A Write-up for my Matrimonial - self boasting completely insane Ad about myself 

You lose my attention when you start to write ‘r’ for ‘are’ and ‘u’ for ‘you’.

I believe there's more to this world than what you see. I am an Idealist.

I do find my ideas wild and crazy. I am always up to something.

I am a huge rebel and don't like following anyone else's rules.
Mostly I speak my mind and I am not afraid to do so.

That doesn’t mean that I do not respect the elders in my family.

A day off at home would start in the kitchen and end with a good book.

Depending on company, I don’t mind going to a movie or shopping or even better, volunteering for a good cause. 

Now for the negatives, I admit that I am short tempered and I am a fitness freak! I freak out if I have to exercise J (duh! That doesn’t mean I am inactive.)

Off late I have become a workaholic and am thoroughly enjoying what am doing! I am looking for someone who is settled in India or wants to settle down here in a year or two.

You might probably be wondering that I am 30 and still not married?, Well I guess I am looking for someone who is more or less like me and fun to be with. And honestly, I don’t feel a day older than 20!

So far so much! Rest if we meet!

Best of Luck and Some More!

At another time, At another Place

(A Sneak Peek)

Chapter One

Change the Ceiling!

Who doesn't love the rain? It was pitter patter time. We all need a place to live, four walls and a ceiling, sumptuous food and ample sleep. I was recalling the events that had occurred over the past couple of days. An irresponsible reply over food which disturbed our whole night’s sleep, made us shift our ceiling;

Let me explain in detail, we lived in a paying guest house in Bangalore. A city where all are welcome (There is a saying in Tamil “Vandhavarai Vazhavaikum Chennai”, meaning Chennai gives life to anyone who comes to it. Now Bangalore is stealing all the credit and the people from Chennai J );

Paying Guest accommodation (PG) A. K. A. PGs are more than normal houses where families live together. PGs are a typical example of India coming together for one cause – finding shelter. I had seen girls from Delhi, Orissa, Tamilnadu, Kerala, Karnataka, West Bengal, Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh all under one roof.

All you need to start such a thing is a big house (either your own or leased), a cheap cook flown from a remote part of a remote village, and a few connections with people who connect you to unlimited supply of vegetables, Gas cylinders and yeah that’s about it. The rest – unclean bathrooms, filthy kitchen, bugs and finally depression will follow incidentally. Plus if the cook takes a bath or washes her hands with soap after using the loo, well thank your stars, you have a really lucky day ahead!

The kitchen needed an in charge, a cook was brought in. The cook on her part brought in more filth and cockroaches. The roaches informed of a treasure to the mice. And to catch the mice, the PG owner brought a cat. Unfortunately the lazy cat could never catch a single mouse. The smartest of the mice who made us run for our lives was anointed “Manglu”. In-numerous amount of complaining to the PG owner who speaks with a sugar coated tongue especially if its rent time of the month, went waste. We were listened to but never taken seriously. The icing on the cake (or should I say yogurt) was when we found maggots floating in our food. That was the last thing we could bear. We started to look out for alternatives.

It was my birthday, the first of July. I had always wanted to be alone on my birthday. But thanks to the friendly nature of my friends :), I had always ended up in having people celebrate my birthday with me, for me. We had packed all night cursing the PG owner and his stealthy wife. The owner had a wife who actually stole food from my room. I had kept few sweets and raisins in stock as a part of my weekly offering to a Demi-God, which I do on every Thursday. This time around the stock which would usually come for couple of months vanished in couple of weeks. The sweets were not the only thing, pickles, biscuits, name it and they vanished from my room. I had initially suspected my roommate but did not dare to ask her anything. She in turn thought by the look of me that I was the one who was ravishing all the food so quickly and that too without sharing it with her. Then ultimately we found out that since we do not lock our room, the owner’s wife who comes very often to the PG, sleeps in my roommate’s bed and eats my stock of food. On one hand we found it atrocious but on the other we had fits of laughter trying to imagine it all. Thus my roommate and I became friends.

More to come....................

Seasonal

Seasons change but only slower than people.
Cold snow on an autumn branch,
Shivers of Chicago wind;
The million times I’ve slipped in ice;
Summers ablaze with tanning sun;
Rainy night, a kiss to remember;
Of all the seasons, the one that remains forever,
Is the season of love!
The Love that did not last forever,
But scarred the heart with memories that do not perish;
A seasonal change – much needed.
Will it happen?

The Present

As always, I sit to write because there are a million thoughts trying to breakout like the bubbles from a bottle of champagne and free them out of the building pressure. Even today I am in pain. Pain, not because love had left me but because I had loved. It is easy to point out that I had made a wrong choice. But in love, there nothing is wrong and nothing is right. I have really lost this game and have no energy left in me to fall in love again. Every morning in my dream, just before I wake up, I run and I run as fast as I can with tears unstoppable which match the pace. And it rains, heavily. My tears blend with all the pitter-patter and so does the scream of my heart. I want to scream as loudly as I can and cry my heart out. But then, I look around and hear my Mom trying to wake me up and then I tell myself, you can’t show even an iota of weakness especially when YOU are the core strength of someone else. And I live.

Hearty!

I put my heart in an empty bottle.
Sealed it with a cork of love,
Looked for the deepest waters and
Surfed it into the ocean;

I miss my heart but only sometimes,
May be I don’t want it back
But we’ll have to wait and watch;
Now there is only an empty space
That nothing can replace;

I fear that I might run away from it
If it comes back to me;
I am beginning to get used to this solitude.
But the silence within scares me the most;

My tiny little heart will you ever forgive me?
For the torture I have imposed on you?
Will you ever come back to me?

Nameless

A strike of the match,
In the candle light;
Flowing in memories,
I am a stranger to my present;
A violent sabotage of the tenderest stuff,
Stepped through a labyrinth life,
Gadding lifeless, Qualms and Alms;
Stuck in Quicksand,
As life moves on;
Can’t find names,
Can’t find myself;
Most precious, lost in the ocean,
Drifting in the clouds,
Lost forever like salt in the sea;
Colors of life, none that I like!
Surprise attack, No defensive spells,
Couldn’t have been worse;
Babel of voices,
I try not to speak;
As days go by,
I can only love you more.
And I can only love you,
Even more!

Excerpt from my Diary - Waiting at the Airport

Delhi Airport, July 14th 2010

Waiting at the airport sucks, especially when this uncle next to me is trying to read what I am writing. I have just finished my visits in Delhi and waiting early for a late flight at a corner of the airport at Gate 18.

Finished checking my emails and of course Facebook in my IPod with the free but good WiFi connection. It is not waiting here for the flight that has left me perplexed. Yes I am waiting for that one phone call from that one person. How much does love make you dance to its tunes?

Black, Brown, White and Red shoes, different ones, similar ones, branded ones, cheap ones by the look itself. Lost in the crowd and strangely it feels good. Always wanted to runaway to a place where nobody recognized me and I have no role to play, just like sitting at this corner of the airport. Too many faces, yet none that I recognize. Reminds me of the time I was in Chicago airport in 2007. Couldn’t get enough; Miss you guys!

Huh Yes! The phone call is also in the agenda for thinking about things which relax my mind. This new guy sitting next to me (Guy no.12) is wearing a Capri and I just can’t make out if he’s a guy or a girl or am I just plain jealous that it is fitting him (or her) so perfectly?

Listening to “Bin Tere” in repeat mode and waiting for No.13, too quick; where do people come from and where do they vanish? Hey! Someone’s got a huge box of chocolates; I can take care of them till you come back from the rest room!

Now look at this, why do some people dress up so complicatedly and make life of people like me seem too simple?

Mr. Phone call, I just wish that you are hiding on the other side of this big pillar waiting to scare me! Alas, what will happen to me when I realize that you are not there on the other side of the pillar?

Final call for Pune Flight, Gorakhpur, Mumbai and I am stillllllll waiting.

Stilettos, Ha! How did I miss them? Hope I have spelt them right although I don’t know to walk in one! There is a cute person at the Jet Airways desk but the only thing is that I can’t make out whether she is smiling or frowning.

Lagne lagi hain Ab Zindagi Yeh………Khaali ……..
But too many files in Delhi …………Cheeee

This guy no.14 is not letting me write – UDP (Ullooo……)
I am shutting my diary.

And You should have called by now!