Wednesday, December 21, 2016

A Sackful of Nothing And Everything

I am in love. 

Different kinds of love. 


Time and space make you realise that there can be many kinds, kinds that are far from the romantic dreamy solutions we always tend to want as the logical conclusion to all the thoughtful stories that we think the world is made of. 


Every time I get dreamy I message a friend and she tells me "find a friend D, those are rarer than lovers." 

She is right.

Also she has the whole adulting thing sorted while I cry over my grades and the pressure of grad school to her. It has been crazy to use an oft used phrase to describe indescribable things and feelings. 

I'm sure I have changed a lot and I don't even realise it. 

I haven't been very faithful to my blog here, in recording all the ups and downs. But I am sure there's nothing I would write here that you haven't already read at least once and have tucked away somewhere in the obscure corners of your mind. And I'll begin to say it and you'll roll your eyes at me and say...ah that story,  

I don't have anything bombastic or new to write here. Except its pretty damn bombastic and new to me because it has  been happening to yours truly. 

Sometimes I worry that I will never have observant clever things to write about for my blog because I talk too much and never stop and look at what's actually going around. 

There are just these... people moments places.... and life has a way of meandering around the good stuff and the bad like it's trying to show me some kind of a dangerous dance show that I can never get out of alive. 

O wait. Right. Of course. 

I guess I am living a little. And loving these little pieces of pure beauty that life is throwing my way...no big deal.. no it is a really very big deal. 

Stay warm. 


Until next time.... 



 


Sunday, August 28, 2016

Heart Break.....

Yesterday I attended a Greek festival. An old Greek lady came up to our table and said "Is this taken?" And that was it. She was a part of our table, us Uni babblers and her. 

She turned around, looked at me, the sun was hitting her face at an angle and she said, "My God, you are beautiful. " And I wanted to say, "what are you talking about, YOU are beautiful." But I didn't. I smiled, said thank you and laughed it off.

She was like my grandmother. My grandmother is beautiful, fair and spunky. If she'd like something I'm wearing, she would compliment me and say "you look beautiful. Ask your mother to buy all variations of this dress for you." Oh she has style and cooked like a diva despite the fact that she had to deal with a broken leg and an arm. 

She is no more. I just found out while randomly calling my mom on Skype.

It's so hard for me to write about her in the past tense. To know that July 30 was it... that I would never see her again. 

I have always been at the heart of bad news. To be so far away and be smacked in the face with it is not something I had prepared myself for. 

I am sharing a song she liked here, 


Translated : 

This jewel studded necklace is not my style 
It hurts and pokes at me when I try to wear it 
It pains when I try to remove it 
This jewel studded necklace doesn't suit me. 

It chokes me up and I can't sing 
My mind is elsewhere, and I can't set my mind to work 
This jewel studded necklace is not my style 

That's why I wait, so I can bedeck you with my necklace instead 
It would bring me so much relief.... 
Welcome me with garlands and flowers 
I can't bring myself to face you with this jewel studded necklace. 


I hope she found the relief that she so wanted and struggled for all her life. Rest in peace you beautiful sweet woman. We all hope and strive to have a little bit of your talents scattered around in us. Look out for me. I will miss you.... so so much. 


Sunday, August 14, 2016

Crush Them With Love.



The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark 

Act I 

Scene III. A room in Polonius' house 

Lord Polonius 

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 

  
And it was all...yellow.
There is a Chipmunk in this photo. I think I found my spot at the Uni


Things I found out about myself this week - 

  • I suck at volleyball. I hate sporty things that involve balls in general actually. Probably because I suck at it. 
Why yes, that is in fact strawberries with whipped cream on my breakfast cereal
  • If I have strawberries and whipped cream in the fridge I will never want to cook because that's what I'll want to have for breakfast, lunch, dinner or even snacks, really. 
  • The ouchy corn I had back at home is getting ouchier and I might be losing a foot. Or something. 
  • I now know how to fix a flush, thanks to YouTube. 

I am more proud about that last point than is normal for a 27 year old. 

I feel old. 

Also the homesickness has finally hit...I think. I don't want to weep all over this post. But I'm a ball of mush right now. Love violently  if you have to you guys. Love hard. You never know when it will suddenly all change and you will find yourself weeping into your pillow while listening to Jenny Lewis. 


Always 



Sunday, August 7, 2016

On Not Knowing Things

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark 

Act V 

Scene IV Elsinore. A platform before the castle

Ophelia 

...Lord, we know what we are,but know not 
What we may be..



Confession: I've stopped reading. 

The last book I read, remains unfinished, at home tucked inside the upside down red tool that I had made into a portable bookshelf. My mind hovers around that shelf of unread, well loved books and I stare at the one cold book next to my makeshift sleeping bag bed in my quiet, heavy room now. I don't know why, the room feels heavy. I open the window often enough, let the light and breeze play in but my mind won't stop fidgeting. 

Somewhere in all this traveling I've lost my footing, the quiet order and rhythm of events that my life was built so carefully around- my little portable upside-down-tool-for-a-bookshelf life. Not sure what I have right now, is..sometimes I just stop thinking and blank out completely, people would be talking to me and my head will be off somewhere grasping for one familiar strain of a Leonard Cohen song. 

I don't know where this sudden fixation on Leonard Cohen songs is coming from...


I don't know so many things..


Friday, August 5, 2016

We're Home

We're here. 


We're home for now. 

I'm going through the motions and there are a LOT of motions when it comes to setting up things afresh in a new place...continent. (I am being vague, I know, sorry, but this is how an anonymous blog should work? I think?) 

I can't be poetic or exultant about everything that's happening to me because it's still happening to me. I am still fresh off the boat, still a little in awe of everything. The country is still speaking to me...it sure has a lot to say! 

I'll be back when I sound a little more coherent. Hopefully that's sooner rather than later. Till then, be kind to each other ~hugs~ 

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Wish Me Luck ! Ahhhhhh

Twelfth Night 

Act II.

Scene III.Olivia's House 

Clown 

What is love? 'tis not hereafter; 
Present mirth has present laughter; 
What's to come is still unsure: 
In delay there lies no plenty; 
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Why yes, this is my very first scheduled post! 

Right now, I am probably a very hassled traveller crossing an ocean maybe, pining for all of this

Hopefully I will be back with an update...till then stay well and happy, hug your loved ones a little tighter for me.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

I Am Not Being Pretentious, I Promise

Muddle, puddle, befuddle...some of the words that come to mind while trying to articulate the state it's been in lately. 

Had a bit of a moment of truth while doing yoga this evening and I'm going to share it here for what it's worth: 

You know the journey food makes from our mouth through our throat down our chest and then the long winding intestines and finally the poop canal (that's a thing right? said the doctor's daughter)- so that whole...route...is like life isn't it? 

Our lives...

That we live...

Down the long winding tunnels of adulthood...

Until we're reduced to utter...

Shit

And we're out...

Flushed down the annals of history like baby spiders that probably hunker for shelter from the periodic deluge in the commode- Fertilisers to the crops that we eat and it starts all over again. Birth cycles. Food cycles. I need to get to sleep, in case you haven't figured it out yet. 

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Pulling Each Other Up

King Lear 

Act II 

Scene VI.A tent in the French Camp. 

King Lear 

Pray,do not mock me: 
I am a very foolish fond old man, 
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; 
And to deal plainly, 
I fear I am not in my perfect mind 


Hi All. 

Yeah I've been mocked all week. This seemed appropriate. Also I have an infected corn and it's ouchy...I may have also caught the flu and things are just generally...bad right now. 

If you're going through something similar, know that I am with you, let's be patient, shed some therapeutic tears, dust off the madness and try to pull each other up. ~hugs~

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Yeah. I Think I Just Barely Maintained the Shakespeare Sunday Streak.

I've missed the Shakespeare Sunday deadline by 50 minutes now. But Sunday is still bidding goodbye to other parts of the world. So I'll just rain on Sunday's goodbye parade a little bit, beg her to stay a while longer and finish what was meant to be done because She came, despite the long wait!

There is no excuse for this tardiness, other than that hideous word we've made up these days - "adulting" It's a misnomer really, I staunchly believe my 13 year old self had her shit together far better and would have been ace at this "adulting" thing. 

If I had done a conventional, Shakespeare Sunday today it would probably have had a tinge of death in it. Mostly because I've been thinking about death a lot lately, not in the artistic vague we're-all-dying-here-way (which I do most of the time anyway) but more in the my-grandma-is-probably-dying-and-I-have-to-leave-and-why-is-2016-being-so-bloody-relentless-with-it's-machete kind of way. 

But that's the last thing I want to do- make bidding goodbye to Sunday gloomier than it already is so I'll totally phone it in and share this link -  It's a quiz- see if you guess which Shakespeare plays are being referenced in these pop songs! The word nerd in me did a little jig when I found this. 

I don't know how to end this. Honestly. Let's just hope we have a great week ahead and may there be no bad news. Please let there be no bad news. 

Sunday, July 10, 2016

On Resilience

The Life And Death of Julius Caesar 

Act III

Scene II. The Forum 

Antony 

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

I don't write about events in the news that disturb me simply because I take a while to form a succinct view on it, while accepting that there's very little I could do, most of the time. 

This is of course based on what I read about it on-line from several quarters. Then I'll finally have one consolidated opinion borrowing a little that I agree with from everybody and I feel like it wouldn't be fair to share that and pass it off as mine. 

I link and retweet as much as I can, without bogging you down with the general sense of doom about all that is happening around the world. Yes, it's sad. Yes it's heartbreaking and all of us...are still here, looking for the light, willing to look forward, move forward. 

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Because I Am Sick And I Want To Bore You

The gift of being still 
Will begin when the tapping 
Slows down and we stop seeking
Admiration like a pill

I felt the need to put this out there because I am sick.



I am saying bye bye to the good times because I don't trust eating out during the rains anymore. You get no points for guessing which tall glass of drink I ordered. 

I don't do the falling sick routine well: terrible timing, miss the cues for climax and I know the weakness will stretch out till people get a little tired, bored even. 

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Borrowing Some Strength from Lady Macbeth

The Tragedy of Macbeth 

Act I

Scene V. Inverness. Macbeth's Castle.

Lady Macbeth 

Only look up clear;
To alter favour ever is to fear 
Leave all the rest to me.


Everything has been on hold this week because I've been catching up on Game of Thrones. And there is yet more and I'm scared that this is the worst time to do this. 

I have precisely 25 days before I leave the country ~shudder shudder~ 


Monday, June 27, 2016

What Necrophilia And Pretty Wedding Cards Share In Common

There is the stumble when you find yourself at an age where certain things don't excite you as much as they should. Marriage, for instance. I'm yet to figure out completely, exactly what that's supposed to mean and what is it that I don't like about it. But this post is not a rant about marriage. 

On the contrary, I wanted to share the one aspect of marriage that I love - it's silly, but I am a complete idiot about pretty wedding cards. They don't have to be fancy or anything, just the ones that you know tell a story-carefully thought of ones. 

And then a part of me asks me, Why D, Why do you hate trees so much? It's a complete waste of paper and God knows what else. 

But Look! (does this count as copyright infringement?) I am sorry,
But this is just to make you see what I mean. 
Also I get it if you don't get it. That's okay, to each weird obsession his/her own I say! 

Then a brilliant idea strikes me that I share on a Whatsapp group ( that's how Whatsapp works, if you aren't in a Whatsapp group you aren't doing it right, apparently.)

Me: If I ever married, I would have used dead leaves to send out invitations- you know just the ordinary ones that we keep trampling on. It would have been brilliant but you know, some things are better left to the imagination. 

Hesitant Friend 1 : We can work something out using those for sure. 

Me: Really? Like, how about I get married just to see this whole amazing dead-leaves-for-wedding-cards idea through. And then I hack hubby to death on my wedding night and bury him under the pile of leaves that will I'm sure accumulate around the place, you know from all the "littering" except it's not littering, because it came from the ground anyway? Okay I am getting excited about this! you guys have to help me bury the body. 

Hesitant Friend 1 : You finally mustered up some courage and got started on those GoT episodes that the whole world has seen 5 years ago, didn't you? 

Hesitant Friend 2: D, sometimes I read what you say, chuckle a bit and then pray to God that it is a joke. 

Yes, I do tend to elicit that response in general. I'm like that weird Necrophilia post that's doing the rounds on Fb. Unintentionally funny but will make you wince and laugh at the same time nonetheless- a very difficult response to elicit, if you ask me. 

Yup. This happened. Also someone shared this on my timeline, in a ooo new
word, how cool kind of way- and not look at this craziness kind of way?
I don't know what to be more disturbed about, now. 



Saturday, June 25, 2016

Not Alone

Timon of Athens 

Act I 

Scene II. A banqueting room in Timon's house 

Music. Re-enter Cupid with a mask of Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing 

Apementus

Hoy day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
They dance! they are mad women. 
Like madness is the glory of this life. 
As this pomp shows to a little oil and root 
We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;
And spend our flatteries,to drink those men
Upon whose age we void it up again, 
With poisonous spite and envy. 
Who lives that's not depraved or depraves?
Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves
Of their friends' gift?
I should fear those that dance before me now
Would one day stamp upon me: 't has been done; 
Men shut their doors against a setting sun

Recently, Katie Mack @AstroKatie tweeted: 

Remember that your attention is a gift and your willingness to debate is a choice. You're under no obligation to help someone be less wrong. 

I agree with this so hard, I want to tattoo it all over me. It helped me tide over this week. Not tide over really, more like thrash about,drown and somehow manage to move forward, with oodles of water flooding my insides and knocking the wind out of me. If you're dealing with hatred, negativity and hurt right now, know that I am thinking about you. Know that I'm sending out oodles of cosmic love into the universe, for you.

 I have to or I'll never get past the pain to remind myself that I am in fact... not alone. 





Saturday, June 18, 2016

Happy Sad...

As You Like It 

Act I

Scene II. Lawn before the Duke's Palace

Rosalind 

Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; 
And would you yet I were merrier? 



Life is being lived at the moment and I need some time to put it all into a coherent perspective. 

So instead of long rambling blog posts I'll leave you with a happy picture: 

The sun was shining just right...

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Breathe In, Breathe Out

A Midsummer Night's Dream 

ACT I

SCENE I. Athens.The Palace of THESEUS

Hippolyta

Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities

If I charted out this week in terms of events and general sense of merriment, it would reach a peak somewhere in the middle and then dip low, very low over the weekend. If the week were a person, she'd be the one bustling with the nerves and the pressure of entertaining until she finally gives up, takes off her pants and raises an ugly finger to the world. I try to calm her down. I do not enjoy the socialising myself.

The nights are perhaps the only time of the day that are utterly mine, now. And I've never been happier chasing dawns. 

Monday, June 6, 2016

Unlocking Time

"Jaoar shomoy toh eshe i gelo" - ( Your date of departure is creeping in closer every day), they say. 

I shrug because that's how days work. 

Wouldn't it be cool if I left without a fuss or tears or any nostalgia to haunt me- nostalgia about my life, my world and this beautiful city I've lived in for 26 years now? I might just pull it off you know, just pretend I am home the whole time- stay in denial-  easy peasy right? There's a part of me that's waiting for a last minute dreadful mail where they say, "Oh that was a mistake, sorry we didn't mean you when we sent that mail about the application being accepted." Is it weird that that's making me terrified and hopeful at the same time? 

John Green writes, " It is so hard to leave - until you leave. And then it is the easiest god damned thing in the world." The hard part though? Is not figuring out what or who are the people I will miss. It's those little unobtrusive things that I've taken so much for granted the, "..unnoticed and the necessary" as Margaret Atwood puts it. 

Making a list of these things felt right, because these are those little blocks that will create my world- there.If I don't know the bases and the concepts, much like my academic career, the picture will remain incomplete..forever. 

 Not recreating the entire list here, sharing snapshots though.  

Kaalo Jam. I don't think this has an english equivalent for a name. Sprinkle
some rock salt, sugar, salt and refrigerate. Summer is sorted B-)
I think you could call it burgundy berry that is a beautiful purple inside. I refuse to settle for it's literal translation - blackberry - that it isn't. Kaalo Jam and I are old buddies, so much so that the shade of kaalo jam is my favourite thing to wear - my spectacles, my favourite shade of lipstick, all have a smear of kaalo jam in them. 

Where life goes by...
This picture is not about the stuff in it, it's more about what it represents for me. Mom is always out and about- the house, is mine most of the time. And this is the place I've lazed around, watched endless number of movies or just fiddled with my phone or laptop, studied, chatted with people who drop by on rare occasions - we are not a very social people. You can tell by the size of that couch :P The light would stream in from that window and the birds would go about their chattering, the faint rush of the breeze, the smell of freshly laundered cushion covers (fresh cotton cloths have a heady smell, try it) - I'd call it idyllic but this was just...normal. 



A little bit of my domain and a whole lot of mummy's- my love for the green and nature springs entirely from her. That little sturdy hibiscus plant is the latest addition. The flowers are white, ethereal, I'll miss watching you grow. 

When trees greet you in the middle of your walk
My city has a gentle soul, like a mother's. It would make my mother remark, "Get off its lap, it's spoiling you. " Lap in Bengali = kol. Short name for my city = Kol. In Bengali, it roughly translates to "Get off the kol of Kol." and everybody would nod gravely. ~sigh~ 



I wanted to memorise every leaf and remember once how I was gifted a twig of this beauty, because I'd fallen and hurt my head. I'd taken the twig and wanted to wear it wedged between my ear and hair like hippies did in movies, it had fallen off. As disappointing as that was, it also taught me how everything may not be as real as they seem and sometimes, beauty can't be captured and made a part of you, no matter how hard you tried. 


Adore the little meet and greet taking place between the trees here. Reminds me of the rare times that I meet people and the good day that it always ends up being. 

That's it for now....I'll update this as and when I take pictures, which I'm sure I will...in the run up to  days being days and bringing me closer to a bitter-sweet parting. 

Update 1 ( 30.06.2016): 



We are experiencing panic in waves now and the city is offering me daring consolation. It is the kind of summer where it would be totally appropriate to fall in love, grow some roots, dare to dream in happy beginnings...and yet, I must leave. 

Update 2 (13.07.2016):


This is the second time I went back to school.  If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know what these are- our art teacher hand painted these coasters of our school houses. The wrapping paper resembles our school uniform! Hah! I belonged to Lotus House. We had 8 houses...all named after flowers! I know. Perks of going back to school to talk on World Population Day!

While preparing for my talk, I found that there couldn't be a more dry topic- it is really difficult to make this sound interesting - John Green could but I am no John Green! Surprisingly though? I got chorus answers, excited questions and beaming teachers who couldn't praise enough. But teachers are like mommies, they will gloss over the trip ups.

 It felt good though...so so good. :)

Sunday, June 5, 2016

I am trying something new here- Shakespeare Sundays. Don't roll your eyes at my original and creative thinking!

The rain is like an actor on stage, thumping and hammering out the lines with an intent to prick us to the core, unsettle us, think of dark wishful thoughts.

While I've let my blatantly pin-pricked-reverse-of-a-bubble-wrap soul wander and find its kinship with the rain, I've entered the "long dark tea time of the soul" as Douglas Adams would call it. 

"In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn’t cope with…
as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o’clock,
 and you will enter  the long dark teatime of the soul."
Image Source: 
widerangeofnormal.tumblr.com

It is precisely, four o' clock at the moment. An extremely mediocre idea has brewed my mind an ugly fuming shade, so here  goes nothing. 

How about a little Sunday routine for the blog?

Introducing-  Shakespeare Sundays- And while my skin roils and reduces to feeling like the rain soaked mud outside, because I can hear you saying "how unoriginal and boring!" Let's just say, you're reading a blog that has a page entitled "Music and Me (Because I suck at Page Titles).  You have been warned, my friend.  Indeed, I am terrible at naming things- there's a certain finality to it that is hateful. 

Maybe I won't keep at it, like the several abandoned things and projects that my life encircles and eddies out of, under the pretext of "convenience"

So here's the plan - every Sunday I'll put up a quote by Shakespeare here, something that reflects the week that's been, the things and ideas that have been topmost on my mind and other such sundry sources of inspiration- as simple as that. 

Unlike today, there will be Sundays, I am sure, where I just put the quote up without such a long preamble. Some Sundays, I will ramble. C'est La Vie. 

Why Shakespeare? Sir Ian Mckellan says, "Anyone who finds studying Shakespeare difficult should remember that Shakespeare didn't intend you to read these plays."

 So here's the thing, let's not "study" him? (unless you're in school, study away then, this is an interesting time to study Shakespeare. Seriously, I envy you. ) Let's read him. Let's give him a chance to get off that pulpit and sit next to us, nod his head at the tedium of life and say something clever about it- enormously clever and beautiful, but that's just Will. 

This week I am quoting from :

The Tragedy of Macbeth 

Act I
Scene I. A desert place. 
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches. 

First Witch 
When shall we three meet again 
In thunder, lightning,or in rain? 

Second Witch 
When the hurly burly's done, 
When the battle's lost and won. 

Third Witch 
That will be ere the set of sun. 


Do you hear it? The crazy thunder? Does it make your heart beat faster? Are you scared? Don't be. Listen to them. They have a timeline- a reassuring calming timeline.  And you let the rain pour and sweep through your being- waiting for their prophecies to, one day,  come true. 

Friday, May 27, 2016

Crowdfire: Or maybe they're just really happy to unfollow you. ~Sigh~ Fair Point

Dear Crowdfire, 



I love you, but maybe when you do a little system re-design next time, do think about the unfortunate placement of the negative sign next to "Recent Unfollowers" . 

Give the poor souls the dignity they deserve! 

Sincerely, 
The Girl Who Clearly Doesn't Have Much Of A Life/ The Girl With the Broken Brain/ The Girl Who Is Maybe A Bad Combination of Both 

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Neil Gaiman Nudging Brilliant Ideas Into My Head & Saving Me A Little. The Usual.

I was listening to A Phone Call From Paul - A Chat With Neil Gaiman (a neat little format if you ask me). 

So Neil says something quite interesting there and I quote, "Nobody in a story  gets to really look around and understand the story. The joy of our lives is that actually where we make sense from is not only afterwards but from the outside. And it's that point where somebody can say, "Ah! so, so and so, his discovery of this, changed the world!... So and so who had this life where he thought he was a failure- actually this is what he threw up to the world! This person made this happen.. and suddenly you take a step outside and you understand how things fit in, you understand  the shape of the story- you understand who were the heroes, who were the villains, who were the supporting characters, who were the love interests. And you also understand, of course, that that's not true, that's a lie because you'll just have to take one step to the left and all the love interests change, the supporting characters change and the hero changes....he's the story in which Charles Darwin who was the guy who discovered evolution and he did this and he did that and then you take one step towards the left and no, now you're talking about the other guy who went out and kind of figured it all out, but he never got famous.And now he's your hero." 

I must have re-played that a dozen times. Because this man...just said something in a way that I never would have imagined. That sometimes, when it feels like someone is hurting you to the point that they have acquired the features of a fire breathing dragon, and said person is making you want to question your very existence- wouldn't it be cool to believe that you, my friend, have stumbled into someone else's story? Oh what a sense of relief, that...isn't it? 

 The more I think about it, the more it makes sense, really. Because in his story he is the hero, with the whole fire costume thingy. I wouldn't pick that costume for me where I'm the hero of my story, I'd probably pick something cuter and in shades of pastel, but that's my problem. Also I'm so immersed in his/her antics that I've confused myself to be more than just a "supporting character" and I'm trying really hard to own a future chain of events that aren't even supposed to be mine! It's someone else's D. Take a hint! 

All my life I've been trying to be so careful about who could hurt me and who is perfectly safe and who has "jerk" potential...when all I had to do, was figure out when my plot is starting to look foreign, and realise oops, this is someone else's. So it wasn't ever about people being "bad" or "good" but only about recognising when it isn't your story any more. It's an honest mistake. And there's absolutely no need to get so worked up about it. Instead imagine a really uptight English butler telling you, "it happens all the time, Miss" and run along. 

Now I'll give you an example. If Neil Gaiman were to read this post (keep dreaming, D) and say, "but that's not what I meant at all you silly wench, you have nice hair, though." I shall curtsy and say, "Thank you Neil, but in my version of the story, this is how what you said, makes sense" and run along. :) 


From one of my favourite books by Neil. We're all in it together.
We're all in it alone. And that's how stories are born. 


Tuesday, April 26, 2016

The Threshold

She tries to picture him. He has probably made a check-list of important things he must take back home. The list is long, each thing a tiny puff of anxiety at the base of his throat. 

His shoulders are graceful, like a bird's. They are abrupt though and one can't quite match it with his neck. It's thicker but his voice is soft. It's mellow. Aloof. There are many questions waiting to burst out at the tip of her tongue. But she reins them in. They'd make her sound like she cared. 

A stray remark of when the flight is, is made. Evening, the tight lipped answer comes. He had mentioned it was in the morning, she had written it down. Another stray remark had to be made., "Oh? I thought it was in the morning." This conversation was taking place at 3:29 a.m, his time. 

She wouldn't put a label of "nocturnal" on his innocent forehead. He couldn't sleep at nights. There were nightmares, she knew. But he never talked about them. She'd picture him clawing at his pillows and waking up longing for a drop of water. Right then in her head, a threshold had been crossed. 

"You are awesome" he had written with three busy yellow mouths spewing out garish red hearts when she had described what she'd like to do to him after he stepped out of the shower. He would never cross that threshold, she had realised. 

He falls asleep mid sentence. She wonders what tires him out so much. 

She waves at him from the other side of the threshold, he waves back, not quiet able to make sense of why there are tears patiently melting her face away. 


Saturday, April 23, 2016

Deliver Me...



"But I'm not giving up 
I'm just giving in." 

~Florence + The Machine 


For times, when the head won't let you sleep, won't let you breathe without knowing it's wasted. 

All your breaths are wasted. 

Here's to those times- that make you strong and all you've got to show for it is your pillow soaked and stained from rivers that run deep inside your eyes.

 You wouldn't know about them till they stray from their paths.... from the chartered river bed.

 They are tired. 

And you nod because you understand. 

Three Rivers Deep (book series) "A two-souled girl begins a journey of self discovery..." http://threeriversdeep.wordpress.com/: