Home tomorrow :) :) :) :) :) :)

ramble

inner strength – how do you draw from it?

im getting my hair done today, i think – yay!

would like to go to someplace near the mountains. Maybe Arunachala.

working on a new food blog :)

there’s door to door campaigning happening as I type this. One guy has a padlock as his election symbol.

apprehensive and sad. adult life hurts.

 

 

 

 

happiness statistics

from flickr to wordpress, happiness is simply seeing you show up in the visitor stats.

someday I hope you’ll know how precious you are.

paul and art on a friday evening

and when all else faded…

she would hold on to the memory of the two of you outside the tiny balinese curio shop. the memory of you sitting beside the pavement with your camera sling bag and refusing to budge until something was bought. and listening to her vaguely ramble in response while gently holding her on your lap. when she would start talking about buying placemats for the house, you would bring her closer and plainly tell her that you’d like to buy something. For her.

About quarter an hour and some gentle urging later, the two of you would walk out with a wooden necklace for her, a wooden curio for you and a set of placemats for the house. Walking down the road, she would begin gushing about how pretty the necklace was, only to hear you reply that there were men buying their women diamonds and rubies.

not knowing what to say, she would continue her pointless ramble, pausing only on seeing an icecream signboard at a convenience store. she would want one, and pushing aside her secret hesitation in making you spend, she would ask, tugging at your sleeve. you would look at her, this brand new wisp of a girl in your life, and mildly chiding her for sounding hesitant, you would buy icecreams for the two of you.

she wouldn’t tell you that night. she wouldn’t tell you about it days or weeks after. in fact, she with her famously muddled memories, would not even remember much of what she wore on the trip. but somehow she would carefully treasure that precious memory of the two of you sitting on the floor of the convenience store, enjoying the icecream and you fishing out your SLR to take take pictures of her with the wooden necklace clasped around her neck and her lips freshly moist with icecream.

it would be her favourite memory of your incredible tenderness. and it would turn out to be a memory that could not be traded for a million diamonds and rubies.

emotions

sad bleak lost low worried upset scared

He & She

Tags

More heart talk, My baby

(On the phone)

She: I want to write on your wall.

He: Noooooooooo

She: Pleaseeeeeeeee

He: Please nooooo

She: Why not? Just want to scribble something..

He: Take a paper.

She: What?

He: Scribble on the paper.

She: Gah. I meant your facebook wall. aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

He: Gah.

wednesday poetry/ srilata

Tags

Madras my dear, Prof.K.Srilata

Bionote

Very briefly then,

I am middle class

and very Madras.

Born and raised in

West Mambalam —

the other side of the railway tracks

where fabled mosquitoes turn peo-

ple into

elephants.

Went to college in

Khushboo sarees stripped

right off the absurdly voluptuous

mannequins at

Saravana Stores T. Nagar Chennai

17.

To weddings I wore,

in deference to my mother,

silk kanjeevarams with temple

borders.

Every other girl

was a designer-sequined shimmer.

I thought nothing of

throwing away

my dreaming hours on

MTC’s 47 A,

sitting beside women who ruined my

view,

leaning casually across to

spit or

chuck

through the grime of windows

spinach stems they didn’t fancy

in their evening Kuzhambu,

hurling motherly advice at

young men who dared death by

swinging,

two-fingered,

from other women’s windows.

My idea of a holiday

was rolling down the hillsides

of Ooty,

dressed in white

like Sridevi.

Objects of love-hate:

the auto annas.

And of course it is coffee that de

fines

the limits of my imagination.

I never could think of it as

cappuccino or mocha or

anything other than

decoction coffee,

deep brown like my own Dravidian

skin.

Lunch:

10.30 sharp: sambhar rasam curry

Tiffin:

5 sharp: idli dosa vada

My idea of arctic winter:

twenty six degree centigrade.

And so on and so forth

as they don’t say in Tamil.

Never mind this new upstart

Chennai.

Madras, my dear, here I come!

About me, rest assured,

there is

no Bombay, no Delhi, no London

and certainly no New York.

I am all yours,

Madras, my dear,

wrap and filling!

Prof.K.Srilata

Found here.

and hello again!

how are you my darlings? please tell me the sun’s shining bright and all is right in your part of the world. i missed you all! no, really.

give me a little more time to crawl out of my imaginary cave and then we shall talk about the hamster’s breeding period, why masala dosa is ranked among the world’s top 50 foods (you knew it, didn’t you?) and other such important things.

Achala is back!

 

some heart talk

She: reminds of some random trivia…xerox is not the word for photocopy. it’s the name of a brand – you now like jacuzzi. so the point is not all photocopiers are xerox. 

ok bye. im going srinidhi sagar and eating poori (im craving poori…argh) and then going signing papers at bank and feeling important.

i will come back with a glow. and i will smell fruity. be warned.

He: Pretty smart wife I have :) 

Or should it be pretty and smart?  Or pretty smart?  Hmmm… one can keep wondering…

What kind of fruit are you going to be?