That dancer boy

I wouldn't have given him a second glance had his earring not glinted under the tubelight the other day. Then I noticed his nose. I'm a nose person. In the sense, if there's any feature i notice the most, it's a person's nose. His was big. It suited his face, even though otherwise it would have looked as if the rest of his features wouldn't have been able to balance it. Then his long neck. Then the football jersey.
I think I'm going to have to force myself out of the jersey fascination. If a dark, tall, cute guy wears it, it's likely I'll be wearing my heart on my sleeve for him. Incidently, even those guys who I've had some romantic interest in and I've never previously seen in football jerseys, land up wearing them. And they either turn up to be Catholic, or Goan..or both.
So this guy, from the elementary level of my dance classes (me in beginners, just promoted to elem!) was in the salsa troupe. generally any girl would whoopeee'd the salsa thing. so did i. and his jersey held up over the skinny frame was worth every whoopeee i let him have. He looked like any of those footbaler guys who need something to do for the vacation only because the headmaster of their school didn't allow them to use the grounds. And then he danced.
total fida, by the way. I kept in touch...he's four days younger to me :D, and Goan!!
Volare!!

Psst!

La la la dididi lalala
whatever.
It's been a fun summer so far (read:I'm out of being grounded), and only very few more things can make it more fun.
Story till now:
1. Dostini's studying full-swing. If she gets more padhaako,i'm gonna have to start calling her Hermione Granger. she'd like that,daresay. she's coming with me for the Shiamak friends' special. Yayyy!!
2.Saxxxy Rakhi's gonna convert to Japanism. Implies, now she's eating with chopsticks and relishes lizards and bugs. She devoured a live snake in one go the other day. Russell's viper, at that. cool na?
3.Dubbed's still in Mallu gaao. i miss having her omnipresence around. Like she's never not there. SMS's occasionally come this way.
4.Branded. I'm missing him like never before, specially since the Madhavan-Vidya Airtel ad. Maddy leaks Branded. Damn i miss that super sweet bugger. Come back!!
5.Lambodar's back. He's had a helluva time in Goa. keeps beaming all through. Lucky bugger. I'm running off with him the next time. There's a talk of a Karaoke bar. oooooooooohhhhhh.
6.Perennial Smarty***trying hard to keep a straight face***. I hate weekdays. He's never around for carrom. I can't monopolize without that guy. okay, fine. No i'm not giggling.

As happy goes...

Alright I'm in that bad a mood that i actually copy pasted this bit of what i thought was 'Puurrrr'-fect for the occassion when you feel so lost out on yourself your creativity is limited to starting to appreciate what some fellow 'really-bugged-and-mentally-troubled' person has written in as much a crappy mood as you are to read the whole thing.
The result? I feel better thinking that i may not be the lamest creature about to be extinct. Crappy posts do 2 things to your self-regard:
1.They boost your self-esteem when you tell yourself,"what a mushy,candy-floss brained moron so-snd-so is to write such glib"
2.you realise that life's not fair to a whole lot of people.at least, another one person who's probably been through the same thing you have, but not as severe since he/she was absolutely capable of thinking beyond the hurt and expressing it. so, your feelings are deeper!you have what can save the world...Sensitivity!
See?I'm better already!though i still feel i should post this bit, hope some maha-bugged/hurt/angry/ripped fellow can read this and appease that murder-intent mind.


(Quoting from the orkut profile of a certain Prabhjot Virk..yes,roadies loveroos, that's the one)

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love!!!!!"

Things that hurt

Felt like it, wrote it.


I wish you could see me wake up mom
While you made the breakfast today
And while you told me to take the dog down
I wish you'd heard what i'd to say

I wish you could see me grin at you
And ask for a morning hug
When you wiped through the furniture and cleaned the floor
And put on the brand new rug

I wish you'd watch me dress up mom,
just as i stepped outdoors
and tell me what sandal i should wear
while you were doing the chores.

you should've really seen me dust the table
and make the living room spotlessly clean
so that the seating's perfect and the beds are neat
and in the sunlight the glasstops gleam

you really made a good lunch today
A feast i'd never miss
and when i came to thank you for the meal
you were too busy for my kiss

so you'd missed the best years of your life
growing a clan of your own
and when you look back and reminisce
you'd see two great kids you've grown

I'm sorry that i hurt you the other day
when i refused to walk the dog
My leg was hurting and i couldn't tell
When you called me a lifeless log

I'm sorry for screaming at my younger brother
because he misbehaved
but i couldn't help stopping him rot
and it was your attention for which i craved

I'm sorry for the classes i had to bunk
because of the headache that day
and you said i was wasting your hard earned money
and that i was wasting away

I'm sorry for listening to everything
when i could've had a ball
for helping you about, and studying hard
And acting to your call

I'm sorry for the times i wasnt naughty
when you asked me to be a child
I really believed it'd cause you way less trouble
If i refrained and didn't act wild

I really thought i'd be a good girl
and never repent for that
I wanted to make life easier for you mum
while you spent all your time on that brat

I thought it'd be okay to wipe your eyes
after everytime your son made you cry
I never believed and still won't
when all i can think,is 'why did i?'

I'm sorry for the trouble mom
I thought i'd be a good girl and make you smile
Is it because you never could have your way mom,
that you never let me have mine?

why do i feel like a report card mom?
why do i feel like a weighing scale?
why do i feel that all i count for
is how much i weigh and i don't fail?

Thanks for the money you give me mom
Though daddy could've given it to me too
all i'm asking is for a little more attention mom
or for that, i wish i were your problem too.

That sour thing

Not a very good one today. Okay, I could say it was a good one and then landed up being super-lousy, thanks to the person who I’ve dedicated the previous entry to. One of life's little ironies, I suppose.
So, I got up on time.Went for a walk on time. Had breakfast (yes,on time). Dusted, cleaned, helped in the kitchen. And then started to write another entry on the PC. Enter Dad. He sees me watching this video on YouTube, clean one, at that, and claims I’ve been watching movies since the past week. Excuse me? I saw ‘The Lion King’ after 6 months, mind you, and the last movie I saw was ‘U, Me aur Hum’ last Monday (okay, okay. That doesn’t qualify for a movie, or watching, but tell that to my dad). So he thinks I’ve been watching movies and starts asking me to stop using this PC for all useless sakes, and stuff, so that he can check the stocks, and offers me his laptop. Why on earth should I budge? You got a laptop? You use the laptop. So he starts about how I waste his money and how I should learn to pay my own bills.
Now, THAT pisses me off major. Someone tell him he’s supposed to fend for all my needs, till I start earning. Because, yes, he’s the DAD. I’m the daughter. The point being, you don’t ask someone who you’ve created and will be dependant on you till she comes of age to start paying her bills. That’s because you are supposed to, like it or not.
And when I yell at him, he’s obnoxious enough to grin. That’s it. That man’s losing it. I get wild, and slam the door on his face, and still haven’t spoken to him. After about half an hour of anger finding a vent through heated tears and cuss-words, I finally reduce crying, the door’s locked, and I get an idea. I have to start the A.C. Now, you don’t have a choice but to relent to my demands. And then mum comes in. I expect to be yelled at for the tantrum. Instead she calmly goes like, “See you are behaving just the way I used to. Be a little tactful. Do what you usually tell me to do.” I stared with my mouth wide open. There was my mum, my saviour!
So, I walk out of the room. Get a Harry Potter, and my cell phone. And calmly listen and read. Dad enters and leaves the room several times, and I’m sitting with the A.C. on and a book in hand with music in the background. Impertinent? So be it.
After my mum hinted that I should do just what I like, there was this brand new confidence in me. And I won’t pretend it didn’t make me happy. After that, I got up, had a glassful of cold coffee, called my friend over, and am still on the PC, without letting my father talk to me.
This won’t end soon. I won’t let it. He shouldn’t have yelled in the first place, or laughed later. There’s this thing I’ve got called pride, and I won’t let anyone, let alone my father, hurt it. You can laugh at my face when I’m mad, but that wouldn't mean I’d let you.

Dear Dad

He's gone for the week. After the 11 days I spent with only him around, it seems strange without having him about the house, sleeping, or checking the stock market. Or playing carom.
Dad's not the normal 9-to-5 dad. He's the kinda dad who has to run off to do his job when they call him. Dad's not a normal person either. He's way too straight to be entirely human. Of course, he’s got his short comings. Like his temper, or his obstinacy. And then, also his detachment from all of us. He has this lousy temper, the one you get when you don’t have things going the way you want them to. It comes from his habit of having to live alone. He wants everything to fall in place; like how it does in the hotels he stays in abroad. He lives his own life, sometimes like we don’t exist. You could say that if he were to be marooned on some island, he would have live pretty happily there too, provided you give him the stock market updates. He likes his work done on time. No, he’s not the world’s most punctual person. He’s rather laidback for that. Expects everyone else to help him keep up with his self-inflicted busy timetable. Dad loves having everything go his way. Sometimes I ask, why start a family if you can’t live with it, if you can’t tolerate it?
Sometimes I have the answer.
Dad’s got his own life. And even if we don’t like the way it is, we’re the most important part of it. Or maybe I should relate my side of my dad’s story.
I’ve been his favourite possession since the earliest time I can remember. The house is filled with my photos. He remembers the smell of my baby cheeks. He also remembers how pudgy I was, and how probably I wont ever have a shape, because of all the chubby fat I’ve accumulated with him. He can remember the smallest things I said as a 2 year old. He was the one to make me speak my first English. He remembers the toys I had, my attachment to them. The silly mistakes I used to make when I first started speaking English. The words I used to jumble, or pronounce horribly. The times I would cry, and the reasons. The way I could never let my chocolates go to a cousin, even in a maths sum. How mum would have to clean up after I used the ‘dal’ in my food as a body lotion. The songs I used to sing. The wrong lyrics. My favourite actors. The time I could eat a dozen bananas as a 2 year old. How I could point out 57 countries on the globe by my second birthday. How I used to cry when dad left for a flight, and how I used to shy away from meeting him when he was back. How all I used to ask him when he used to be back from a flight was whether he’d bought food for me. How I puked all over my front sometime in the nursery. How I stood first for the first time in the terminal exam in the first standard. How I used to read books, and started on novels. How I used to sit on the tank behind the building, planning that farm we dreamt of, and finally bought a year later.
Dad isn’t the normal dad who brings home lots of chocolates, and treats his kids with big holidays in compensation for the rest of the year. Whatever my dad does for me, he did it only if he felt I deserved it. I don’t get rewards for doing stuff I’m supposed to. Dad knows when to separate duty from right. Dad knows when he’s needed. Like the times I’ve had to be dropped to school, even after the school bus facility started. He dropped me to school for the first 8 years. For the times he’s been around when I fell sick in school and needed him to pick me up. He never let me get late, always there. He always reasoned with me.
My demands grew as did I. he’d never shake from his idea of whether I deserved something or not. It’s probably thanks to him that I can negotiate so well on anything. Reasoning and convincing comes from his blood. He’s had to relent, stay firm, say no, and yell. But never has he ever raised a hand on me. Despite of the fact that I grew to be a stubborn brat, in certain matters only, dad’s made sure I never got everything I wanted. He’s taught me how to value something I don’t have, because there’re a lot of things I could do without that I can’t live without now. Dad let me be me, let me have the independence a majority of kids don’t get. He’d never yell about rotten marks, when I got them that is, he’d yell about the lack of effort. He’d never yell about not excelling, he’d yell about not continuing to learn.
People often idolise their parents, so do I. I’ve learnt a lot from mum, she’s the one who influences my life the most. Dad comes second, but I always see a significant portion of him in me, when we’d rather be left alone, when we want work to be done, when our chin gets set upon doing something with a deadline, when I get a Mallu accent when I’m excited. I see my dad in me when I lose my temper, when I can’t seem to calm myself down. I see him in me when I crack the most horrible jokes, and land up being the only one laughing. My mum has a sense of humour, dad’s the one who can make things funny, make the situation lighter. Dad’s the pillar, mum’s the balance.
We hardly talk when we’re angry, because we’re the most combustible substance after butane. We need our space, not just when we’re upset, also when we ask for it. We can’t take a ‘no’ too easily. We live in our own world. Dad’s the one who can talk to me about any thing, even stuff mum shies away from. He’s the one who tells me he’d hate having grandkids with Sreesanth’s nose, or Rannvijay’s hair. He’s the one who can share the weirdest jokes with me.
I know he can’t live without me, even if he doesn’t say so. He’ll always carry a set of the family photos with him wherever he goes. He’d rather spend time photographing birds with me than watching movies with my brother.
Sometimes, I miss having him around. He takes the security that nothing will go wrong with him. He takes that feeling that I’m-your-dad-I’ll-be-there away with him.
I’ll never be able to tell him this, but I have to. I love my dad. Not for his shortcomings, not for his strength, not for the pocket money he gives me, not for the memories he holds of my childhood. For the reason that he’s my dad, and that I’m daddy’s girl.

Psst!

I've had one grand day today.
1.Maushi called up from Borivli.Nikhil's got fellowship at Stanford!Lucky bugger gets paid to study!reason to part-aaaaayyyyyyy!
come to think of it,the Donde's must be ordering a gold bust of his to be put up in some CKP hall.

2.I'm selected on the CEB.For all those who care to know,it's the College Editorial Board, by the Education Times,that 4 page suppliment you get with TOI.I have no clue how many apply for it,but who cares?I'm on, babe-aayyyy!!(question:what the hell am i supposed to talk about,or even write about there?)..I'm sooo happppyyyyy!
(missing my mum,go find out what Vipassana is yourself)

3.I got my nose pierced.Yeah,finally!I'd promised to do it sometime this week,and since procrastination is a thing of the past,I decided to do it,this evening.It's on the left side,and got a silver wire stuck there till it's okay to put something i want to.

4.Saxxxy and Dabba have minimised abusing.I'm down and out with chocolates, or anything as brown and delicious.Dostini's in awe of the will-power.Perennial smarty's seeing his chances at humour go bleak. Like jokes can't stay clean when you're above 17.

5.I joined SDIPA, or Shiamak's!My dream for the past 4 years. Now i can dance, in a more organised fashion. Probably will land up being the phatest in the lot, but i'm more than used to it.

Yeh kaunse janam ke punya ka phal praapt kar rahi hu?

Sutta

To my friend,who played it so beautifully.

Doston mein baitha main sutta pee raha
Abba ne mujhe sutta peete dekh liya
Ghar jab pahuncha to danda ho gaya
BC sutta, sutta na mila.
BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila.
BC sutta, sutta na mila.
BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila.
BC sutta, sutta na mila.

College mein gaya mujhe pyar ho gaya,
Usne bhi mujhse mera sutta cheen liya
Sadkon pe ghooma main tanha reh gaya
BC sutta, sutta na mila.
BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila.
BC sutta, sutta na mila.
BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila.
BC sutta, sutta na mila.

Shaadi hui main husband ban gaya
Raat bhar thoka main thak ke gir gaya
Khushiyon ki khatir mera sutta chin gaya, BC sutta.

BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila.
BC sutta, sutta na mila.
BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila.
BC sutta, sutta na mila

BC MC, BC MC BC MC.
BC MC, BC MC BC MC.
BC MC, BC MC BC MC.
BC MC, BC MC BC MC.


sadist enough, i hope. The first time i heard this song, i must've been 13. with a microscopic vocab, at leat in hindi, i had NO idea what sutta meant.
when i was fifteen, and did decipher the mumbaiyya lyrics, the girls were all ooohhh eeeeks..
i'm 17,can sing the song by heart,and unabashedly.you're talking to a girl who isn't.
i do give it a thought you know,life with a cancerstick in hand.like,how cool is it?B&H ek haath mein,other hand in my pocket.and the nicotine stench.loadsa more chewing gums,mouthwash kept handy.making sure my lips dont blacken.raised eyebrows from friends.trying hard to not let my parents know.I did it out of curiosity, the drag thing.i thought i like it. the coughing the first day was awful.but they dont all cough.it left me feeling fuller.more grown up, and satisfied i'd done it.you see, it was more psychological then physical.the thrill, and then the 'cool' tag. i remember a friend telling me,'he smokes, like 2 packets a day,dealt in drugs,heavy on them.How cool is that?'. i hated him right there.'eeewww'.Didn't oarents ever find out?well, i knew the answer.
We teenagers,if we wanna keep something fom our parents, we can keep it no matter how obvious it is. they are unsuspecting,'trying to be our friends',and they look over the obvious lies.ask me,i have kept millions from my folk.i'm chocoholic,and this post is dedicated to the guy who first told me i was one.at obesity,chocolates can do wonders for the cholestrol team.
well,to the guy i knew since around 6 years now.did i say 'knew'?sorry, i dont mean it.i do not know you.vene vidi vici.they all said i was in love with him.i knew i wasnt.there's something called a comfort zone, and he hadnt entered.today i cant really say if he has,but he's close to.

Just to him now,
i dont know you,and i wont claim otherwise.but i've seen you for the past five years, and i dont see any reason i shouldnt care for you.you were the one who'd get us all smile,the one who everyone thought would do the best, and probably will.you're the one who everybody always wanted around,the reason i often took the others for granted.you're the one who could tell facts the way they are unnervingly,and the one who read us long before we'd opened you.
they told me you dont care.seriously?they also tell me that being upset about you could do no one any good,and definitely me some harm.they also say that i dont have a right.
well boy,here's something.i know that if i dont do something, or rather we dont do something soon enough to stop you from lighting it,you'll die.i dont want to miss you,and as much as i deny it,i know i will.i know this will kill you.i want you to live,and it hurt more than my ego the day you showed me you could do what you like.it hurt some place that said,oh god please dont let him do that.i cant stare up at you as defiantly as you can at me,asking me to challenge any of my decisions,but for some reason i still cant figure,i know someday you'll have to stop doing that.
i dont want you to die a loser's death.you're never gonna listen,and i probably wont dare say these things to you,but trust me,i guess i care for the fact that you're a part of my life i dont wanna throw away so easily.you need a hand?i'm here.a shoulder?i'm here..why me?do you know that all of us cant go 5 minutes without trying to find ways to pull you out?and you still dont care.maybe you'r waiting to get addicted.may be you want to die the death of an 80 year old man at 40.
here's a fact:death doesnt affect the person who's dying.it affect those he leaves behind.his memories,his words,his voice.the fact that you're going that way makes me cry at night.that too for a friend i really cant call one.what do you not have?what do you want?what will make you stop the darned habit?kick the butt?why are you so intent on killing yourself?
go ahead then,but i'm gonna try my best to pull you back.i'm gonna go the distance just so that you dont die and kill a part of me with you.you may hate me,call me names,slander me.but i wont stop trying,you're way too good for that.
for all the times you hurt me with your words,i could forgive you.but not for the times i felt dead in myself because you didnt give up the smoke.i've seen people ide that way,suffer that way, and just because i dont say it,it doesnt mean that i dont care.i do, more than i'd have ever thought myself.
i dont know why you're doing this,how long you've been doing this,anything.all that matters now is that i can pull you out of this,and i will.i dont know how i'm gonna do it,where,when,why.i know i'm gonna do this.the smoking is the vice,not the smoker.everytime i look at my guitar i'm probably gonna be proud at the fact that i tried for something.
you're worth more than a packet of lights you buy from a 3rd grade stall.way,way more than that.i just hope you really know how good you are,and how petty something like this is.
thanks,for hearing,if not listening.
Me.

Psst!

So it's summer again!
list of things i subonsciously land up doing around this time:
1.fell left out and alone.
2.get excited thanks to some holidaying hopes, and then get them crushed.
3.fall in love (this can wait. this vacation, i've had a very nasty bout of that).
4.have some major fall-outs with friends.
5.get into trouble because of food (yepo, and no other specimen of my species shows this trait).
6.strengthen some bonds (friends,hair et cetera)
7.coax dad into buying me a new cellphone (but i'm happy with this one, may try iPod now)
8.smile and blush. and blush myself silly. and still smile.
9.Fall sick...the 'flu thing.
10.learn nothing.

damn i'm buh-luddy happy.

All things random.

Morning again.Scribe's just back from a morning walk and is slightly grumpy.Wonder why though..shouldnt happen when you go strictly with the intention of losing a few calories and land up chatting to 2 of your building friends on the park benches.mortal peril i faced:cricket balls,missing my neck,and one hitting my knee hard.i can still walk though.
I've had a mentally busy weekend.Been thinking a lot.about all the random things in the universe.
To start with my fading best friend Vague.He's lost into the abyss.For all i can guess, he gets up at 4am every morning,studies,for god knows how long,then eats, then studies,then plays that holy football game.Then perhaps comes back tired,obsesses over his girl who's off to the U.S., and then studies a little more.Then he must be eating,going to class to answer some really pakaav tests 3 stations away from home, humming some gospel music to himself.oh, today being a sunday, he may do it faster than 3 moves per minute, and rush to church. he'll chuckle around with the boys a lil..but won't hang around (i'm not there, am i?).then he'll absent mindedly go to the station..running,then walking,then in strides..not knowing what he's upto precisely.if he reaches home on time, he'll have a bath, have dinner and be tucked in by 10.30pm.exceeding which is WAY too late.
I miss the bugger.For the times he's wanted to talk,or just call up and hummed some songs i've never heard, for pushing me to do better, for saying nothing at all for an entire phone conversation he called, for getting upset because a careless girl ripped his heart, for telling me how to hold the guitar for the first time. i miss him for the tmes he'd stick his tongue out and wag it, for holding his head in his palms when he just wants to be alone, for sucking his lower lip when he's thinking, for fumbling with Nimisha ma'am's answers.For the times he thinks he's being all happy (and gay) but always forgetting that i saw right through.For seeing right through me.For coming to Andheri station with me, just because that was one day i knew we needed each other the most.
Vague because his head is in the clouds, all the time.vague because he gets on your nerves with a smile where you expect an answer and a chickle where you want him to be serious, Vague becase the Xth spinal nerve is the only one that runs all over your body, and they call it 'Vagus'.Vague because he can change the topic of conversation midsentence.
Vague because i miss him, and don't know where to find him.Vague because he's as ready to do anything i ask him to for me, as i am to do anything for him.
Love ya, you wild idiot.You make my day and can't stop missing you!