Of Facebook Friendship & Jimmy Page

Say what guys, I think its pretty fashionable these days to thumb your nose down at ‘Facebook’. I have come across people who shrug their shoulders disdainfully and mouth ” Who has the time for Facebook ,yaar ?” Perhaps, I maybe wrong, but I think majority of them are lying. We are social animals and this is just another platform for everyone to interact.I always have this wee niggling doubt that the stronger the protest, the deeper the addiction And in all probability, FB haters are the secret voyeurs!

On the other hand, I quite love Facebook. Its truly an insight into peoples’ minds. There are many FB pals who I know in real life.While some are their selves online, most have these masks which make me hysterical with laughter 😀 So everybody is like ‘rocking’, ‘awesome’, ‘swell’ ‘living its up ” etc and not actually lotus eating. Take a look at this picture which I had posted on FB sometime back. I imagined that the man’s status update could have been ” Guys, me rocking! What an incredible ass”. This must have  created major heartburn amongst all his male friends,non ? 😀

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Well, I do hate the losers and posers on FB. 1.The ones who only want to have an inbox conversation with you.(Whatever you gotta say, say it on my wall man!) 2.The husband and wives who declare undying love for each other publicly.  And yeah,Zuckerberg needs to be nominated for a Nobel because he  has actually turned  married couples into friends 😀 3.The ones who post terrifyingly huge albums of this  supposedly grand holiday they had. The photos sometimes include abstract concepts like a horse’s tail or arse, the  ‘common’ man ( Example:  “Loved the train platform chai”. The chai wallah is multitasking..he is handing over the chai glass & scratching his nether regions.Wow, sure makes my day ),shots of the sky, clouds, sea, sunset, snow etc etc which look terrifyingly same and mundane, making me think I really need to do LSD.

But enough! I need to tell you why I love Facebook 🙂 Well, I can get away with talking to interesting people and not really meeting them. I am sort of a very private person and don’t like to meet many people. This saves me the bother of  making tea/coffee, rustling up snacks etc for such people at home. In India, its a crime if tea & snacks are not offered.Which is all very irritating I must say!

Seriously though, I have come across some truly wonderful people on Facebook. Staying continents apart, I get this enormously happy feeling when I interact with gifted people,kind people,people who do so much for animals,fellow Led Zeppelin lovers, fellow bookworms…and simply just GENUINE people 🙂 My life has been enriched by these interactions, yeah!

One such Facebook friend of mine is Vivek Nyayapathi. Initially, his father , a senior bureaucrat, was my FB friend. Over the course of our virtual friendship, he told me that I reminded him of his elder son, Vivek and that we should become friends. We did 🙂 And I am so glad! A hugely talented young man, I was impressed with the way he views life. Of his love for animals.Of his choice in music. I remember updating  my status as :’ Cobain & Nutella @ Midnite”.He was the only person in my entire FB list who understood the tremendous awesomeness of this 🙂 And when I found out that he had named his dog ‘Bonzo’ after John Bonham, the legendary Led Zeppelin drummer, I knew this young man will go a long way in life 🙂

See the sketch below. Its done by Vivek.Its of Jimmy Page. Look how he has managed to depict each feature , each nuance of the divine Mr Page. Yeah, ‘The Pout Remains The Same’! Vivek does these brilliant sketches and is a real cool guy to know. He can be reached at :1. https://vivek-nyayapathi.squarespace.com/ 2.www.nrv@gmail.com 3.https://www.facebook.com/vivek.nyayapathi

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Good luck, my young friend! Keep rocking 🙂

On Taming

Here are three scenarios of ‘taming’. You need to read it gender neutral,please. Which one is you ? 🙂

1. ”Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them”:Carrie Bradshaw in Sex & The City

or

2.  “I remembered the fox. One runs the risk of crying a bit if one allows oneself to be tamed.”: (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince)

or

3.  “What should I do about the wild and the tame? The wild heart that wants to be free, and the tame heart that wants to come home. I want to be held. I don’t want you to come too close. I want you to scoop me up and bring me home at nights. I don’t want to tell you where I am. I want to keep a place among the rocks where no one can find me. I want to be with you”: ( Jeanette Winterson)

Personally, the accidental sufi, chooses the third option. But then, I would like my guy to tell me “I’d love to try to tame you… And I would simply adore it if you turn out untamable ” 🙂

Papa, Don’t Preach

“I’ve made it my business to observe fathers and daughters. And I’ve seen some incredible, beautiful things. Like the little girl who’s not very cute – her teeth are funny, and her hair doesn’t grow right, and she’s got on thick glasses – but her father holds her hand and walks with her like she’s a tiny angel that no one can touch. He gives her the best gift a woman can get in this world: protection. And the little girl learns to trust the man in her life. And all the things that the world expects from women – to be beautiful, to soothe the troubled spirit, heal the sick, care for the dying, send the greeting card, bake the cake – all of those things become the way we pay the father back for protecting us…”( Adriana Trigiani, Big Stone Gap)

I got a call from my Dad this morning. Exchange of the usual pleasantries, but more importantly the un-plesantries. He starts with a Sanskrit ‘mantra’ in his beautiful,rich voice and then explains the meaning to me. I listen, enchanted as always, when my Daddy speaks. He has that gift. People love listening to him for he is an extremely well read man with fantastic communication skills. Partly,it could also be due to the fact that he is a Leo! So he loves the sound of his own voice! Don’t we all know  that Leos love being the centre of attention, lording it over lesser mortals ? 🙂

The un-pleasantries start which target my so called disgraceful Bohemian lifestyle.’You don’t take care of yourself’,’ You slept at 4 am??”, ‘What about that loser friend of yours? The one who quit his government job and is now farming?”,’How are your dogs? Have you brushed their teeth?”,’Did you hang up on your Uncle ( his pathetic brother) ?”. Blah.Blah. I get mad at this infuriatingly  adorable man in my life. I mutter sing-song like ‘Papa, don’t preach’.

That’s what my sister and would say all throughout our growing up years. But sotto voce! For one dared not disregard Don Mohapatra’s diktats. We called him ‘Don’ between us and still do 🙂 An extremely handsome man, no woman between 6 and 60 could resist his charm. In hindsight, I think he was a little bit flirtatious too. He loved talking to women and basking in their compliments. I don’t blame the women for falling like nine pins though.A handsome, intelligent, with a great sense of humor man in UNIFORM ( he is an IPS officer) were and unfortunately even today are very scarce. The flirtatiousness was casual and sweet.No hearts were broken. And the poor man could really have done nothing about it actually because his brilliant and sensationally beautiful wife was a Scorpion woman.

This gregariousness naturally was in disgustingly low measure where his daughters were concerned 🙂 Our house was like a fortress which boys and young men couldn’t enter.Unless they had proven credentials and the Lord of the house was present. The poor guys would enter after facing  a Gestapo like  interrogation by the guards. Either we would sit out in the open lawn or in the drawing rooms with every door and window open. Don believed everything and everyone should be in sight to mitigate any hanky -panky 🙂 Inevitably,one of his flunkeys would also be around on the pretext of serving snacks, tea etc.

Don wouldn’t let  off any guy who had the temerity  and had mustered the courage to chat with his daughters’ in his territory,naturally. He would descend with a ‘hello- I -shall-disembowel-you-look’ in his eyes and proceed to ask about life, future plans, Indian culture, academic performance, Hindustani Classical music etc to the now thoroughly cowed guy. I am certain that the guy’s raging hormones must surely have been very calmed , if not frozen, by the Don’s battle strategy. Yes, I must add, any bachelor officer /probationary officer who would talk to us at the parties would be immediately categorized as ‘Uncle’. Oh how I vividly remember that killer statement of Don: ‘You must take Uncle’s advice about the UPSC examination’!

Don’s preachiness extended to all aspects of life besides the guys.Thus, one had to read  ‘proper’ books,  wear ‘decent’ clothes, no make-up and high heels, no late nights. One had to be dignified and  ‘lady-like’. While my sister listened to him obediently and heeded his words and was his pet, the Don and me fought many battles and wars.

Today, I can and do smile at his preachiness. But I remember that it was my Dad who set the moon at the edge of my crib …and hung my name up in the stars.

I will always remember his words, on a warm evening, with the scent of ‘mogra’ flowers in the air. I was 16 years old. On the threshold of womanhood. He gave me that beloved dictatorial look and held my hand. And told me  clearly and strongly “Believe nothing a man tells you and everything he shows you”. That has stayed with me.

My Daddy is the BESTEST 🙂

PS: But seriously guys, maybe I should ask Madonna ,clad in one of her bustiers & fishnet stockings, to sing ‘Papa, don’t preach’ to Dad? He drives me nuts!

Elegantly Wasted

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( Photo credit :http://www.pinterest.com/pin/495747871455324825/ )

“There are different wells within us.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far, far too deep
For that” – ( Hafiz, ‘The Divan’)

Surprisingly pleasant weather on a sunny afternoon here in New Delhi.  Just wondering about what Hafiz says. What happens to that well which does not fill? Does one wish for it to fill? Does one go seeking water? Does one allow that water in, which  bravely and beautifully seeks the well? Does one waste away?

What would I/do I  do ? Well, personally,the accidental sufi would waste away.But elegantly 🙂 So, Michael Hutchence croonsIf your spirit’s fine,Why don’t we make it rain like we used to,We run,We hide,We want,The good life,Aw sure,You’re right,This ain’t, the good life,Ah, Elegantly wasted”

How much of the heart to invest ?

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( Photo Credit :http://vishnu108.deviantart.com/art/SHRI-KRISHNA-MEERABAI-416239698 )

Dear Goat,

How does one fall in love? Do you trip? Do you stumble, lose your balance and drop to the sidewalk, graze your knee, graze your heart? Do you crash to the stony ground? Is there a precipice, from which you float, over the edge, forever?

I know I’m in love when I see you, I know when I long to see you. Not a muscle has moved. Leaves hang unruffled by any breeze. The air is still. I have fallen in love without taking step. When did this happen? I haven’t even blinked.

I’m on fire. Is that too banal for you? It’s not, you know. You’ll see. It’s what happens. It’s what matters. I’m on fire.

I no longer eat, I forget to eat. Food looks silly to me, irrelevant. If I even notice it. But I notice nothing. My thoughts are full and raging, a house full of brothers, related by blood, feuding blood feuds:

“I’m in love.”
“Typically stupid choice.”
“I am, though, I’m racked by love as if love were pain.”
“Go ahead. Fuck up your life. It’s all wrong and you know it. Wake up. Face it.”
“There’s only one face, it’s all I see, awake or asleep.”

I threw the book out the window last night. I tried to forget. You are all wrong for me, I know it, but I no longer care for my thoughts unless they’re thoughts of you. When I’m close to you, in your presence, I feel your hair brush my cheek when it does not. I look away from you, sometimes. Then I look back.

When I tie my shoes, when I peel an orange, when I drive my car, when I lie down each night without you, I remain,

As ever,
Ram”  ( Cathleen Schine, The Love Letter)

Ummm…I would just like to change ‘When I peel an orange’ to ‘When I peel a tangerine” 🙂 Anyone know why ? Its a strange affliction called ‘jimmypageness’ 🙂  But yeah,damn  not Jimmy’s …the other one’s  orange laughter.

The Crescent Moon In A Black Sky

So in one of those chilled out parties, you are totally in the zone. Beautifully crazy friends,  insane laughter,  music, soul food, the clink of wine glasses,a crescent moon, wind that caresses your hair, candles and scent of lavender. And you receive a text. You smile and leave everybody and everything in an instant. The text tone is customized and special. Like him 🙂

‘What is he like? What is he like ? ” That’s the clamor of someone in the crowd of friends who hasn’t met him.

He is glorious.All the way from the top of his head to his little toe.He wears only white Armani shirts and smells like sea wind. There is a madness in his blue-green eyes in which I am reflected. And when I run my fingers through his dark mane, I laugh at how that proud head bows.

I asked him to bring  me flowers. He gave my Ma roses, instead.Told  that he is thankful to her for me.My Dad likes him. My dogs love him.My sister and he chat for hours

When it rains, he plays ‘ Captain Beefheart’ and draws up the chess board. He beats me hollow at the game and when I cry he tells me fiercely that there is no room for mercy in any war. That I should be a warrior and fight back  anybody that stands in my way.

I once asked him if he found me beautiful. He smiled and said no. But that I was perfectly imperfect and imperfectly perfect.

He feeds me pasta with his fingers and paints my toes.And sulks when I get lost in my world of books.Then he becomes incommunicado for a while. I let him be. Till I bake a cake for him with ‘ My Heathcliff” written on it and a pink heart. Things are back to normal except the embarrassingly mushy nicknames he bestows on me which I hate.

I recited Tagore to him ;”He it is, the innermost one,who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches.He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart,in varied cadence of pleasure and pain.
He it is who weaves the web of this maya,in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green,and lets peep out through the folds his feet,at whose touch I forget myself.Days come and ages pass,and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name,in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow“. He listened gravely and politely told me to leave the room because he was watching the 2014  FIFA World Cup.

Sometimes when I wait for Skype to re-connect , I am reminded of Momin’s words “Tum mere paas hote ho goya/ Jab koi doosra nahi hota”.  This translates to:You are close to me [as if]When no one else is.This couplet’s beauty is in its succinctness and multiple layers of meaning. One of the meanings is When you’re with me(on my mind), no-one else is and a second meaning/interpretation is You are with me (on my side), when no-one else is. ( Source: Wikipedia)

Customized and Special,yeah ? Is he not ? 🙂

Being a Mermaid

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“Did you know I always thought you were braver than me? Did you ever guess that, that was why I was so afraid? It wasn’t that I only loved some of you. But I wondered if you could ever love more than some of me.

I knew I’d miss you. But the surprising thing is, you never leave me. I never forget a thing. Every kind of love, it seems, is the only one. It doesn’t happen twice. And I never expected that you could have a broken heart and love with it too, so much that it doesn’t seem broken at all. I know young people look at me and think my youth seems so far away, but it’s all around me, and you’re all around me. Tiger Lily, do you think magic exists if it can be explained? I can explain why I loved you, I can explain the theory of evolution that tells me why mermaids live in Neverland and nowhere else. But it still feels magic.

The lost boys all stood at our wedding. Does it seem odd to you that they could have stood at a wedding that wasn’t yours and mine? It does to me. and I’m sorry for it, and for a lot, and I also wouldn’t change it.

It is so quiet here. Even with all the trains and the streets and the people. It’s nothing like the jungle. The boys have grown. Everything has grown. Do you think you will ever grow? I hope not. I like to think that even if I change and fade away, some other people won’t.

I like to think that one day after I die, at least one small particle of me – of all the particles that will spread everywhere – will float all the way to Neverland, and be part of a flower or something like that, like that poet said, the one that your Tik Tok loved. I like to think that nothing’s final, and that everyone gets to be together even when it looks like they don’t, that it all works out even when all the evidence seems to say something else, that you and I are always young in the woods, and that I’ll see you sometime again, even if it’s not with any kind of eyes I know of or understand. I wouldn’t be surprised if that is the way things go after all – that all things end happy. Even for you and Tik Tok. and for you and me.

Always,
Your Peter ”    – Jodi Lynn Anderson ” Tiger Lily”

I have been a huge fan of ‘Peter Pan’ and was absolutely delighted to read this take/version on it by Jodi Lynn Anderson. Very spirited and breathtakingly imaginative. I was however , a little bit uncomfortable, when I read this para in the book couple of years back . It is SO me that I felt the author had peered into my head with a magnifying glass 🙂 Possibly, that is why I remembered Annais Nin too , as I blog.  In and through life with its myriad facets:love, tenderness,friendship,loss, hurt,bereavement,grief, joy, sorrow, peace, strife: one perhaps needs to stay true to what one is. All else just fits in. That’s the way I roll 🙂 How about you,guys ? )

Dil Da Mamlaa: Matter Of The Heart

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The above pictures have been doing the rounds on Facebook sites dedicated to Jimmy Page, which I pore over manically every single day. It seems these are  very recent  photographs of the divine Mr Page. The good looking woman with him has not been mentioned. Jimmy is holding her hand.

What is going on in my mind:

1. Love the fact that Jimmy looks happy and healthy 🙂

2. Look at his beautiful smile.

3. How can a man be this incredibly beautiful?

4. And hot ? 😀

5.Truly a Rock God.

6. I hate the woman in the picture. Deeply.

7. Why did she have to be good looking? * thought with a snarl*

8. Hang on,Jimmy seems to be looking pretty tenderly at her. Damn, damn, he is!

9.Will I ever be in her position ? * hope springs eternal *

10. Jimmy Page, I love ya , man!

I am reminded of these words from ‘How to be a woman” by Caitlin Moran . ““But nearly every woman I know has a roughly similar story – in fact, dozens of them: stories about being obsessed with a celebrity, work colleague or someone they vaguely knew for years; living in a parallel world in their head; conjuring up endless plots and scenarios for this thing that never actually happened.” 🙂 Ms Moran’s considerably high book sales would have shot up majestically if only she had interviewed me on the subject 😀 My favorite scenario is Jimmy playing ‘Since I have been loving you ” for me on a full moon night, with me wearing a white Valentino gown looking like the  gorgeous, thin models who sashay down the ramp  ( the defining word here is ‘thin”,please note), drinking champagne ( which in reality makes me sick). After he finishes, he smiles his heartbreakingly beautiful smile and , and ,and…I need to stop here or else EL James would feel acutely envious  and turn Fifty Shades of Green at my imaginations 😀

Anyway, its always good to dream, right ? And some famous chap ( I forget who) said, the original sin is to limit the ‘IS’.Don’t! That brings me to Oscar Wilde ,’The Picture Of Dorian Gray ” :

‘What of Art?
-It is a malady.
–Love?
-An Illusion.
–Religion?
-The fashionable substitute for Belief.
–You are a sceptic.
-Never! Scepticism is the beginning of Faith.
–What are you?
-To define is to limit ”

I am humming that song from Don 2 ‘ Dilkashi aur dilbari…uski yeh hai jadugaari ” http://youtu.be/Cm0bRl9L7iA . My mind tells me ‘Woman, zara dil ko tham le”. My  boomity- boom -boom heart says ” Jimmy, my heart is yours”. My soul says ” Nelly, I am Jimmy! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”  My body says. Jeez! Blush! I really can’t say what it is telling me 🙂

Over  & Out, folks!

My Kafkasque List: Books that wound me

Since the last couple of days, something called a ‘book bucket challenge’ has been doing the rounds on Facebook. A friend nominates you to list out 10 books which have had an impact on you and in turn you nominate some others for their list after jotting down yours. For as long as I can remember , books have been an integral part of me.“One day I would have all the books in the world, shelves and shelves of the. I would live my life in a tower of books. I would read all day long and eat peaches. And if any young knights in armor dared to come calling on their white chargers and plead with me to let down my hair, I would pelt them with peach pits until they went home.”  ( Jacqueline Kennedy, ‘The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate). Yes, that’s who I was 🙂

It was interesting to know what books my friends have liked.It was nice to get to know them more because someone had rightly said ” Show me the books he loves and I shall know the man far better than through mortal friends ”  Well, let me start with my ten books list:

1. Ulysses: James Joyce

2. The Golden Notebook: Doris Lessing

3.The poetry of Neruda, Sexton, Pound, Rilke, Eliot and Cummings

4. The Diaries of Anaïs Nin

5.  Gitanjali : Rabindranath Tagore

6. Ficciones & The Aleph: Jorge Luis Borges

7. On the Road : Jack Kerouac

8. Love in the time of cholera: Gabriel Garcia Marquez

9.The Unbearable Lightness of Being: Milan Kundera

10.Sidhhartha: Herman Hesse

Damn! I reached 10 already ? And I haven’t even talked about  José Saramago, Haruki Murakami, Robert Bolano, Orhan Pamuk, Mikahil Shishkin,László Krasznahorkai. I haven’t talked of the excitement in Tintin, Asterix & Obelix, Phantom, Flash Gordon, Archie & Jughead, Richie Rich. Of Enid Blyton…of all  her magical  books I have read  as a child. Of Mills & Boons and  my feverish  imaginations and longings.Of new authors and new books  that I discover everyday. Of old books that I didn’t know existed. Of personal stories/quotes/doodles  scribbled on second hand books. Of notes on tissue napkins. Of messages written with my lipstick on the bathroom mirror. Of naughty post -its on the refrigerator. Of forgotten stories in newspaper packets selling peanuts. Of  Hindi literature that I despair of being able to read because of the language barrier..till I find a glorious translation or one of my friends  passionately explains it. That goes for all regional literature actually. Of Che Guevara’s  motorcycle diaries.

And most achingly, most beautifully  all those books and words ( and music) which connect me with/to my Beloved. So  I speak in Bukowski’s voice:

“I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.”

Its past midnite here in New Delhi. This song goes out for all those who are reading/read like there is no tomorrow.They are the rapture riders 🙂  http://youtu.be/dnhKPw2NXIw

To Bleed Willingly & Joyfully

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( Photo from the Internet)

 “Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence” –(Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, ‘The Little Prince’ )