When people you care about, people you trust, stab you in the back, there is a sudden numbness. An eerie silence, where you can hear the cruel criticism of your own follies. Where you realise that people who build fortresses around themselves are people who will eventually become kings. And you, on the other hand, will remain an undiscovered 'tank of potential'.
It is odd, how all things go wrong at the same time. I mean, I may be bad with numbers, but such a dirty trick of low probability is perhaps the sharpest irony.

If there is hell on Earth, it is here.

Hanging out at the ‘Hangout’

She would like to call it the ‘Hangout’ and has a poster of Bob Marley welcoming you into it. Singer Shibani Kashyap’s residence is a mélange of musical symphonies, a true representation of an artist’s creative aspirations.

On take one, her house appears to be a colourful picture of knick-knacks. A more up, close and personal interaction however, brings out Kashyap’s essence in every corner of the house. She believes that she is hyper-energetic, a complete whacko, vivacious, spiritual and a positively warm person. And random corners in her house reflect the same facets. A soft-board with numerous photographs of hers, a twirling staircase in iron with the most bizarre selection of pieces, a green lounge chair in the shape of a hand, a terrace covered with greens and her bedroom, reflect these qualities respectively. For her, this house in Greater Kailash, in the middle of abundant greens, is a little playground, where she plays to her heart’s content. Not only is her house filled with soft toys, but also has little trinkets that she has made herself, beaded curtains et al.

However, her den is the real eye catcher. Various musical instruments, from a synthesizer to a harmonium, to a violin and multiple guitars, mark the identity of the room. A bookcase in the room spans across all eras of musical excellence. From videocassettes and cassettes to DVDs, the bookcase even has a book on the internationly acclaimed singer Sting. This is where Kashyap has composed a lot of her music, finding solace in the musical conjunctions that are present in the room.

What caught our attention in her house? A glass table supported on violin-shaped legs and an ashtray with a sprawled lady in wood. Kashyap believes that her house is an extension of her personality and her zealous ways. A gypsian wonderland, replete with Kazak carpets and Rajasthani wall hangings, her residence is zone of shuffling energy. Shaad Ali, the Director of Bunty aur Babli, told her that the character Babli was inspired by her house. In fact, Rani Mukherji spent time in Kashyap’s house to absorb the gypsian essence of the place…


Box:

Most expensive accessory: The green lounge chair worth Rs. 37,000
Least expensive accessory: A sarangi picked up from someone on the streets of Jaisalmer for Rs. 400
Has a kazak carpet, soft toys from everywhere, a doll from south Africa
Rahat Fateh Ali Khan composed music on her terrace

The problem with being a nice person is that you a) feel guilty more often than necessary b) give chances to people who do not deserve them and finally end up weeping the entire night. Niceness is not a license for a myriad of asses to walk all over an individual. Sassy Satan has had her fair share of problems. But she chose to keep her head high. But, as he called her again and again she thought she should take the call instead of being rude. She talks to him, tries to make conversation, little questions about 'watsup' and 'wats happening'. But then the man steers the conversation. Talks about the chick, the chick who replaced SS. Then, he tells SS that he wants her, that he can talk everything to her..he cant do that with others and the chick is really his soulmate. Now really? SS is no fool, just a little sucker for emotions..He wants SS to lend him emotional support, then what the hell is the chick for..he wants SS to take her time..but asks her the number of days its gonna take her...

What is wrong with the world...is it a place absolutely brimming with jerks, who care only about themselves??

P.S: Met Shibani Kashyap and Meera/Muzzafar Ali last week...profiled their residences...Next post!!!

Well, what to say. It has not been exactly Utopia lately, though it may have been an exaggerated wonderland...
I always assumed that love and THE one were just round the corner..getting ready, to sweep me off my feet. Well, this is not anything remotely creative or firsthand, just a little close fantasy that I have always nurtured. People, men and especially boys have come and gone, without making a difference really. One did, and he turned out to be an ass. After a long time, almost like an eternal slumber, is someone trying. Genuinely. Minus flattery. Boys, as I have been told by numerous friends, are produced through a generic mould. Well, atleast most are. They have a core vision, one goal in mind, and that is where they want to go. Some differ in their routes, taking directions from Sir Tennyson or Shakespeare, or walking along the path tredged by Robert Kincaid. But how many of them really mean it? I frankly have stopped keeping count long ago.
Right now, I feel sick, guilty to my core. I know that everything is genuine, and like I have been repeating in front of friends for the last couple of days, nothing is potentially wrong. Yet, from within, there is a terrible voice that beckons me to stay where I am. To not go anywhere. To not head recklessly into everything like I have always done. To understand and rationalise. To not let this become a classic case in context. To just do anything and everything that brings with it a serene sense of existence.
To calm down. To just know what self wants, really.
Will harping on the same thing on and on help? I wish it would..

It has been quite a while since I have been out and out candid here. In more ways than one, a lot has changed in this cathartic comma. But, in a condensed capsule, I feel as if I stand where I began, possibly more vulnerable and confused than ever before.
My exams finished a good twenty days ago, but I have no clue as to where I want to go. This break before the next session was meant to be utilised aesthetically- in learning pottery, in making endless sketches, in lying amongst a pile of books (cheesy, queasy, classics et al)..in just enjoying the sluggish hyperactivity of life during the holidays..

But ironically, I have been hardpressed to even put in a post a day. It is just not lack of time that upsets me, but an utter lack of rational feelings. In moments when one generally feels content, I get a sudden sense of extreme deprivation. I stand in the midst of an emotional deluge, yet, I find no stable footing. It is odd really..how words too fail to comfort today...

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain -
To thy high requiem become a sod.
-- Keats

In office. Disciplined start to a new week? Ha..

The world is a fucking circus full of bourgeoisie idiots

Am caught in the grind. Again. After a year of waiting patiently, am shifting to my new residence. To a room with ample sunlight. With a staircase along which wind chimes play happily. It is time to do some packing...

I might just get this tattoo.

In case you find another

great piece with a unicorn or

a female archer, do drop in a word.

There was a fire in my office. People panicked. I had an ice cream. It was fun. Had to go back to work after two hours though. That was sad.

They are over. Finally.

Is this the deformed silence, in which witches whisper their charms...

Is it really? For the past couple of days, I have been a silent and somewhat troubled victim of a tumultuous storm within myself. A deluge of emotions, some internal criticism, some unanswered questions and a lot of studying were the instigators. Today when the primrose was just opening its petals and I was being rattled by a heigtened sense of disgust, I chose to close it all. In a sweeping stroke. Pushed towards a spaceless alley. And a 20 minute nap, is in my opinion the best way to do it.

Couple of weeks ago, I took this 'which goddess are you' quiz. After a random set of obscure questions, it pronounced me as 'aphrodite' - the Greek goddess of love, lust and beauty. Both Aphrodite and Venus have always held a mystic fascination for me. It is almost as if I could play endlessly with the foam that Aphrodite was born out of. Or I could loose myself in the curvy flows of hands and gestures that Venus employed to work her magic. Or as if I could emulate their sassiness. But, the confusion encircling me then created a different desire altogether. A phase of utter wonderment. What if I refused to be involved in emotions and crap and became like one of the Furies, the Greek goddesses of revenge. Now, I know this sounds too lame and silly for comfort, but what if I could reason everything out with a cold, calculated and shrewd rationale?

Eternal tempations aside, the past couple of hours have brought with them a serene sense of existence again. In a silence that seems too forced, too sweetened by its own, too fragile to exist. In this uninterrupted calm I wonder, when there is no other question plaguing my mind.......

.............is this the deformed silence, in which witches whisper their charms

Four down. One more to go.I wana say yayee...

Paradise Lost? I too am lost

The gulf between how one should live and how one does live is so wide that a man who neglects what is actually done for what should be done learns the way to self destruction rather than self preservation. The fact is that a man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous.
--Niccolo Machiavelli

1. Now, I really do understand what he is trying to say. One should adapt to situations, rather than behaving in an 'ideal fashion'.
2. But, there is a one-liner with a similar meaning that just irritates the hell out of me--if you cant change a situation, change your thinking. Can I ask why should I do that?

A test question for you Mr. Machiavelli. If an individual close to you, asks your opinion about something they like, what do you do? Do you act virtuously, and lie to them about it? Even if you do not agree with their choice? Or do you act according to the situation, tell the truth and see a smile vanish forever?

I didnt know what to do......

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

Wish I'd known the words...

Three down. Two more to go.

Fiasco Roll (Like most posts, this one was begun yesterday and completed today)

It is certainly true that life offers one a taste of everything. From bitter sweet memories to salty alliances. In fact, even crisp experiences for that matter. And as is customary to such staid beginnings in a narrative, I too shall divulge the tasteful (tasteless actually) experiences that I had today. I may not appreciate the humour behind these once-in-a-lifetime moments post today, but I have not altogether lost an appetite for them.

After god-only-knows-how-many years, I woke up early and went to the temple at sharp seven in the morning. No need for the arched eyebrows! Today being an auspicious day was also the ocassion for a grah-pravesh puja at my new residence. So, I delightfully enter the temple premises, enjoying the playful strokes of a casual early morning breeze. But before I know, I bump into another delightful soul. One that stings me on my right foot. Yea, right. Benefits of waking up early morning: an itching pain all day long.

Now, some part the fiasco had been anticipated beforehand. My History examination had to start at 9 am sharp, and the puja was supposed to begin at 7.30. Now, do I really need to explain the entire story? I was late by a good 30 minutes for the exam, the teacher-in-charge had already marked me absent and submitted the detail-sheet to the office, there was no question paper for me and I was haplessly stranded. In a two hour examination, I could barely manage to finish my paper in the leftover hour. The icing on the cake, actually the spice on the roll came when my brother told me that such goof ups are once in a lifetime moments. Quite the positive spirit, isnt he!

This is where I continue...Its literally 21st today. So, is there ain't any point in conteplating what happened yesterday? or the day before? or every goddamn thing that has ever gone wrong? Yes and no. Yes- one needs to think about all that in order learn how to grow from such experiences (really?). No-because the fucking cycle will repeat itself, to bring new lessons. So, why bother?

Most of the time, its not even my fault when I see red. When I react spontaneously, it might be my fault. But, hey! I didnt trigger it. In any case, things come and things go. And where am I during this great transition, this great journey of lessons and tests? I am in my own world. Thinking about stupid things. Like why isnt everyone as honest and straightforward? Why do I feel jammed when it wasnt my goddamn fault to begin with? Why do I still feel jammed even after establishing it wasnt my fault?

Now, I know my profile says that Ithe light at the end of tunnel seems dark and that I carry my own torchlight. Well, I really try to! Found a very different approach to the same today: The light at the end of the tunnel is the headlamp of an approaching train...

Have you had the impulse to step out of the way and not get trampled?