Love Thyself!

‘Love thyself’ was what I’d heard

And then within me some emotions stirred.

I started with vanity and the mirror was my friend

Even the slightest obstruction then, became a fiend.

The fingers tossed the hair by opening a bun

And each strand of hair got individual attention.

The eyes fluttered like never before

And the nose was brushed for opening every pore.

The lips went into a pout and the neck craned

Showing my collar bones and nerves a bit strained.

And I moved from left to right to check the best suited profile

But clicking snaps just that way was considered to be vile.

For jealous is the world of outer beauty

And somehow considers holy worshipping inner beauty.

I told myself, “It’s not a paunch

I just had dinner”, I was staunch.

My legs are thinner (when compared to hers)

I convinced myself in a sentence pretty terse.

“And Oh my fingers look pretty when painted

The broken and chipped nails leave it tainted”…

Well, intelligent I am, do you know not?

I remember the ABCD’s that long ago were taught.

And I am neither silly nor sissy like her, boss!

Who got back to her ex by keeping the same reply to either side of the toss.

O beauty with brains personified is me

Do I need to clarify? Do you not see?

My smile is the prettiest, it glitters my eyes

It’s the most enduring thing. It never dies.

Have you seen me dance? I wriggle and gyrate so well!

Item numbers are such a waste… Watch me revel!

No one matches up to me someone really special I want.

O I’m so perfect! Just one on the shelf…

And immediately someone came and said, “Great! Go F*** yourself!”

For Once...

Go out without putting on some sunscreen for once – UV rays never killed anyone in a day…

Tie your hair in a bun for once – open hair never guaranteed any liberation ever…

Mute your thoughts and listen to the random sounds around for once – will add up to your self-made playlist…

Don’t worry about your outfits for once – wear what you’re most comfortable in…

Let squinted eyes replace glares for once – wearing (rose)-tinted glasses has its own share of shortcomings…

Allow yourself to enjoy your company for once – often, get-togethers can make you feel left out too…

Let the breeze stroll by you for once – why else did we seek the pleasure of a topless car for?...

For all the happiness, if pessimism wallows inside you, for once – stand up and question its shallowness…

We spend too much time worrying about ourselves – for once, let’s spend as much time worrying less…

Clear your doubts and speak up your mind for once – let yourself be at peace with yourself…

Clean sweep!

Any new broom is like first love

It seems it'll sweep (you) at the first sight

But all it leaves is a lot of mess...

It has some flaws and well, who does not?

'It's just a matter of time', you tell yourself (but it's not)

So hard you try to keep it low

And make random movements - some fast, some slow.

But now you know not how it was - cleaner or dirtier before it came

This confusion thus leads you to decide it was pretty much the same...

Gradually you get a hang of it

And life seems easier to deal with it.

But slowly it seems too dreary to carry on

For it's losing its sticks, it has gone gaunt.

And that's when the idea of a new broom comes

But procrastination is the word & all act like bums!

So after a while when you ring out the old, and (b)ring in the new...

You know it will last long for days too few

Because it'll have its own share of drawbacks

So meagre the use and more the whacks!

'This is how it'll be', is what you accept 

You've woken up with and so have you slept

But mind you, be careful for that first sweep

Is never too easy and at least once you weep.

Thus never refrain from first love even if it's a doom

Though be wary 'cuz a broom is nothing but a blend of a bride and a groom!

Quote-martial! - 1

• Nothing comes without a price.. If it does, then it's not worth it!

• If you are satisfied with your job, it's the end of it all!

• All good ideas in my head are like those rare species of men who are good looking and straight..They are all taken! :X 

• Home is where the heart is. Is this why they call ‘Hum aapke dil mein rehte hain?’
•  “Buttering”, “sugary sweet”, “flattering” and “too much importance” is too greasy and can take a toll on the small brains of those who are subjected to such behavior thereby leading to accumulation of cholesterol in their heads. Please read their distorted mannerisms carefully before investing (so much!).

• Nothing lasts forever. No relation does. But if it is to end, end it in a way that the memories of it bring tears, either of joy or sorrow, to your eyes rather than haunting you.
• There’s a very thin line between being funny and witty. People who do not understand the difference are really really funny.

• Just wondering: How is it that the color of objects fade in sunlight while we tan.. :/
• It’s a good thing fairy tales end where they do. Wisdom lies in knowing where to stop...('A Matter Of Time' - Shashi Deshpande)

The man with an un-senior apron

Today’s world is completely ad-mad. Amidst the hustle-bustle of meeting deadlines, the client’s and your boss’s expectations, some whacky people, your parents’ dreams, you meet, also, well… the canteen boys. Wait! Does that sound like a Large Paper Dosa crammed in a soup bowl to you? If your answer is yes, aren’t they the ones who know of your mood foods? If your answer is still the same, try staying overnight in your office with them around. Or for once, order food from your regular joint without giving your name to the delivery guy and be in for a surprise. It’s the canteen boy’s wonder which makes the food come straight to your desk. If you still disagree, then you just haven’t bonded enough with them.

As far as spending time in an agency is concerned, most of it is spent discussing new ads done by frivals (friends + rivals), insecure lasses discussing Sushmita Sen’s “silicon boobs”, the weekend – how it was and how will it be (much, more, most exciting!). But that day Shefali and Vivek, while watching TV in the canteen (with Vivek ogling eyes on a firang dressed or rather undressed in a skimpy polka dotted swim suit appearing for a cement ad) and having their regular 5 pm snacks, started off on a different note. Shefali started talking about the weird-Robert-canteen-guy. His French beard and short stature would go around narrating incidents full of miseries. To someone like Vivek, who could stand no nonsense, Robert’s talks seemed like Priyanka Gandhi (Vadhera) wearing a red bindi. Hardly “there” and quite bizarre. (Priyanka, Robert, Gandhi and Vadhera in the same sentence and line… Coincidence is not just a word!). Shefali narrating her latest encounter with Robert to Vivek, while sipping her coffee, said, “This guy came up to me the other day and started talking about how he is underpaid and is still to get the apron that symbolizes seniority. And well, all I could say was a humble ‘Hmmmm’ to every sentence he uttered.” “Hmmmm”, muttered Vivek, “You are still considerate. But yes, he should be sentenced to a life deprived of that apron, for messing around with my fantasies. I was checking Tanisha’s Goa pictures; of her in a sarong, and see-through bikini tops, when this jerk comes up to me and says, ‘Saaheb, Goa ka beach kitna saaf hai na. Main bhi apna honeymoon udhar hi manaaunga’. I care two hoots where he goes for his honeymoon; I immediately minimized the screen and asked him to get me a CCD Espresso Coffee.” Laughing heartily at this, Shefali opened her mouth, full of half-munched sandwich, as Vivek continued. “At times, he is the Osama Bin Laden of my life. But then, I’m Barrack, because well, ‘Yes I can, Yes I can... get rid of him’.”

Just as they were about to get back to work after finishing their snacks, they found the head of the canteen standing right behind them, faintly listening to their conversation; the faintest words being the keywords, actually. They slightly nodded and said a soft hello to him. But Kailash wanted to go beyond that. Just as they went past him, he called them back. “So his uncle, whom he stays with, is isolated from the world and has all kinds of drinks to give him company”, said Kailash. “Why Robert gives his hard earned penny to him is only because he owes him his life. His mom and dad, who died in the same order, one after the other, were victims of bad advertising. His dad, who had a relation outside marriage, all thanks to the classified ads for “relaxation and fun”, fell into a trap of this lady who was the cause of his mother’s suicide. After her death, his father, a penniless creature by then, ended up committing suicide, too. Robert was just seven then. His uncle, who decided to stay a bachelor all his life just so he could take care of Robert, lost his job because he was, as opposed to his brother, just too ethical. He couldn’t survive in the corrupt environment around him and became a slave at the hands of the coloured water. And thus, this is the reason of the emotionally neglected weird Robert.” Saying an “Ohhhh...” to this touchy past narration of his, Vivek and Shefali got back to their desks.

That’s what advertising does. It affects you in more ways than one. And then again, it doesn’t affect just you.

Outside my shadow

Outside my shadow stands a person so new

Whose images and silhouette in my imaginations I drew

Outside my shadow there’s a different hue

A color so vivid, so vivacious, so blue…

Outside my shadow there’s a person unknown

When did she walk past and when was she grown?

Outside my shadow there’s someone who speaks

Nonchalant, spirited and one with wild streaks

Outside my shadow there stands a rebel

Aggressive, loud… coming out of her shell…

Outside my shadow there’s someone grander

But an inner quibble in a moment’s time declares it a slander

Outside my shadow there’s a person who’s fastidious

But it seems too tasking and is thus too tedious

Outside my shadow I want to look beyond

But my pupils consider me too fond

Outside my shadow I want to look beneath

Growing strong seems an option, with dry leaves’ wreath

Outside my shadow I see a dozen of them

Dejected, desolate, uprooted from their stem

Outside my shadow I see no more

Amputated conscience and a heart with closed door…

The Burnt food...

One of my friends had once posted that her mother taunted her saying, “You have the capacity to even burn tea”, and I went LOL over this. This statement stands true of most girls and boys, too, of our times. I’ve taken up this topic today because I underwent some self disparagement today.

After 4 hours of continuous lectures by three different professors (starting from 8 to 12!), I finally found the time to grab a bite, after which, I went to Prithvi Theatre to purchase tickets for ‘By George’, a play written based on George Bernard Shaw’s three stories and directed by Naseeruddin Shah. I took a bus which dropped me at a location which was far away from my destination, but given the pleasant that there was, I chose to walk with my earphones plugged into my ears. After purchasing tickets for myself and three other classmates, I walked again before I sat in a rickshaw. As I sat in the rick, I realized that I had walked a lot more than I’d intended to. Nevertheless, as soon as I reached home at 2, I found dad still praying which automatically led me to believe that he must have taken up some other clean-up work in house today. After I got fresh, I immediately asked him about what did we have for lunch?, to which he asked me if I had something in college. A vada pav was all I had, I answered. He looked baffled at this; I immediately saw potatoes that mom had boiled early in the morning and this totally suggested that I was to cook now. I told him, give me sometime papa. I’ll make some chapattis (parathas, rather) and aalu. I discovered that he was hungrier than me and so I quickly somehow cooked the potatoes and started making parathas. I wouldn’t say they were all that bad, but they sure did not look appetizing enough. The potatoes looked light yellow, the methi in it was, as dad said, half cooked and I couldn’t make parathas at the pace with which he wanted. I knew that there was something that wasn’t too right about all that was on his platter, but was too scared to ask him. I never expected my day to be like this. But it had to be – on a day when you think of having hokey pokey ice-cream or going for a movie and nothing turns in your favor, this is what happens. Or how it happens. After he shoved the food down his throat (yes, that’s what it seemed like L ), I sat down to eat looking carefully at the potatoes while eating the same myself. I couldn’t figure out what was bitterer – that one burnt paratha or the methi? I’m not that bad a cook; I can be a decent cook at times – I’ve cooked pretty decent gravies, I’ve cooked mean dals at time and of late,  even the chapattis I’ve made have been appreciated by dad. But today was just not my day. On second thoughts, I felt that had this been a gravy-waala vegetable, I would have been able to cover it up; most gravies do. But this was dry and thus each element was noticeable. This further made me realize that this stands true for different walks of life as well – if you are a dry person, people expect you to be perfect and notice even the slightest faults of yours. A juicy person can cover up his/her fault. Similarly, you ignore the grammar and spelling mistakes if a piece of news is gossipy and logic doesn’t really matter, but a serious issue is looked up and down, left right and centre for faults and deriving other conclusions out of context.

It’s good to be juicy, spicy and zestful. Always!

You are my most beloved

I’m too bad at things

Especially when it comes to holding on to people I love the most.

I don’t do what I should,

And keep wondering later, what I could…

Have said, have done.

It’s too tough to say something to you’ll,

It’s tougher to do what I say I can

But then it’s the toughest to see things go. To see people go.

I’m not Ms. Dependable,

I’m not the best buddy,

I can’t hug someone and say ‘I need you’,

I can’t push someone and say ‘I hate you’.

I’m just too bad at such things, you see.

So if ever, I don’t behave the way I should,

Always remember, YOU ARE MY MOST BELOVED!

Wanting to want...

I wanted to spend the rains with you

Having steamy bhuttas, a cuppa cutting chai with bhajiyas while being totally drenched in the season.

I did feel the waters trickling

But down my neck it was.

As I slept thinking about you.

I wanted to sound lazy (as always) in the lazy autumns

Awaiting the preparations for the festivals that would soon bloom

But away it was all in a gloom.

I wanted to cuddle up with you in the winters

And snuggle up while chatting, wearing a cardigan to look different

And apply balm to your lips and ego

One, essential for the season and the other for no reason

But the hopes of it left me snuggled up with treason.

I wanted to walk down the aisle strewn with flowers in spring

When the trees would give way to the sun’s penetrating ring

But the fragrance of it ran through us

And made me feel like so much fuss.

I wanted to sweat it out in the summers with you

Sipping on the juices and making sense to not meeting you (It’s hot, you see)

But the reason I perspired was due to all the efforts;

To get you back, to please you, to tease you…

I wanted to, I will want to and would always want to want

As wanting is what keeps me wanting: to spend, to sound, to cuddle, to walk and to sweat…

My belief

My belief, that everything is hunky-dory, terminated,

While all my senses, with your memories, were still fascinated.

The world is a cruel place, they say,

But what’s more cruel are the people who, here, stay.

You broke a leg to break my heart,

While all you ever said was “till death do us apart”.

And waned away all my hopes,

While the thought of you still kind of gropes.

So then, why should I think of words that rhyme,

When, for you, I was not even worth a dime.

I could have done better, you see

Having you in my life was the biggest fallacy.

Thus there you go without music in my songs….

Without a rhyme in my verse…

You

You’re pretty different,

Someone who’s effervescent.

Many people touched my heart,

But a few touched my life.

Many people entered my life,

But few left a mark.

Many people planted their thoughts,

But just a few planted the ‘kiss of love.’

Many people made me cry,

But few made me love them even after that.

Many people gave me a grab,

But just a few grabbed my soul.

Many people advised me,

But only few made me act against my will.

Many people gave me memories,

But a few will be cherished.

Many people are good to me,

But a few have been good despite being bad.

Many people have known me,

But a few have understood me.

Those few are just very few,

And perhaps one of them is YOU! J