Melting Into You

I was so enchanted with the photo and the words…I completely identified with it. Maybe, you will too.

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“Three years ago, we awoke in darkness and made our way to the beach, and there, surrounded by candles and gray dawn morning, forged a bond stronger than all the trials and tribulations of life, stronger than the glittering distractions the world throws at us, stronger than the whisperings of our scars and inner demons.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped fretting about the ways our edges were blurring together like the silver of a developing photograph beneath red light and iridescent water.

From birth I’ve felt I was meant to join, commingle, intersect, and become more real in the process.

Now, my nuances are more apparent, the subtle details of my soul more tangible, touchable, knowable.

You do this to me.

You make me the moon in an Ansel Adams’ landscape, the wet wide rivers of Venice, the ocher span of the Golden Gate Bridge before a backdrop of black ocean. You are the mountains aching as they reach for the sky, wooden gondola, lighthouse blinking a warm welcome home after a long journey.

Yes, it’s become hard to find the needle-thin line where you end and I begin — sometimes I wonder if it still exists at all.

I have moments of sorrow and joy inside of my body that may in fact be yours, one-liners dropping from my California-girl lips that sound like your droll Midwestern humor, and images appear in my mind born from the way you track the uneven edges of the roofs and eaves of dilapidated buildings.

I notice you humming jazz standards in the shower that you didn’t know when we met, and the way your the lilt of your language is changing, softening — except when you’re drunk, or murmuring my name as you pull me against your chest in the darkness of our bedroom, your face lit by streetlight.

My girlfriends gather to compare notes, bemoan their luck, blame your entire sex for their unhappiness, and yet they were the ones who raised their eyebrows when you moved into my San Francisco apartment from a life amid snow, cornfields, and lakes, after only six months of expensive late night phone calls and red eye flights. Isn’t it kind of fast?

They made bets while we rolled hot and heavy in the sheets, schemed about buying a house to fix up, dreamed of traveling together during our happy golden years, and made hundreds of pretty promises to one another in those quiet moments between waking and sleeping.

Promises that we’ve kept.

Again and again.

You do this to me.

You make me keep my promises, believe in myself in grown-up ways, renew the foolish dreams of my childhood.

You hold me like a bowl of rose petals in the rain, taunt me into torrential storms of anger and passion, bear the brunt of my thorns with flashing eyes and, later, forgiveness, and teach me to use those same thorns wisely in defense of home, young, and creativity.

So come, my gondola — sweep into my rivers, and we will dive forward and become even more one joined heart, one deep soul.

Without fear.

With abandon.”

( Source:http://www.rebellesociety.com/2015/06/29/lets-dive-forward-together-without-fear/ )

Ghalibiyaat While Shopping

 “Jahan tera naaksh- e- kadam dekhte hain,khayaban khayaban iram dekhte hain”

( Translation :Where we see your footprint, there, for miles around, we see the springtime/flourishing of Paradise )

So, while shopping today, I don’t know why I kept remembering these lines by Ghalib ? Perhaps, because the stuff I bought are related to beauty ? One wants to be beautiful for the Beloved ,non ?

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(  L’Occitane’s ‘Roses et Reines Beautifying Body Milk’. Enriched with rose water, the lotion deliciously melts into the skin. The fragrance is delicate and velvety. Combines extracts of roses from Grasse, Bulgaria, Morocco and Turkey with a unique rose extract from Haute-Provence. Heavenly!)

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( Clobberz’s handmade open sandals in beige and gold. I love hand made stuff! These are supremely comfortable and chic, giving off an androgynous vibe )

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( A product  which from now I will swear by.BBlunt’s shampoo and intense conditioner for dry hair. This is the first product I use from this brand and I can’t stop raving about it! My hair feels and looks great. The magic of Jojoba, the key ingredient in this shampoo, works wondrously. Oh, yes, I loved that funky blue bottle too!)

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(  Replenished my  The Body Shop’s Tea Tree Oil range in skincare, which is my favorite. I have a very deep faith in the powers of the tea tree oil.This skin miracle comes from Australia, where over 300 species of tea trees naturally grow.Aboriginal tribes in Australia have known of the tea tree’s healing qualities for thousands of years. The essential oil in the photo is from Blossom Kochar )

Office Office

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Lunch time in my office always  makes me morph into Hamlet mode. ‘To go or not to go’ for the extended common lunch session with my colleagues. All of us assemble in the large, spacious office of ‘The One Who Can’t Be Named’, who is pretty high and mighty in the pecking order of official responsibility and powers.

My hesitation of ‘not to go’ is rooted in the acute OCD ( Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) I have. Some male colleagues of this lunch club use their hands in ‘strange places’ for ‘strange pleasures’. Usually, it is in the olfactory regions or nether regions of the human anatomy which make me feel rather faint. Of course, the OCD inducing discomfort, is not gender specific. A female colleague, magnificently and bountifully blessed by nature in assets distribution, is prone to growing long nails. Sometimes, when the nail polish is chipped, the nail’s hygiene reminds me of the seedy, road side gol gappa wala’s in Sarojini Nagar market.

The urge ‘to go’ is based on the fact that one gets to hear the latest gossip doing the rounds, which is usually very, very delightfully malicious. Sometimes good things that have happened to other colleagues are talked about, but really it falls into the rarest of the rare category.

Following the Buddha’s middle path, I go for these lunch sessions three times a week, barring Mondays and Thursdays. We begin lunching by 1.30 pm and finish off by 3:30 pm. A large center table with a shinning glass top and flanked by chairs and sofas is where we all sit. Juniors like me have to sit on the chairs while the sofas are reserved for senior bottoms. Then, a motley crew of servile office peons, each looking traumatized by unseen demons, march in solemnly with the lunch boxes.

It is then that I get reminded of Pink Floyd’s ‘Another Brick In The Wall’. All the lunch boxes are eerily of the same type and Milton company. They are either maroon or a dirty sea green. There are three steel boxes inside the outer casserole holder. It always contains, dal, subzi and very sad looking un-oxygenated chappatis rolled in aluminum foil. Funnily, all the wives of the 16 male colleagues seem to have some sort of telepathy, because the subzi is usually the same. Perhaps, it has got to do with the seasonal vegetable? So one gets to see variants of bhindi bhujiya from 16 households these days. Oh yes, a feeble plastic box will also contain salad and sprouts which the dear wifey packs for enhancing her husband’s health. Little does she know about the mid-morning & afternoon snacks of samosa, kachori with typhoid inducing green chutney! Each of my colleagues then proceed to offer their lunch to each other, very expansively , in a hearty voice: ‘ arrey li jiye sir, lo yaar, “.I always wonder why because everybody’s lunch is the same! After all how much different can Sharma bhindi fry be from Kumar/Tripathy/Nanda/Pandey bhindi fry ?When offered, I meekly demure, remembering all their ‘strange pleasures’. I have noticed that if anything special has been packed, say a little ‘kheer’, ‘paneer bhurji’ etc, there is a lot of veiled animosity by the herd. Thus, Nietzsche’s ‘super man’, that is the chap who for that day doesn’t belong to the bhindi grazing herd and has a little special something packed, is warily categorized into either ( a) has had great sex the previous night or ( b) has been promised so, by the wife tonight that night.

My lunch which normally consists of a sandwich/fruit salad and lassi is looked down upon by my colleagues. Possibly, my ‘radical attitude’ is attributed to this. Radical attitude by the male colleagues usually means that I know my job well and thus don’t need to flutter my eyelashes, drop my dupatta or act helpless. Sometimes a sexist remark about ‘looks & figure’ and its supposedly intrinsic relation with my frugal lunch and competence at work, does come up. The last time this happened, I said a tad venomously “Grow breasts then, Sir’’. Woefully, I am also categorized radical by certain female colleagues too because I don’t fast on karwa chauth, believe in adoption and have 5 rescue dogs

I guess conversation in the lunch club is so deliciously sinful that it makes up for the surfeit of bhindi fry. One gets to know who has been fired, who is in disfavor, unbelievable stories about a retired boss for he now lacks the power to harm, etc. The fabled story tellers tend to spill out the noisiest of skeletons too which relate to romantic aberrations of the ‘happily’ married people. There is much that I learn about the inter-personal relations of my colleagues in the club too, which is essential for my official sanity and success. I leave the lunch club a bit early as the male colleagues smoke and I suspect indulge in locker room gossip, which I would love to hear actually. Unfortunately, I have been unable to break into this traditional bastion of maleness.

Sometimes I feel a tad guilty about my duplicitous enjoyment of the lunch club. I have thought many a times that I should quit it. But, the therapeutic effect of harmless gossip wins over every time. I am usually chuckling when I walk back to my office. Much Like Santa Claus, who is jolly, says George Carlin, mainly because ‘he knows where all the bad girls live’.

Honey Honey

That is precisely what I started to sing when I had the most awesome honey this morning!

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It is a jar of Litchi Honey. A friend of mine has go it from  the litchi land of Muzzafarpur in Bihar.

One of the desirable attributes of my perfect man is that he needs to have a seedless litchi farm! But jokes apart, the delicate flavor of this honey is truly magnificent. It is light and buttery and packed with the goodness of pure raw honey. Breakfast, henceforth, won’t be dull when I add this to cereal. Yes, on the days I want to indulge and pamper myself, I am going to have this on hot buttered toast. My friend told me that I should also have this with light tea. Now, I do not like any add- on flavor in my Darjeeling tea which I have without milk or sugar , and also do not prefer any tea infusions ( with the exception of Bergamot in Earl Grey). However, for those who  do, I am pretty certain it will be a delight.

Say what guys, I am reminded of Winnie-the Pooh! “Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called”. That is exactly what I feel.  And unlike Pooh bear, I do know what it is called!That sweet, sweet anticipation of waiting for  this honey  to explode in golden, delicious and sensuous feeling in your mouth.

Give it a try, guys!

That Song

When I shared my blogpost of yesterday about my five favorite rain songs with my friends, I asked them what their favorites were. I knew many would come up with the song that is featured above.

This song is a favorite of mine too. But till today, after a gap of almost five years, I didn’t have the courage to listen to it.

The song is associated with that part of my life which caused me grief and  and an individual who caused me hurt.Gabriel Garcia Marquez says “What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it”. This afternoon when I listened to the song, I heard only its beauty.

And I realized that only the memories of the person who I value the most  will remain with me. He is the Colin of Sara Teasdale’s poem below:

“Stephen kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest,
Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
Haunts me night and day”.

They don’t haunt me any longer because they are my beautiful reality today.

Well, ‘Colin’,  will never sing/play this song for me, for he is a bad-ass  rocker, who growls Jim Morrison like ‘Girl, you gotta love your man’ 🙂

My Five Favorite Rain Songs

I asked my friends what they liked to do when it rained. Their answers : Romance, chai& pakoras, single malt, sleep, beer & kebabs, watching the rain, getting drenched, listening to favorite music,reading, watching a great movie, snuggling under the quilt, singing in the rain,dreaming, getting lost.

Me ? I like to hear the sound of rain.

Here are five of my favorite rain songs.

1.I absolutely adore Zeenat Aman. I also am not a wee bit scared of thunder. But I confess to having used it as an excuse for rushing into the beloved’s arms, many many years back, when I was seventeen years old.Much later he told me that  he was pretty certain that I had been  faking it.

2. One of my favorite movies is ‘Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid’.

3. For I have realized that this is the mystery of the quotient,Upon us all a little rain, must fall.

4.Shudh desi romance

5. This what I mean when I say I like hearing the sound of rain.

Have you ever been beautifully insane in the rain ? That’s what Kerouac asked me.

Yes,I replied. With him who is more insanely beautiful than the rain.

Wandering

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( Photo from the Internet for illustration only)

The shoes are designed by Jeremy Scott for Adidas and reaching me soon as a gift.

They are in gold and black with wings.

This sufi will wander in them in the moonlight and wait for the dawn.

“I know a girl from whose body sunbeams rose to the clouds as if they’d fallen from the sun.
Her laugh was like a bangle of bells.
“Your hair is wet,” I told her one day, “Did you take a bath?”
“It is dew!” she laughed, “I’ve been lying in the grass. All morning long, I lay here waiting for the dawn” …said a beloved voice to me last night, crackling on an over seas connection,conveying simply that we are both wanderers.

So Roman Payne says “As I look back on my life, I think of how few rules should be followed. As for men, they must learn bravery and live for Pleasure and for Beauty. More important than those two things should stand only one thing for him… Honor. A man’s honor should be more sacred to him than his life — especially in our age, a time when very few men know what honor is. As for us girls, we must risk everything for Freedom, and give everything for Passion, loving everything that our hearts and our bodies love. The only thing higher for a girl and more sacred for a young woman than her freedom and her passion should be her desire to make her life into poetry, surrendering everything she has to create a life as beautiful as the dreams that dance in her imagination”.

To honor and freedom!L’chaim!

Five Nice Things

Well, blogging after a little hiatus, to tell you five nice things that have happened.

1. I am just back from Mumbai, the maximum city. I was there on work with a hectic schedule. But yet, Iife was beautiful.I watched a play, ‘Kaamiya’, in Prithvi theatre after ages. One morning, I had breakfast of bun maska,  cheese scrambled eggs &  Irani chai,in Kayani & Co, with the owner Farooq telling me stories about this legendary cafe. I bought six pairs of absolutely gorgeous high heels from a shop in the Colaba Causeway. A friend flew in from Delhi on Sunday evening for me and him to chill in the  fabulous pub ‘Ghetto’ in South Mumbai. And yes, I missed the beloved so much that I scribbled  on the sketch of Jim Morrison etched on the graffiti covered wall of the pub this:  ‘Adi, you are my cosmic mate”.

2. I read a very fantastic quote of Robin Williams: ‘I used to think that the worst thing in life is to end up all alone.Its not.The worst thing is end up with people who makes you feel all alone’.

3. Milan Kundera’s book, after 15 years, is out. Its called ‘The Festival of Insignificance’ and the ‘Guardian’ review ( culture section,June 10th, by Tessa Hadley) of it has made me happy enough to think of embarking upon a liquid diet , every Tuesday, for six months. The ‘liquid’ will be fruit juices and  tender coconut water , I sternly told the beloved, who has other interpretations of ‘liquid’. Well,  apparently Kundera convincingly says and celebrates that life doesn’t signify anything. This evening I shall buy the book to gauge whether the maestro is right.

4. I discovered that a colleague of mine shares the same admiration levels for Orhan Pamuk as moi, which was surprising. Most of my colleagues are turned on by not reading. It is refreshing to  come across people who possibly are on your wavelength and I sincerely believe there are no faster or firmer friendships than those formed between people who love the same books.

5. I have been able to convince a good man who unfailingly , every morning at 6 am,’Whatsapped’ me , a picture of God Hanuman, Ganesh, Sri Krishna, Sai Baba etc to stop this agonizing philanthropic activity. I believe that he did this out of sheer pity for my doomed soul which feeds on Sabbath and pizza and thus am eternally grateful. I had thought of return ‘Whatsapping’ him pictures of Victoria Secret models’ for his holistic health i.e mind, body, soul.Such is my empathy and compassion for irritatingly devout fellow human beings.

Time now for Tea & Ta, guys!

Just curious, would you  be a sparrow or  a snail, a hammer or a nail ?  Me? “I’d rather sail away,Like a swan that’s here and gone,A man gets tied up to the ground,He gives the world its saddest sound, its saddest sound”

PS: Information Links.

1. Ghetto:http://travel.cnn.com/mumbai/drink/ghetto-357868

2.Prithvi Theatre:http://www.prithvitheatre.org/

3. Kayani & Co :https://www.zomato.com/mumbai/kyani-and-co-marine-lines