Easier Said than Done

Half a plate of bhel-puri, a bus back home to my bed, a message, a cigarette- something tells me that happiness has to be hollow/momentary if it can be bought for five rupees.

Speaking of crabs- "I wish I had a shell", she whispers in the middle of class.

I smile and doodle doodles open to multiple interpretations so that you can quit interpreting my life.


"Mysterious my ass!" I croak, still drowsy.

Don't touch me, I wish my body gave out the vibes that screamed that. I am drunk enough too scream the words out myself and get away with it.

"You don't get me"- I wish I could say that without sounding like an angsty teen or an American pop singer.

Forget it, I say, when you ask me to talk, or don't call me at all. I go buy my own happiness for five rupees.

Dusty Dog-eared Pages

Do you think you could stop stepping over my toes each time we dance?
We studied constellations out in the garden, you and me, I didn't really see your face but the jawline was beautiful.

For a minute I thought Judith McNaught might just end up accusing me of plagiarism, especially the moment where you looked at me ..uhhh...what did she call that?- "heavy lidded gaze"- that's quite something by the way. Steel bands, murmured, abyss, gazes, locked, helpless bird oh what the hell! Just stop stepping over my feet when we dance!

Gone are the days when I needed to see my name on examination rolls/attendance registers to validate my existence. Ever since I heard you laugh...life's been so much better. I swear I could almost get rid off the bulky sweaters and the fringe that's so much more than a fringe. But it is still more romantic when the lights are dim you know.

You help me make the real world fade and I'll forget you are such a bad dancer. Is it a deal then?

Lets just be happy.

Attention Whore

The mirror never lies, like the eye of the beholder.

High heels are so not worth it, neither are cleavage dipping tops.

Too many unfulfilled promises- the eye seems to say now. It wanders to the bottle in my hand, beer, golden or green actually.

Alcohol never made me lose my senses, I try to tell those eyes.

The mirror lies, I realize when I look into his eyes, so do the photographs that display unflattering side profiles. I am unsure suddenly, its the golden-green drink I tell myself. I don't know about the truth- but the beauty is in his eyes. My beauty, I mean. His eyes darkened by the alcohol and sheer want seem to scream that I am beautiful.

Feels good. Just like I had been promised. It's addictive, the high, the happiness, the attention...momentary too...

I excuse myself.

Christmas mornings/Hershey's kiss

You almost wouldn't recognize me now. You and your diary with the Walt Disney image of "Beauty and the Beast" on it and the day dreams of actresses with curly hair... you wouldn't know me even if you saw me standing right in front of you.
You wrote things in that diary and disguised them behind metaphors even as you do today.
You wouldn't remember my tears or the pathetic figure I made, lying across the racing-car bed sheet.
You would listen to my story, ever since the day i left you, maybe even take a few notes, tearing a few pages after scribbling furiously on them and that's because the diary is special. You love the yellow dress, the ferocious beast as well as the talking candle-stands and teacups.



You would find it hard to even hold a conversation with me, but you would be really really happy to see me :)

Recap- Last Week

The songs are all wrong. Note to self: update ipod.
Also: I seem to work much better when part of me is in shambles.

I pretend to be wise around people who'll believe me.

Self awareness was never a problem area for me, all the things you said that I was, most of which are unmentionable on the blog, are all things that I have always known I am or have the potential to be.

You were not the first to try and figure me out and do a horrible job of it. I give you permission to keep trying.

Did Cinderella wake up one morning and realize that there was a pimple over her left eyebrow and that relationships were all about sacrifice?

Did Goldilocks' parents forgive her and invite her back in with open arms?

Its not anybody's fault if not mine, but I have a right to have my own beliefs, which means that it is all your fault.

New Year Resolutions

1. "Denial is not just a river in Egypt but an entire freakin' ocean."- Meredith Grey.
Jump into it and swim.
2. Stop quoting Grey's.
3. Stop quoting Grey's except for the special Grey's quote that has been saved for a special occasion.
4. Stop revering food. For God's sake.
5. Have an answer prepared for the question- "What is the wildest thing you have ever done"/Have enough yesses to get drunk and pass out at a game of never have i ever.
6. Laugh less loudly
7. Watch less T.V.
8. Do not hold someone's pretty face/big car/fascinating personal life against them.
9. Restrict moping/whining/ranting/self pitying to half an hour max, thrice a week.
10. Stop buying over-sized clothes.
11. Obsess over hair and make-up.
12. Finish reading Crime and Punishment, Satanic Verses and the goddamn Oliver Twist I first picked up to read when I was 12 years old.
13. Make more friends, lots of friends.
14. Lose more weight.
15. Get a speeding ticket.

Couch Potato

I saw you on TV last night. Again. But you were lost once I switched to another channel...a faint memory by the time I had turned it off.

I saw me too...and the future. A well scripted one at that.
It was witty, there was beautiful music playing at the back, and it got a little sad towards the end. Well...sad is not the right word. I'd go for "heart-wrenching".

I was blond. You wore a green jacket. And you were funny but curt. You, on the other hand, seemed to suppress me. I loved you, and you and you...all of you...just like in real life.

It was a hospital..no wait...it was a small town or well...just forget it-it was nothing.