And we talked all night about the rest of our lives...

I.

Last night my life found itself in a room with my childhood.

It was a beautiful room. Packed full with laughter, music, tears and food… Lots of food and a rabble-appetite that seemed satisfied although the food went untouched! There were bottles of alcohol too. They stood dully on a table with the quiet demeanor of those who know they aren’t wanted at a party… who knew they weren’t needed at this party. Characteristically of booze bottles or not I don’t know… but they didn’t seem to mind.

I don’t know why I sit down to write this because it seems so unnecessary. I know that all I have to do should I ever want to relive that evening is get ‘em ol’ girls from school back together. It doesn’t matter where, it doesn’t matter when, it doesn’t matter who else will come or what we’ll have for dinner.

But yet I sit and write this, because quite honestly I sometimes get scared that someday I just might grow up too much… too fast. So much and so fast that I will even forget to remember.

II.

It was all a haze really… we were laughing so hard I couldn’t see what was happening through watery eyes. Ears reverberating with the shrieks of one and guffaws of the other. Sides hurt… cheeks getting ever more sore… I couldn’t breathe!

I loved it.

There were oodles of blah music that transpired from a makeshift music system, comprising by and large of two computer speakers and a barely working(?), highly strung disc-man. As fate would have it, I was the only one who could operate that thing.

They made cracks at me… “So you finally get it going with some sort of a MAN!” Bitches!… how hard they made me laugh! They of course paid dearly coz they didn’t get any music until I was done. They (characteristically of them, I know)… didn’t mind.

The evening wore on… we didn’t. We only seemed to get stronger and fuller of energy.
P asked S: “Aren’t you tired? You came straight from work.”
S said: “I don’t understand.”
The conversation went on. But it has already said what matters.

III.

Sometime around midnight the stomachs got their way. Vegetable Biriyani… cold, oily… I’m talking major dyspepsia material here… what do I say… it was delicious!

IV.

The contentment that followed dinner manifested itself as a conversation. Everyone talked… everyone listened… quite often all at the same time.

V.

Then there were narratives of loves lost and found…there were tears, anxiety and there was hope.

I (silly as I am) wasn’t paying attention. I looked. Realizing that we weren’t in our dull grey pinafores with our pigtails… that our problems were seemingly graver than bad marks, how conversations about crushes had now moved on to marriage plans… I watched them comfort and rejoice… smiling in spite of themselves…

It was like taking stock… of your whole life… right there with each other. Talking and coming to terms with what the years had molded you into. Thinking about how we all started at the same place and how we worked differently… sometimes making the decisions for ourselves and sometimes life making the decisions for us…

VI.

I don’t know when I fell asleep… but I remember waking up just before I did.

Pebble of wisdom:
Growing up is easy to cope with once you realize you never have to.

Tagging Linking shminking poo! (grumble...grumble...)

Alright... now how was I supposed to know that I had to link everyone I tagged??

I am about to start now... my feeble attempts and all... (good heavens)

WARNING: these might not work!
Another WARNING: the link and the author might not match.
Yet another WARNING: if you thinking of slugging me in case I misdirect people on the way to reading your blog, I HAVE A MEAN BITE!!!

hee hee... its all allowed...

Deepti
Shankar
Ashwin "Player" Menon (tee hee hee!)
Satya or alternatively Satya
Uncle Slimes

Phew...!!!
wow...

technophobically yours,
me

Sitting on the park bench... like bookends?

I have been tagged by Shalome to fill in the following and I in turn tag all of you who come this way.
Especially you Dips (Veena I think will enjoy doing this too.)

The Worst Book Award:
Err… Can I change this to the book I have despised the most?
I have already now and there’s no going back.
I despised ‘Written on the Body’ by Jeanette Winterson. She writes beautifully this woman does. Beautifully!
But there is so much melancholy, misery and out right down in the dumpiness although in superbly crafted sentences, I don’t like the book. Ugh!

The Grossest Character Award:
This would have to be the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol. Allegory or not that woman epitomizes fear for me as much when I was four as she does today. Shudder!

The Largest Collection of Books belongs to:
How I wish it were me! Sigh… but well of all the people I know, it’s this certain bachelor friend-uncle I know (Alan). He has books all over his house and in his car and I presume whatever other piece of land or ledge he owns. They’re stacked on all the shelves and even on one part of the kitchen counter. On top of the fridge (obviously!) and he has now confirmed his bachelorhood by stacking them on that side of the bed one would usually attribute to the significant other.
The comics (Marvel) along with a few really old and tattered porn magazines are confined to this ingenious shelf in the loo! Real nice.

Five Lifechanging Books are: (in no specific order or importance)
A) The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath: Because I read it when I was going through the same kind of turmoil as Plath. Because when I was done reading it, I swore never to do myself an injustice again
Sigh~ … that too is a work in progress

B) The BFG by Roald Dahl: Because it’s so full of love and goodness and just the right amount of macabre. And most importantly it’s about a little girl and a wrinkly old man. Like me and me gramps!

C) The Solitaire Mystery by Jostein Gaarner: Because this book knows no boundaries, your imagination goes into overdrive. You can’t stop. Its brilliant.

D) Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery: She had an astonishing influence on my mind. This was the second “real book WITHOUT pictures” I read. I think it’s her optimism that rubbed on to me; really, sometimes I am more than convinced that I managed to trap quite a bit of Anne in me! (this also happens to be one of the first books I intend buying for my children)

F) Illusions by Richard Bach: Because all that may be written in that book could be wrong. ;)

The Hyped Beyond Belief Award:
‘Sophie’s World’ by Jostein Gaarder! Pft!

What Am I Reading Now?
‘The Ringmasters Daughter’ by Jostein Gaarder

The One Book You Couldn't Finish Reading:
Atlas Shrugged. It was too bulky to carry to read while traveling.

Roots.

Kerala. Kerala and this casual remark my mum made while on the airplane. “God is a pretty creative chap na Anchi?”
“Hmm…” It was one of those ‘hmms’ I give people that makes them think I am listening when I am really in a world of my own (Ooops! … apologetic snigger).

But then the thought was immediately yanked back into the deeper layers of my consciousness. Apparently the cerebral cortex saw potential in it… the rest of the brain complied willingly.
As you must have realized I, personally, was left with little choice.

And yes, the ‘hmm’ changed its tenor… it went “Hmmm?” Some part of me obviously wanted to understand that more … ‘fully’? Or is the correct phrase ‘blow it out of proportion’. But then can anything that concerns beauty or creativity or God be talked about enough? The question of blowing out of proportion doesn’t really come up now does it?

Hmm… I was being silly and lazy. I decided to work with the ol’ head on this one. There has to be a point to this.

Before I tell you about the trip my brain and I went on (my heart, the poor over-excitable little wretch that she is, skipped along happily taking delight in the silliest things!) I need to tell you what Kerala was like.

Well, it was beautiful. And green. I’ve probably read way too much poetry and am very tempted like them poets to call the green a shade of emerald or jade or … err… I forget.

BUT NO! I am the inspired radical and shunner of all established doctrine! (Or so I like to kid myself, and you kind reader, will laugh and nod gently PLEASE??)

Therefore if you have suffered your way till here, you may want to suffer your way through my stubbornly original, attempted of what Kerala was like.

Like I said, it was beautiful.

It was mostly about life.

I don’t know which of these two would be the consequence of the other.

There wasn’t a patch of earth where something didn’t grow! Not a spot of soil that didn’t support life.

Once, my brain very critically observed that a patch that seemed particularly rocky had nothing growing on it. My heart knew better though. She quietly whispered to me that, that bit of land had her own share of secrets, her own little treasures buried there. I asked her how she knew. She answered like she always does, “I just do!”
Over time I have learned that this is the one and only true answer she could possibly give. Over time I have also learnt that no other answer would convince me.

We (the heart, brain and I) also spent some time thinking about the whole tourism department's marketing strategy. “Kerala: God’s own country”. A unanimous vote decided that this was ridiculous! Which country isn’t God’s own?!
But a second unanimous vote also decided that if God did have a “Favourite Place List” Kerala would definitely be on it.

Oh yes, the green in Kerala. The Green is constant. The Green is the blood that throbs through the veins of the land. The Green is the life and the Green is the beauty. At least that’s how it seemed to me. All of me.

Towards the end of the week the brain elatedly reported an all time high on its release of endorphins and similar neurotransmitters of the “feel good” genre. The heart smiled at the brain lovingly. I would love to tell you that I was terribly hungry during this momentous exchange, but you would call me trivial and unfocused! Therefore like any self respecting individual who knows when to keep her mouth shut, I shall refrain.

Pebble of wisdom:
Stupidity, like sunrises and sunsets is expected and beautiful. Thou shall not snub it. Merely laugh at it. The louder… the better.

Then there was the deal with the frogs and the crickets and the colour in my cheek. The first were mostly greenish-yellow, the second I never really saw and the third was a deep shade of happy pink.

Its strange how when you splash water on your face and lazily let it dry your cheeks respond with colour. What do they mean “I recognize the water”?

And the butterflies come and flutter by you like they know you... like you're always been there... like you belong to them...as much as the flowers they eventually settle down on... and the dragon flies! Them little show-off devils!

And the froggies… complain all night in loud disgruntled voices about how it’s been a mean summer and how the insecticide gets to the flies before they do... and you try to stay awake and listen but you fall asleep trying. They start again the next night... they don’t mind you falling asleep the gentle dears that they are. They often tell you the same story again… but its all okay, you know?

And the crickets... they are another talkative bunch. But so many of them talk at the same time I never know what they are trying to say. They are adorable though… each one of them. Like little children all too eager to tell you what they did at the fair! You laugh. And you listen. You don’t really understand, but you listen.

Its strange how your heart, brain and intellect respond to a place. Maybe the DNA knows… maybe its those evolutionary artifacts, junk DNA??? I think not. It’s that part of me that understands this is home to some part of me. And therefore we are happy. Therefore we are pink. Therefore we understand the tongues of those who are made of the same mud albeit a different species.

The Green runs in our veins.

Desiderata

I was taught as a little girl... ever since I have recollection of being able to understand things, that everything must be started with a prayer...

This is the one prayer I leave home with and come home to.
This one is... me.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrenderbe on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,

even the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,

they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;many persons strive for high ideals;

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

(Found in Old St. Paul's Church in Baltimore; dated 1692)