My Family and others.....

A typical day in the S.K household has always been very noisy yet filled with humour for me. Whereas a day in the R.K household is more dramatic and emotional, with plenty of frowning, grinning, blaming each other, wise words and a lot more theatrics. The latter being my household and the former being my step mother's.
The S.K parivar is who I go to when I need plenty of sunshine, the ceiling fan, a cup of chai and the blissfulness lent by a 100 odd books. The chatteratti here includes EMS, social workers, the plight of mentally challenged children in Trichur and the world over, communism, Che Guevara and of course whats for lunch/dinner and tomorrow's breakfast. Its the family that has indulged many a politicians with the right values (yes- there still remain a few!), with grandmothers who have more energy than a 13 year old. Its the home where you can simply put your right foot in and your mind goes off onto having a mind of its own. Simply put. Its one of the homes that I love coming home to any given day.
We have the following people in it-

Janu, the gracious mother, beautiful brown skinned intelligent, great mother poised and a great activist in her youth. Not that she's that old now.

Her two offsprings-
Che ( he claims to be a food revolutionary and can draw umimaginable parallels between himself and Che at any given time of the day), the younger one all of eleven years.

prodigal son- being the older of the two sons. much older than the younger one, an aspiring lawyer, almost every other day found in the bus from Pune to Cochin, mostly with an excuse to be back home.
And then again, who wouldn't want to be back with the S.K parivar?

nambi baby- grand mother to Che and NKSK, Janu's mother who lives with them mostly until now.

S.K- the father, the politician mostly available a few days a week at home.

apple's adam- the much loved nephew.

Kutty- really, the child. Mentally challenged they say. Sweet as a pie. the epitome of peacefulness. The luckiest of the lot, I would say.

More on them once I finish the next story...okay?

Colour Modification this....

Is it the blue skirt and the flowers on my desk that made you stare at me in silence? Could it be that I like putting flowers on my hair and I like to colour my lips that made you think I am a woman?
I can't go on with this indulgence you say, but the truth is that I still think its the colour orange that made me glow.
Here's all of it again, for you,
intoxication isn't a state of the mind. It's the willingness of the heart. Its the power to see things in their statelessness, without grief overpowering you. My unpadded feet can feel the sand, and the toes play around trying to hold the sand between them. Often going to the beach is a self imposed breach of freedom. You must feel the feeling of loss in order to correct yourself no?

The house with the granite, green in shades, the green around unsuitably crafted out, the cane in the chair and the air filled with the joy of apprehension. The grasping of the situation, it's grief laden intent to make them wait in order to bring out the bursts of sheer innocent happiness...

Do you often think in black and white? Or would that be in colour? If in colour, what may I ask dominates the frame? Please tell me it's orange! I beg of you! Even a white or a yellow I can take. But nothing more.


I can sit stand eat breathe glare smile weep dance on my toes tickle the soul out of you tell you the story of the rabbit who ate a turnip and the princess who wears the bow at her nape even today.
Its all around you in spells. Need I say more?


So as it goes, you wanted this and this you get for asking me for a while the reason I love to indulge all the while knowing it yourself.

Self indulgence! My sexy Brown dress and Me!

(warning: this post is mostly for females andopen minded males. If you know me and don't relate to my stuff, pretend that you didn't read this and we can co-exist. and besides I did warn you.)


...................................................................

Oh! Am getting there! such fun this is to find my better version or what used to be the fun version! seriously, its taken me 5 months to break sultry thoughts upon a relationship I imagined existed but its great or the feeling is emerging out! Maybe its the snow and white light shining off it thats making me feel warmer inside!

Today for instance I actually wore my snow boots n my hot pants and my woollies and felt so damn hot and gorgeous! A feeling that almost ceased to exist since the summer ended. Suddenly I'm looking forward to the trip to Poland (which starts in a day) and the stay there and meeting wonderful new people and all that jazz! I think the trip to Berlin will also be quite exciting from all the possibilities popping out of my head right now. This feeling of a day filled with possibility is awesome!

I am also thinking, next time around I will not turn away my head when a stranger approaches me at a pub for stray talk- I will drink my vodka diligently and smile with coy once again! I think I'll take my satin brown knee length dress to Poland, a friend of a friend has promised to meet up with me and show me around her city. And I am only hoping that this friend brings around some wonderful other friends of hers, if you know what I mean! Hmm maybe my nine west brown heels too, coz what if one of those hotties at the workshop can do some Argentinian tango? Who knows? The next weeks are filled with all sorts of wonderful possibilities!

I can already imagine this- me in my satin brown corsette type dress, my skin coloured strappy sandals, some pink lipstick, (Oh! and my hair has finally grown back to its original length and its quite wild now with the curls coming back! yay!) and my lovely new wildly expensive brown watch (i have a thing for brown) and some Arden Green Tea and finally the finishing touch which is my all time basic fashion essential--the Indian kajal!! Aaah! The things it does to my eyes! Love them!
Damn! I think this self indulgence is taking me to new heights! Good girl!

So, hopefully this trip should work out just fine for me, besides the work I get to meet all the lovely boys and girls and see all sorts of places and so on and on....

Updates once am back!

oh! and Its good to be getting back!!


ps: the warning was just for kicks!! See? Meeee baaaack! :P

At 4 a.m

It's 4 a.m and am at school still. Rendering images on a software that has been collapsing everytime my structures get a little more complex. It says , it can't handle that. I am now sure 3ds max is a boy.

I don't have a point today. No point to tell you but just thought I'll write some random trash. Like how I slept till 2 pm yesterday as I was in school the previous day till 5 a.m trying to render on this disobeying machine of mine. And how I had tortillas and curry at 6 am coz I was starving. Watched Penelope the second time in a month, and totally thinks that McAvoy guy is made for me. He makes my heart leap just like Al Pacino. Two men who I suppose I can't live without virtually. Oh and I also saw Ps I love you and cried my heart out.

I had planned on going out this Friday, but forgot that it was Friday and ended up in school again. This has to stop coz now I feel that I just can't do without it. Its a good thing I guess in a way.

But the tango lessons are on. I started taking lessons in tango (in order to mend my broken heart by dancing away I'd like to think) and its been fabulous. The friend who teaches me has been tolerant with my erratic behaviour and somehow puts up with it and thinks I've got talent. But last class I almost fell and we did this video thingy where we danced. But when he tried to show it to me I first refused to watch myslef on television (as I told him) and he laughed saying ' dude, its just on my laptop'. So anyways I braced myself to watch me dancing on tv and at first I almost winced at me on screen but it wasnt all that bad. For one I was quite sexy and graceful. Not bad for a beginner. But the only problem was I just learnt from that video that I am bloody fat. So I must stop eating very soon. Literally coz if this goes on the way it is my brother is going to start calling me a beach ball again.

Classes have been going on fine and I learnt that I do my best at school when I am in a hurry. I mean projects I work on for weeks together don't receive as much appreciation compared to what I prepare in an hour. But so far alls been good.

Bah! This totally sucks life at 4 am that is!

Mourning

The eyelashes are turning black blacker, the hair is being oiled, warm dripping from her hair. She keeps a half shell of metal on the stove and begins to heat it again, and just as the smoke appears, she pours in the oil dark green melting into the metal. She quickly takes the shell bowl out and slides it off her fingers onto the table. She dips her finger tips, the part that bulges into a curve onto the oil surface and smiles. She pastes a bit of the oil here and there on her scalp and starts massaging her head. She then spreads a towel on her pillow and falls asleep.

" Its raining so much but I like it..don't you?", she asks him.
"Mmm..", he mutters concentrating on his job.

She steps out into the garden, the wet feeling under her feet, the smell of rain on earth. The wind in her ears.
She can smell the fragrance of the hashish in the garden mixing with the air, the water and the earth and she smiles. The only thing familiar about her day floats about.

She goes into the kitchen and makes a pot of tea. She takes it out into the garden and starts sipping the tea, holding the ceramic cup with both her hands close to her breast. Her kajal drips off her eye and falls onto her red skirt. Her fingers are yellow and green and translucent, the oil falls incessantly. The warmth between her legs relaxes her, but the blood drips out. Her skirt turns redder. It begins to turn black. She takes another sip of the tea. The hashish. She smiles again.

It is after 6 in the evening. He walks into the garden and calls out her name. He doesn't hear a reply. He walks around.

He finds a pot on the wooden table. There is an empty cup, there is the mark of the pink lipstick on the cup.
He sits on the chair and stands up abruptly. It is black and damp. He touches it. He looks onto the grass. It has turned black and pink. He shouts out her name. No reply.

He walks back to the house. He picks up the phone and is about to dial. He notices the photograph framed of him and her by his bedside. They look happy. He keeps it down, face down.

He makes the call, tells his friends that he will meet them at the club in half an hour. He takes the car keys and steps out of the house.

But you've taken my seat....

There is one thing that makes me cringe most than many others. And that is the feeling that arrives into his eyes when he is about to make that discovery. The feeling that dawdles itself into a hurry and get hold of his breath. There is such a difference in the insights that it all seems to be a blur of thoughts, some of them too fractured to make out anything from them.

The orange colour in its full glory has the ability to press a smile on my lips. It can bring out its long textur-ous finger and place its tips on my blue lips. I can beat the dust out of the rug but then all that it does finally is settle back in, the cloud of grains drafting themselves again into position.

Am I trying too hard to be ashamed? The heart atop a pyramid being hammered into a paste the thick fluid of blood bleeding out from the hands of the doer. Is that what it is?

intoxication isn't a state of the mind. It's the willingness of the heart. Its the power to see things in their statelessness, without grief overpowering you. My unpadded feet can feel the sand, and the toes play around trying to hold the sand between them. Often going to the beach is a self imposed breach of freedom. You must feel the feeling of loss in order to correct yourself no?

The house with the granite, green in shades, the green around unsuitably crafted out, the cane in the chair and the air filled with the joy of apprehension. The grasping of the situation, it's grief laden intent to make them wait in order to bring out the bursts of sheer innocent happiness...

Do you often think in black and white? Or would that be in colour? If in colour, what may I ask dominates the frame? Please tell me it's orange! I beg of you! Even a white or a yellow I can take. But nothing more.


I can sit stand eat breathe glare smile weep dance on my toes tickle the soul out of you tell you the story of the rabbit who ate a turnip and the princess who wears the bow at her nape even today.
Its all around you in spells. Need I say more?

Excerptor

Shekharan Menon opens the refrigerator and pulls out a can of Heineken from the chiller. He then walks up to the sink and opens the can. Gulping down a mouthful of the cold beer, he starts to chop the onions. Then the green chillies and finally the tomatoes. He then begins to saute the onions. The smell of oil and green onion slices mingling in the heat perfumes the kitchen. The fragrance spreads acorss the hallway into the living, climbs up and falls under and in through the door of the rooms above. Gaya opens her eyes and blinks at the ceiling. The book lies on it front on the matte floor. A few pages folded down by its weight. She picks it up and keeps it on her table. She walks down the stairway, and into the kitchen. "Acha, lunch ready?", she asks smiling at her father.
"Yes, monu another five minutes and it will be."
"Okay then I shall set the table."
The table is set. He serves the rice on two plates. She places a fish fry each on the plates. He spreads the onion rings on the fish. She pushes aside the bowl of fruit to a side of the round glass table. The spinach thoran, beet red is put on the side. Her father gets up a time or two to get some curds, to refill the water jug. They finish the lunch in silence. She then tells her father that she will put aside the dishes and wash them. That he need not bother. He walks upto the kitchen with the bowls nevertheless. He stands by the kitchen sink watching her wash the dishes. He tells her to first take off the bits of food from the plate, throw them away and then rinse off the plates. He tells her she isn't doing it right. She says something back.

By the time she finishes the chat show on television and the lengthy hours of discussion about the Nuclear deal between India and the United States of America are yet to come to end, she finds the sky outside has turned dark. The lamps on either side of the entrance gate have been lit.
She mutes the television and walks to the kitchen. She likes its openness, the easy connectivity between the living and the kitchen. She makes herself a cup of tea, dumps the tea leaf residue into the garbage can kept under the sink and leaves it in the sink.

She can smell the fragrance of sandalwood paste all of a sudden. Its the expectant smell that floats about when her father offers his prayers to the deities. He stands on the landing of the stairway and inserts a twisted white piece of cotton fabric into the lamp holder. His fingers turn the bundle into a wormy tube and then pours oil into the brass lamp. He then lights the lamp and joins his palms together in prayer.

She meanwhile finishes her cuppa and walks into the shower.

Sleepless in *Stockholm* - part 2

wokay!! so the headaches never seem to disappear..(hmm maybe you know its going to be like Ill die of some tumor in my brain and I keep mentioning my blinding headcahes and nobody cares and then one day Pppphhhh am gone- dead! and then the whole world talks about blogger girl who died and that somebody shud have done smtg ...grrr!! ) I think melodrama is genetically stictched into my genes- and I think it comes from my mom's side. Anyways, so we are in stockhom and I am all tired and just hoping that I make it to Mango before the bus arrives to take us back. And I keep mentioning to people around me that we should stop walking in circles and just relax in a shop, smell the clothes etc. But nobody listens. Everybody has taken a sudden interest in city tour and the small alleys and souveniers. And I am all like pissed off but then again it was fun, coz we stopped at a coffee shop and fought over change and then walked by the bridge saw a rally and all that. Now the problem is that when you dont you intend to write a sequel to your post and then you dont attempt to do it for a week plus, the story sort of dissolves away. Like there was sooo much to say, but then sooo much more hapenned afterwards and then soooo the whole point of telling you the good stuff is not there anymore coz theres more good stuff. And no it has nothing to do with getting laid.
So, here I stop about the trip to stockholm. It was great and I just can't seem to remember the details of it anymore (considering 3 whole months have passed by), the photographs are doing their job now.

Sleepless in *Stockholm* - part 1

Just when you think you are all super cool and don't need any body else other than owl, its gets even worse. So I had my cruise and it was all fun in the whole cruise sort of way? Did I just say cruise sort of way? I think its time I visited my shrink. Anyway, so the boat was great, the trip to the boat was quite hazy as I was busy working hard at getting drunk and alarming a poor Bengali guy (iit-ian/culture shocked/adamantly refusing to confirm with Europoean culture for the time being kind!), who was sitting next to me in the bus. I am pretty sure he decided that I am an Indian wihtout a soul or smtg but then when I offered him a free beer, I guess he pretty much thought that I could be a nice girl if I wanted to be. Oh these boys! But its nice to scare them you know...! Like they think Oh! finally theres an Indian girl. And he thinks (when he first lays eyes on you) that you would be all so sweet and end up visiting the Pyyniki tower with him and take his snapshots in front of the eiffel tower which he could then send it to mommy dearest and then have nights ( being between 7 and 8 only) filled with daal channa and chawal! Amazing! But the problem is that in approximately 10 minutes of meeting me, they run in the opposite direction and I usually end up having *yeah-its -good-to harrass-em* sorta smile on my face. Its just very simple. Most Indian guys ( especially if they have been brought up in a sort of middle class way) end up leaving India for a masters program or Phd. just in time to find themselves refusing to believe that this isnt familiar territory. Their lives tend to be within campus, they eat only Indian food (which is cooked by them) and then stay at home if the University is closed. They talk to girls, only the Indian ones. And they try to remind each other constantly about their Indian ness.
Such Bullshit I have never seen in my life. Its sad. And then, people ask you why Indians are so shy and why tey keep to themselves. Define India they say! And honestly i can't coz its way too complicated. Coz you find an assortment of sorts here. There are people like me who are just plain loud and passed out most of the times and then there are the bengalli IItian types and trust me theres plenty more. It tough when you ask me to define my country. Verrry.
Anywaih, soo back to the cruise. Well, it was bus trip then onto boat and here, at this point I was imagining myself to be all Kate winslet (in search for a better character though) living in the elitist top deck sun bathing and trying to jump off the ship just in time to find cute boy from lowest deck holding my hand...aaaaah!!!
so the story turns out that apparently, I was in the lowest deck possible. Sun decks there were none, and cute boy dis-apparated. Soooo lonely girl and her poor friends who all lived together on poor deck just had to manage to find the fun amongst themselves. Oh! by the way before I get on with the story. If there is any one of you returning to my dad with my drunken tales.Please stop. I must confess that I do drink but then I also exaggerrate and I also have sex on the roof. and I was a monkey yesterday. So lets just enjoy the blog and leave it at that Okay? Okay!
Its actually quite nice to party and await Stockholm and its also super to know almost everbody on your deck which means if you need a brush, all you have to do is knock on the next cabin door or maybe if you can't find you pair of jeans you can do just the same. You get the picture right? So after a night of adventures trying to find a dear friend (J boy) 's clothes and trying to refrain from clobbering Loud boy who was trying to scream through the microphone to wake up everybody, we jumped onto the bus for the tour. The thing is we were pretty much wasted. All of us. And all I could think of was sleeping under my quilt till maybe the next whole week, but unfortunately, you get reminded harshly about how lucky you are to visit a wonderful city eat all you want and get laid all for 80 euros and you think Damn! Fine! Ill see the city if you want me to. So off we went and that is where all the trouble started. Two cute boys gave us the tour with explanations about nothing in the city which in a funny way taught us more about the city than one could even imagine. Then they left us all bewildered on the streets of Stockholm, and disappeared. We were told to meet back at the starting point later on in the evening and I fell in a goup with Jboy and it was tough coz the Turkish girls with us kept screaming and running up and down the street. Pretty cute. Hmm.. while J boy and Vboy etc all pretty much having no clue where they are walking away in opposite direction and one had to hold onto them to make sure if you got lost, you get lost together in big bad city. My thoughts however was on Owl (few minutes every hour) and then on the Mango and Zara shops.
I think I have a blinding headache now, but I can continue the story in part 2, which gets more interesting as thats where I decide to forget owl. Not on purpose but the big brown window stories were abandoned. Just like that.
Theres more to the story than meets the eye. You know that.

Being Delhi

It's just simply the world's best feeling. To be in Delhi. Its also the world's best feeling to be in Cochin, but Delhi wins by a tad bit more. Those colonial white houses take my breath away. Those white kurta pyjama clad newspaper reading chachoos, cotton sari clad maasees, the cook who makes the floor matte clean, the steel pots with unsuitable water, the steel plates neatly arranged with pickle, aloo paratas and yoghurt- It is comforting. I miss those things even though I almost never stay in Delhi- I am not a familiar Delhi-ite. But the few days that I do manage to grab a bit of Delhi are always happy. I love to get my money exchanged, catch a rickshaw and head to the bazaars. The bookshops. Those yummy shops smelling of fresh print and ink...MMmmmm. You can get lost in the world of books in Delhi. Well, you can get lost in any bookshop. Its easy when you love books. But the ones in Delhi make my heart beat faster. It makes me want to wear fab India, makes me want to read the White Mughal in an hour and write a thesis in JNU. It also makes me want to eat a quick gulp of paani puuri and paapdi chat and drink a whole glass of Lassi.
It makes me want to talk to the rickshaw driver and ask him how his kids are doing or his wife or lover. It makes me want to give a crisp 10 rupee note to the poor kid tagging at my kurta. Delhi makes you want to do a lot of things. Even the bath after you come back home, the clean white bathroom tiles and the chana roti dinner awaiting you is part of the city. You can then just pull your cotton kurta up, sit back on the wooden chair with cushions, fold your legs and cuddle with a book. For me even the Outlook magazine and The Week gives me a shiver down my spine to read about my country, its problems, the issues, the politics and the last page with page 3 gossip. Its all part of the city life. It is what I think I might enjoy some day when I go back. I crave for it now though.

When Mikontalo has two parties to give you...!

I had it all framed in my head as to what I should write today. I mean it ain't necessary you know to write everyday, like I am sooo not a regular blogger or anything. But I did promise two people who wanted to make an entry into it. And thus, today they will. I have to give names again....this is soooo fun!!! giving names to people, making this new world where there are all these characters. Like anne said the other day 'your blog should be called mikontalo soap opera or smtg'. I am just lethargic today....too much of anything but studying. And when I am supposed to be only studying. Endless mugs of coffee and trying to motivate myself to head to the University on a bright sunday afternoon and then anne tells me now we have to add an hour to the clock which means it is now 7.30 pm and my self motivating talks haven't yet spurned(?) me to get off from facebook!I cana ctually blog and facebook all at the same time you see! Hmph!! facebook that soul capturing voting machine that spoons your ego!!!*groan* it has to end! it reallllly has to end someday!

Sooo yesterday was good fun...not in the typical* I am drunk and can't rememebr a thing sort of way* but in the *I am drunk but I can still see people and I must take care of my flatmate way! *First there was a small spanish dinner which was kinda good fun...because there was light and never heard of type music from Longranio ( i honestly can't spell it but thats how it sounds) a city in Spain where you can find the best wine and one best man...according to Nasal who happens to be my dearest friend Hictory's boyfriend. He apparently being the best man. And then there was some good spanish food and lots of beer. We had vodka too but hictory forgot to bring juice so anne had to come over to lend us some but as you know if you have learnt chemistry that the speed at which alcohol disappears is...hmmmm whatever!! It just disappers...you know!
And I sooo wished owl (from the O that i introduced the last time) was here....so I just kept drinking however at quite a slow pace which I think was good for me 'coz I didn't end up dead drunk or anything. And then there was vodka with tea!! I never thought of mixing vodka with tea but it did happen and though the smell of it was awful it tasted like tea only.which meant that we just kept drinking tea till we got wasted. But me...no! I didnt. Smart girl that I am. And then there was nasal and hictory who looked so cute together with a bit of cheek kissing and small hugs that I wanted to marry them off right away! Priestess me!! We then decided to head of to the next spanish party which was supposed to be louder but by the time we dragged our liquor weighing souls the party was almost over and Hell!! there wasn't any music. But drunk people can get away with anything. right? yeah so we pretended to listen to music in our heads, like hictory said 'okay so its beyonce now...and we just imagine 'uh-oh-uh-oh....craaaaaazzzzzy in luuuuv' tunes in our heads and started doin quite some of those sexy turny steps and oh! we luuuv forming a circle and then pair up and go in and do sum pretty *later on regretful* steps. Like usually the next day we go like' f*^$k did I really do thaaaaaat'...but of course mainly when we are drunk as hell. I think the rest of the more sober people around us just watched us in awe like 'what are these people doing'?? kinda way. or maybe they didn't care! but after many more of macarenas and god knows what we discovered a laptop in the other room which had music so off we galloped to the next room and did this number where we are okay for like 5 seconds and then run around hitting everybody like pushing and all and then again at peace!! WOAAAA! it was funny and then as usual I got bruised and had to sit on a nearby sofa nurturing my wounds.
but I think the most touching moment when I really thought I might burst into tears was when I stood by the big brown window and watched the snow and the tall pine trees and it reminded me of owl and me watching the night sky. Damn!! I hate that. Its sooo painful when you think of these really happy moments coz after some time they turn painful.
so back to the party. Anne for a change decided to throw up. so I stood by the toilet door while she made the mess and this verry annoying boy-porcupine stood there and laughed and called us names (which I shall spare for now). and it was annoying coz he was verry kissable and then that whole bloody feeling went up in flames when he started name calling. damn you porcupines!!! well, in some time we simply left the party as there I guess wasn't anything more to do except this urge to stand by the window and reminisce those owl days. So off we went home with anne doing diagonal lines between block A and D and then toppling off on the snow, lying face up and giggling like a baby. Then a bit of acrobatics, trying to jump a construction line security wire and then somehow managing to finding her way to the flat we call home for now.
Me, as usual stayed up watching a bit of grey's anatomy, wondering why Derek couldn't sign those divorse papers ( reruns if you must know) and knowing exactly what Meredith might have felt when she finds out. After an hour of self sympathising, looking into the mirror and trying to find a new hairstyle at 4 in the morning, I snoozed off only to find myself awake at an unacceptable hour!! But tomorrow is another day, and I have a resolution to keep which I shall soon write about.
Aaaaah!ooooh! I think Anhel is one helluva cute guy! :)

The Aftermath.

Aaaaaand I am baaaack!! Exam was oookay. You know when you know like 2 words out of three? yeah. It was one of those types. I knew my conjugations I think. But I dare to check them up. cuase maybe they are all wrong. And what on earth is menna is Finnish? Had to make a sentence with menna in it. and I thought hmmm maybe I should just write 'this is menna'. but then I also wrote 'this is serttu' or something for the previous word so I didnt want the examiner to think I am a dumbo. Like what if 'menna' meant going. and so my sentence would mean 'this is going'?!? Gosh! hope 'serttu' or whatever is a thing.
So I walked home from the university and I had my head full of thoughts about the blog. It was fun and the walk wasn't so boring for a change. But by the time I entered my flat I forgot the wonderful structure that blew up in my head. Now i am racking my brains for what I was thinking of. Yes yes. Men was one of the topics. I think I was trying to figure out how to write today's blog without having 'those' in it. Oooooh! before I forget I saw two kids a little girl of about 8 and a boy maybe 6 running up and down a smallish mountain of snow. The girl was taking the lead you know and the liitle boy just kept following her around. Reminded me of a *happy* moment when I was a kid and my bro sort of did the same. *sigh* those were the days! And I just stood there and wathced them. but then I suddenly thought - man! this is soo bollywoodish....like I could cry any minute. Beh!!
yes now I remember. Its about where I live. Its one place where you can be a woman and smoke a ciggerette without people staring at you saying 'look look smoking ovaries'! and you can even wear two pig tails and one pony tail all at the same time and not a soul stares at you!! I wanna live here all my life. My reputation might change!! wooohoooo! and then my flat. Yes. I live in a flat (me!me!) like you know I pay the rent and stuff **dream come true** and my flatmates are super. Its the first time in ages that I get along so bloody well with women- 'Non judgemental taking care of you uninhibited types'. If you care ie.! We can just sit around and talk about all that you dare and it never has so far ended in a fight, snarl or whatever.
Hmm...I was just thinking. I should make my blog a little more with good manners. Too much slang in here today. wanna gonna whatever...! but today dear all lets make it an exception. okay? wokay!
So Roberta is going to lapland. But like good stuff I want to give names. The third flatmate- lets call her doby? reminiscing the elf. and anne? hmm.... lets call her A? noooo.....my sentences would fall apart- A was going there and..... A what? an apple? A scooter?? No A won't do. Okay am babbling. Lets stick to anne. cause Anne and doby sounds good. So Doby is leaving for lapland and Anne thinks that there would be silence in the flat for the next few days. I dont think Doby was too happy to hear that. And I said Oh let's have an IQIM party after she leaves.( read: Its Quiet In Mikontalo). Mikontalo is where we live. and recently we had an RWP party which means 'Robertas whatever party' as she had moved in and we had too many moving in parties in Mikontalo and we thought it would be pretty cool to say whatever party for a change.
Well it was funny, the whole IQIM i think.
So its Os birthday(in a few days) and I had it all planned out. A party with friends, me baking a cake, he being all happy, some kissing and some more. O as you would want to know is my crush. It wasn't. But then it was. So now I plan all good sfuff for him but maybe he doesn't know that yet. Doby on the other hand has this HUUUGE thing for my friend Gigo. and she sooo wants to have him. But gigo I tell you is one hard nut to crack. For now I am handling this situation very precariously. I think I prefer solving this problem than mine. Its always better to advice people than follow them yourself. So I adviced doby to tell gigo how she feels. But doby doesn't want to. And I said "look- he is a nice guy, gigo. if you tell him, he will respond whether positive or in the negative. Its better to know right? and besides he wont go around the block bragging that a girl asked him out. So just do it". But doby is running away to lapland, then to Russia. Wish I could do that. I mean when I want to tell a guy how I feel, and I dont want to coz I am scared, then just take a flight to Russia or some place! Ain't that nice? 'hi sorry I cant ask him out so lemme go to Russia'.... Hope doby musters up the courage to tell him though. She is soo pretty and nice in a nice girly way and gigo is cute with glasses and respects women kinda guy. So you know they would make quite a nice couple.
I guess with doby running away for the week, we wont be having much of gigo talks like 'do you think he meant that when he said this' kinda talk! Shoot. It will be one sad week without my elf. Maybe we might talk about O. But we don't. I shy away I think. Nooo. not shy away. I am waiting for the moment. The right moment. But what the hell is that? and when when when??? OOOOOOOhhhhh ...see so mnay Osss :)
Its snowing outside.But I am not impressed. Let me surf facebook for now. and pray a bit for the whole dobygigo thing.

when the male species disappear and happiness sets in!

So here a siting in my glass box trying to study a language I know I wont be using much. and I have an exam coming up in the next 45 minutes and I know I should be studyin but I am not. Its just that I suddenly remembered that I should write more and I feel like it right now. Some body told me that my writing makes him sad and that I should probably write when I am happy. But dear friend the problem in this disillusioned world is that we are all f!***g dis illusioned and we assume too much and then we go crashing down. Just like some of the things that has been hapennin got me without a pause the past one year...It fulfills its anniversary this april. Wohooooo...and I am still alive. So tell me- when should I write? Coz its always been like this for the past almost 365 days. Happy momnets? Yeah there were plenty - but again the problem is that it all seems to be hooked onto boy issues. Oh! damn!!! I was so happy when I was with him no? yeah ...and I was soo happy when I was with the other him too..!and these are my real happy momnets? Fuck! 27 years wated in measuring happy momnets with all the wrong people who came and went.
So here I am- resolving that my happy momnets from now on will be with anything but the male species. ( this excluding my family of course...but you know what I mean.) I should be recording them from now on. Maybe yesterday's highlight was when Anne Elise jumped about the flat claiming that I was harrasing her which wasn't all that true but what the hell. She is one of the cutest and darling-est friends I have. I mean where can you find a friend who not only cooks for you and lets you get away without washing the dishes, but who also gives you a hug without you askin for it and washes you up when you are sort of blanked out with too much alcohol...eh??
And then there were some again when we just laughed but honestly I don't remember what the topic was. You know besides the happy thoughts I hate looong sentences...they are soo fucking dis illusiioned! and now I seem to love the word dis illusioned...makes me feel that I am not! 35 minutes left for my exam and I am typing at a crazy speed so forgive me if there are about a zillion typos and by the way is it outdated to say ' zillion'...my thoughts are flooowing. So where were we? Aah - loong sentences. Yeah. Hate them. Coz you start at one end and after all those commas and apostophes you forget what the beginnenig was and then you gotto start them all over again no? Blech!
I hope I pass the exam. First time in my life I am blogging or doing something else and not studying just before an exam. Its weird yet so over powering. Oh! if you drink a lot btw do get yourslef a good diet ...maybe that way your memeory can stay good. Cos I just realized while studying that I am all fuzzed in my head. The alcohol I say!

Okay so I should get on with ahppy moments. Actually I just alsmost snared at a friend (funny guy) who hasnt bothered to turn up for any of my parties. I just didnt have the energy to act and say Ohhhh nooo prbs! love you blah blah...I just snarled...you know. But besides that so far hapiness is getting into me. Sorry dear N- didnt mean to snarl. wtf! I know you dont even know I have a blog!
Okies. thats it. No clue what I have written. but its 30 minutes to my exam and I need to grab a coffee from juvenes befor eI go hunting for the exam room. now I can't rememebr the genetiivi and partitiiveees....reminds me of peeves the ghost in the potter series!
Okay! enuf! see you with more happier moments minus the male diorama.

For I can't say it to you-

I write for you to read
I write for I want to write
I write thinking that it would make myself more clear to you
I write hoping that it would be more clear to you
I write wishing that you would understand
I write wondering why you came home
I write wondering if you would change
I write thinking of whether it was all my fault
I write because there is nothing more I can do

somewhere between homes, we find that space to kiss
somewhere in hidden grounds we manage to make ourselves feel better
and we think that with it everything will fall back to being normal
when we play games, you and I,
we know that it brings us a spring of hope,
that maybe the magic of the moment can be held within our hands
but then the moonlight fades away and you and I are strangers once again
until we find that space again.
do we do this until the light forgets to disappear?
or do we do this until we let our hearts fall apart
in my heart I blanked you off as black and white
I put you in a hollow, for me you were not.
but then I see myself in pages of stories and I wonder if
I shouldn't see it all in that way,
because maybe ....
...just maybe you feel that way too.

K.V Chandrashekara Menon.....(Thampi chetan)

That's my grandfather. He passed away a few months back.

sometime in 1983:

Thampi chetan as my grandfather was fondly called by relatives and close friends, would take his first born grand daughter ( Ammu- that's me) who was then 2.5 years or so old into his arms and show her the frogs croaking in the 'kaana' just outside their house at Panampilly Nagar. He did this everyday. It was almost a ritual. One with which he could shut the toddler from screaming and yelling her lungs out. He did this solely at the request of his wife ( dear old Thangamani- real name: Sharada) who at that time every morning, was busy grinding 'thenga chamandeey' and steaming idlis for breakfast. This he did- for she was busy and the child ( her eldest daughter's child) was excruciatingly intolerable in the mornings ( only - I hope).

Ammu would wake up in the morning, but she would never open her eyes. This first thing she would say is, 'Ammummaaaaa paaaaaal' ( translate: Grandma Milkkkkkk). Only once the milk in the big steel glass was brought to her would she sit up on the bed and open her eyes. Gulping down the milk, twisting her hair with her fingers, glass in one hand, hair panicking in the other, Ammu started her day, this way, everyday, for a little more than a year. Then she would put in her index finger deep into the steel glass and scoop as much of the un-dissolved sugar that remained at the bottom and put the sugar sodden finger into her mouth. Then she would start crying, because usually by then the grand mother is back in the kitchen and the child is alone. She needs the attention. Thats when the grandfather comes by to show her the frogs.

This calms her a bit.

My grandfather, was a businessman. He also wrote. He was an author in Malayalam. I have his books somewhere in my house, packed up. Everyday after he would come back home from work, he would take me onto his lap and tell me stories. They weren't from any story book. He just spun one each day for me.
Ammu is my pet name. A name that's mine at home. And in the stories that he told me, Ammu was the lead. She was the captain of the ship, the pilot of the air balloon, the heroine. She was never the princess, or the queen in his stories. She was a person with a role that was functional and solid. A role that demanded brains and valour both together. Ammu's co- stars were her cousins from her father's side. Anu and Deepu ( short for Anoop and Dileep). When Ammu was the captain of the ship Anu would usually be the cook and Deepu in charge of the sails. They were the 'famous three' so-to-speak. They had an adventurous life. They battled it out in strong seas, against heavy winds and Ammu often saved the trio and ship from topsy-turvy-ing into the ocean.
When the trio would set off in their hot air- balloon, they would traverse across the forests of Kerala and the house of Panampilly Nagar, often the balloon getting caught up on a tall tall coconut tree. And who else could save them from plummeting into malady but dear little Ammu!

These stories, were spun maybe on his way home from work, or maybe just the moment while I was sitting on my appoopan's lap. No matter how he made them, those stories was our relationship. It was our foundation.
Ammu exists even now. In that brick-concrete house in Panampilly Nagar, where she lived a couple of years. She still goes out into the ocean braving it all. She flies through the skies too.



Sometime between 1991 and 1994:

Ammu is between 10 and 14 years. She is a full fledged Gulfy. And like all of them do, she would visit PNagar home during the summer. She still remembers them, those days.
The heat of M.G Road and the frequent shopping with her mother. What she looked forward to the most was her trips to PaiCo. At first the one on Mg Road was alluring. But then the one on Broadway was even better. The collection to Ammu at the time was satisfying. She hadn't seen so many books hunched up together like this before. The smell of books pleases her. Makes her hungry. This craving to read.
One such day, as her mother was paying up the bill at the Paico cash counter, she saw a random book sticking out of the shelf. She ran to it. Rebecca of Sunny Brook Farm- it said. It was a thick book but the price label didn't match up to the volume. Her mother permitted her to buy it.

She started reading the book just after she got home. And it was completed a few days later.
Those days, her family would leave her alone to read while they went visiting old friends, relatives and so on.
She was inspired to write a poem about a portrait and the word 'nape' stuck to the pencil tips.
She was also inspired to write something about the cows, a reminder to the 'pashooo park' ( Cow park) in the neighbourhood, where as a child she was taken to by her grandfather.

She was also inspired by the red bricks that formed columns to her grandfather's car porch as well as the smell of the earth when it rained. All this she gathered, mixed it with an element of Rebecca, and just like lively, flamboyant Becky, so did Ammu conjure up poems and essays in the airy bedroom on the first floor of her granfather's house.

Around this time, she had also managed to read through the entire descriptive volumes of Ramayana and Mahabharatha ( courtesy: her mother's younger sister). She devoured every word of it and when her grandfather would return home at 4 in the afternoon, she would sit in front of him and tell him the story.
It almost felt like she was returning him the favour. One that he did for her years ago. but no. No favor this. It was the first column stemming out of their foundation. The one they laid out years ago. He for her.


Sometime in 2006:

Appoopan is getting old. He is no longer in the house in Panampilly Nagar. He is in Muvatupuzha. He sits in the verandah every morning, first to read his morning paper, in the afternoons staring at the chembarathee and late evenings simply listening to the radio before he goes to bed. He remembers the stories. He still reads though his vision is getting blurry.


My appoopan passed away one morning. They say it was a mild heart attack. It was just around the time I had a terrible fight with my then husband and I decided to get a divorce. It was just around the time when I was wishing the old Ammu would resurface. It was just around the time I was wondering how to put the news across to my grandfather who found me the suitable boy. It was then that the phone rang, and they said that he passed away with his hand clasped to his chest.
I guess he did it for my sake. To ease the burden off me.

I keep on going.....

Its a quiet morning, I can see snow fallen on my window ledge, and all over the ground. Its white, spread like a cotton bedsheet. I saw snow for the first time a few weeks ago. My first real touch of it was only then. I love the way the snow makes a soft yet tough crunchy sound while I walk over it in my snow boots.
I love waking up in the morning, to make myself a cup of coffee and watch the morning sky. I love to feel the day unfolding. When I turn on my laptop and check my email. Its simply the feeling that I wait for the minute my eyes open from sleep.
It's afternoon. And I love the thought of cooking lunch. The chopping of onions, the slicing of tomatoes, removing the rough ginger skin and slicing and dicing the garlic. I love the way the garlic pods cling together in bunches, the way they sit around in my fridge.
I love the smell of onions saute-ing in oil. The smell that spreads all around in my kitchen, which wanders off into my living room just as it pleases. Then there is the spices. Corriander, turmeric, red chilly, fennel and curry...all mingling with the onions and tomies.

I love the evening cuppa. The time when its time to wind up, to slow down, to sit back on your couch and check the last bit of the day's mails. The time to sift through the shelves for a movie to watch again. The time to light a ciggerette and watch the sun set. The time to just lie on the couch and think, to let your mind wander.
I love it all. even through a period when there is no hope, even when there is much hope, even when your heart feels it is carrying too much, even when I am gay and happy...just happy to touch the snow, to be here and breathe it all in. I simply love it.Don't you?