Tuesday, December 29, 2009

i love you pops



this is to johny. thank you for all that you have done for us. always the provider. there's a lot of you in me. thank you for virginia farm and el mason. for badshah rose syrup and sizzling china. for understanding me and giving me the freedom to do things how i like them. for countless wonderful memories carefully crafted over the years. for supporting all of my dreams, no matter how outlandish. i'm sorry i could not save you johny. but you passed on they say on an auspicious day, one reserved only for the holiest. you will always and forever be in my thoughts and in my heart.

your (stupid) daughter

Sunday, December 20, 2009

my heart

today, my heart feels like it is either in love or it is sad. i can't tell.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Disturbia



for the past month, this is what i hear in the morning, at noon, in the afternoon, in the evening, right from 9 am to 6 pm. this continuous noise.

the reason is this 40 storey building coming up next door which is going to totally destroy my mood.













i'm really going insane. there have to be rules about this kind of thing.
it's insane. and there's no courtesy notice either about how much longer it's going to continue.

i really feel like taking a hammer and a bunch of nails and returning the favour.

Friday, December 11, 2009

at least

“Maybe we only exist in each other’s dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other.”

- Audrey Niffenegger

(Reposted from suzywire)

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

"Nahin Samne"




dekho chhod ke kis raste wo jaate hain
saare raste vapas mere dil ko aate hain

nahin saamne, nahin saamne ye alag baat hai
nahin saamne ye alag baat hai
mere paas hai, mere paas hai tu mere paas hai
mere paas hai tu mere paas hai
mere saath hai,mere saath hai

tera naam maine liya haai yahan
mujhe yaad tune kiya hai wahan
tera naam maine liya hai yahan
mujhe yaad tune kiya hai wahan
bade zor ki aaj barsaat hai
bade zor ki aaj barsaat hai

mere paas hai tu mere paas hai,
mere paas hai tu mere paas hai
mere saath hai, mere saath hai

bichhad ke bhi mujhse juda tu nahin
khafa hai magar bewafa tu nahin
bichhad ke bhi mujhse juda tu nahin
khafa hai magar bewafa tu nahin
mere haath mein hi tera haath hai,
mere haath mein hi tera haath hai

mere paas hai tu mere paas hai,
mere paas hai tu mere paas hai
mere saath hai, mere saath hai
mere pass hai, mere pass hai
mere saath hai, mere saath hai
mere pass hai, mere pass hai
~Taal

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

Monday, December 07, 2009

"Housing Shortage"

I tried to live small.
I took a narrow bed.
I held my elbows to my sides.
I tried to step carefully And to think softly
And to breathe shallowly
In my portion of air
And to disturb no one.

Yet see how I spread out and
I cannot help it.
I take to myself more and more,
and I take nothing
That I do not need, but
my needs grow like weeds.
All over and invading,
I clutter this place
With all the apparatus
of living.
You stumble over it daily.

And then my lungs
take their fill.
And then you gasp for air.
Excuse me for living.
But, since I am living,
Given inches, I take yards,
Taking yards, dream of miles
And a landscape, unbound
And vast in abandon.

And, you dreaming the same.
~Naomi Replansky

"By Candlelight"

This is winter, this is night, small love --
A sort of black horsehair,
A rough, dumb country stuff
Steeled with the sheen
Of what green stars can make it to our gate.
I hold you on my arm.
It is very late.
The dull bells tongue the hour.
The mirror floats us at one candle power.

This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.

At first the candle will not bloom at all --
It snuffs its bud
To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.

I hold my breath until you creak to life,
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent, as best he can

Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is yours, the little brassy Atlas --
Poor heirloom, all you have,
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife.
Five balls! Five bright brass balls!
To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.
~Sylvia Plath

Saturday, December 05, 2009

"It's Raining In Love"

I don't know what it is,
but I distrust myself
when I start to like a girl
a lot.

It makes me nervous.
I don't say the right things
or perhaps I start
to examine,
evaluate,
compute
what I am saying.

If I say, "Do you think it's going to rain?"
and she says, "I don't know,"
I start thinking : Does she really like me?

In other words
I get a little creepy.

A friend of mine once said,
"It's twenty times better to be friends
with someone
than it is to be in love with them."

I think he's right and besides,
it's raining somewhere, programming flowers
and keeping snails happy.
That's all taken care of.

BUT

if a girl likes me a lot
and starts getting real nervous
and suddenly begins asking me funny questions
and looks sad if I give the wrong answers
and she says things like,
"Do you think it's going to rain?"
and I say, "It beats me,"
and she says, "Oh,"
and looks a little sad
at the clear blue California sky,
I think : Thank God, it's you, baby, this time
instead of me.
~Richard Brautigan

Monday, November 09, 2009

Post It #25

image via melifernandez
quote by John Burnside, The Hunt in the Forest




Saturday, November 07, 2009

School Song

This was my school song:

N is the Navy, the guardians of the sea
A is for adventure on the ocean deep
V is for the valour, a seaman's quality
A is for the anchor that gives us security
L is for the longing, to ride the white seam foam (repeat)

hmmm hmmm hmm hmm hmmm hmmm

P is for preparedness, ever on the watch
U is unity, without which we fall
B is for the brotherhood, the bond of amity.
L is for the loyality, that gives us security
I is for India, our loved Bharat Mata
Aaa Aaa, our loved Bharat Mata
C is for commitment, to thwart the agressors

Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm
Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm

S is for the signals, that help us right to steer,
C is for the courage, to dispel all fear,
H is for heroism, in which our boys excel,
O is for the ocean, the sailors battlefield,
O is also oneness, of purpose and of mind
L is the guiding light, to help us do what's right...

Put them all together, makes NAVAL PUBLIC SCHOOL

A Mother...A Teacher...A Guide...and A Mentor to me...
Mentor to meeeeeeeee...

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Reposted from jordanbower

i’ve been home in toronto for several months decompressing from another spectacular visit to india.  on this trip, i slept in five star hotels and ramshackle villages, hiked through hundreds of kilometers of hills and mountains, visited a dozen rural ngos, took thousands of photos, and made many times as many new friends.  along the way i was consistently inspired.  in fact, my karma was so powerful, i even got to fall in love.  when i rang in my 29th birthday last week, i had much to be thankful for:  it was a good year.  thanks for sharing in it.

india’s diversity is part of what makes the country so compelling to me.  travel a hundred kilometers in any direction and you’ll encounter different people with different languages, different foods, different dress, and different ways of being.  it was hard to return home and repeatedly encounter iterations of sameness, especially in canada, where citizens seem to pride themselves on their national diversity.  i believe that diversity isn’t just about language or skin colour, although these are important components.  it’s also about a freedom to explore our internal and external spaces, to test the boundaries of the human condition, and to receive some moderate social support along one’s quest.  interestingly, in my discussions with learned people in canada, i am often scoffed at when i raise the idea of freedom when discussing india. 
freedom, they argue, is impossible to achieve when one is encumbered by the disadvantages of poverty, when time is spent worrying about food in the belly or a roof over one’s head.  but what they don’t understand – and what i fail to effectively communicate in words – is the huge diversity of freedoms: of watching the sun set over a mountain pass, of a pilgrimmage of devotion, of sharing what you have with a stranger, of squatting on a roadside corner drinking tea, of singing the latest bollywood track at the top of your lungs as you sit cheek to jowl astride an overloaded motorcycle.  in canada, squished between rush hour traffic in a silent subway car, spread out from one another in empty public spaces, stuck in a perpetual conversation about ‘what do you do?’, and preoccupied with the responsibility for creating change in a world that changes every instant since beginningless time, the question of freedom is profoundly begged.  i believe something fundamental has been lost; this is part of the reason i began sharing my photos.
poverty is another recurrant topic of conversation regarding india.  and don’t let it be underestimated: more than 350 million people live on less than $1 a day, many of them in sprawling slums in the largest cities, many more along the arterial roads that crisscross the subcontinent.  for many, the conditions are harsh, medical care is poor, and opportunities for economic advancement in this lifetime are miniscule.  it is particularly heartbreaking to view the country from the perspective of street children, who will grow up in a place that is even more crowded, even more urban, and even more economically disparate than india already is today.  but it is hard to be a traveller in india without commenting on the state of mind of many of these people: a toothy smile from a barefoot rickshaw puller, an excited cackle from a boy in a laneway-width game of cricket, the childish eyes of a man with thirteen fingers.  just discussing these interactions can lead to the accusation of romanticizing poverty, but i can’t help my experiences and the experiences are real.  sprinkled between these experiences are millions upon millions of people working to make the lives around them better: these stories yearn to be told.  there is more to life than discussing trivia or pursuing materialist aims; this is another reason why i started sharing my photos.
through seventeen months of travelling in south asia and even more time at home in between trips, i’ve been asking ‘what does it mean to be a human being?’.  today, i’d like to introduce another step along that path.  i’ve created a website called, appropriately, www.whatdoesitmeantobeahumanbeing.ca.  it’s a way of sharing with you some of the people who i met along the way and some of the experiences that i had.  i hope that you like it.
stand on the balcony of a condo building in downtown toronto on a cold winter night and gaze above you.  how long does it take before you realize that the dozens of stars you can see are an infinitesimal fraction of all the stars in the normally visible sky?   all of this was lost while we were sleeping. in a world of extremism, progress, and globalization, of environmental degradation, aids, and instantaneous communication, of unprecedented spending on machines of death and climate change, if you didn’t go looking for them, you could forget the stars altogether.
how did we get that way?  we know the answer.  we constantly strive for the next big thing without ever stopping to wonder whether our efforts are taking us where we’d like to go.  from my perspective, despite unprecedented progress, we don’t seem to have made any major advances in the fields of compassion, trust, honesty, or love.  to all of our profound chagrin, it seems as if living longer, wealthier, and more comfortably – even despite the impact those choices have had on the world around us – is still no substitute for a loving hug or an honest smile.  so, what does it mean to be a human being?  for me, i believe that an answer lies less with what we build and more with what we are.   my goal as a photographer is to share this perspective.  and so i do: engage.  define your own answer.  find the stars.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

"My Way"

So dramatic, this Frank is:


And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and ev'ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
"Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way"

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

Yes, it was my way
~Frank Sinatra

Waitress



this is a nice movie to watch from 12:00 am to 2:00 am when you are alone and hopeful and have nothingbettertodotosleep. i loved it all but the last 10 min. shhhh.

Monday, November 02, 2009

Thursday, October 29, 2009

delirum

last night, my fever hit 104 F, and i don't know if i wanted to die because of the delirium or if it is the delirium that saved me.

but it was crazy. i had to wade through gigabytes of junk in my head, before i could finally "attain" sleep, and before the fever started to go down, at about 4 am. i can't even remember clearly now except that it was all related to words. and i had to connect different words to form a phrase and then the phrase would dissapear. and then i had to move on to the next set of words. and there were thousands of such sets, all in a cloud-like object. and this whole process took like 6 hours!

i could safely describe it as one of the worst nights of my life. much worse than a bad break-up. is there a blog on such delirium in fever experiences?

"Poets Hitchhiking On The Highway"

Of course I tried to tell him
but he cranked his head
without an excuse.
I told him the sky chases
the sun
And he smiled and said:
"What's the use."
I was feeling like a demon
again
So I said: "But the ocean chases
the fish."
This time he laughed
and said: "Suppose the
strawberry were
pushed into a mountain."
After that I knew the
war was on--
So we fought:
He said: "The apple-cart like a
broomstick-angel
snaps & splinters
old dutch shoes."
I said: "Lightning will strike the old oak
and free the fumes!"
He said: "Mad street with no name."
I said: "Bald killer! Bald killer! Bald killer!"
He said, getting real mad,
"Firestoves! Gas! Couch!"
I said, only smiling,
"I know God would turn back his head
If I sat quietly and thought."
We ended by melting away,
hating the air!
~Gregory Corso

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Post It #23

Image via laurennicole81

"Making Love"

Why make? I used to wonder.
Is it something you have to keep on
making, like beds or dinner, stir it up

or smooth it down? Sex, I understood,
an easy creaking on the upholstered
springs of a man you meet in passing.

You have sex, you don’t have to make it,
it makes you - rise and fall and rise again,
each time, each man, new. But love?

It could be the name of a faraway
city, end of a tired journey you take
with some husband, your bodies chugging

their way up the mountain, glimpsing
the city lights and thinking, If we can
keep it up, we’ll make Love by morning.

I guess it was fun for somebody,
my grandmother once said. By then
I was safely married and had earned

the right to ask, there in the kitchen
beside the nodding aunts. Her answer
made me sad. In her time, love meant making

babies, and if I had borne twelve
and buried three, I might see my husband
as a gun shooting off inside me, each bullet

another year gone. But sex wasn’t my question.
Love was the ghost whose shape kept
shifting. For us, it did not mean babies,

those plump incarnations the minister
had promised - flesh of our flesh,
our increase. Without them, and twenty years

gone, what have we to show
for the planing and hammering, bone
against bone, chisel and wedge,

the tedious sanding of night
into morning - when we rise, stretch,
shake out the years, lean back,

and see what we’ve made: no ghost,
it’s a house. Sunlight through the window
glazing our faces, patina of dust

on our arms. At every axis, mortise
and tenon couple and hold. Doors
swing heavy on their hinges.
~Rebecca McClanahan

Monday, October 26, 2009

The Relationship

Employees strive to make themselves indispensable to organizations and organizations strive to make employees indispensable.

Ha ha. Stupid.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Post It #22

image via suzywire


postcards from germany

yesterday my mom found these postcards from her penpal Eva who used to live in Germany:


 


Thursday, October 22, 2009

"Reports from the Palace"

The abandoned hospital
was a godsend. We are
exhausted, and short on hope.
--
Dusty coverlets on carefully
made beds stretching
down the many wards.
--
Those of us with
training in medicine
have been taken aside
and whispered to.
--
October. No word from you.
The old cities glowing
sickly, remotely, to the east.
--
Armed guards
around the morphine.
--
Seasons slowing down.
Two of the scouts
have still not returned.
--
As yet there have
been no relays from
the south tower.
--
In the emergency bay
someone has erected
a sculpture fashioned
from used syringes.
--
The ravaged, upper sections
sealed off. No one allowed
above the third level.
--
Nightly, a rage of flame
on the horizon. The smell
of temples on fire.
--
Linen missing. Frost
on a heap of wheelchairs
stacked in the back field.
--
Another scout gone.
The meeting reset
for tomorrow.
--
Just before dawn.
All my transmissions
to you coming back
to me, unanswered.
--
Someone has been
on the roof again.
Footprints. Palmprints.
Evidence of signaling.
~Ian McBryde

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

So what do you do?

a lot of people lately have been asking me, what it is that i do? well -- what i'm doing right now is going with the flow. literally anyway the wind blows

after i left my job (which i miss dearly every now and then), i travelled a bit to australia and japan. then i got back and travelled some more in india -- to ladakh. then i had no more money to travel no more.

in jan i'll be off to go to the netherlands to do a course in astronomy and science based business. why astronomy (and really, not astrology)? because i've been interested in it since i was 13 and i fuck better do it now before i get too old and married and have my babies. i'm not a crazy fanatic star gazer or nothing. i don't even know much about the cosmos or string theory. it's just the limit-less-ness of the subject that interests me -- and it's because i don't know that i want to know. and the business part is just a add on -- i believe i'll meet some interesting people.

you see, over my years of working i decided that i must start something in science education. it's what the world needs. it's what india needs. i've been doing a lot of research and there are millions of oppurtunities. so i latched onto one dream/vision/thing to do (secret dream/vision/thing to do). and i'm going to pursue that dream/vision/thing to do -- but slowly -- and agrressively after i finish my "trip" to the netherlands. 

(i may just run off to africa with henry and teach in liberia and forget the whole dream/vision/thing to do)

love life wise -- i am also going with the flow. there's no point in being betab thinking about the future. when do i get married? who do i marry? do i even want to marry? hasn't the world changed already -- do i even need to marry anymore? -- this peer pressure no! damn.

for now, i wake up in the morning and i start to edit. yup. i'm became my own freelance editor. and i scout around for whatever sort of work. i made a website to sell myself and will collaborate work-wise with my two bestest friends: veena and rucha. i also work on losing weight and go for a swim or a cycle ride in turns. this losing weight i tell you is the most underrated thing. i also cook one meal every two days :) sometimes i burn stuff. sometimes it's excellent. i get the feeling that my dad doesn't like what i make too much.

i spend an insane amount of time on the computer reading all sorts of crap via google reader. i also keep a science blog that i need to make much more interesting. but i need to get out more. sometimes i catch a film. or a play. but not often enough. i had taken a keen interest in photography but that too is dwindling.

my brother, however, has taken over the camera. speaking about chirag, i also spend a lot of time making fun of his phone conversations. he literally has the same conversation with 10 different people every single day. well that's what being 16 is all about i guess. can you believe it! he's already 16. wow.

so yeah, things are good. waiting for jan to come. november is rucha's wedding and niki and arya are gonna also come in november. shreya -- of shreya and kari -- two of my oldest goldest school friends is also getting married in november. so niki and i will go to delhi for that. then there are soo many things to show aarya. then maybe a family trip to goa, and perhaps another type of family trip to bhopal, and then i'm up up and away!

so this is the story of what i do.

love and peace,
jj

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Get out!!!

I really need to get out of the house more. So this is what I've planned for myself these next few days. All company welcome:

Tue, Oct 20: Cello Performance at NCPA (7 PM)
Thu, Oct 22: French Film, The Amazing Truth About Queen Rauela, at Alliance (6:30 PM)
Tue, Oct 27: French Film, Zim and Co, at Alliance (6:30 PM)
Wed, Oct 28: Talk on Dark Matter and Energy at the Nehru Planetarium (5 PM)
Wed, Oct 28: Music, Fredd Massumba, Blue Frog (9:30 PM)

OK?

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Superman



april was the first time i bought a t-shirt, saying "ok i'm going to lose weight and fit into it" --- usually don't never even bother! and here we are, a few months later --- fitting into it!

thank you niki, really, you are superman!

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Breathless

koi jo mila tho mujhe aisa lagtha tha jaise meri sari duniya mein
geethon ki ruth aur rangonki barkha hai khushbu ki andhi hai
mahki hui si ab sari fizaenhai bahki hui si ab sari havaen hai
khooi hui si ab sari dishaen hai badli hui si ab sari adaen hai
jaagi umange hai, dhadak raha hai dil sason mein thoofan hai
hoton pe nagmein hai, aankhon mein sapne hai beethe hue sare woh lamhe hai
jab koi aya tha, nazron pe chaya tha dil mein samaya tha, kaise mein
bathaun thumhe kaisa use paya tha pyar se chehre pe bikhri jo
julfe tho aisa lagtha tha jaise kohre ke peeche ek os mein hdula hua
phool khila hai jaise badal mein ek chand chupa hai aur jhank raha hai
jaise raath ke parde mein ek savera hai roshan roshan ankhon mein sapno
ka sagar jisme prem sitharon ki chadar jaise jhalak rahi hai lahron lahron
baath kare tho jaise mothi barse jaise kahiin chandi ki payar goonje jaise
kahi sheeshe ke jaam gire aur chanse toote jaise koi chupke sithar bajae jaise
koi chandni raath mein gaaye jaise koi hole se paas bulae.
kaisi meeti bathein thi woh kaisi mulakhathen thi woh jab maine jana tha
nazron se kaise pigalthe hai dil aur aarzoo pathi hai kaise manzil aur kaise uthar
tha hai chand jameen par kaise kabhi lagtha hai swarg agarhai to bas hai yahin par
usne bathaya mujhe aur samjhaya mujhe hum jo mile hai hum jaise hi milna tha ghul jo
khile hai, unhe jaise hi khilna tha janmon ke bandhan, janmon ke rishthe hai
jab bhi hum janme tho hum yahin milthe hai kanom me mere jaise shahad se
ghulne lage khwabon ki duniya bhi kithni hasin aur kaisi rangi thi khwaobn ki
duniya jo kahne ko thi par kahin bhi nahi thi khwab jo tute mere ankhen jo
khuli meri hosh jo aya mujhe maine dekha maine jaana woh jo kabhi aya tha
nazron pe chayatha dil mein samaya ta jaa bhi chuka hai aur dil mera ab hai
thanha thanha naa tho koi arman hai, naa koi thamanna hai aur naa koi sapna
hai ab jo mere din aur ab jo meri raath hai unmein sirf aansoo hai unme
sirf dard ki ranj ki baathein hai aur faryad hai mera ab koi nahi, mai hoon aur khoe hue
pyaar ki yaadein hai...
 ~Shankar Mahadevan

Saturday, October 10, 2009

The End of the World

When I was really small, I really liked this song:


Why does the sun go on shining?
Why does the sea rush to shore?
Don't they know it's the end of the world,
`cause you don't love me anymore?

Why do the birds go on singing?
Why do the stars glow above?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when I lost your love.

I wake up in the morning and I wonder why ev'rything's the same as it was.
I can't understand, no I can't understand, how life goes on the way it does!

Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when you said good-bye.
~The Carpenters

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Im Juli

I saw this movie yesterday:

































And I learnt that my favourite sleeping position is called "spoon":

Post It #20

image via eclecticreveries


Saturday, October 03, 2009

"Evacuation"

As we boarded the bus
bags on both sides
(I had never packed
two bags before
on a vacation
lasting forever)
the Seattle Times
photographer said
Smile!
so obediently I smiled
and the caption the next day
read:
Note smiling faces
a lesson to Tokyo.
~Mitsuye Yamada

Post-It #16


Post-It #15


"Little Boxes" made my day

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,
Little boxes, little boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All go to the university,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf-course,
And drink their Martini dry,
And they all have pretty children,
And the children go to school.
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
And they all get put in boxes
And they all come out the same.

And the boys go into business,
And marry, and raise a family,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
~Malvina Reynolds

Thursday, October 01, 2009

Post-It #14


"Tattooed"

My sister gets a tattoo
and calls me up to tell me:
Guess what your crazy
spontaneous sister did?
And I say I dunno, got married?
No. Bought a house? No.
She's fifty for god's sake,
who knows, I think, what she'd do?
But, Got a tattoo, she says.
Oh, I say. What do you mean,
Oh! she says. But I think "oh"
is self-evident, so I say
nothing, and she says, I
got a tattoo! So I say, you
got a tattoo! And she says, That's
more like it! A tattoo! And I say
A tattoo! And it goes on like
a military parade. A tattoo!
A tattoo! A tattoo!
~Ronald Wallace

Post-It #13


Post-It #12


Post-It #11


Monday, September 28, 2009

Creep

for the longest time i thought that creep wasn't an original radiohead song.
i know, fuck!
When you were here before,
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel,
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
when I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh

She's running out again
She's running out
She run run run run...
run... run...

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep,
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here

I don't belong here...
~Radiohead

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Friday, September 25, 2009

From Belgaon with Love

The funniest thing happened.

I needed to send a package to Brussels in Belgium. So the other day I went down to the post office and sent it by registered post. They charged me Rs. 35, and in the back of my head I thought, "Oh how cheap." But considering I'm pretty much saving every penny I earn nowadays, I didn't question! Yesterday, I got a call from the post office saying that my packet has come back to the postoffice because it was accidently sent to Belgaon instead of Belgium, and the office clerk made an error. And I need to come and pay the difference. And the difference was  Rs. 724!

Lesson learned: Any package going out of India by registered speed post can in no way be less than Rs. 400. As told to me by post-office master.

Post-It #9


Post-It #8


Post-It #7


Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Friday, September 18, 2009

Vision for Vision in Liberia

I made a small donation to the Centre for Vision in the Developing World after watching this TED Talk the other day. And look what they sent me!
Dear Ms Ramchandani,

Just a quick note to thank you for your recent kind support for the Centre for Vision in the Developing World. We have recently returned from a deployment in Liberia where we trained volunteers to screen and distribute eyeglasses in a pilot programme with Global Vision 2020, a US based charity that we're working with as an international distribution partner (www.gv2020.org). 1000 pairs of eyeglasses were distributed and we were very encouraged to see our training process and dispensing protocols working very well. Your support is essential to making these things happen.

With best regards,

David
Who knew I'd be helping my own bretheren.

Post It #1


"A Singer Must Die"

Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess.
Is it true you betrayed us? the answer is yes.
Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine,
I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline.
And all the ladies go moist, and the judge has no choice,
A singer must die for the lie in his voice.

And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty,
You keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty.
Your vision is right, my vision is wrong,
Im sorry for smudging the air with my song.

Oh, the night it is thick, my defences are hid
In the clothes of a woman I would like to forgive,
In the rings of her silk, in the hinge of her thighs,
Where I have to go begging in beautys disguise.
Oh goodnight, goodnight, my night after night,
My night after night, after night, after night, after night, after night.

I am so afraid that I listen to you,
Your sun glassed protectors they do that to you.
Its their ways to detain, their ways to disgrace,
Their knee in your balls and their fist in your face.
Yes and long live the state by whoever its made,
Sir, I didnt see nothing, I was just getting home late.
~Leonard Cohen

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Love Letters

The last post led me to google "Love Letters"
I found a really sweet site: http://www.sleeptrip.com/300loveletters/

How the fuck can I miss you, when I have this?

Clare, I just wish I could come up with something as incredible as you just did. I love you so much, thank you for making me feel like I matter, like anything matters. Because of you I finally know what its like to feel that I mean enough to someone to make a lasting impression on their life. I didn’t know people could be so understanding and so influential before you and it gives me hope for everyone else. I know I’ve said it all a million times, but it just feels so good to think that maybe there is a point to all of this. My point is to make a point for those who want it, to help you make your point. You make me feel the best I ever have and quite possibly ever will. If everyone was as open as you, we wouldn’t have nearly as many problems and maybe everyone could have at least one person to give it all to. I wish that people had someone like you to go to, as you said, to feel the amazement I do when I have that chance. You mean the world to me and I don’t think I can describe how much I love you and love being with you. No matter where we travel; no matter what twists and turns and decisions we make, whether they be amazing, terrible, easy, difficult, right, wrong, ugly, beautiful, life-shattering, or a complete restoration; no matter the path we chose for our entire lives; I know I will never forget you, I will never stop loving you, and I will forever remember the way you changed my entire life. I love you, I can’t wait to see you, and you are in my mind, always and forever.
Love,
Justin

(via rock.too.fast.for.love)

Let's look at the sky then

Never love a wild thing... you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up... If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky.
— Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

(via mountainsofmolehills)

"Supple"

When the word supple parts my lips, some men snicker
but I'm not thinking of a certain skin or of branded leather,

but of how the weak gain dominance through leverage,
turning a woman onto her stomach until she tries to rise.

When pressured, the bones also respond.
~Beth Bachmann, Temper, 2009.

Today I Shall Make: Mangalorean Fish Curry

Ingridients
For the masala
1 tsp coconut oil
3 tsp coriander powder
pinch of fenugreek seeds
1 tsp fennel seeds (saunf)
8 pieces of pepper corn
1 tsp mustard seeds
2 tsp cumin seeds
15 red chillies
1 grated coconut
2 sliced onions
8 pods of garlic
100 ml water

For the main preparation
2 tbsp coconut oil
2 sliced onions
10 curry leaves
2 chopped tomatoes
500 gm filleted fish
prepared masala
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp tamarind paste
100 ml coconut milk

Methods
For the masala
Heat oil in pan. Add coriander powder, fenugreek seeds, fennel seeds, pepper corn, mustard seeds, cumin seeds and red chillies and dry roast them.

Now add grated coconut, onions and garlic. Saute till the onion turn light brown. Then add water and grind them together.

For the main preparation
Heat oil in pan. Add sliced onions, curry leaves and saute the onions till it looses colour. Then add chopped tomatoes and prepared masala, and stir-fry till fat separates. Add fish and stir fry. Add salt, tamarind paste and coconut milk. Mix it well.

Garnish with curry leaves and coriander leaves. Serve hot.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

subtitled

i went for a documentary film yesterday, called Bilal, screened at Alliance Francaise (Mumbai). Now the seating wasn't stagerred, so for the most part, it was difficult to read the subtitles (most of the film was in Bengali). Would it be too distracting to place the subtitles at the top of the screen instead? More so for foreign-language documentaries than any other? Has anyone tried it?

Facebook

I've taken the easy decision to deactivate my facebook account.
It's just all too much.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Flickr introduces Galleries

Flickr has introduced a new feature called "Galleries." You can make as mamy galleries, with a limit of 18 photos in each. Still it's enough. I put hp, diti, nash, sonal, and parag in mine, so far. Do see.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

end of the movie

There should be a website called endofthemovie.com where you can ask a question on how any movie ended. Similarly, there should be beginningofthemovie.com. Then bad cable that randomly goes off and late-latheifs like me will be alright.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

repeat

Kya kare zindagi isko hum jo mile,
Iski jaan kha gaye, raat din ke gile
Raat din gile…
Meri aarzoo kamini,
Mere khwab bhi kaminey,
Ek dil se dosti thi, yeh huzoor bhi kaminey,
Kya kare zindagi isko hum jo mile,
Iski jaan kha gaye, raat din ke gile…
Kabhi zindagi se maanga, pinjre mein chaand la do,
Kabhi laanten deke, kaha aasmaa pe taango
Jeene ke sab kareene the hamesha se kaminey,
Kaminey kaminey kaminey kaminey,
Meri daastaan kaminey, mere raasten kaminey,
Ek dil se dosti thi, yeh huzoor bhi kaminey…
Jiska bhi chehra cheela, andar se aur nikla,
Masoom sa kabootar naacha to more nikla,
Kabhi hum kaminey nikle, kabhi doosre kaminey,
Kaminey kaminey kaminey kaminey,
Meri dosti kaminey, mere yaar bhi kaminey,
Ek dil se dosti thi, yeh huzoor bhi kaminey…

~ Kaminey, from Kaminey
--------------------------------------------------------
Thode bheege bheege se thode nam hai hum,
Kal se soye voye bhi to kam hai hum.

Thode bheege bheege se thode nam hai hum,
Kal se soye voye bhi to kam hai hum.
Dil ne kaisi harkat ki hai,
Pehli baar mohabbat ki hai,
Aakhiri baar mohabbat ki hai,
Pehli baar mohabbat ki hai,
Aakhiri baar mohabbat ki hai…

Aankhein doobi doobi si surmayee madham,
Jheelen paani paani hai bass tum aur hum,
Hmmm baat badi hairat ki hai,
Pehli baar mohabbat ki hai,
Aakhiri baar mohabbat ki hai

Hmmm khawab ke bhoj se, kapkapati hui,
Halki palkein teri yaad aata hai sab,
Tujhe gudgudana… satana yuhi sote hue,
Gaal pe teepna… meechna bewajah besabab.

Yaad hai peepal ke jiske ghane saaye the,
Hum ne gilehri jhoothe matter khaaye the,
Yeh barqat unn hazrat ki hai.

Pehli baar mohabbat ki hai,
Aakhiri baar mohabbat ki hai

~Pehli baar mohabbat ki hai, from Kaminey
--------------------------------------------------------
Ummm hmm umm hmm
Ummm hmm umm hmm

Tune jo na kaha
Mein woh sunta raha
Khamakha bewajah Khwaab Bunta raha

Tune jo na kaha
Mein woh sunta raha
Khamakha Bewajah Khwaab Bunta raha

Jaane kiski humein lag gayi hai nazar
Is Shehar mein Na apna tikana raha
Koi chaht se na ab apni chalta raha

Khamakha bewajah Khwaab Bunta raha
Dard phele se hai jyaaada
Khud se phir yeh vaada
Khamosh Nazrein Rahein Bezubaan

Abb Na pehli si baatein hai
Bolo to Lab thartharatein hai
Raaz yeh dil ka na ho baiyan
Hoga na ab asar humpe nahin
Hum safar mein to hai Humsafar hai nahi

Door jaata raha Paas aata raha
Khamakha bewajah Khwaab Bunta raha

Aaya woh phir Nazar aise
Baat chidne lagi phir se
Aankhon mein chubhta kal ka dhuan

Haal tera na humsa hai
Is khushi mein kyon gumsa hai
Basne laga kyon phir woh jahan
Woh jahan dur jis se gaye the nikal
Phir se aankhon mein karti hai jaise pehal

Lambha beeta hua ,Dil Dukhata raha

Khamakha bewajah Khwaab Bunta raha

Tune jo na kaha
Mein woh sunta raha
Khamakha bewajah Khwaab Bunta raha

Jaane kiski humein lag gayi hai nazar
Is Shehar mein Na apna tikana raha
Koi chahat se abb apni chalta raha

Bhuj gai Aag thi Daag Jalta raha...

~Tune jo na kaha, from New York

Monday, August 31, 2009

i must go out and get drunk one of these days
it seems like my sub-conscience wants to say so much

vision-voyeuristic

it's not love.
it's idolization.
does it make it less of love?
does love always have to be compatible
why can't it just be visual voyeurism

where

"Voyeuristic behaviour involves getting sexual pleasure from secretly watching other people having sex or taking their clothes off." [1]

extending that definition and replacing sexual appeal with visual appeal
why can't love involve getting visual pleasure from secretly watching images from other people's heads
watching things at the same angles they watch things at
and with the same intensity

it's no coincidence that vicarious rhymes with voyeurism

[1] Collins, my favorite dictionary

diversity is happiness

o lord-e
when will you stop measuring success as progress
and start measuring progress as happiness

Sunday, August 30, 2009

To Yuko: "Dedication"

The fact that I
am writing to you
in English
already falsifies what I
wanted to tell you.
My subject:
how to explain to you that I
don't belong to English
though I belong nowhere else.

~Gustavo PĂ©rez Firmat

Monday, August 24, 2009

trying religion

let's try religion
like we'd try a colour
or a new dish from slovakia
religion can be anything
obsession with a code
regression into the past
hope for the future
sayings, axions, and maxims
a collection of stories

let's try religion today
today tomorrow everyday
singing and dancing
sleeping and chanting
pale blue religion
tinged with saffron yellow
and looking up
i see stark white

miss

sometimes, like now, i really really miss my job
oh life

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Sunday, August 16, 2009

key learnings from ladakh



i have changed
i take my sense of fairness too far (so far that i've become intolerant if i don't perceive something as being fair)
i've lost some compassion
i've lost a lot of understanding
i have too much unspent energy
i don't give third, fourth, and fifth chances
i live in the past
i live in the future
it takes me unusually long to let go
i stick to safety
i complain
i want more comfort
i want more love
i want more space
i want more me
i'm no longer cool
i'm no longer happy-go-lucky
or lucky-go-happy

but i hope we will always be
like the mountains and the sea
my dear bumblebees

Saturday, August 15, 2009

"I’m a Stranger Here Myself"

Sometimes when you stop for directions,
when you ask someone who doesn’t look
threatening or threatened the way to a gas
station or restaurant, the person stares at you,
dumbly, or seems apologetic or guilty,
and says these words as if they’d been
scripted: I’m a stranger here myself—, shaking
her head, or his head, and you’re especially struck
by the bond between you, your strangeness,
and the town, or city, changes to unnumbered
anonymous facades, but generic, unmistakably
New England—white clapboard houses, black shutters;
or Texas storefronts—low porches, two-by-four columns,
longhorn arches; or even Southern California,
the faces its bungalows make, the expressive mouths
of, say, Los Angeles doors—and suddenly you want
to live there, wherever there is, to belong
in one place, to read the surviving daily,
you want to get a grip on the local mores,
to pay taxes, to vote, you want to have cronies,
be tired together in the Stormy Harbor
Coffee Shop, to be bored with the daily specials:
you want not to be like him, or her, not the outsider
who’s never sure where things are; so you say,
“Thanks, anyway,” and find the worn face of a
native who’ll point you to a real estate office,
which hadn’t been where you were going—
But then, you stop cold, scared, wanting
only your own room, the books under the bed,
the pencils, the snapshots, what’s left
of your family, the dead flies on the windowsills,
the exhausted scorched-coffee smell of your city,
familiar as your own particular dust—and you turn
on a dime, shaking off Church Street and School Street,
the allegorical buildings, the knick-knack bookshelves
in the glowing blue family rooms blind to the moonlit
Main Street night, the lonely, confused, censorious
American-ness of places you drive through, where
you can get ice cream or a flat fixed, places where
strangers get hurt, so you jump back into your car
and head out to the highway, until the town,
that stage-set that almost swallowed you,
disappears at last in the fogged rear-view mirror,
and you drive to the next and the next and the next,
fleeing that vicarious life for your life.

~Gail Mazur

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Thursday, July 23, 2009

"Wind"

Give it words,
Stick limbs on it,
You won't alter essence.
Whereas the wind-

I'll live gently
As the wind, flying
Over the town,
My chest full of sparrows.

~Shinkichi Takahashi

Saturday, July 18, 2009

"Lines"

wake up and try
you're not listening
and neither am i
but it's only a matter of time
before we're walking out the door

sit with me on the bed
and stop pacing and pacing instead
cuz it's only a matter of when
this heart to heart will end

but oh before we go
goodbye safety breaks
goodbye baby clothes
as you describe a straight line through all these rooms

i want you to put your hands on my face
run them over and over and trace
the lines that are starting to indicate
how long i've been in this place

the sun shines all day
on the curb where our valuables lay
waiting all to be taken away
like we brought them in before

stand with me in the den
the white walls and bare carpet again
it was warm now it's empty and dead
and we won't come back again

but oh before we go
goodbye tv trays
goodbye baby clothes
as you describe a straight line through all these rooms
through birthday parties
late night laundry
baby's brides and grooms

i want you to put your hands on my face
run them over and over and trace
the lines that are starting to indicate
how long i have been in this place
the lines that are starting to indicate
how long we've been in this place.

~Okkervil River

Best of Australia

Friday, July 17, 2009

"i carry your heart with me"

i carry your heart with me
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

~e.e. cummings

Sunday, July 12, 2009

"Consummation of Grief"

I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
or very little life
what counts
is waiting on walls
I was born for this
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.

~Charles Bukowski

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

To Uncle

you were one of best people i'd ever met
it's too late to tell you this now
that i loved your company
and your voice
and the occasional drag from your cigarette
and the way you protected
and looked after them
you will be missed
really be missed
it's the first time i wish that
i could bring someone back
from the dead

love,
jaya

mumbai far-way lives

she's been fretting over work
and he's been writing a lot of poetry
him, he's still the same goof (with a new love!)
and she has just poofed of to delhi, rather mysteriously
and he the tumble bee is all cropped
while she is off to meditation camp
and he ran away from ladakh
while she is soaking in the music of new york
and i am excited to be home soon
to them

Lovely!

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Effective

When Aarya doesn't get what he wants, he puts his head to the ground and starts banging it. Disturbing but effective.
At first, Niki and I would freak out. But then we started to ignore him.
So now, he stops after he realizes he and only he is getting hurt.
Imagine this sweet face doing such manipulative things!

Monday, July 06, 2009

my book

almost everyone i know wants to write a book at some point or the other
about them
about their imagination
about globe trotting
about culture
about difficulty
about sex
about the third world
about the first world
about the abstract
about pictures

in poetry
in prose
in random haiku

everyone i know wants to write a book
it's just about time

Friday, July 03, 2009

five more

fingernails

dinner options

how come there isn't a website that tells you what to eat for lunch or dinner?
like a random dish suggestor like "whatdoieat.com" or "suggestsomethingtoeat.com"

ha ha, my mom would sure love that.
something better than this dialog generator: http://www.onfocus.com/eat_generator.asp

Jaya: So, what do you want to eat?
Nikita: I don't know what do you want to eat?
Jaya: I guess I'm not really that hungry.
Nikita: Yeah, me neither.
Jaya: How does Spinach sound?
Nikita: Hmm, we have that a lot.
Jaya: yeah.
Nikita: So you're really not hungry?
Jaya: Well, I could probably eat something.
Nikita: Like what?
Jaya: Just about anything, really.
Nikita: How about Fat?
Jaya: Yeah, I guess that's ok.
Nikita: I don't know now.
Jaya: You don't know? Come on.
Nikita: We could order Chinese.
Jaya: You're too lazy to go out and get food?
Nikita: No, I guess not. Where do you want to go?
Jaya: I was thinking that new Spinach place.
Nikita: That's all the way downtown!
Jaya: It's supposed to be good.
Nikita: I guess I'm just not in the mood.
Jaya: Well, what are you in the mood for?
Nikita: You said just about anything.
Jaya: Anything but Spinach.
Nikita: You suggested that earlier.
Jaya: I did? hmmm.
Nikita: I always feel like Fat, but we never go.
Jaya: That's fine..
Nikita: I guess I'm just not in the mood.
Jaya: Well, I could probably eat something.
Nikita: We could order Chinese.
Jaya: yeah.
Nikita: You said just about anything.
Jaya: I was thinking that new Spinach place.
Nikita: You suggested that earlier.
Jaya: We could flip for it.
Nikita: What are we arguing over?
Jaya: Spinach or hamburgers.
Nikita: heads.
Jaya: I don't have a quarter.
Nikita: Fat.
Jaya: Yeah, I guess that's ok.
Nikita: Let's get a pizza.
Jaya: Yeah, ok.
Nikita: What's your favorite number?
Jaya: 21.