The 'Rebuild India' Mission

The 'Rebuild India' Mission

Mumbai Attacks - The Seven Good Things You Should Know

Hello, readers. As we all heard, the Mumbai terror attacks started on the 26th of November this year, and the snipers are still going at it as far as we know. Now, a lot of negative things have been written about these attacks. Everything and everyone that can be blamed has been blamed - politicians, the government as a whole, the apathy of Indian citizens, the rabid communalism in India, Islamic militants, Pakistan, China, the USA, Greg Chappell, Bin Laden, etc.

But let's stop a moment and consider the positive aspect of things, shall we? Here goes, then.

1. This is India's most severe organized terrorist attack to date. Our politicians must be so happy that our country is considered powerful enough and democratic enough to provoke random killings by minority militants. "Just like USA, we are. Beer, nukes, problem with China, terrorist attacks, everything we have."

2. al-Qaida links have been touted in connection to Pakistan's hand in all of this. The USA defence ministry is probably ecstatic that India and Pakistan are not only still at loggerheads over anything and everything, but that Osama bin Laden can still be blamed for all the world's problems. [Note - US Republicans will read Osama as Obama, by the way]

3. Raj Thackeray will no longer have a political leg to stand on. More North Indians, Delhiites and Marathis died trying to protect Mumbai than Maharashtrian Mumbaikars. From a purely vengeful point of view, a great amount of grim satisfaction is due to all non-Maharashtrian people who had to suffer due to this ridiculous Raj's communal posturing. I don't know about you, but this makes me, personally, very happy.

4. Many stalwart stars of the police and special forces have died, shot fatally by the terrorist snipers in the head, guts and chest. These men were some of the bravest, most intelligent and experienced fighters on the planet. I've no doubt that criminals across the country are rejoicing at the headlines announcing their heroic deaths.

5. This attack has scared a large number of corporations, luxury hotels, apartment complexes, malls, schools, etc to step up their security measures. Indians can no longer look at CNN reporting bomb-blasts somewhere else in the world and think - that could never happen to us. From the point of view of the Indian government's security and defense branch, that's a good thing, provided people take this threat seriously in the long run.

6. The nation is horrified that this kind of thing could happen in India, in Mumbai of all places. The reality is that bombings and attacks are nothing new to certain parts of our country. What about Jammu and Kashmir, and the NorthEast? Maybe now that people in the financial capital of the country know what it feels like to live under the threat of violent death, there will be more sympathy and help going out North and North East after a while. When people realize that every life counts, regardless of state or assets, that's an improvement in terms of common humanity.

7. In hotels like the Taj, the terrorists released more white foreigners than they did Indians, and many more Indian citizens were killed as opposed to rich Caucasian
people who were held hostage. Maybe I sound overly bitter, but this should at least reassure the tourism industry that India is a safer place for Western tourists than it is for our own people.

Please, leave a comment with feedback if you did/didn't like this post.

Much love,

Trisha.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Warning!! Sentiment Overload

for a friend


when you say the right thing at the right time
you make me smile, because it was what i wanted to feel
when you do the right thing in the right way
i'm thinking you're the best thing that ever happened to me
you're like the familiar roadsign, two miles away from home
you are the one place in the world my wounded heart wants to go
you're the sun behind my cloud, the eye of my storm
you're the one person in my life i would do anything for
when i'm broken, you pick me up and put the pieces back together
when i'm empty, you tell me that i have you forever
when i'm riding the wave, i know you're beside me
when i crash-land back to earth, i know you'll still be there for me
and whatever happens, know that i'll be there for you
cross my heart and hope to die if that's not true
in good times and bad, in hope and in sorrow
you know that i'll still be here tomorrow
both of us against the world, loyal to the end
god knows i love you forever, my sister, my friend.......


_____________________________________________________________________________________

The Maze

Twisted maze, running through my brain
sudden corners, dead ends that come alive at night
coil, spring, jerk and recoil the thoughts
the confusion cannot decide where to begin
I wander, wander, trying to lose my way
but the lie is the key to the truth, I should know this
there is a web of revelations, it hangs from the sky
but I will only see it if I choose to see it
I twist and turn like a storm
breaking away, yet clinging to the ground
and there is nothing I would not sacrifice, to be at peace.
but then the morning comes, and the clouds split open
the look of the sun makes me give it a sleepy smile
the air hums in soft anticipation around me
I wake, and then reassurance and logic clear my head
I sigh in relief, that the maze is straighter now
and I smile, I am grateful that I can be happy in peace
I feel as though I am swimming in joy
so in the middle of a happy backstroke, I go back to sleep


Trisha

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Yeah, he did

World, stand up!


Because President Obama says yes, you can.

in reference to


http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=TG4fe9GlWS8

is the following response. judge for yourself.

dear mr. we need mccain

Response – to Dear Mr. Obama video on Youtube, posted by mr. we need mccain.

Dear Mr. we need McCain, this is a personal message for you


Forgive me when I say this, but the US soldiers in Iraq did not die defending the freedom of Americans or of Iraqis. They died because at a certain time, a number of US politicians and lobbyists and power-players decided that the US needed a monopoly on the oil reserves of the Middle East. Obama is not disrespecting the soldiers and their families when he says the war was a mistake. It seems clear he believes, like me, that you should be giving those in power a slap in the face for sending brave and patriotic men like you to die for the sake of America’s grip over the world economy when the fuel crisis hits.

Dear Mr. we need McCain, I am an Indian, living in India, I’m a teenager, and I have no stake in who wins the US presidential election. yes, Obama's eloquence is impressive, and yes, McCain’s experience is vast, but here in India we are very used to political leaders who promise change and experience, too, and most of them don't live up to it in any case. From an objective outsider's point of view, then, it sounds like you're mad at a presidential candidate because he states that sending the cream of America’s youth to a destructive, pointless and frankly manipulative war was a mistake. Men like you are surely needed in your own country, to work, to raise families? and you defend a man like McCain, who would send you to war again, who would find new, resource-rich, impoverished countries whose people suddenly need to be 'liberated' in the name of 'democracy', where you, not you personally perhaps, but your friends in the army, would go to sacrifice themselves? I’m sorry; perhaps it's because I don't approve of war in the first place that I don't understand the republican compulsion to 'fix' the world's problems with guns and ammo.

And personally, I find it offensive that you believe that the USA is responsible for freeing the world. We’re fine, thank you! Apart from a limited few, no Iraqi will ever say that things are better post the US troops. Previously, they thought US citizens were just un-Islamic, capitalist westerners with too much money for their own good. Now they think that the USA wants to wipe out Islam, that all American soldiers are brute infidels and that white people are essentially a poisonous race, in the same way that many Americans believe Iraqis are unchristian, fanatic, terror-mongering, uncivilized people. This is the backlash of war on human nature.

Obama has the potential to change that, because he stands for tolerance. McCain does not. That is my considered stand. I had not taken sides previously, but your well-prepared speech has forced me to rethink that. I feel for your plight, I do. that was a moving appeal, but I do not believe that Obama would for one second call your sacrifice, your pain, the adjustments you must have had to make, your patriotism, any of that, a mistake. No-one with a minimum of intelligence would call your loss a mistake. You did it because you believed in your government. But I believe your government made a mistake when it played you for a fool, sending you to fight for oil and assets and power in the name of democracy.

I hope you will reconsider your stand. If you do not, that is your right, and I respect that. But while all of you over in the USA are still fighting it out, I just thought I’d let you know something. Here in India, people who respect human rights, tolerance, and peace and want a stable economy are hoping to see president Obama meet with Manmohan Singh in January. only those who are hoping for outsourced jobs, more US dollars pouring into our economy, the kind of people who couldn't care less about the rights and wrongs of politics, are supporting McCain.

Please, do take the time to reply. I respect you immensely and I would be honored to know your response to my opinion.

With love, from India

A friend.

p.s. - just think for a second, Mr. we need McCain, whether, irrespective of your own needs, the world needs Obama more.

Random thoughts post-diwali

new discoveries as of yesterday and today

1.oxford has turned into a pop bookstore that plays piped RnB hiphop.

2.tiny hidden shops in alleyways (like bookline) are better. there, you can get real tarot cards, authentic art books, good translated works, and asterixes, two of which my mom bought me as a present for the pujas (switzerland and the roman agent).

3.nizam's is the THE place to go for kebabs and firni. and other stuff, but i wouldn't know.

4.there is a church called the choong thong (or possibly yong) church. which sounds like 'choose (own) thong' if you say it fast.

5.i officially endorse md. salauddin, proprietor of rishi rich's juice bar, near chandni, as the best maker of fruit beer and lemon soda in the city.

6.fashion, the movie, is nowhere as cliched as the t2 review by p.d.gupta made it sound.

7.cheese popcorn can solidify on your fingers if you keep your hand in the tub long enough.

8.subway has to have the most expensive and putrefying smelling topping sauces i've ever inhaled.

9.it was dark at 6pm today. india should adopt a daylight saving time system.

10. the very adorable couple sukhalokha di and [censored on request] da will henceforth be known as tontu and pintu. don't ask.


[*_*]

Diwali

Horizon

close upon midnight, the sky is purple
hanging so close it looks like it's falling
ghost lights, iron ladders, reaching to the clouds
globes of sunlight glowing in the night
from where you stand you can see the end of the world
it's so much closer than they said it would be
your eyes ache trying to see where the horizon stops
your heart aches trying to imagine it
the towers of man in the middle of the desert
lost in the sands, hidden in the dark
the wind comes to you, it fills you
it promises you what nothing else can give
stretch your mind, it whispers, you are not alone
there are others who dream of secret lives, like you
the moon is hidden, but you know it is yours
your dream, your fear, the absent part of you
the clouds shift, the wind goes past you
you forget why you were in a trance a moment ago
you crush your apprehension, your hope for something that is not real
what a beautiful night, you say, and you walk on.



------------------------------------------------

me inside my mind

to follow up

10 good things about being me implies

1. my overactive imagination - it has actually saved my life, more than once
2. lack of prejudice in any form
3. the fact that i'm a well-read individual
4. my loyalty - to family, friends, causes, abstract concepts and old stuffed toys
5. i'm a tomboy - yes, that IS, too, a good thing
6. my ambition to be someone as in SOMEONE, who is seriously good at what she does
7. i hold a brown belt in karate - not that i need more than caustic wit and a knife to defend myself, aka scare the balls off anyone or anything that tries to hurt me
8. i enjoy the finer things in life, like music, movies, chocolate, good food, and milk cheese
9. the capacity to see life after loss - which means i know how to cope, and then learn how to hope
10. i have enough sense of humour to understand the stupidity of cliches without bashing up the perpetrators - almost

i've suddenly realized that i had the visceral need to write this in order to work it out myself. is seventeen a good age for self-revelation, or will it only hasten my midlife crisis? please advise!

tr!$h@

!!!!!!

me outside my mind

randomly writing down weird stuff is what a blog is for, right? without explanation, completely vague and unnecessary but enormously you? here goes, then......

10 bad things about being me implies

1. complete lack of diplomacy in social situations
2. anger-management issues
3. violent moodswings between suicidal depression and intoxicating euphoria
4. obsessive bookworm-ish tendencies
5. extreme intolerance of extreme intolerance
6. unhealthy addiction to chocolate
7. tendency to paranoia
8. low self-esteem
9. commitment phobia
10.extremely low boredom threshold

Some poison in your wine, sir?

008........shaken, not stirred........

Aftermath of Chaos

things to do post-pujas

1. remember to thank jayanti aunty for throwing a great after-party last week. award-winning recipe (hers) plus mad games and laughter (ours) plus lapdances (anonymous for the sake of diplomacy) equals a hell of a lot of fun

2. curb constant urge to shop. repeat the mantra about shopaholics going to basement bargain hell everytime i pass a clothes rack anywhere.

3. lose the weight! although to give myself credit, i did abstain from OTT guzzling this time. i could only have gained what i keep down through exercise. then again, what with all the walking and dancing i did, perhaps not.

4. find time for pal before she leaves. is chocolate cake an appropriate goodbye present for a train journey?

5. my mother keeps taking me out to eat these days. first the biryani jaunt in golpark coupla weeks ago, then that ultra upperclass bangali place, then chinatown, hakka noodles,and garlic lamb tonight after my tuition. possibly due to the fact that it's a drag cooking after a long, hard day of shopping. must remember to praise her wholesome, delicious homecooked meals once in a while.

6. vacation classes start from thursday. must finish practical file for maitri ma'am!

7. slog on with the whole writing thing (yawn)

8. present for d????? consult, browse, purchase!!

9. start studying for board exams?



nah.

10. do like my father says and get serious about life, career, future, responsibility, eternal boredom, etc.

11. will see ani and co. again on thursday. yay!

must check back to tick off this list now and then. signing off for now,

happily yours,

crazy ray

(!!!!!!)

The Puja Diaries

epilogue

yes, yes, i know the pujas are over. but with the inevitable sense of letdown comes the realization that life (implies parties implies fun implies life again) does not stop. living proof of this edict? 'charlie's angels' , well, just two of us, me and at-present delhiite shoili pal, are proud to present the 'Stupendously Calorific Recipe For Good/High Living' a la chocolat. - serves two.

1. first, confirm earlier in the day where you want to meet. why's and wherefore's are extraneous if the two of you are comrades in arms. city centre, saltlake, and highland park are recommended.
2. secondly, turn up. this is all that is required to make your companion(s) happy, if you're lucky.
3. then, sit, chat, catch up on good times and old friends, gossip, scandalmonger, say obscenely improbable things whenever aatel people pass by.
4. later, walk around, browse in shop of choice, like (insert name/brand ________)then make your way to the nearest confectionery.
5. buy chocolate cake. lots of it.
6. go somewhere else. buy drinks like club soda, apple juice, 7UP, and mountain spring water (last was frickin' delicious, incidentally)
7. find a nearby park. sit down on the grass, preferably barefoot. bring extra napkins.
8. mix the drinks. taste. adjust in proportion.
9. buy every kind of junk that goes by, like jhaalmuri and spiced tea, to add bangali zing to the chocolate and club soda mix.
10. do not start with the creamy cakes first. if you're like me, you could actually get punch-drunk on the chocolate and wobble and giggle and feel lightheaded when you try to start on the serious stuff like wedge sliced chocolate cake. leave that for twenty minutes before you have to leave, then have orange juice and black spiced tea to shake it off.
11. sit there till its dark, and inevitably the parents start ringing. give them ten minutes leeway, then make for home.
12. buy something nice for your mother (like purple shimmer nailpolish, for example) to make up for leaving her alone so much.
13. come home via the bypass. don't go straight home, though. make time for your neighbourhood friends who will then want you to join the mishti and aam sorbet party hosted by your favorite parar aunty, the same jayanti aunty who brought me noodles and sympathy when i was down with the flu on my birthday.
14. come home after extended chat. do something nice for your father too, to make up for not touching a textbook since the midterms ended, like making him hot, sweet tea.
15. blog about everything in detail, so that others may benefit from the precedent set by you.
16.sign off.

we, the authors, are pleased to inform you that this method of access to the good life is tried, tested, and virtually idiotproof. precautionary warning - avoid the jhaal aka the lanka in the jhaalmuri if you're like me, allergic to having a flaming fire on your tongue.
well, enjoy yourselves in moderation, and drive safely. good night, friends, indians and party people across the world. a special shout-out to pal, for making my day.......much love, buddy! ciao.

The Puja Diaries

day six - dashami

depressing, anticlimactic, nostalgic, regretful, somewhat relieved - what a medley of feelings on dashami! first there's the inevitable sadness because

1. the pujas are over, therefore
2. the pandal will be stripped down
3. no more dressing up at the drop of a hat, no more day (and night) long adda sessions, music and word games, no more sponsored prizes, no more community lunches, no more traipsing around the city, no more group photos
4. back to the crushing grind of the educational system

then there's the relief

1. can revert to my normal tomboy dress sense
2. less pressure to socialize
3. good things always come in sizeable but restrained portions, except at the pujas. any more of this hysterical party merry-go-round i've been on and i might never readjust to having my feet on the ground

yesterday, the high point of my day was the bhashan. two lorries of people, one of which broke down on the way back so everyone had to crowd up on ours. setting the murti afloat on the river at the exact moment the sun fell below the horizon, which is supposed to be auspicious. insane dancing and singing, calling out and handclapping on the journey there and back. synchronized dancing in a circle at the ghat, and then again in the pandal back home. cold drinks and balloons on the trip, the bruises on my feet and arms, even the tetanus vaccine shot when i got back because i scraped my wrist somewhere, then the evening trip to adda bites for drumsticks of heaven, the round of word games up until eleven at night sitting in the dim lights of the park. the chocolate i got for my mom to say sorry for never being at home for about a week. the chores i did in the morning because of how exhausted she looked. the pictures, the videos, the extremely sumptuous community lunch.

i can't describe all this in coherent joined sentences apparently. in my mind, i have a filmstrip of memories, and hopefully the picture files on hard disk as back up soon. but perhaps the best part of yesterday was watching casablanca with my mom for the very first time. what an iconic film! "here's looking at you, kid" "this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship" "play it again, sam" man, oh man what a classic golden oldie! although ingrid wasn't as ethereally beautiful as i was told. she's swedish, go figure, must've been 5'10 at least.

and last but not least, the saddest part was us taking the photo gallery and some mishti to shanky's house for his parents. aunty cried, we sat around for a while making plans to have the cardboard gallery properly framed, they gave us sprite and cake, bless them, and we might've cried a bit too. rest in peace, shanky, dear friend.

what a day, what an ending, what a grand finale! am too drained to type any more now. be seeing you. much love, and subho bijoya!

[!!(~^~*~^*)!!]

The Puja Diaries

day five - nabami

woke up to the dulcet tones of my cell phone - titan's own strident tones followed thereafter, peremptorily ordering me down for the Spot Quiz. therefore i rushed down in an Olympic record of shower-and-change-in-ten-minutes, and within fifteen minutes acquired a gift voucher for answering the question (in which of shakespeare's plays is the heroine called Hero?) duh- much ado about nothing - and thus won the right to squander 75 bucks of corporate money on formidable guzzling at monginis. sidenote - hehehehe...........

in the evening i wore my new black glitterati top with (heaven forgive me) d's HUGE red bracelet (that everyone but me was freshly astounded by, in a good way, i hope) and then taira di, mitu, titan, raju, ayan da, me and akash da made the tour of the housing pujas in our areas (smirks derisively) and endured simmering jealousy at the sight of manjulika a's fantastic turnout this time. on our return, well, i got some bad news about a friend (there is nothing to discuss) and was later cheered up by naughty story games and an impromptu backstage dance around and after midnight. an extremely fun day it was, all round, and am already anticipating going for the bhashan.
anyway. i returned to the parental abode after one in the morning, took a bath, and then settled down to wait for d to call for our usual midnight chat. he obliged within ten seconds of my "i'm free now" missed call and he kept me up until two fifteen giggling at his extended family's antics. after making him promise to wake me up at ten this morning with an elongated call, i flipped over in bed and FINALLY finished Richard Bach's Curious Lives. must've been the adrenalin rush keeping me awake. anyway, gotta rush to go shower, change, and go downstairs to hang out friends. already missed calls and 'whr r u' messages abound. ciao all. stay tuned for the grand finale of the puja diaries,

much love,

trisha
(~_~)

The Puja Diaries

day four - ashtami

my grandparents came to visit today, after a hiatus of two years of illness, operations and stress. my grandma watched speilberg's AI in the afternoon with me doing the verbal subtitling for her and cried, bless her. my grandfather snored gently beside me for most of the day.
later i went down to the community pandal, hung out with friends, watched the antakshari, etc. high point of the evening - i debuted in the most expensive ensemble i possess, an ethnic mishmash of gold and sunset colours.will upload pix later.
stayed up quite late, first in the pandal with friends, and then a delicious dinner at home, followed by a quick midnight chat with d before bunking down. not a very spectacular day, unless you count the ensemble, which i don't.
night all.
god, my feet are killing me. why are beautiful shoes always the most painful?

The Puja Diaries - Photographic Evidence-II

THE BOSEPUKUR THAKUR


akash da, taira di, me

The Puja Diaries - Photographic Evidence

alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254151609285296338" />

The Puja Diaries

day three - saptami

woke up relatively early for the three-minutes-to-fame hosting gig, which turned out to be exhausting, drainingly heating my skin for what felt like hours as i tried to find new contestants to perform (although titan and i were told later that we did a good job). suki di and pal turned up, letting me know only in the morning, thus catching me off-guard and effectively blindsiding any sophisticated hospitality plans i may ever have harboured. we had fun, though. even my uncle and aunt found time to drop by during lunch........
later, i went to meet d at the crossroads, while suki di and pal tagged along, got introduced, passed lifted-eyebrow-judgements (as usual) as we all took a patuli bus. d got the tickets, thus (hopefully) impressing the heck out of my friends with his generous notions of male chivalry -lol- and he and pal and i roamed around hiland park for a bit - suki di had to go meet her Baby (!!)- until about 4, when we bundled pal on to a bus back home, and then went off to watch drona. although we laughed or gaped unbelievingly through most of the movie, it was still fun, if only for the almost skeletal script and storyline. the special effects were stunning, though, much like the silver bracelet with the enormous red stone that d thought fit to bestow on me today.
and although part of me appreciates the fact that he remembered that we went into a shop the previous week and i wistfully stared at the blue version of the same bracelet and told him about looking for the red in my spare time, thus leading him to scour malls near and far till he found the right one, perhaps this is after all a case of too fast, too furious, too much.............even though i do, too, like him a sizeable lot. wondering now what i should get him in return. perhaps a faux leather belt with a wrestlers' tag, hehe....
anyway, i even won a 300 buck gift voucher for longhorns' for being the first person to get the middle row struck out in housie this morning, despite (nearly) getting into hot water regarding the planned Great Indian Pen Hijack Heist (concerned parties and common friends will know what i mean - and by the way, i replaced that pen with a brand new one of the same color ink), and then photographed well tonight in my new white shirt-jeans-black-waistcoat-silver shoes-pearl drops-ensemble (smirks, bows), so all in all, a very positively memorable day of the pujas. long rule the goddess. ended it by playing silly singing games in the park with a bunch of nice friends close to midnight. irresponsibility is such bliss.

P.S.- am uploading pics of the last few puja days here, tonight. feel free to comment and link up!

patiently yours,

trisha

!!!!!!!!

The Puja Diaries

day two - shashthi

slept HUMUNGOUSLY late - until after noon (!!!!) and then took my time with a leisurely bath and a cup of chocolate milk, waiting for my favorite uncle-who-is-not-my-uncle (actually just a very old and very loved family friend) to turn up with his beautiful wife, his extravagant gifts, and sizeable offerings of delicious food. the aforementioned individual arrived two hours late, filled to the brim with funny quips about the Universe (as usual) and a classy white top for me, as well as assorted gifts for my parents, grandparents, cousins, and himself (i kid thee not- the man opened up a pack of chocolate he had had gift-wrapped for himself).
later, i went down to attend the para stage performances for shashthi, braving the not-so-kind and rather unfunny digs that most teenage males think it's cool to inflict on one another, and watching what was surely one of the most inefficient, boring and puerile magic shows i've endured, worse than even david blaine's freezing-himself-in-ice escapade (magician or stuntman, david?????? make up your ******* mind!!!!!), preceded by some extremely nervous toddlers charming the audience with their lisped versions of classic bangali songs and poems........
i am supposed to be hosting the telegraph-sponsored three minutes to fame contest tomorrow at 11 am with a friend. i suspect pre-stage nerves are the reason i'm up past the witching hour typing away for my blog...........
on the up side, community lunch tomorrow, followed by a date (^_^) at hiland park with (*******) so yay for that, i guess.
am still waiting on uploading the pictures, principally because the data cable's gone bonkers on me tonight. watch this space for the remainder of this festival's chronicles! g'nite, world. happy dreaming

yawningly yours

trisha

[*_*]

The Puja Diaries

day one - panchami

slept late. went out pandal hopping with para friends. ekdalia, singhi park, bosepukur...what an extravagant, thriftless, over-the-top, exquisitely beautiful waste of the city's resources! my head aches from the crowds, the heat, the lights, the countless cold drinks. spent some time helping to make a photo gallery to put up tomorrow in our very own pandal. composed a poem to act as the captions (takes a bow). even managed to keep myself on calorie control to a certain extent. will upload photos tomorrow night. am too bushed to type anymore........c y'all later. goodnite, kolkata.

p.s.-of all the pandals we saw today, our own modestly beautiful one appealed to me the most. i wonder what this means on my subconscious level of thinking. perhaps i'm finally beginning to feel comfortable with this whole ornate-religious-festival-thing without letting my own atheism colour my perceptions of it all. who knows? am too dazed with incipient sleep to self-analyze anymore. see you in the morning........

[*_*]

Mid year resolutions

the title is self-explanatory. and since i never keep my new year resolutions beyond two days (if that) either, i suppose it's indulging in the heights of optimism to think i might be able to keep these " puja resolutions"................

1. watch my calorie intake - fat chance, it's the festival of the celebrations of the return of the first family of gods, of course i'm gonna put on more weight

2. curb my spending habits - and throw away my last breath of freedom before the boards? i think not!

3. study more - ************blank silence************** [still depending on the power of osmosis]

4. start and finish the Great Indian Novel - eventually

5. be more oriental - learn the value and power of patience, humility and compassion. perfect the Pensive Grasshopper meditative stance while doing so.

6. try to start caring more about family (no matter how distant) beyond the immediate clan, and less about the perfect strangers who do the voices of the Simpsons.

7. set a deadline for myself to finish listening to all justin timberlake tracks since the 90's and then move on to sting (!)

8. come to a final decision regarding Life-After-The-Boards.....JNU or JU? home or hostel?

9. attempt to find the meaning of life. last date - next tuesday. (possibilities of answers - love, sorrow, magic, creativity, faith, or the number 42)

10. wean myself from the habit of either posting creepy stories, mindless verse, or cbse-formatted self-revelations in point form on this page.

it's going to be a long night tonight. sigh..........

<^_^>

New worlds to conquer

They say that experiencing the good things in life translates into utopia on earth, but without the propaganda. So this is my self-indulgent and extravagant list of good things in my life.

1. karate classes start again next week. considering i'm in the best shape of my life since i was fourteen, go kiyah!
2. my exams went not half as disastrously as the maternal ancestor foretold. ergo:- when you leave your textbook near your pillow at night, you can actually study by osmosis! hence proved. in your face, mom.
3. the pujas are coming up. translation-i have a budget for shopping, new clothes, classy accessories and shoes, and of course with so many librans' birthdays coming up, TONS of parties and fun.
4. since i briefly disconnected myself from the internet, i rediscovered my creative streak for writing. i have been making massive inroads into both of my writing commitments as well as blogging.
5. i reconnected with three of my closest friends just today. boy does that make me contented.
props to ani, tito and fido.
6. pal is prolly coming coming back to kol for the vacation. good times seem to beckon.
7. have finished downloading casino royale. just watching daniel craig walk down a street gives one an education in spotting the raw power of prima alpha males. wowza!
8. i have rediscovered my liking for certain types of music. thank god for coldplay, the verve, and the script. also downloaded a certain dreamy manilow cover on mp3. sigh........
9. a new relationship is in the offing. tentative optimism....
10. i also anchored a debate on "computer games are a waste of time" for a cnbc edu channel today. boy am i exhausted. cameramen never seem to be ready on time. that or they lose their fresh batteries five minutes before when you want to go home.
11. we seem set to organize a programme in school for teacher's day, and perhaps even the prefectorial ceremony soon. throwing a party AND giving up responsibility.......hallelujah!
12. checking my passwords folder today, i discovered that i am on no less than seven networking sites. considering that some people can go up to the early twenties, i'm still pretty damn exclusive + relatively carefree. (smug smirk)
13. over a year and both my PC and cellphone are currently in good order. to all the sufferers worldwide-pray with me, brothers and sisters!
14. am on fairly good terms with my immediate family due to most of the above. translation - i can stay out all night at least one time this pujas.
15. i have become optimistic and mature enough to appreciate the good in my life and still take advice to work on the things i can change (or want to). this is the biggest point. i think it's called approaching adulthood.

responsibly yours,
trisha

[*_*]

Master, all is well in the state of Denmark

My exams are over. I am free.




(blubbers with joy and runs laughing hysterically around the outer wall seven sacred times)


now that that's over and done with, here is a short eulogy on freedom from oppression



food
how nourishing you are
healthier than exams you are by far
water
how cool you are
more refreshing than exams you are by far
sleep
how stupefying you are
more restful than exams you are by far
laughter
how stirring you are
more charismatic than exams you are by far
time
how short you are
speedier and crankier than an old car by far
life
how forgotten you are
lively and creative and happy no more
love
how ignored you are
more desperate and needier than ever before
exams
how despised you are
the most wearying, dreaded and hated by far

Happy Independence Day

WAKING UP

my sole attempt at facing my ant-paranoia head-on and making something creatively productive out of it. first time i've had the courage to actually make it public. hope you like it.


[disclaimer-if you actually do enjoy what follows, we recommend you get professional help, because man you got problems............]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


WAKING UP




There is a line of red ants climbing up the kitchen wall. They are tiny, each of them, but with a venomous intensity in the way they stay close to each other, each pair of sharp pincers reinforcing every other one, that makes her come to a standstill and watch their progress with a fascinated revulsion that curiously enough precludes her from wreaking havoc with a pesticide spray and wiping the tiny dead, red little bodies of the wall and into oblivion, or at least the dustbin.

She is not really that scared. Neither does she have an insect fetish. She is a very normal, cheerful, teenage girl, extroverted, lots of friends, hardworking but not too bright, firmly convinced that she is pretty, very optimistic most of the time. That’s why she never told anyone about the dreams.

During the day she is very – what’s the word – lively. As night draws nearer, gradually she becomes unhappily restless and starts to fidget. Her parents could never understand, why, even as a child, she had an inexplicable fear of going to sleep. Sometimes she can’t remember herself, why the little voices in the hidden, dusty corners of her mind start rustling frantically whenever her eyelids droop. That is because they fear the dreams almost as much as she does.

The dreams are very strange by anyone’s standards, but even more so from a bubbly seventeen-year-old’s point of view. In these dreams, she is lying on her bed, in the same position when she went to sleep, and now she can hear a surge of rustling from the floor of her room, and then the red ants rise in a tidal wave of tiny torture on every side of the bed, and she squeezes her eyes shut but she can still feel a rapidly thickening stream of ants scurrying up her arms, scrabbling around on her skin until they give a final little twist of their bodies before sinking their pincers into her flesh. It is a unbearably frightening pain, like a million tiny live needles piercing her, burrowing beneath the skin, trying to tunnel into her blood.

In these dreams, she tries to scream for help, but as soon she opens her mouth, the ants move towards her face and pour inside her mouth, biting at the insides of her cheeks, anchoring themselves on her tongue, piercing savagely until her head almost explodes with the pain, even advancing to the trachea, surging into her lungs, nibbling at her veins and arteries, mixing with her bloodstream, setting her insides on needles of fire.

In the end she can’t breathe, because the red ants have now moved up her nostrils and mouth, she can’t hear anything except the endless scurrying in her earlobes, she can’t see because they are swarming over her eyelids and pupils. She lies there on her bed, a human feasting-ground for the red ants that live inside our walls, under our carpets, in our gardens, and she cannot fight them, she is too weak, too frightened.

Eventually the sunlight wakes her up, and sometimes she cannot believe that her organs were not devoured in muted rustling in the night. This is why she is always so happy during the day, because she understands the value of reclaiming life and normality. She is only seventeen but inside her head is the knowledge of a thousand torturous deaths, each of which she has survived. She was frightened, but she lived. She was tortured, but she endured. She was eaten, but she is alive. She knows that life exists outside of stifled terror of the ravages of a million tiny flesh-eating red ants. When she grows up, she wants to be a lawyer.

The ants are a part of her now. The pain they inflict validates her happiness. She has never been able to bring herself to kill a single red ant, however. Possibly she has the instinctual knowledge that the day she does kill one of those red ants that infest her sleep, she will go to sleep that night and never wake up from her dream of being trapped in endless terror.



Trisha Ray
6/4/2008

Birthday Blues

17 years ago today, my mother saw me for the first time, screamed, and fainted. subsequently she warned me that i had better be worth the trouble. i wasn't.

today, i'm running a mild but weakening temperature, not helped by the thought of an economics test tomorrow (aaarrgghh) and no party until the weekend.

the good part? tons of messages and birthday wishes from all the right people, starting from midnight yesterday.

am missing one day of school (read piles of mind-numbing notes) and falling back on certain Assignments. bleh.

this stupid fever started on saturday. since then i've been having horrific half-waking dreams where killer scarab beetles eat bugs bunny.

note to self :- WHY ME?

i spent sunday night wrapped in two bedsheets and wearing one grey sock in bed (the other one is now my cousin's sock-puppet, apparently) dreaming about achieving normalcy. sobbed myself to sleep, convinced that i was going to die. woke up and resolved to start believing in divinity from Monday.

today is wednesday. i am still an atheist. so much for deathbed promises. i miss lollipops. and pal

seriously, though, why? did i commit a heinous murder in some previous reincarnation? is that why i must spend my birthday with a sniffle, a headache, stuck at home, alone except for some friendly cake in the fridge?

and i've spent so much time convincing myself i'm not sick, i almost passed out in school yesterday. today, for a change, i passed out at home instead. my mouth tastes of mint toothpaste in particular and sour bitterness towards my life in general.

to anyone who's had the patience to read this far - i haven't always been so crazy, i'm just woozy today, that's all. please leave a comment, just to make me feel better about dying. thank you.

trisha

16 minutes later

my father just called to check up on me, and 5 minutes later jayanti aunty from flat number seven turned up with quiet sympathy and noodles. i sense the beginnings of a warm fuzzy feeling in the general location of my left ribs. i wonder if this is what groveling gratitude is supposed to feel like.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turning 17 Tomorrow

YOUR BIRTHDAY: 9 July (CANCER)


Your personal ruling planets are Moon and Mars.

The power of Mars and sensitivity of Moon combine to create a somewhat contradictory nature. On one hand the sensitive, caring and emotional elements will be expressed. At other times however, your strong willed sometimes aggressive nature will create head-on confrontations. In the house you are master. You need to control your immediate surroundings.

In work too, you like to take the lead, but domestically your urge to dominate, especially where children are concerned, will create continual conflict requiring a serious look at issues of power and control on your part.

Your lucky colours are red, maroon and scarlet and autumn tones.

Your lucky gems are red coral and garnet.

Your lucky days of the week are Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.

Your lucky numbers and years of important change are 9, 18, 27, 36. 45, 54, 63, 72.

Famous people born on your birthday include Edward Heath, Tom Hanks, Kevin Nash, Courtney Love and Kelly McGillis.

The Rising Of The Cake - Part-II

For everyone who hasn't read the first chapter of this, here it is all over again, followed by chapter two.

THE RISING OF THE CAKE-PART-I



The girl paused momentarily, torn by doubts. Already she was a heroine, having saved the day from being a catastrophe of epic proportions - death by fire must be terrible, she thought. Then she took a deep breath, and made up her mind. Closing her eyes, she lifted the ladle and added just the lightest trace of brandy to the baking garnish on the stove before her.
The redolent fragrance of eternally unwashed socks drifted through the kitchen. The syrup must have arrived then, borne by the local delivery boy(? old by now) whose breath must surely be one of the first warning signs of armageddon. Ushering him out, she turned back to her first love, the oven. The cake had risen.
Two hours later, the cake stood, imposing as a behemoth at bay, towering on the dining table. Like all great kings, it was grand and intimidating in its power on the outside. Inside, however, it was just a mushy, gooey, sticky core of blissful indulgence.
The base was a solid yet crusty platter of mocha biscuit. The lower foundations of the cake were made of sweet, crumble-as-you-touch classic brown walnut cake, encrusted with sizeable chunks of milk-and-cherry chocolate. The second layer, tapering to the third on top, was a soft creamy layer of soft coffee chocolate, the lightest and cloudiest of milk white frothy cream, and a dash-just a dash-of freezing cold blackcurrant syrup, running like a vapour trail through the whole layer. This layer was seasoned with a sprinkling of chocolate chips and the faintest whiff of brandy that hovered only at the surface and disappeared as you sank into the heavenly chocolate bliss of it all.
But the topmost layer-that was literally the royal jewel in the crown. Set like a chocolate boat atop this delicious edifice, it was a large-ish shallow cup made of chocolate biscuit wafer, and swimming with chocolate syrup. Gently floating in the middle was a cake island, made up of delicate-looking yet tough petals of black bitter chocolate, which surrounded a cup-sized flower. The gently placed core was a small ball of pure, sweet chocolate rolled around a cherry, and encrusted in a coral shaped layer of a mixture of coffee wafer, chocolate syrup, vanilla frosting, and a single candied rose-leaf. The very slight waves of the pool of chocolate syrup gave it a look of a chocolate island pleased with itself, and at peace with the world.
The heroine looked on proudly, the light of love and joy in her eyes as her creation rested in a magnificient pose on the table. Suddenly, as she looked down to wipe the last of the tasting spoons, still lightly smeared with melted milk chocolate, on her apron, the door burst open with a thud. She wheeled around with a sharp cry of alarm to face three large men wearing balaclavas framed in her doorway. Her glance fell on the foremost of them, whose t-shirt bore the legend MMU. Milkshake Movement Underground. Oh God............
With a slow dawning of horror, she realized the truth. These men-these men must have heard of her cake somehow and come to plunder it. with a faint gasp of terror, she moved bravely in front of the chocolate cake, brandishing her still creamy ladle, ready to risk her all to protect the cake she loved................



FIND OUT THE REST OF THE STORY NEXT WEEK, IN "THE RISING OF THE CHOCOLATE CAKE-PART-II"


On the other side of town, the MMU Don raised his eyebrows and barked the word "Moron!” into the phone.

“It was one woman! One diminutive pastry chef and one masterpiece that was yours to take! How does a cake-crazy midget overpower two MMU assassins and escape? And more importantly, where to?” A deep breath. “Find her. Take the cake. If you have any problems, call me.” A pregnant silence. “And listen, one last thing. Don’t call me.”

The waves of fear seemed to carry over the phone, because after a short silence, the Don hung up.

The man on the other side of the desk smiled. His teeth had gold fillings, every last one of them, even though he was only about thirty. Years of sinking himself into the treacly delights of fudge and marshmallow had left him with permanently rotting teeth, rolls and rolls of sinking, pudgy flab, and a phobia of dentists. His was a benign face, a face that promised cheer and goodwill to all things baked, creamed and frosted on this earth, masking the cunning and greed beneath the ponderously chubby cheeks of an ultrasize Pillsbury Doughboy.

The Don gave his cream-mint flavored cigar an uneasy look.

“The cake seems to still be at large.”

The doughy man kept smiling. Inside, his flabby drooping guts twisted themselves into an agony of apprehension. The pink hands clenched a little.

The Don kept talking, with a shade more confidence.

“It is only a question of time. The woman cannot be trusted, but the cake she will keep intact, if she values her professional integrity. I swear this on my mother’s life.”

The man facing him forbore to point out that the present Don’s mother had died twelve years previously of a surfeit of chocolate éclairs. Instead, he spoke dreamily.

His voice was like him, rolling, ponderous, pleasant, but with undertones of homicidal mania.

“I must have that cake,” he sighed, rocking slightly. “It is my dream, you understand? Started years ago as a child, built up into massive proportions in cordon bleu school, frosted with my hopes and dreams all these years in the safety of my classic dessert lounge, yet everything I have ever achieved is nothing to what that one small woman produced in two days, on her own, in a pitifully antiquated kitchen. And I ask myself, why? Is it her natural talent that surpasses mine? Impossible. It is well known that I am the king of dessert. Is it her undivided time and attention that made that cake what it is today? No. What thirty pastry chefs could not achieve working together is out of her reach. Then – and mark this – it must be the recipe. An heirloom, perhaps, passed on for generations, added to but never changed in its essence. And that is why” – clenching his fists – “I must have it. Already, news of this supercake drifts through the corridors of the Confectionary Kingdom and begins to titillate the tastebuds of leading pastry critics, leaving my recent creations in the dust. My reputation, my career, my life’s work is at stake. I must have this cake. I will taste it, then I will break it down to its base, then I will savour the ingredients until I have captured the soul of each one of them. And then,” – a predatory smile changed the Pillsbury Doughboy face to the awful visage of a plump barracuda – “ I will bake my own Cake.”

The Don shifted in nervous acquiescence, staring at the wall behind his guest.

In the distance, police sirens blared.




STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, COMING SOON, ONLY ON TRISHA-MYCRIMINALTHOUGHTS@BLOG

Garfield

I'm sorry, but I got a message today, found a new site, and after that I couldn't resist







trisha

The eleventh commandment - thou shalt not get caught

my top ten quotes, which exemplify everything i believe in and admire, to be reviewed and caustically shredded by the discerning public


Before all else, be armed -- Niccolo Machiavelli

Men are pigs, and I love pork -- Tyra Banks

The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it -- Oscar Wilde

Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake -- Napoleon Bonaparte

Maybe this world is another planet's Hell -- Aldous Huxley

I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth -- Umberto Eco

What do you take me for, an idiot?-- General Charles de Gaulle when a journalist asked him if he was happy

If everything seems under control, you're just not going fast enough -- Mario Andretti

It was the experience of mystery -- even if mixed with fear -- that engendered religion -- Albert Einstein

First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win -- Mahatma Gandhi



introspectively yours,

trisha

Barely legal lollipop mania

yes, here we go again... the lollipop chronicles have the potential to embarrass us both horribly in the not-too-distant future, but its not like we care.



for further details refer to

http://shoiliunleashinmyspirit.blogspot.com/

good luck pal! (i'm the one on the left)

note how pretty the lollipops look under the dim streetlights in a dark back street............

fave movies n books (for now)

borat, i like! need i say more?


simultaneously, im reading

It Is Summer

it's been a while since i wrote this, and i didn't have the nerve to post it until now. i'm still not sure, but here goes...........


It is summer.

Winter has passed. No-one noticed spring – whether it came and went, or was overtaken on the race to this country by the summer waves of heat and decided to go back home is none of our concern. All we know is that our country is hot again. Our hot, sultry, humid, exotic, passionate, frustrated, wonderful, beautiful country.

I am sitting here alone on the roof of our house. I came home alone, and instead of going to my room, I stayed talking with my friends, until everyone went home and I came up here .I used to do this much more two or three years ago. When I was thirteen years old, and as I recall, very depressed with myself and my life, it was almost an addiction with me to come up here and look at the sky and untangle my thoughts in a way that didn’t make my sanity seem redundant.

The sky fascinated me. I stared at it, sometimes for the better part of an hour, at the patterns of sunlight on clouds, at the rising of the sun behind a cotton blanket of morning clouds that looked like they guarded the horizon of the ocean at the end of the world. The stars were always my favorite part of any view of the sky. I’ve sneaked up to the roof at two in the morning, four am before dawn, the stroke of midnight, in time for sunset, late evening, even high noon – I could probably find my way up there with my hands tied behind my back and blindfolded. Sometimes it would be like distant tiny sparkling gemstones lying scattered across the mindbendingly vast dome that is the sky. Sometimes there would be just a few strong constant points of diamond light shining through the enormous skies of the plains, turned a brooding yet serene purple for the night, bringing an anticipatory shudder of response to the promise of rain in one’s spine. Delicious, dangerous yet welcome thrill of the prospect of a storm, perhaps a chill breeze, the smell of wet earth and the salt bracken of the marshlands further inland. That is the heaven of our country, the bliss of the cities of the green plains of the east.

I never thought that the stars were my friends or that the moon had a person living inside it. I knew perfectly well that the stars were immense fireballs shining across unimaginable lengths of distance and time. On clear nights, as a child I remember seeing the craters on the face of the moon through the lattice veil of the leaves of the huge trees on either side of the quiet lanes near my home. I still think that the moon looks like an ancient ruin hanging in the sky, a legacy of an ancestral race that lived when the moon was still a part of us.

The greatness of the sky, the distance and beauty of the moon and the stars has never made me feel “small” or “insignificant”. Always, always, I have felt as though I was a part of that glory. I remember with reasonable clarity at least three occasions when this happened to an unusual extent.

Once it was late evening, and a cool summer breeze made me lift up my face, and the sky was sparkling like a tiara with countless stars.

Once it was sunset, and the blood-orange light of the sun struck and fell away from massively banked clouds across the entire sky.

Once it was the time of the approaching monsoon, and the heavy, massive, steel, almost black clouds appeared to be closing in on the horizon around the edges of the world.

On each occasion I could close my eyes and suddenly my mind was swirling with some unnameable primeval feeling, and I felt that I could be at the centre of it all, like the siphon at the eye of a hurricane. It was an exhilarating, terrible, slightly frightening, empowering and heartbreakingly sad moment each time. Tonight is the first time I have ever written of it.

So many beautiful times on this roof. So many thoughts resolved, feelings decided, doubts cleared, situations thought out, conversations held. So many memories. Sad, enigmatic, doubtful, deeply important to me as a person, as a human being with a soul at the core of me.

I intended to write about only tonight. But I knew as soon as I brought my pen to paper that I must make a record of all I owe to this place. All the gratitude I feel to the sky for being so beautiful, powerful, strong, imposing, arrogant in its immensity, so much a part of me. Memories I must record for my own sake.

And now I come to tonight. A beautiful breeze, the heat is not enough yet to make one gasp for breath, as it will be later, but still the wind blowing my soft hair across my face is very welcome. The moon is full, colored a dull red, the craters visible, looking like an ancient temple of beautiful white skystone behind the red tinted ragged curtains of clouds fringing it. The sky is that serene, gloomy tint of purple that I love so much. So beautiful, all of it; so painful, the pull of unbearably desperate longing inside me.

I can hardly stop to breathe in my hurry to write, afraid that if I stop then these feelings will leave me for good this time and I will never be able to recapture this soul-filling exultation in my core again, much less put it in words.

The sky is overcast now. The breeze has died, almost. My hands hurt from balancing myself to write for so long. But I am finished recording my secret life as a skygazing dreamer (how clichéd it seems to say this – until it is true for one) for now, that is. The music in my ear has become intrusive. I am done writing for tonight.

Summer is here.





Trisha Ray
23/3/2008

I'm Back

And that's all I have to say about that. Delhi was good, yes, and i shopped till I dropped, yes, and I don't know much about the red alert, no, and now bugger off.


trisha

Miffed

to whom it may concern

i am not suicidal, schizophrenic, paranoid, or more than normally depressed and/or isolated. if any of you readers wish to indulge in "supportive counselling" on my blog, at least READ the post or even PRETEND like you know what you're talking about, goddammit!!!

thank you for your time

My Last Will and Testament (For Now)

I will be leaving for delhi on sunday for a school summer camp for ten days (!!!!!!!)

and before i go i'm making a will, so if i die or get kidnapped by terrorists, y'all know who gets what, so you can go ahead and blame the right people for nicking my stuff.

suddenly the term "over my dead body" acquires a whole new dimension, doesn't it?


anyway, here goes nothing

in my last will and testament, i, trisha the goofy, child of satan's fold, would have all my earthly possessions left to various of my kin and companions. in event of my untimely demise. my properties are to be apportioned as follows

my bounty of rich garments reverts to my parents, as they paid for it to begin with

my music cds and the unexplored crevasses of mp3-s on my hard drives i leave in equal portions to my good friend akash da, because he started me off, and to shoili di, who "freaks" music, much like me

my cell-phone i leave to my best friend anindita, because she needs the radio add-on

my computer goes to my favorite relative, gautam mama, even though he's actually just a family friend, because he taught me about attack being the best form of defense

my collection of comics goes to his dweebiness the tito, just because

my fantasy and thriller novels go to amit (fido) in memory

my funny novels go to shoili di and anindita, because once i'm gone i won't worry about them figuring out where i get my joke material from

my text books go to my cousin babai, because that's how nerdy he is

my collection of black metal chain i leave to titas, because she's the one who'll probably want it the most

my junk jewellery i leave to my cousin brinda, because i owe her

everything else can rot until eternity, who cares, except my first stuffed toy, the grey dog i got the day after i was born, which i insist be burnt with me, and the liquid in the all-out in my room, which i hope someone with a reasonable amount of brains and guts uses to poison my worst enemy, that awful librarian at BCL. (********)

goodbye, life! what the hell, you sucked anyway.


trisha

Funkalicious Food___ What A Day

Today, dear reader, this freaky blogger will attempt to describe a day in the life of a foodie, with all its attendant pleasures. This blog will now proceed to show, step by step, how the nirvana of foodalicious bliss may be achieved.

Step 1

Wake up not earlier than nine and proceed to have a leisurely shower, leaving yourself enough time to get adequately dressed and cast a contemplative glance at your firmly closed textbooks. On no account must you open them. That is a surefire recipe for guilt-laced disaster for the rest of the day.

Step 2

Saunter at a peaceful pace out of the house, and make your way to the (specific) person's house, where you are supposed to make what promises to be a difficult, time-consuming project. Stop off on the way to do a little mild shopping for aforesaid project.

Step 3

Walk with delighted surprise into an old-style house that is so reminiscent of my grandparents' home that I actually expect to see my granma pop around the corner with a plate of sweetmeats at any moment.

Step 4

Work at a collage in perfect unison, harmony, and to the tune of funky radio beats and a slight breath of scandal, along with Ankana and Ashutosh, two very talented and intelligent juniors from my school, Bhavan's, for our upcoming school trip to Delhi.

Step 5

Sit down to a lavish lunch of at least four courses and several finger-licking side-dishes, courtesy your friend's (Ankana)mother. Refuse third helpings and wear a silly smile of satisfaction on your face for the rest of the day.

Step 6

Finish part of the project, have the world's most yummy strawberry shake, and take yourself off for a wonderful walk along the banks of the nearby lake. Enjoy the wonderful breeze, the beautiful trees, and ignore the brimming jealousy inside you for not living in this neighbourhood and no other.

Step 7

Walk back to the main road, explore a bookshop, then return to the house to have drinks, chips and FINALLY decide to tear yourself away from this wonderful, beautiful woman, who makes THE best home-made lunches in the cities with exquisite skill, care and presentation. [THANK YOU AUNTY!!!!!]

Step 8

Say goodbye to Ankana, after having borrowed a book (Sidney Sheldon) and leave.

Step 9

Reach home. Realize with resigned resignation that you must get chores and homework and studies out of the way before you can sit down to blog about this. Do your chores and go out to meet a couple of friends and pick up a few things. Return home, and instantly decide to start blogging anyway.

Step 10

Come to terms with the fact that despite approaching adulthood you still have not acquired any sense of responsibility or any propensity for mature reflection. Shut down the PC and think dark thoughts about Life while struggling with homework.


Trisha

Easy Wings

Was it easy when you said you didn't love me
Did you have to want to throw me away
Did you never think that you might need me
Is it a lie that you once cared

Is there any way I can take it all back now
Can I make it up to you somehow
You're my heart, my life, my world
But your words fill me with doubt

How can you say you don't love me
Look at you, you can't even sleep
How can you say you don't need me
Look at me, I'm the one you need

Fly away, fly away, fly away now
Is there any way to stop the pain
Why did you make me stop loving you
Why is my tomorrow your yesterday


Trisha

Land of Lollipop Looniness

Land of Lollipop Looniness



This is something that happened today, in a parallel reality far, far removed from this grim land of Mundania.
Shoili di and I finished karate class. We walked out of school together, at the exact same time that a hazy cloud of madness swooped down upon the lamppost just outside the school gates. Consequent events bear out my (working) assumption that either some strange germ of mindfreak got rooted in our dual consciousness of happy sarcasm, or else that fatigue and a certain amount of euphoria (don't ask) got to us instead.

Anyway, we wanted to walk down a back street so we could listen to some music with the sound up and loud. So we turned left, then we turned back and turned right to get chewing gum, 'cause I can't live without. Standing in front of a tiny vendor's shop whose owner knows us from yore and is firmly convinced that we are the mad children of Satan's Cloud, I asked for a coupla bucks' worth of gum. At this point, Shoili di suddenly develops a fierce craving for lollipops and jelly and can't decide which to have. In order to compromise, I buy both. We walk a solid ten feet away from the shop before giving vent to near-hysterical sniggers of glee and hunger induced by carb-cravings.

Next thing we know, we're halfway down that lonely, badly-lit back street, and I'm propping my bags up on a car that Shoili di hit (not too hard) to make sure it doesn't have a security bleeper, fumbling for the most delicious little fingerful of litchi jelly I have ever tasted. This is after we struggled valiantly to get the wrapping off the top of the tiny cup (eventually we wound up using a pen that I extracted with great nimbleness from my pencil-box, fatally injuring the zipper of my bag in the process).

Later we also struggled to get the wrapping off the lollipop, and realized with burning shame that packaging designed and made easy to handle (I assume) for tiny children was eluding us with fiendish cunning. I think we also stopped at some point to take a picture of me giving the finger to the lollipop(!!!!!!!) in Shoili di's hand. Eventually we boarded an auto, where, for only the second time ever, we were outdone in our outrageous banter by three badly-dressed men arguing about money, who even made US go quiet for as much as five consecutive seconds. Until we realized that it took us 35 minutes to walk down a road that normally takes 5. Apparently fooling around tacks on an extra half-an-hour and some seriously memorable tastebud experiences on to that, by now legendary, walk.

Much later, on the bus home, I bought more sweets (the black, sticky, DELICIOUS kind), ate a mango candy and started on chewing gum, both of which just happened to be lying around in my bag, and mused on how having so much concentrated, fattening sugar in my body just made me feel like a better, happier, more peaceful person.

This totally makes up for the disappointment we had a couple of weeks ago, when we made up a cheeky April's Fool song and tried to gatecrash Sriparna Ma'am's elegant domicile, only to be ejected by a senile dog's wheezy "intruder" barking (I thought it would die from the vocal strain) and an alarming lady in white who told us kindly but firmly that Sriparna Ma'am' was not, in fact, at home.

In your face, Rufus Sr, your royal woofiness!!!!!!!!!


Shoili di's version:- coming soon on ________________

http://shoiliunleashinmyspirit.blogspot.com.

If this sounds crazy to you, and you would like to express your disbelief/contempt/fear/morbid curiosity/mediocrity through a comment, please refrain, you stupid !!!!@#$%^&* of a @#$%^&* whose !@#$%^&U* is nothing more than a ()*&^%$#%^&*@!#$^%&^*^, you little *(&%^$%%)^%$#Q$#..................!@#$%^&*()*&^&)_*(&$#&*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


trisha

everybody else can leave comments, email, etc, etc.....so that's like what, three, maybe four people?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANDY SHOP !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Poila Baishakh

Send Multiple Scraps to your friends



and i will now proceed to hog out on rosogolla

............ (below)

Snow

This is the book I'm reading right now.


Really amazing, insightful, sensitive, creative, goddamn PEACEFUL writer. Honestly, when the scene is a snowed-in town reeling under a bloody coup, it's like he manages to make the reader feel that that same town is the quietest, most contemplative beautiful place in the world.

I'm reading it like I sip a cool drink, slowly and happily in the summertime, savouring it fully, enjoying the gentle introspection like bubbles at the surface, drinking the emotions like the delicious top layers.

I'm yet to reach the dregs. I'm in no hurry. Eventually I know I will have this very calmimg yet invigorating book sloshing around in the hollow corners of my mind, filling up the blank spaces between Umberto Eco and Frederick Forsyth in the library catalogue of my subconscious mind. Until then ...... tesekkur ederim, Orhan Pamuk!

Trisha

Rain

the elements of nature are supposed to inspire creativity in aspiring poets. you might think that this is a gloomy poem, but it is one of the most joyful things i've ever written. as always, i would appreciate comments.




RAIN

i've cried a thousand times
i lost my mind in the pain
i wrote my songs and my rhymes
i broke my heart in the rain

it is morning and there is no light
cold winds don't stop blowing because i broke my heart
and the moon rises brighter than the sun
i don't stop living because i tore myself apart

i freeze and i burn, and i hate myself
my world stops turning, and i don't die
the wind starts blowing and i'm burnt and broken
but i'm still not going to die


this feels like ripples in a silver stream
like dawning sunrise behind the mountains
like good luck floating inside a moonbeam
like tiny rainbows inside a marble fountain

it tastes like raindrops in the middle of the night
like ice-cold honey at the break of dawn
like a lake of mountain-water filled with ice and light
like the heart of a rose within the thorn

it sounds like angels singing beside the ocean
like birds taking flight at the sight of sunrise
like desolation at the thought of separation
like sparkling tears of regret in dark black eyes

from dust to ashes,from laughter to hate
from the clouds in the sky to water underground
like the difference between choices and fate
like escaping to dreams to hear raindrops, that sweet sound


trisha

Blogthings

You Are a Phoenix

Driven and ambitious, you tend to acquire material success easily. You have grand schemes - both for your own life and for changing the whole world. You are a great leader, and you have no problem taking the reigns. However, you aren't all business. You also have great talents for performing and visual arts.

What Mythological Creature Are You?

trisha


the phoenix



?????????????????????

Costume Dressing For the 21st Century Outcast

A SHORT TREATISE ON DRESSING FOR THE AVERAGE REBELLIOUS TEENAGE GIRL circa 2008


The first word on dressing for teenage girls in Kolkata is of course the Mall. This holy institution houses eclectic styles, several designer brands and absolutely no sense of chic dressing. It is a godawful mishmash of fusion trends at the moment. Apparently garish is in. Go Kolkata.




ANYWAY, the kind of girl (see above illustration to SO prove my point) who buys this stuff is usually one very optimistic chick. No amount of gap jeans or Manolo Blahnik shoes or Satya Paul accessories can make you look less

a) pudgy, wobbly, and pouring out of that tight waisted halter-top

OR

b) like a stick insect lost inside clothes that SHOULD make you look good but end up making you looking like a loser of a , well, stick insect with brittle twigs for limbs and cotton fluff in place of a brain.


But then this particular piece of admittedly self-indulgent writing is not about that brand of air-heads, appealing though it may be to rip their psyches apart. No, today I would rather think about the girls that fall outside this category. Like the sporty ones, the funky trendsetters, the punks, the moushumi-s, the romantic ones, the aspiring heroines, and the ones who honestly couldn't care less.

The thing about (us) girls is that we like dressing good, but we don't think the world is coming to an end when we turn up somewhere and the bi*** across the room is wearing our outfit. We're more laid back about clothes and life in general. We don't freak out on accessories and although we do look at winter/fall showcase lines we only "approve and follow" when we "like". Not fanaticism. Just appreciative consumerism. See illustration below.




YES this is going somewhere.

I usually wear jeans and something on top. Mostly ethnic-chic/smart-casuals/punk-grunge if you will, sometimes with a jacket, earrings at a stretch, minimal camouflage, and HEELS. I CANNOT live without heels. I may be topping 5'7ft by now but i still need to feel literally "on top". At all times.
Throw in a ponytail or a bandanna and a bored expression and I am set to go out and conquer.

But recently I've been forced to make some really weird (for me) fashion choices. On the 11th of February I wore a sari. Yes, that's right, a sari. I could barely walk, I was chilled to the backbone from the wind, and it all fell apart as I raced back upstairs to change for my very first date with (bleep), so that I burst into my room wearing nothing but two fistfuls of unravelled sari and a panic-stricken expression.

And today I woke up and put on a skirt.
In self-defence I must say that I never actually went out and bought this thing. Some girls bought it for me for a (disastrous) dance performance in January. I kept it and broke it in today.
It (the aforementioned skirt) is knee length. It is a light cornflower beige in colour. It has TASSELS, for god's sake.
I wore it with a close-fitting white top with long sleeves, brushed open hair and black heels. When I finally worked up the immortal nerve to look in the mirror I swear to god I thought I saw a teenage amazonian version (T/Ray 0.2008??) of Oprah Winfrey. Holy crap.

No guests are ever worth this. Thank god they're gone, so that now i can curse their souls into oblivion in peace.

I will now undress. I will put away this outfit with meticulous care, following all the crease lines along the pretty tassels to perfection. Afterwards I shall don old shorts and a grungy T-shirt, find an isolated corner, and then I will sit and scream for a while, until I'm convinced of my own return to sanity.

Trisha