Storm

The sky lit up.
I sit here watching the clouds fight.
I realise here and now,
That this will be my life.
Watching sparks fly
Watching myself cry
Watching drops fall
Irresistibly cold,
Dark but for candle light,
And the sudden angry flashes
Stark rage
One after another
Again and again
Over and over
Always bigger, louder.
Then sudden stillness.
The sky rages no more.
The storm is gone.
All but my mind is calm.
I sit here watching the clouds calm.
Of light there's none.
Just dark and darker.
The rain falls still.
The candle is out.
The wax is cool.
My hands are wet.
The world spins.
Its time.
I can no longer wait.
I must sleep.
The anger can wait.
It will be there.
Tomorrow.
Forever.
Distilled and pure.

*The last line is inspired by a friend. :-) He knows who he is. So I wont mention his name.

I am going to bloat!!!

My appetite is an indicator of my state of mind. If I'm happy at home and comfortable then I hog. If I feel extremely uneasy I starve.
I also feel hungry according to whether I am doing something productive or not. In shot, if I'm a busy bee, I need just a little to munch but if I'm quite jobless, then I need a lot of food. I realise that may sound quite weird. That it makes more sense if I'm more hungry when I do more work. But I think my psyche is wired in such a way as to make me feel hungry only when I am not working.
And sometimes even what I'm doing effects me. If I'm reading or watching tv (esp with all those scenes of people eating food!), a movie or even working on the computer, I need something to munch. Preferably potato chips. If I'm working I hardly ever eat. And I'm talking about half a meal a day.
And then if I'm in hostel, I eat little. But I eat more than I eat at home. Why you ask? Beause lets just say... There are some people who make me feel hungry and some who positively make me barf at the smell of food. As a result, a stint at home makes me lose weight while the rest of the time I'm 'putting on' (also prob cos my hostel believes in cheap yet filling potatoes. In everything!)

But this stint in Kerala, I hope, is one I'm going to enjoy. But the bad part is I will put on weight. I'm sure. The food is too good to be repulsed.
This has to be about weight and food, cos I have been buying a lot of new clothes. And all that shopping is going to go to waste. I'm sure...
Dammit! I hate lipids.

On a totally diff note...
Check this out... Isn't this a sexy tattoo?

TWO MORE DAYS AND COUNTING!!!

I am going !
to kerala!
la la la la...
I am high..
I am gonna fly...

Let me run.. and go PACK!!!!

Of sex and life

'Among the coral reefs in Australia there are certain fish which change their sex on demand. If there are not enough female fish, then some males change into females. If there are not enough male fish then some females change into males. The fish of changed sex are fully functional in their new role.'

'After mating the female house spider wraps its mate in a cocoon made from its web material and then proceeds to eat its mate at leisure.'

'While the male praying mantis is in the process of making love the female nonchalantly starts to eat him from the head down.'

'When two prarie voles of opposite sex meet, they make love for forty hours. Then they are chemically locked to each other forever in a sort of mutual obsession.'

'A genetecist in Australia has claimed that 'intelligence' is linked to the X chromosome. This means that intelligence in boys always comes from the mother. Girls get an X chromosome each from both the father and mother. '

'There is a part of Indonesia where women buy husbands. If you fancy a man, you go along to the family and make an offer. If the offer is accepted, you pay the money and have yourself a husband. In that region only women can own property.'

And finally, we come to...

'In India, there is a custom that when a daughter gets married, the family has to provide the groom with dowry or promise money. If a family has many daughters, they can be ruined. That maybe why 90% of illegal abortions are on girl babies. Yet in other cultures, the groom has to pay the family of the bride in order to marry her. In South Africa, the bride price is the imbola. One highly educated young woman had diffiulty getting married because any prospective groom would have had to pay two hundred head of cattle. In the Middle East, a good bride might cost $30,000. So it is usually cheaper to marry a western woman who costs nothing at all.'

Potato Chips

(A piece of almost-fiction I wrote sometime back)

I sat in the auto staring straight ahead… Trying not to concentrate on the racket made by the loose screw that attached the useless meter to the rod. It was so damn irritating. Why didn’t the autowallah fix it? Was he so used to it by now that he couldn’t hear it any more?

My stomach grumbled. I was hungry. (When am I not?!) And I didn’t even have a strip of gum to chew. At the next signal, I asked him to stop and bought myself 2 packets of potato chips. I opened one packet immediately and began to gorge…

The chips were crisp and yummy. The way potato chips always are. I sighed as I let my fingers mechanically stuff the chips into my hungry mouth.

I looked up to see the auto driver staring at me in the mirror. I looked away. Hmph. So what if I was hogging all by myself. Surely he didn’t expect me to offer him some, did he? Besides I was starving. The least he could do was not stare at me like that!

I turned my attention back to my packet of chips. It was a real wonder. I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t like potato chips. Those thin, crispy and tasty wafers have enough and more charm for everybody. Unless of course, they are dieters.

I, for one, despise and pity dieters. People who deny their body’s natural craving in order to bring their weight under their control. So what if you’re fat? Just live your life to the fullest, and eat all you want, instead of putting yourself through all sort of tortures thought of by depraved sadistic minds. Just for an emancipated ‘figure’ and a well-below-average body mass index.

I have a friend, the first time she sees a person, she notices their weight and size. This stems from an inferiority complex that makes her feel that she is, to put it mildly, fat. Which she is not, if I may add. And yet, the only interesting thing about anyone, when she first sees or meets them is whether they are fat or not.

Coming back to potato chips, the salty taste is damn addictive. Talking of taste, Lays is the best. Especially the orange “Hot & Sweet – Caribbean Style” I loooove it! But normal, regular, salty, potato chips are so unbeatably the best.

As I was munching the last few chips of the packet, I thought I saw a familiar face advancing towards the auto. Asking the auto to stop for a moment, I stepped out and stood where my friend wouldn’t miss me.

“Oshu??? Is that you???” Wow! She had changed, I thought as I hugged her and mused about her fashionable three-fourths and red spaghetti strap. She was the last person I expected to see here, and that too in such chic attire! Especially because she had been one who sat demurely in one corner of the class in her proper salwar and dupatta and the only animated movement she made was to frown crossly at me when I breezed in with my regular jeans and t-shirt. The last time I saw her was in school. And boy! Had she changed since those shy quiet days!

After the short chat, and exchange of phone numbers, I got back into the auto, glaring at the grumpy sour faced auto driver.

“Ippo ponga. Time ayiduchu” I told him curtly when he hesitated to start the auto. As I waved to Oshu, I vowed to call her tonight itself and talk to her. It had been a really long time.

It took a moment for me to register that something was wrong. Where was the second packet of chips? Oh! I frowned at the auto driver. Did that greedy fellow eat it up? I didn’t ask him. What would be the point? He would just deny it, anyway.

When the auto finally reached home, I took out my purse, as I pondered over whether to broach the subject one last time. I decided against it. The guy looked nasty and I didn’t want to make a scene. Yet, I felt a pang, as I handed over the forty rupees. I was about to turn and leave. “Madam!” he handed me the packet that had been behind the seat all the while, with a twinkle in his smile.