2013 Wish List

This is a little late in coming, but better late than never, I suppose! Besides, I'm intrigued because the year before last the first thing I put on my list in the beginning of the year, is that I would like this to be a travel year. And for some very odd reason, it absolutely was. And HOW.

So here goes my wishlist for 2013. I'm putting it in my palm and blowing on it, hoping it gets to the ears of the universe and it's feeling a little generous the day it reaches them :)

1. I will write, write, write and write till I swell with pride when I look at my writing

2. My book will be published

3. I will save and travel again this year

4. I will make sure I think things through before I do things (minimize the drama- but I'll still do impulsive things from time to time, because I don't really want to change me entirely!)

5. I will find more of myself and have the courage to make a real career move

6. I will learn a new language

7. I will create cool things for the house- DIY lamps, posters, cups etc.

8. I will read, read, READ (all kinds of different books) until my cup runneth over and I'm all read out.

Someone (who I met recently, who I think is pretty cool) said to me- "If you want something, like really want it- purely from the right intent, not with the other this-is-what-i-can-do-if-I-had-this intent, but from a I-just-really-really-want-it kinda place, it will happen". I really, really (with the right intent, obviously!) hope that this is true, and I really, really want the above (esp points 1, 2 and 5), so I'm going to keep wanting and I hope, next year this time, I'll be writing here about how all of the above happened!

I think I remember you

Weren't you the one 

With the short hair,

The brown eyes,

And a tiny mark on your eyebrow,

That shape of moon-crop, 

The shape of a memory

That was a scar.

Weren't you that same one 

Who wondered why the sky was so blue,

That you made us stare and stare

Till our eyes turned big

Just as turquoise flashes

Left us bat blind.

Or were you that one

With the smile that was aspirin

For my aching head

A quiet shoulder,

For the calmest nap

With a kiss that was bright

Like sunshine on my forehead.

Or wait, were you the one

Who read a tale of two cities out loud,

Although you hated the book

But loved the sound of your reading voice

So much so that you wondered 

If entire nations and diplomats and big men 

In fat suits would pay money to hear you read. 

Or was that you

The one that liked to pick fights

For my vanity, my modesty

Oh so pure, oh so yours,

You'd constantly throw 
Black and purple bruises 

At every pervert, 

Even the imaginary.

Weren't you the one

That sent pink kisses

And hot light 

Up and down my body

Every time you touched me 

So smooth and dangerous

It made me shiver and wish sweet pain 

Would hurt less.

Weren't you that very same one

That loved me so much 

It hurt

To break my heart

And your own

But you had to, 

Because the leaves were colouring

The wind was changing

And we had to go go go.

You are so many people

So many memories

I don't forget

I can't dismiss

Because you made me

And filled my soul

So when I die 

I die so many deaths

They'll have to call out too many names

And wipe too many tears.

Yes I think I remember you.

I never forgot you.

I remember and I want 

I dream and I wonder

Because you linger

In just that corner of my mind

That makes me smile.

The Grown Ups.

I was talking to a very good friend the other day and she said something that startled me- 'I don't believe in the concept of besties, that's such a childish idea.' That might shock some of you. Not just the idea that she doesn't believe in besties, but the idea that it's a childish concept! I mean commmmon, can you imagine your life without a bestie in it? I certainly can't. And the funny part is, I know her really well, and I know for a fact that she does in fact, have three solidly SOLID besties that she spends almost every waking moment with.

So the problem with it was the label? Calling a spade a spade?

Like I said, the most astounding part for me was that she claimed that it was childish, a concept that was really only till 'like class 4 or something'. 

My mouth hung open. While some may consider it childish, upon further reflection, I can only stretch to think of it as 'child-like'. And really, with the kind of magic there is in child-like imagination or thought or ideas, I can't imagine why people wouldn't want to have more of it.

As I grow older, I'm realising more and more that growing up essentially means belonging to a restrictive group of people- 'the cool group' that isn't immature. That group that does grown up things like dissing the concept of birthday parties, and bragging (yes, really, bragging) about how romance is for the fools.

Why do we get more cynical with every year that passes, although we discover so many new things everyday? Why, as a race, do we get more pessimistic with every birthday that goes by? And worst of all, why do we insist that people around us should be exactly that way, otherwise quickly damning them to the childish/immature bracket? 

The bewildering question is- why on earth does being a grown up mean that we lose our ability to dream of good things, to have faith in stuff and/or lose all sense of imagination?

I'm turning 27 in a couple of days and the one thing I'm damned sure about is that I never want to lose my sense of wonder. It'll be my one wish when I blow my birthday candles this year (if the birthday cake is too childish for you, too bloody bad- deal with it :P ).

Where is the female Chaucer?

An excerpt that I really loved from 'Fear of Flying' by Erica Jong-

Technically, my soulmate.

I was on a Girlfriend Date the other day- we were going to lunch, coffee and then a movie. And it was a super fun day! We talked about exes, current crushes, bitchy bosses, 50 shades of Grey and how that'll maybe make men better in bed (I read a statistic that after reading the book, women wanted to go at it 50% more with their men and the men were now feeling the pressure- go, Christian Grey!), places we'd like to vacation, and all of that girly kind of thing. Jokes were shared, gossip was gleaned, secrets were whispered and in the middle of it all, VB and I were making love to our phones. We were busy instagramming pictures of the chandliers at the quaint place we were having lunch at, or tweeting about how much fun we were having- Hashtag #GirlsDayOut.

SO, at one point, one of the girls, PB, got furious at VB and me, and stalked off (she didn't leave or anything- just walked away in disgust for a tad!). VB and I were trying to figure out what caused that dramatic reaction. Wasn't being on the phone only natural, given the day and age? What's the point of doing something if you aren't putting it there on social for the world to see- wait, that sounded so wrong. 

But seriously, look around. Everyone is on their phones. And sometimes I can agree with P, it's annoying. Like smoking zones used to be the best place for fun, unpressurised conversation. I've made many a great new friends just by hanging out with people in the smoking zone. Smoking zones are areas where people are gathered to do one thing that binds them together- smoke. And in the meanwhile, chat about one thing or the other- whether it's Gangnam style's ridiculous fame or how the auto rickshaw prices just leaped up into the sky. 

Now, though.. everyone who comes to the smoking zone just zones out and zones into their phones. All random conversation has died a tragic death. It's like the phone has replaced a person. Or rather, it's like phone is your new best friend, a second shadow. Something that will give you company, anywhere, any time- all you need is a charged battery (have you seen how near death look on someone's face when their phone's running out of battery?). 

Your bf/gf/spouse may be boring you to tears on a dinner date, your bus may be late, you might not be able to fall asleep, your flight maybe 12 hours too long- but fear not! The Smart Phone is here, in a cape and all. Take your pick- Anything from angry birds to organising your day to throwing sheep at a friend on Facebook. Or if you're me- reading a grand ole book on a tiny screen. Your phone is the best friend you never had, a soul mate like none other. It loves you, chooses you and wants you - it's your Derek Shepherd and Christina Yang, rolled into one. Beat that, byatch!

As is obvious above, I have no final word on this- I'm as guilty as the next person who's obsessed with and makes goo-goo eyes at their phones, and I'm also as irritated as the next person who hates how anti-social (how ironic) our phones make us. 

But what can I say- it's my technical soulmate :)

Ruin Me.

You ruin me.

Every time you touch me. Every time you smile at me. Every time you even frown at me, with those brown eyes that are capable of setting my body on fire.

And I ask myself ...why do I do this to myself? I tell myself- never again. I say to myself that there has to be an end to this. 

Then you say my name- a whisper, so simple, as if it's nothing... I watch mutely as I see your mouth making the shape of my name, and slowly, very slowly, it floats toward me, the sound touching my ear, ever so softly- before it explodes. 

And I'm ruined all over again. 

The trouble is I'm never more alive. Every time you ruin me, even my tears sparkle. The heartache makes me touch the moon.

Call me a fool, but I am willing to lose it all to feel that high. Because I can't bear to exist in the absence...in the silence. 

So, go ahead, ruin me again.

Face Me.

Look ahead

Face me

Don't look away.

 I'm the loudest noise,

The strongest voice 

In your head.

I'm dark grey

And the silver flicker

I'm the shiver.

I'm calm

I'm quiver 

I'm your fever.

I'm the oldest

Older than your oldest

Grandfather.

I melt and I roar

I swell and I soar.

Within you

And outside you.

I'm every one of your souls.

I make you empty

And whole.

I am the sea.