Numb and immobile

Just to update myself that I am alive. Why?

Spontaneous Combustion

This has no beginning or end or anything to hold me. I really like him and thank God, I still have some brains to know beauty is skin deep. If the guy hadn't opened his mouth, I still won't remember his name or cared if he was safe or lying wasted in some dirty corner.

Anyhoo, it was a lame shindig (Yeah, I complain too often but go too often too) and I spent most of my time there with him, as the people I were with cared too much about schmoozing and networking and doing the whole journo-on-duty crap. I was drinking - later he commented on how 'inebriated' I was. One lady - an administrator- asked us to dance. My friend's mum who attended even asked her daughter who the 'tall guy' was. Hahaha. Though the songs the band played were old, almost dull, he knew each one and his face shone like he had the secret of the world running in his veins. Why did it make me happy?I went home.

A few days later, a weekend, I called him to ask if he was attending another thing and he invited me over. He still does. He wants to learn violin together. He wants to watch some movies together. He plays amazing music and was part of some hard rock band. He says he doesn't like it anymore. He has a girlfriend.

Well, so far, we chat a lot and even talk a lot. I sms him lame things just to let him know I am alive - so far, I reek of lameness - and it makes me happy. Is liking or loving someone really better than the feeling of these emotions being reiprocated? I think it is.

My friends think he's playing his classy cards well and he's keeping his options open yet keeping a guard. One even thinks I should tell him I like him. Another friend thinks he looks like a grocery boy but I should still go ahead and tell him I like him. I won't. I like him. A lot. But I don't want to see another girl cry.

But he knows his Handel from his Schumann and is sophisticated enough to not care about driving a lame car. And these are important to me, or maybe I am just swooning. Even if he's not all that he is, or I think he is, I really am swooning.

We talked about women today, about him, I talked, about karma, about marriage and many other things. Our first serious conversation revolved around him saying something on sleeping with an ex. Mad mad mad. I told him I live in a world where exes don't exist. He said some shit about attachment etc. We both agree on getting bored of people soon.

So far, so unknown. For now I'm gonna take it easy and let the 'like' subside into nothing. More to come.

To Noel, with love

Noel Haokip (Dec 5 2008 - Feb 20 2009)

Today, our puppy Noel passed away. He wasn't even a year old. Apparently, he swallowed phenyl yesterday. My sister and cousin took him to the doctor who said he'd be fine. According to my sister, he was still fine this morning. She gave him his medicines after which he stopped moving; he was still breathing then. Mum called to tell me Jazz and Adrianne rushed to the hospital. I called my sister who said he was still breathing though limp. Unfortunately, it was too late. She called. I am angry and hurt because noone told me about this.

We already have a big dog, so when our ex-dhobi's wife called me and said she wants to give us a puppy, I wasn't sure. I asked her to speak to my sister. Some hours later, my sister and cousin called and said they're keeping him. I still remember arguing with them about how horrible the older dog would feel. But on first sight, I was crushed. He had light blue, almost purple eyes and the softest dark brown coat. Since he was a christmas present, sister named him Noel after one of the Gallagher brothers. Also, Noel is French for Christmas. Now he's gone.

I still can't believe it. Just yesterday in the morning, he was biting my ankles, I still have scars. I don't know if anything I say will justify or prove how much he meant to me or my family. Maybe it will. But for now, I don't believe it. I just hope he was happy in the short live he had.

I'll miss you.

Love,

J

Book launches and all

A funny thing happened today. While going through a blog I was asked to contribute, I followed a link for a pictorial book on roadsigns with a catchy sounding name, Peep peep don't sleep. Curiously, I shot an email to the writer asking him to send me a copy for review.

Well, evening came and I was at the booklaunch at good old Oxford bookstore. What did I think of the book? Clever and humourous. Anyone who's seen the BRO's (Border Road Organisation) unavoidable tribute to Indian roads, and especially their ubiquitously bizarre roadsigns will know what I am talking about.

As we came to the end, this PR girl called and spoke in the saddest tone, asking why I wasn't at her event. Well, you know me, a softie at heart, couldn't cough up the simple words, "I can't make it," and dashed off to the other book launch. The book (second one) was Zafar Saifullah's coffee-table documentation on Sulaimani Bohras. Present were the usual suspects of events with a cultural bent, meaning the Jamwar shawl-draped, pearl-set loving, cheap scotch drinking, pseudo-intellectual looking bureaucratic set. To be fair, the book is worthy of all that fuss. If fuss is even the word. The event also hosted Alan Hart, a veteran war correspondent, sadly, I was too late to hear him.

The reason I am even sharing my dull daily diary is because as soon as I reached office today, my colleagues asked me if I had a date... Duhhhh!!!! Since when did Vogue say black pants, black cardigan and white shirt was 'hot-date' material. More dreary funeral... Hahaha..

Life's a joke...

26th

Another year... two and a half decades + 1...
I am sooo sad... Nothing seems to work... Nothing is all there is.... Do I deserve this? I think not... Am I better than this? Heck yeah... But optimism means nothing as I know too well...
Nevertheless, I am thankful and grateful to the people who believe in me and hope for me...

All that ends

As a child, the world is small with only the things we care of that forever seem to remain with us in close proximity. After a certain age, you realise again the world is small because no matter how much you know or have, it all goes away. Love, friends, joys, memories, everything comes to a screeching halt. Some leave for their own good, some are better off away and some just leave for no reason at all.

Clinging on to something is no good either. What does life teach? Dont care, dont want, dont feel because nothing is permanent and that it all vanishes. All the lessons that life throws at you or all the epiphanies that people know of carry the same story in the end. Love is shit. Just be cold and kill your spirit as soon as you can. For that is the only way one can exist, let alone live.

The end.

An End Of Prayers

The most personal of thoughts, the most painful of sufferings, the harshest of words ever heard are not for all to share. It could be shame, vulnerability, embarassment or even quiet strength because of which we, as humans, do not want to reveal; no matter how freeing or cathartic it becomes in the end, after you reveal your self to another.
One of the hardest and unpleasant of all lessons that we learn, no matter how young or old we are, is to never trust anyone. I've seen complete 'angels' shatter people's spirits and talk the most low and crude of filth. It's not their fault, it's just my stupidity and naivete, perhaps of youth or of simply putting faith in others that led me to this understanding. Or perhaps I never paid heed to the proverbial 'leopard not changing his spots' wisdom.
I am a complete non-believer in terms of eternal bliss, love, happiness and all things grand and foreign. Why should I believe? when everything we have can be snatched away in a moment's madness. Am not old and wise, but nor am I stupid and dumb. I havent seen the world but do have enough experiences to know that, all attempts end up bitter. There comes a time when after much praying and trying you know that nothing pretty ever happens, so you just stop wishing and praying altogether. After all this is the only reality to live by. Do not expect anything, and all that happens will hurt less or even not hurt at all.