I'm Good.

No Not in the sense of Goodness or so. Its just that, I've been posting sort of exceptionally emo stuff on my blog and though people identify with it, I realize that this is only the sick-rose me who's like counting another year without a valentine or anything related to love and allthat.

Yes, er... frustration I guess. Its a bit like gas. Its sort of uncomfortable around your chest, but once you've belched it out, it gets better, though your stomach hurts a bit afterwards.

Umm. Bad image.

Change topic.

A big heart. I heart one big heart shaped chocolate that I saw today when I was out with Sandy. Ooh. Big chocolate.

Yes I am fishing for chocs.

Ah, and I am leaving for a Vacation. Because I need some time to recover from all that has been going on till now.

Oh dear Lord... YES!!! I am. Finally.

And with someone I love.

YesYESyesYesYES!!!!

Oh yes.

Its going to be cold there. And there shall be booze.

Peep's boycotting V-day.

I would not do that if I were her. I would not. Its just not fair to not give the old saint a chance. I shall so do something crazy this year. And I would not mind doing that, too.

People have random crushes on other people all around me. Ah! Love is in the air.

Or in people's heart at least.

I wrote this poem a year ago. It was pretty er... but I guess I have the time to waste and because its my blog, I can do anything... and if someone does not like the way I write he/she can just click the mouse on the x and be off.

I'll wipe the pages clean

And start afresh.

No more of mismatched lines

Where the rhythm shall miss

The flow.


Therefore I'll be a bubbling brook

Flowing where life should go...

And this pen and paper

Are too narrow to stop me.

I shall go beyond the words

And my meaning will show

Through something more than

The mere words that trap me.

You again!

So what if one day I look into your eyes and see nothing but friendship? I can and do live with it. Even if I know that inside I am being smothered by that friendship, I can never tell you what you mean to me and how much I need you or silly things like that which comes between you and me.

You know, that is the problem. We are similar people who are afraid of each other. Afraid? No no. Wary is more like it. We move around the topic, skirt around the game, but we both know one day its going to be out.

And I know you can't handle the truth so why don't you sit on your pretty ass and smile back? Why take those moments to watch me (and I know when you watch me when you think I am not aware) and then pretend nothing is up? Why make those moments of non-performance with me? Why?

I want to tear you apart and see what you are inside. I want to chew your guts and ingest them. I want to make you such a part of me that you won't know where I begin and you end.

But I won't.

Because for my life, I shall never tell you what you are and how much you mean to me. Even after what we have done. Even after this whole mess.

I won't. Just you see. You were different once. Now you are not. Now you are not.

Not too Far...

I just realized today that I have been doing things and thinking... Ah, one day I shall look back at this and laugh.

I think I am making memories. Making up the "Good Old Days" which I shall recall when I sit beside another nutter in an old-age home (though I have serious doubts about reaching that age... with my repute I shall probably be long dead).

Anyway, memories. Memories. They are so weird sometimes. You think of something and then Poof! Its there in a flash. Like its happening again right in front of you. And you can't change it. Ever.

You know, I realized that its always the Good Old Days we look to. Even when we are kids, every moment forward is a sort of degradation. Its like, you are yearning from some past memory, a point in the past when you did this or That. I do not know what... but somehow its this insatiable need to be back to a point when you were .... should I call it Innocent? No. Its more... Uncorrupted.

Blake-ian.

I wrote something in my diary three years ago. Its true on retrospect. I promised to myself that there would be a knight in a shining armour for me too. One day, I will be like Rapunzel (without the long hair of course) and someone will help me escape and then take care of me. Now I have found the Knight.

Unfortunately when I peered inside the shining helmet, I found a mirror.

Long walks help. Music helps. This incurable hunger, loneliness... I am like a wolf searching... sniffing... thirsting.... but then, I am too much of a free-spirit to ever settle down with one individual. I shall probably crave freedom after awhile. Love is attached to a kind of confinement, not in itself, but what it entails is confining. That is why being in love hurts so much, because you are constantly struggling with the confinement around you, and you cannot explain how badly it hurts. You only feel the taste of what it does to you.


Oh My God. Please do not tell me I have been spending time to write this. Who reads this anyway? I shall be splendidly cook-y and give recipes for rum balls soon.

Fudge Brownies, anyone?

The last three days were like whirlwind. Shook me up.

Beautifully.

I love this sense of being driven from one extreme to another... floating aimlessly anywhere... and loving that feeling all the while. It is like when you least expect life to turn up trumps, it does.

So Tim Supple has become the talk of this town with his adaptation of A Midsummer Night's Dream. I sat on the fourth row the first time I saw it with Chu. I was mesmerized. Wow was the only word that could ever describe what I felt. I felt like I was floating in unreality.... and the experience was repeated when I saw it the following day with P from the last row on top... and it was the same. P claimed it was something out of a dream. "As if... this is no longer Kolkata... I am in some place that is unreal."


The only flaw that I thought was perhaps there... was the handling of Titania's speeches. But otherwise, the play was all good. And the score was brilliant. The wild frenzy and the mild jingles mingled merrily at the end, and I stood up and clapped. I could not believe the beauty of it... no matter where I sat.

Okay, so I drank a few glasses of rum and realized I was supposed to bake brownies for the picnic the next day, and it was One in the morning. So, all right... with shaking hands and giggling mouth, I proceeded to make brownies. Thank the Lord I had everything in hand, otherwise they would've been all messed up.

At this point, Statutory claim : Please try this at home, y'all.AND THIS MEANS YOU, CHOCOLATE ADDICTS!!

What I did was take around 125 gms of soft butter and whip it till its creamy and fluffed up like ruffled feathers.... then I dampened all the enthusiasm of it by pouring in a cup of sugar and smooshed it. It went all buttery sugar-ball mixture. At that point I added around 5 eggs (Mind, I am cooking for 15 people here) and sort of whipped them around. When I, in my drunken stupor, stopped feeling up the side of the fridge for an entrance, I got half a jar of condensed milk out of it, and poured whatever I could not gulp down my throat fast in the mixture. I sort of stir it around a bit, just to get the flavour going.

Now, the flour. My difficulty was in getting the measure of flour and baking powder together. In the end I sort of gave up on the baking powder, and added what I thought was a teaspoon to it. I really don't know the finer details, but I think I did pour it in the bowl of flour (around 350 gms of it).

Then came the difficult part. Breaking and melting.

The CHOCOLATE.

I could not believe it when I found out Milk Compound (that is semisweet cooking chocolate) for 95 bucks (for 500gms) from New Market. I got it and i broke around 3/4th of the chocolates.

Now I think I added around 2/3rd of the chocolate nuggets into the damn brownies. The rest I melted and then added. By this time the flour went in, with around 50 gms of cocoa powder and a cup of boiling water after the whole thing looks slightly dry. At this point I put in 100gms of walnuts, but if you want you can avoid it. The rest is mix-tory. I seriously don't remember pouring it in the greased baking tin. I remember putting it to bake at 180 degrees, but thats because thats the preset of our oven.

Okay, so there I was in all my drunken glory, when I hear a scream.

I ran out, and I found our driver's second wife and his girlfriend standing outside our house, making a big racket.

WTF?

So apparently, the driver got drunk and threatened them with a knife. They immediately complained to the cops who shoved him in the lock-up. He went in quite happily, claiming... "Dada chharabe" (assumed my dad will bail him out). They came over, panicked, that my dad, the sucker he is, shall do exactly that. They did not want him out.

Oh damn! There goes my car and driver. I can't drive!!

I sort of stayed up all night, because by the time this was over, it was three in the morning, and the brownies were done. Do you guys think I stood there and wrung my hands and thought ... OH DEAR LORD, A LARGE BATCH OF BROWNIES.... WHAT DO I DO!??!

Hah!

So I knocked down copious amount of the brownies... still lava hot because the chocolate chunks inside have melted, and downed them. The rest I frosted with white chocolate melted together with butter.

Comments about the brownies went like "Go Die Cookie Jar!!" and "Panu You Have Created Sin."

The Picnic. Oh man!! It was awesome!! I love The Tramp, Dhruva and Peep. They were AWL fabulous. I even have pictures of Peepsy being fabulous.

Aw HOW WE ARE WONDERFUL NOWADAYS.

I Loved the Day. I wish It would have never ended. It was beautiful. From dawn to dusk. And even after that.

By the way, the day ended with a few glasses of Absolut Vodka.

Ah, I love this life as of now.

Yes Yes I am hedonistic.

But hey, Its nice.

Four in the Afternoon.

Sudden changes sort of leave the Panu stunned. But the city is beautiful now. Its all glowing softly in the afternoon and looks like a warm place to be when inside she is getting the first chills. Its all good, she says. Happens. It does happen. People go away. Its not a big deal.

So she's taken to the refuge again. Headed for the hills.

She is.

Going places.

Quite happy, she incidentally is. The life she leads is beautiful. Its cold, but then, beauty is best eaten cold.

So then she sings Dylan and says she's like a rolling stone.

I gather no moss. I flit. I flow. I move.

Love my randomness. Love my passion. Love the fact I am a fool, because then I can overlook so many things that others cannot.

I love myself as of now. For getting where I am now. Let me just take a breather and look around. Life is beautiful.

I should not be writing this but let me tell you, gentle reader, that the winter requires chapsticks.

Its a must for all.

For grave reasons.

On other news, friends are friends. They just don't stop being friends because they go away. They just go distant, but somehow you realize that a friend is a friend is a friend. He/She/It (because I consider the Moon to be amongst my closest buddies) is someone whom you carry inside you. They can be the Star, they can be the Sun, they can be the Lily, they can be the World, they can even be the Empress of your soul, call them what you like.... but you loved them in a moment and you carry that moment around with you for the rest of your existence, and you live your life over those little moments that gather dust on the shelves until you give them a tiny dusting, and they are refreshed.

Sometimes you feel the obvious temptation to leave it all away and start over again, but for these moments you just fail to, because they are what you let yourself be... what you make yourself of.

These moments bring to mind the incredible number of lost scenes that you could have, should have, would have remembered, but you don't bother because its not worth the space inside your mind. Your mind is a vast stretch of forgetfulness, and you mourn your age because you fail to remember certain things about yourself.

And all that matters at the end of one day is that you move on from this moment to that, and blow a ring of smoke to the world, with wishes for fulfillment.

Andro. I wish you luck sweetheart. I won't miss you much, because part of me is there with you and part of you is here in me, and I'll look back and smile on this one day.

Just a Thought...

Despite being crude and loud in a lot of people's opinion....

I sort of....


Kind of....

Rock.

Never was one to mince words....


And where was I? Oh yes.


Yesternight was sort of surreal. I do believe that Yesternight is not really a proper word... but I shall use it. Had a sleepover with three of my very good friends from school. Its the kind I like... with booze and lots of girly talk. My Adt's gotten married and all, so we were sort of getting all the juicy (ahem) details from her about the life and love of....


Whatever. About three o'clock we were all sufficiently frustrated because the Smirnoff was gone and we were sort of wondering (slightly befuddled) what to do.

And then S had a Brilliant Plan.


At this point Statutory warning: DONT TRY THIS AT HOME. Please. Please. Please.


So there we were at three o'clock in the morning minding our own business over leftover chips, and out comes a pack of light golden brown hair colour from S's bag.

"Lets go blonde!!" She Squeals.


We were very Smirnoff. We agreed.


And therefore I woke up this morning with my hair resembling Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands
. After two hours of rigorous shampooing and lots of conditioning.... it looks like this.


Trust me, it looks worse. And I still cant believe I am blonde. Maybe a brownish shade of blonde, but blonde nonetheless. I even had blonde moments today. Shit.


On other news.... I have resolved this new year never to mix alcohol and permanent hair colour. Bad combination.

But hey, at least I did not end up looking like S. She got her hair coloured in patches. Now she is the proud owner of the dalmatian look. Which means she has splotches all over her hair.

Yes Lord Justice is Thine.


Ah well.... height of frustration : go blonde.

Apparently There are A Lot of Things....

That I know of. Like the time I tried to prove to this friend of mine that I was better in fisticuffs.

Result : One broken Incisor. His.

Yes I was a vicious person. Vindictive and vicious.

Its how childhood is. Whenever I talk of it, I draw the outlines and fill them up with pastel shades. Bright, primary colours. They tend to make the black borders stand out.

When I was a kid I hated black. I used to love the night because it was Navy-Blue and studded with silver stars. I remember being seven and going upstairs to the secluded roof and find a little ledge... at around twelve o'clock in the night. My father used to go there sometimes too. He was not afraid of the dark, either. We used to think up plans to scare Ma.... One day Dad climbed on the little ledge and sort of slithered his way to the kitchen window to scare Ma by knocking on it.
I still remember Ma screaming out loud.

Yes!!

He used to tell me stories.... One day he told me about Nishir Dak... there was a Tantric ( a person who practices tantra)who was given a lot of money by a rich man to save his son from sure death. The Tantric took a coconut and cut its top off. Then he enchanted it with powerful deadly tantra. Then, he went out to the village on a night when no moon rose to protect the villagers, and called out the name of one member of each house thrice. If any man answered, his soul was automatically pulled out of him to be enclosed within the little coconut. The tantric then sealed off and poured it in the body of the dying boy.

I remember someone once calling my father at around one o'clock in the morning... and a frightened me clamping a palm over his mouth because I was that afraid he would answer and then his soul will be captured.

Memories. How they sometimes come back to you...