Tuesday, March 29, 2005

It has been 2 days now, have gone through a bit in these two days. Emotions never leave you in peace. Past loves, past hatreds, memories... they just keep coming back. 'Rememory'- that's what Toni Morrison calls it, not that mine ever can reach the nadir that a collective community has, but it is unsettling. I have just kept running after it, kept it in my hold, my fault. I don't know how to let go. But you know what, they have formed me, my memories - good and bad ones. They surely create longing and put me in bouts of sadness but they are there. They are the reason i feel. They just don't go, i think they have gone, but they come back. They haunt me and i question my present. My present meets the past and determines my future- is that how it is?

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Today's HOLI... Holi Hey! Happy Holi!
It really makes me happy. Didn't play this time. I m missing my friends. This festival is filled with so much fun and frolic, it is so full of life. Completely different from the rest of the festivals. Being in Mumbai, this is the only festival that doesn't seem to have any religious roots anymore, although in reality it does. It feels like it enables one to break free. One ends up looking like a ghost ( i.e. if ghosts look like that) at the end of it. It gives me a feeling of breaking free.. free of all inhibitions, 'cos colours don't restrict. It is beautiful to watch others laugh aloud and hear them shout with joy. That's a rare moment.

Friday, March 25, 2005

The noose tightens around my neck.
I observed it now. It has been there for almost two decades now.
I wasn't blind then, but I just couldn't see.
I didn't see, I thought I saw.

Now the noose pulls me and takes me wherever it goes.
I resist, but the noose is really tight, it won't let go.
It going to hang me someday
Is there an escape? I cry, I moan, nobody listens.

There is nobody, they have their necks to be freed.
The noose grows tight, tighter, I pull it apart, I fight.
They have nooses around them, they suffer. Yet
they bind me. They won't listen. They don't know strangulation.

They laugh, they smile, they scream, they die. With nooses.
It kills them, but they know no other way of dying, or living.
They are born to kill, to strangulate, to tie nooses and drag
they drag me like cattle. They pretend to listen. They say they know.

But they don't feel it, feel me, feel what I feel.
They hold me back, 'cos they, they couldn't break free.
They killed everyone who did.
I am doomed to live, but i can change my death.
The ropes are thick together, but they will be tired,
I shall tire them, resist. I shall die with dignity.
How is that story? It is incomplete. May be you can complete it for me.
Doesn't being in love mean accepting people as they are, respecting each other and being willing to listen? None of this existed, Rati realises as she thinks about it. But she never thought it was love, it was something strange, even when it was happening. She felt he was a friend. Was she attracted to men holding positions? May be, she is attracted to anyone in position. She tends to idolise them. Hmmm, that's her fault. He didn't have such a great position either, then what was it? It is killing her now that she knows she made a mistake.

She called them both when she went to visit their family-god. She felt more at ease talking to her friend she had known for at least six years now. But he seemed to do everything right, he kept calling, where as her friend didn't. She called him. Her mother insisted that she was in love with him and that's how love feels. But she always felt there was something missing. May be her mother was right. He said that she should discontinue talking to her best friend, but he continued talking to his ex-girl friend. She didn't mind that, but she minded him trying to control her. He knew her only for two months and her best friend for six years. Why did she then even think of parting ways with her best friend whom she thought she loved? She doubted that relationship for something she knew was ephemeral. Rati just can't stop wondering about it.
She wishes that part of her life had never occured. She kept telling him that he doesn't know her, but continued to go with the flow. Too many things have happened. Thank God, he is gone. He stuck to her like a bone in her throat. She too is to be blamed, she knows that. But she can't figure why it happened. She kept introspecting but then everything seemed right, her mother too supported it. Was she carried away by her mother's thoughts? But what happened to her's then? She is not able to forgive herself for this.
Rati sits staring at her watch, time has passed. What is she waiting for? He left an hour ago? may be two hours or three, doesn't matter. She has been sitting right there, wondering why it happened. May be she was drawn to him but it feels different. It isn't anything close to what she knows about it. What do they want from each other? She knows she hates anyone commenting on her appearance, her style, her clothes. She is what she is, then why didn't she react to anything he said? It felt so superficial, she always knew it was ephemeral. She kept saying, this is not going to last. Then what happened? She hates herself now, now that it is over, now that she has put an end to it.

He said, " The protagonist of the magician story cannot be a woman, because it is impossible to show that scar on a woman's chest! And women can't revenge, it is more believable to see a man there." Rati vehemently opposed, "Of course not, Women do revenge. Women feel everything that men do and it is definitely believable to see a female protagonist there. You have no authority to speak for all women." He stared. He then switched to discussing their colleagues, music and so on. Rati followed, she never kept anything in her mind. She knew what she wanted and that's all that mattered. They talked, they sang. She said she wanted to learn Carnatic music, he asked to learn Hindustani, because he hated Carnatic. It seemed to lack flow, for him. To Rati it didn't matter, she said when she finds a Hindustani guru she would learn that too. She likes all forms of Indian classical music.

They met again, they talked. Touch felt straight out of Keats's 'Ode to the Grecian Urn'. But now it seems farcical. It now feels like it was a dream, a bad one. It seems like life's way of playing games. How come she couldn't see through him? It has never happened. All her friends are well-chosen. She would keep distance at the slightest hint of affectation or lack of clarity of direction. She invested emotions on very few people. It is not that she invested emotions here, it hardly mattered in this case, but it is just that she got carried away. She kept telling him and herself that it wouldn't last, because something was lacking. She still doesn't know what it is. She doesn't even cherish the thought of having known him. Why do we just let go of our guard? Her fault was that she believed people very easily. She never wanted to distrust anyone.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

I am extremely bored today. There is some sense of stagnation but there is some movement. Have been trying to study 'To The Lighthouse'. Have slept a lot in the process, exercised and what not, have done a lot except analysing the text. Why does one need to defie characters by symbols? Aren't people already complicated that you complicate them further? Never mind, I shall read Woolf's book again and again and again!

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Nobody wrote back, I am waiting. When you realise people aren't to be taken for granted, by then it is too late. That's why nobody wrote back. They don't feel the same anymore, that hurts. You still feel the same, even more. Then why? Why don't they write, I continue to wait. There is nobody for you. Life goes on, alone.
Each morning I wake up and stare
At the walls, at my hands, they are still the same
the way I left them last night.
If I change, they will change.

My family is just the same
I just never saw that before. They all talk the
same tongue. Do all have pink tongues?
Some are black, I am sure. They suck my life,
And I their's. It seems If I change, so will they.

My lover has the same eyes, same voice, same touch
He is gender-aware, he won't say so. That won't change.
The same flair, same confidence, different topics.
We are parasites on each other.
He won't change, nor will I.

Molecules change, atoms change, mass changes
But the essence doesn't seem to change
Essence sucks life out of you, slow-murderer,
It kills me everyday.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

My definition of TV Industry today:
"The most unorganised sector that thrives on exploitation and mediocrity. Creativity here is the process of remanufacturing products, a delusion of the human minds.
The Somnambulist

Alone I walk into a deserted land.
I search for something, I do not know how it looks,
is it, It or Is it a He or She? Can I see it?
Or should I feel it?

I feel something in the air, I seek water
there is only sand, but no, it was mud just minutes ago.
I still feel something, ignoring the mud I proceed
trees, are they shoots or trees, I still do not know.

Is there an escape? Trees disappear, so does the land.
I run, run, run, but where to? The air carries me
or do I run?
I disappear, can they see me? They pass me unnoticed
I am alone again, but no, I still want to be with them.
Do I?