letter to mi amore (if one might excuse the mush)

i didnt want to write to you- write write you know. i didnt want to put down what i felt, i didnt want to express myself in black and white (and grey). i didnt even want to grandstand.

it just happened. i am high with glee right now. so glad that i finally fond my tablets of sinus medicine that i could sing. the 2 soda pops i had for dinner might also have something to do with this.

i ont want to be conventional- to an extent i guess im not, we're not, bt neither is this post/letter/rant/ramble. it begins with i dont instead of i do. i didnt, to be precise.

so here is a list of things i didnt do today.

i didnt buy cough medicine. nor did i get any rest.

i didnt talk to regis either though. if thats any consolation.

i didnt shop today, except to buy a funny wooden thingie for mum- to take home.

i didnt not buy a pair of tan shoes on sale, which saili convinced me not to let go of. pathetic sentence construction yes, but they were at half price. and i paid using cash. i didnt buy the sexy little knickers or the funny little pink pajamas. i didnt buy any arbit clothes, jewellery or makeup. nor even snglasses.

i didnt think ofyou for a complete half hour (i was helping saili buy sneakers and shoes etc)...until she asked me about you

i didnt discard the idea of viitng you as impossible. i think its rather workable as a matter of fact.

i didnt say i love you once in this post/letter/rant/ramble/whateverthefuckyouwannacallit.

i didt even say call me when you get back from brunch/whatever.

come to think of it, i didnt even say that i missed you.

Why do I let you hurt me?

Why do I let you see me cry?

Where is the magic that used to be us-

Was that wishful thinking on my part?

why can’t I see that you’re tired of me

that this whirligig has come full circle?

How is it that I can never be me

When did all of that start?

Why don’t you notice how I ache for you

That I’m trying so hard to stop

Laying my head on your naked chest

Looking around me for another life

Why can’t we be happy apart?

SWOT.

SWOT.

SWOT.


No. None. Never. Nein. Nicht. Nyet. De Nada. Na.

sickness is misery. the color of despair, go-make-me-die,and i wish i were dead disgust. it is the color of infected phlegm.

i sniff and cough and try to inhale without feelnig as if im breathing in hot ash. doesnt work. maybe the dust of the city doesnt agree with me- im sure it doesnt- becasue since ive come here ive downed endless bottles of cogh syrp, scalded my nostrils taking steam and rubbed pot pon pot of viks on me.

i wish i were back in a damp place again..breathing was such an agreeable activity there

you're a great girlfriend, he said to me, and i still agree. (i would probably be more convinced if he were still with me but that i think is more to do with him than me)

push, don't shove. either way you'll be called a nag!

the best thing to do, i think, is to know when to ask/caress/nag and when not to. i m not saying im perfect at this- is that even possible?! but i try. with mixed results...

sorry about that- i was distracted by dinner- chicken biryani- they give you pitiful amounts, one half soup bowl and the chicken takes up so much room you gert only a few spoons of rice

i like biryani rice. i couldnt care less about the meat. im not that great a meat-eater.

i was ranting- was i? can't be bothered now. all i can think of is going home, getting a glass of wine [do i have any glasses? need to do chores :(] and oiling my head. yuky i know but still..and watching LOTR on dvd.

maybe i can watch all 3?

nothing scheduled for the weekend..might shop a bit for my cal trip, but honestly dont see the point. need to pick up cookies for my brotehr but theyd go bad..no i dont like cookies so i wont consume them../.have an early gym class ...sigh! so much for sleep.

life is a bit of a joke. esp wen people dump you because you're f*** ill.

i had a terrible time at work today...loads and loads of notes piling in just as i was trying to wrap p my report. but work is good, it helps you focus.

the numbness of the past week is fading away. the bravado is almost all gone and i'm still wondering how ill deal with the shock once it sinks in.

sat staring at the white guards on top of the opposite cab's wheels and thought of death. how nice, how simple it would be to forget my committments, family..everything and just lie down with a stomach pumped full of medicines....to know tht this sleep would be your last, your longest.

if only i could be certain that i wouldnt regret anything in that split second before sleep overcame me, i would do it today- ell tomorrow considering that all the medicine shops are closed by now.

'i'll die without you'

is all too easy to say. i wonder when it comes down to the final analysis, will i be able to do it?

having you was bliss

hving you and holding you was even more so- not holding you was the hardest bit of all

and now- it is no hardship to be alone
and if i love me,. why shold it be?

is a dream really a wish your heart makes
whe you're fast asleep?

poor cinderella. how decieved you were! poor, poor cinderella!

dreamt of past glories today....early morning dream the type you remember and carry with you all day.

dreams of spacious rooms wierdly distorted. personalities warped.

with only the memories of what they were remaining.


i took your pictre down today. i will not carry it in my heart anymore.

colour me silver

slowly silently now the moon,
walks the night in her silver shoon
this way and that she trnsand sees
silver fruit upon silver trees
one by one the casements catch
her beams beneath the silvery thatch
coched in his kennel like alog
with paws of silver sleeps the dog

color me black

the color of the night
and an arabian hennaed palm
faux goth nailpolish and the tinker's disgusting teeth.


color me navy

as rich a blue as a schoolgirl's skirt
or ink blotted fingers after an exam
a shade that goes beyond indigo.

color me white

but that can't be, white is for shroud and/or purity

don't color me red- the red of blood
the red of sleepless eyes, the fire of a blush.

color me all or none of these...as you please

but for one day only- color me free.

you ain't never gonna burn my heart out

je regrette

people say i have an okay life. i have an okay job, live moderately enough- so they think, i dont smoke, i rarely drink and i dont sleep with arbit strangers.

whats okay?

i live a semblance of a life. a closet dreamer, trying desperately to be pragmatic.
a shopaholic with a problem. i need to learn not to spend.
i'm in over my head with debt.

my job's all right, but the pay isn't so great. and this city, in a word, sucks.

somany regrets in such a short lfie...what did i ever get right?

i went abroad....scraped out adegree. passed. left thecountry and returned home. got a job after a while.
in a city i'll never learn to like.

i regret coming back- not even trying to struggle there.
iregret exceeding my income...so very often....

i regret having left home. why couldnt i just live with my mum?

i regret being spineless..with no will to do anything. no sense to stop ymself from falling into folly.

impotent anger bt with no desire to change myself.

stuck with a man who fears committment...even after 2 odd years. who doesnt even try...who hurts me almost all the time.

impotent desire.
languid denial.

i wish i knew the differnece between to have and to hold.

to let go.

to have peace.

to forget innisfree, and live in this world

with all her squalor, splendor and slime.

her sordid truths.


i want to live...i want to not be me...selfish little bitsch that i am.

i want to get out of this insane relationship while i can.

someone who hurts me so badly now will neer do better in the future.

i want to quit my job.

i want to go home.

and i want to pay off my debts so that i can....

go home.

i'm moving. blogs, not homes.

cheerio!

A few of the many(!) things that bug me.

(yo, S- you listening?)

1. I HATE being patronised, especially with pseudo intellectual bullshit.

2. Being called 'buddy'. I ain't a dog, yeh?

3. People looking for autobiographical links to my writing. Give it up. I just wallow in the darker emotions, I'm not a mental case...not yet anyway.

4. People asking me what relation coffee has to my work. None, except that it keeps me awake.


5. Being blog tagged. It really, REALLY irks me. No, I can't think of another 7- 9- 11 people to tag. And no, I can't randomly list my favourite books or music, nor can I presume to guess why others find me attractive or the reverse.

6. Being given strange nicknames. Caffeine Addict's been chosen because I choose not to reveal my name here, but that doesn't mean that you can mangle it anyhow.

7. Being asked why I'm so angry. If I knew why, I'd probably have done somethnig about it by now.

8. Being asked 'are you indian'? what dpes that have to do with anything?

9. comments like nice blog u got here....drop by mine...courtesy demands that i do anyway.

gnite, all.

you flew in from a land of mists
with tears in your eyes
for the angels you left behind.

over tea and chilli we talked
about husbands and lovers
and a distant mysitc land.

you drove me up north
up to where the sky hangs low
and "peace comes dropping slow."

i danced for you; but your hips
are welded close, and your giggles
drowned out the music.

long walks, and Quadrant tours
are passed, and we relax
into our Easter rhythm.

So much time, so little of it,
has gone by. and the angels
call to you in dreams.

Returning home is easy
and i smile into my cup
knowing we'll meet again.

For Gaki...

Misericordia!

all is asleep, all slumber softly
hope and peace nestle side by side
my sister tosses and turns this way
and i grimace on the other side

all is asleep, all sleep quietly
within our hearts is some despair
she tosses this way, i the other
and we punch the bolster in the way

all is asleep, softly snoring
and i've got a fug in my eye
i look for you to tuck me in
but no, you're out of sight

all is asleep, all tu whit to whoo
a solitary owlet cries
i punch an imagined pillow mate
leaking tears for that empty side.

Written in a bleak (and broke) mood

Mansi sits at her laptop, calmly ignoring the pain clawing its bloody way up her left side. An old Lata Mangeshkar song plays, and scented oil clouds the air of her room. It is late March, and by all accounts, spring has sprung. She is glad of her green sweater top, and shudders at the glistening raindrops winking at her window.

A stubborn piece of code is acting up, putting her CSS design right out of reckoning. She frowns, and tests it again, on a different browser. It still does not work. She would have liked to get up and have a cup of tea, but there’s no one to make it for her. Her assignment list is miles high, and her room like a mini dump. Clothes needing laundering mix cheerfully with freshly washed ones, and the iron looks dolefully at a solitary boot. Mansi stretches her legs, and inadvertently kicks over the rubbish bin again.

She sighs, and leans towards it, and slides off her chair.

“Bloody FAKKIN hell!”

She straightens and hits her head against the table, which immediately causes the mounds of paper perched atop it to wobble. A paper landslide ensues.

“I HATE deadlines,” is followed by a string of fruity expletives. She manages to restore some order to the chaotic mess on the floor and swings up to her chair again, wincing at its hardness on her now tender arse. The music is abruptly turned off as she blinks her sleep fug off, and gets back to typing.

“Aha! A simple, stupid error. Forgot to close that bracket…” she lights her sixth fag of the day. Strictly speaking, smoking isn’t allowed in any of the university’s accommodation, but she’s wrapped a plastic bag around the smoke detector. She draws deeply, sighing with pleasure.

The rest of the code works like a dream. She tests it out on Firefox, brilliant. Firefox is the most unforgiving browser…it’s a nightmare if you’ve made any errors…

Hidden somewhere among all the junk is her mobile phone. It rings now, and she jumps. It’s past midnight, too late for her family to be calling.

“Hullo!” –snarled.

“Hello, missus, you comin out tonight?”

It’s her classmate Betty. “No, it’s late dammit, we have a project to hand in tomorrow, it’s pissin it down with rain and I’m fuckin broke. So no, I am not coming out tonight.”

She grits her teeth, and punches the wall.

...Thank you for being there, always.
And for being mine.

I don't quite know anything much. I don't know anything, as a matter of fact. I'm just your average loser.

Spudheaded.

I don't know why I went on and on about postgraduate study...a PhD, blah. I don't quite think I belong in here. Anywhere perhaps.

My world is with you...but then your world has no room for me.

Isn't it?

I don't fit into any tradition. I overdo things, underestimate other things..and walk around in a brainfreeze. I can't write. I can't market.

I can't do anything.

Maybe we're better off alone?