump in the road, love,...

Our dog Ben, is now a year old. He hardly qualifies as a pup. He's nearly five feet tall, standing on his hind legs. And his formidable size and structure does his dalmatian-Alsatian ancestry justice. However, for the most part, Ben acts like a coy, spoilt, and occasionally retarded child. He barks mindlessly at  suspicious looking shadows, proceeds to ignore my brother and me if we've been spending 'quality-time' together without him, sleeps on as cats strut about his territory.  So far Ben is concerned, and both my parents, I might add, see it fit to encourage this attitude, he is not a dog. Chasing cats is a menial activity, far below his dignity. So far the aircon is on, and he has a fat pillow and a reasonably thick blanket, Ben doesn't have a care in the world. Sometimes however, Ben's canine nature overpowers him and gets the better of him. One such incident happened the other night with a piece of naan. Dad had brought some naan and kebab for din...

What's worse than an alcoholic room mate? A sober room mate undergoing withdrawal symptoms from alcohol. True story.

Four years ago, I was very lucky to make friends with Talia. Talia lives in California, and no, we haven't actually ever met, but that hasn't stopped us from becoming very good friends. I was in my mid-teens and she had just taken up a job at a model photography studio, while continuing with her studies. Anyway, our shared passion for football, and one one footballer in particular, is the reason we met when we both joined the online community/blog zidanefans on livejournal. Over the years, I became good friends with not just Lia, but most of the other lovely ladies on 'Made in Marseille', including Marion, Arti, Sandra, Luise and Claire to just name a few. I was the youngest of the lot, and needless to say they adored me and my charming disposition. Lia in particular, was always very supportive and my seemingly wild, youthful ways about the community. A few days ago, Lia stopped visiting the website. And that's never happened before, and I missed her a lot.We wer...

Today in the MRT, I saw a guy. Actually I was sitting next to the guy. That's rare, usually there isn't any place to sit on the MRT. But the the train that comes in from Harbourfront is relatively empty. Anyway, I was sitting next to this guy. Who was carrying a Louis Vuitton purse . A few months ago, I saw an advertisement on Indian television. It was a promotion for a men's facial fairness cream. It claimed to magically remove five types of dark spots. Excuse me. But men don't have five types of dark spots. They're men. Seriously, what is the world coming to again?

If people around you have gone, it means they weren't worth having around anyway. Also, remember that the people that keep coming back, even after they disappear, are the ones that really matter. Always.  Much more than those who stick around and do nothing.

The other day, I was going somewhere. I was walking. Or I may have been in the car. Or a cab. Yes, maybe it was a cab. There was a stop in front of the post-office. So my cabbie waited for the lights to turn. And I noticed a man sitting on the pavement in front of the post-office, perched on a lamp-post. He was selling guavas. The nice, paka yellow ones, the ones I like. Not the green ones which are hard to bite.  Except, that he wasn't doing much guava-selling at that particular moment. He had with him a long blunt knife, which he probably uses it to slice guavas for his road-side customers.  He didn't have any customers right then. It was in the middle of a very hot and sultry afternoon. There weren't many people out on the streets then. Not even in front of the post-office, which is usually very crowded. He was using his knife, to scratch . The back of his knee. It was not a pretty sight. To watch the grimy, sweaty guava-seller scratching the back of his knee, with ...

He's nocturnal. He chews everything in sight. He's toilet-trained when it suits him. I've never had to buy so many flip-flops in my life. The other night he woke us up at four in the morning, four , in the morning, a toy dangling from his jaws. He wants to play . Bennetton, our two month old mixed breed puppy. He's jet black, with a white star on his chest. Makes the most ludicrous noises and can't bark. Responds to anything from Ben-Ben, Benny, Benny Boy, to Benu, Beni Madhab and even Put-Put (don't ask). When given a bowlful of Kibble, first he knocks the bowl down with his paw, phut , then he proceeds to eat the Kibble off the floor. Associates all newspapers as property to urinate on. Same goes for mats. He's teething so he chews everything, including us, LMN bottles, his own tail, his own collar, flip-flops... He's afraid of loud noises and strangers, oh, and the dark.

I wasn't expecting it, honestly. I was out shopping with friends. We were standing by the denim section when four of them went to look at jewellery. My best friend and I remained, trying to make a final decision about which pair of jeans to buy. I was busy giving her a lecture, on her deplorable taste in dressing. And then suddenly, a phone rang. It was my friend's. Her mom had called, asking her to get on with the shopping and come home soon. It happened then. One moment, we were in this noisy mall, surrounded by friends, chatting away incessantly. The very next second, I was alone. All the noises in the world were muted. Things became blurry. I couldn't see my friends, not even my best friend, who was standing a few feet away. And I definitely couldn't hear her making excuses to her mom, begging her to let her stay out longer. And then there was a tiny voice. Now I can't remember for sure whether it was a tiny voice. Maybe it was a voice in my head. Or maybe it ...