THAT I did always love,
I bring thee proof: That
till I loved I did not love enough.
That I shall love always,
I offer thee That love is life,
And life hath immortality.
This, dost thou doubt, sweet?
Then have I have
nothing to show But Calvary.

Beautiful. Period

My Rishikesh trip

From the laxman jhoola, at eleven in the night...without a place, looking for something to while away time...

Har ki pauri..a different view







The beginning of the trip. Shiva's murti at Haridwar.
Look at the natural halo behind the destroyer

I really do not care two hoots about how twenty twenty is about players killing the spirit of cricket, but Yuvraj's sexy kick-in-the-arse sixers two minutes ago have left the Brits red faced ...seven sixers in 10 minutes...awesome!

Crossed Jerry in office today. He seemed visibly happier than his usual, silent self (don't know him much, but that's what I feel!). The conversation goes thus:

J: Hi!
SS: Hi! How are you
J: Good..How about you..
SS: OK..Heard you are going to INX?!
J: Yea...who told ya?
SS: Have a friend who is joining it too..heard there are a lot of people from HT too
J: oh..ok..yea..am going..probably a month more to go here
SS: That's why you seem s happy
J: I guess so...

End of the conversation

For a very long time after this I kept on remembering the initial euphoria I had felt on joining HT. Crossing Vir Sanghvi in the office...looking at Poonam Saxena..nalini..the very people whose stories I had read all my freaking life..I remember my second day in office. A senior colleague had told me that my Ed says that I bring bliss into the department. That my chirpiness brings ripples of spring into an otherwise staid department. A year and some months later, I dread going to that place everyday. Not because of its threatening walls and imposingly boring structure. But, because of the spirits that reside within. Colleagues, who I can barely call mine. People, who change faces at the distance of a cubicle. Over the past few days, the appearance of a new colleague has brought me tears unwarranted.
Irrespective of the fact that my Editor gave me everyday goddamn opportunity because I prove my competence for it, these certain guys (and girls included) have a problem. The only ground on which they find that they can pass sly comments (behind my back) is my educational background. The very fact that am still pursuing my undergraduate studies, while these guys are veteran journalists gives them an itch undefined. On top of the, it barely takes a sugared smile for them to ask for contacts and references and numbers for their stories..
So, for the past fortnight, every moment that I seem a little free, I have been the but of 'kiddie' jokes. The guy even went ahead to say that people should understand that there is a certain age for studies and a certain age for working. And one should not enter professional life, if there isn't quote unquote a problem. Really?
At times I just feel like going to my Ed and putting in my papers. But am I a loser? No. Am I someone who makes these people insanely jealous? I don't know. Am I a sleeping dragon, whom these guys are tickling? Yes..for sure....

Celebrity roof

There is a White House and then there is Arindam Chaudhuri’s Blue House, discovers Garima Sharma

While everything contemporary today necessarily connotes minimalism, Arindam Chaudhuri’s Chittaranjan Park residence gracefully disagrees. In a spectacular fusion of mute, bright, cobalt, azure and a kaleidoscope of other blues, the dynamic space resonates with warmth and welcoming love, in spite of a world of blue it is nestled in.
With its unconventional structure and spaces, the duplex is an example of excellent commercial creativity. In other words, while basic pillars and beams stand as expected, a swirling wooden staircase leading to the drawing room on the upper floor, a fiberglass partition (instead of a wall) between the drawing room and the gym and an old wooden table top converted to a magnificent glass dining glass table bring to life Arindam and Rajita Chaudhuri’s creative thoughts.
The house, as Chaudhuri tells us, was designed to do away with conventionality and make way for a contemporary space. But, the inviting intoxication of love was never compromised on. The Chaudhuris have a close knit group of friends and family and every Saturday, without fail is a get together day. Keeping this priority in mind, customised spaces were created. So, while son Che Kabir’s room is on the lower floor where kids can play, an extended azure blue sofa sits merrily in the drawing room, where all sets of parents can have a relaxed time.
The striking thing however, is the absence of a proper kitchen. Is a replacement pantry enough? Explains Rajita, “We prefer having meals with our parents, who reside on the first floor.”
A happy family that lives together and eats together? Quite literally, Chaudhuri explains, “My friends say that it is a racket in place. I have convinced all my close ones to buy space in Chittaranjan Park, so that we can all live together like an extended family.”
Like the various shades of blue in his house, Chaudhuri too is a single hued man, with varying shades of the palette. As he explains, “Blue and white are my favourite colours. Even if I go to pick something else up, I end up buying blue things.” No wonder then, that from wall colours to concealed lights and from artifacts to Swarovski crystals, everything is blue in the Chaudhuri residence. While renaissance paintings adorn the walls, a sparkly floor stone in dark blue, is quite a novelty.
The Chaudhuri residence may not have 132 rooms like the White House, but within its own confines, it is a reflection of identities both homely and attractive, modern and trendy.
Arindam Chaudhuri is a Management Guru and Economist

Blue bits

A grandfather clock bought for Rs. 15000
Hollow bricks were put in walls to support the staircase made of steel and wood
A modern piano, under the stairs — a gift for Rajita
A bed with concealed lights beneath it, seems to float in air
Arindam’s Sagittarian qualities and Rajita’s Gemini streaks seem abundant in the house

I wana visit this place....











Seems like magic, doesn't it? It is actually two galaxies colliding...

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.