Monday, November 4, 2013

Just a roundup

We have a lot of opportunities to make a difference but they seem to pop up at the most inconvenient hour.

Chocolate does more credit than we give it credit for, not only is it the beginning of joy but it's now a lucrative profession and doesn't it sound seductive when you say you're a chocolatier

Anything worthy of attention must come decked in surrealist garb or dipped in the hottest neon-hue

High Heels are undeniably uncomfortable and cataclysmic for your feet but, like after cigarettes and caffeine, after a while it all seems irreverent

You haven't really achieved a truly estro-testos equilibrium until you fixed your anklet with a trusty pair of pliers or something like that

If you don't know what twerking means, then I should be talking to you instead of half of the people out there

A boy should have a nice jacket and a girl must have a pair of nice earrings, if not they need a hell of a reason

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Aaah, those days of tomorrow...

We all think about the wonderful childhood we left behind. Every time we are cornered with an unexpected bill or an additional twist, we think about how great it would be to go back in time and blow bubbles in the yard. While there is a lot of merit to this line of thought, it seems a little unfair to those special moments of being an adult. At this point, we are much closer to making a difference. We are ready to take things in our stride and bury those hatchets. When things are a little tight, you can still loosen the purse strings a little to buy your sister something nice. All those things that made being an adult a scary step, somehow manages to have its high points. Sometimes, when we take responsibility, we can't help but feel a little more ready to wake up to a better tomorrow. It's funny how seamlessly all of us transition from a clueless world to one where you're collecting clues by the dozen.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Taboo of the Ordinary

We live in such dire times where normalcy has become a plague that the globe is trying to vaccinate. No longer can people walk down the street, just minding their own business, without breaking into song and dance. It has become a norm to sport mismatched socks, buzzed haircuts or a picture-perfect outfit, fit for the glossies. We simply must not live a life where we juggle home, work and a few odd days out. There are grave consequences to those who unwittingly say that travelling is not their cup of tea.
                                                                                                                              We are consumed by quirks, irregularities and the unusual so much so that we can't figure out which is which any more. Being creative and having something unique takes precedence over a kind heart and a boring old job. It is acceptable for me to not know where my life is going and indulge in kitsch art and heart-wrenching poetry but not quite acceptable if I decide to spend the day home in front of the television instead of reviving a dying art.

Friday, July 12, 2013

The Pearl Coefficient

A lot of us can't afford to buy pearls, so we resort to a variety of different solutions. Some put the idea of a pearl above the pearl itself and adorn their throats with faux pearls. Others wait patiently to be able to fight all odds, unaware yet hopeful of whether they will emerge victorious with the glorious necklace around their neck. There is yet another segment who find a thick strand and invest in a single pearl. They walk around, encouraging piqued glances towards this sole-pearled necklace and delve into a wondrous narration which will only end when the stringing culminates into a bauble that was truly worth the wait...

Friday, June 14, 2013

Titbits of Thrift go a long way...

You don't really understand the way upbringing has permeated within you until you hear your mother's drawl as you enter 'The' Store. Eerie and effective, with this involuntarily implanted hesitancy, she's probably saved your life from a melange of fiscal fatalities. You never have to be that girl who has to hold a sale to make sure that you can pay back debts (not credit card debts because the drawl always magnified when you even passed by a billboard!). While you are sitting at home complaining about the painfully slow process of putting together your motorcycle deposit, your "credit-savvy friend" may have to move in with their welcoming albeit nosy cousin.
                                Today, you should take a moment and think about everything that you didn't do. Like the time you didn't spend your birthday money on a festival sale. How, for once, you chose to listen to what investing options really mean. The time you could buy your sister a pretty nice present for, well, just being around all these years. It is for these moments that your money truly holds value beyond numbers. When you learn that restraint is more rewarding than splurging. All the financial wisdom that your parents deemed wasted, sprouting a little late. Most importantly, for those moments when you feel that words alone lack that certain punch and when you 'can' substitute spectacular for just fine.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Awaiting your Florence Nightingale...

Imagine that you, along with the whole world, are sitting on individual sickbeds awaiting the nurse. A nurse's job is to take care of those who lay bedridden within the expanse of the hospital and when she misses her hourly check, you are uncomfortable to say the least. Like so, most of us go through the motions of life in a spotless domain as tiresome and pedantic as the hospital walls. Infected by a plague that has seeped into the populace, we see that only precious few can get better for they possess an antibody, natural or acquired, to cure themselves. Festering and convulsing, they come out in such times of distress, terror and unbearable boredom, to fight what the body and soul cannot handle. Unlike any other hospital, each and every patient comes with their own medical supplies. You are all prepared with your vials and beakers full of medicine, waiting for relief. A line of nurses come and pour vials of ink and paint, that the patient has accumulated over the years, over the bitter wounds and see that not only is it anti-septic but also the perfect cure to their woes. The others who presented glass vials of pure gold and emeralds, sadly, remained as void as before. The medicine was not right and it was almost like trying to quench a thirst for water with champagne.
                                                                                          In time, these patients learnt to accept that not all people are meant to be truly healthy. The pink of health, was an open yet guarded clique who were blessed with something out of this world. The fated patients realized that the perfect assembly of mind, body and soul will remain unfairly and unfortunately, elusive to a majority. An understanding loomed over them that there must be the ones affected by sickness to recognize the brilliance of those who are in the prime of life.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Annealing Grains into a Damsel

It was always a little perplexing, why people associate being covered from head to waist in glittering and menacing gold as beautiful. For someone who reads through books and applies a bit of grey matter, you can understand why it evokes that wide-eyed amazement a pirate has when he lays his eyes on the bounty. It could also be the lust-soaked gaze of a man who is hardened by poverty, who is within grasping reach of his ticket to Utopia. Whatever it may be, the sheer lust that diamonds, silver and gold strike comes second only to the desires of the flesh. Quite recently, an unassuming woman understood what it meant to be overcome with such a powerful emotion. One that hasn't been written about quite a lot.
                         As always it starts with a wedding, well an engagement to be precise. A reasonably feminine woman who nurses a desire to be the belle of the ball, goes hunting for the perfect necklace. Her beige outfit is elegant but not complete and cannot truly shine without that necklace of her dreams. Within moments, fine wisps of her imagination tangle up in all permutations and combinations to form this gorgeous string that adorns her unspectacular neck. While crossing roads and alleys, she notices this small silver shop and goes in on a whim. A cursory and casual scan over the small but clean shelves and there it is; the manifestation of her dreams. It looked as if Michelangelo himself descended from the heavens, chisel in hand, to create that regal strand. Etched to elegance and burnt to a fine patina, this necklace was born to beautify a curious woman who stood at the cusp of connoisseurship.

Friday, April 12, 2013

what magic would taste like...

You wake up everyday and it should be like taking the first bite of your favourite chocolate. That tingling rhythm should sway you into a haze and you don't know whether you are floating or flat on your bottom. A swirl should have you moving like the zig-zag shapes, just like in Wonderland. Whatever it may be, the eye-popping tang of orange, the jolty crunch of coconut or the deeply hypnotic attack of just chocolate, you must be ready to let the day unfold with possibilities that you couldn't even imagine.

Some of us make the colossal folly of just taking the ones that are rich and brown. While they probably taste like the most memorable moments of your life glazed together, it never hurts to try the others. At the corner of every brown fantasy is a tiny yet vivacious bar of lemon or a shy yet scintillating crackle of pistachio. So go ahead and take a bite, if only once, for the sake of adventure and nostalgia. If on those days, you pulled out a not-so-wonderful flavour, you go to sleep and pick a new one for Tomorrow. As momma says, life is like a box of chocolates...

Saturday, April 6, 2013

The Fuchsia Embrace

As a species, we are obsessed with the idea of clothing. Whether it is the cut of gossamer that drapes your silhouette or the wizardry of brocade against dull and lifeless skin, we are under duress. Even in renouncing its importance, we put the concept of clothing on a pedestal. Is it any wonder, then, why lingerie scales high up on the hierarchy of the ever-changing wardrobe...
                                                                          Borne from the civilizations of Egypt and Ancient Greece, it's not just the history and legends that stood the test of time. Forever evolving and becoming an intrinsic part of the life of every woman and man, lingerie was never something that could stay hidden in dark closets. The evolution is not just in the tailoring but the magnitude of emotion behind it. Arousing spite from feminists, admirers from adolescents and joy from a generation of women. It isn't possible to ignore or hide something that has such visible implications on our daily life. When we go by each day not realizing the sober monotony that takes over our being, women find an escapist solace in the electrifying embrace of a fuchsia brassiere...
                                                                                                                                                 The veil has long been lifted and lingerie still bathes under the spotlight. To evoke furor among conservatives, to pique timid curiosity among the threshold adults, to stir passion within the core of the most frigid men and to temper the soul of every woman who contains, at least, a hiss of sizzle...

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Dinner for One Please.

Back at home, all I seem to be hearing is news of that somebody's someone getting married. It's just a wee bit sad that all these 'someone's' are at the threshold of a tender 22 and 23. Instead of rejoicing, it seems like an ode to wasted youth. When you go back, they all look at you and say - "Oh, you DON'T know how to make anything and everything that you grew up eating?" or "Oh, my husband is simply marvellous, just the other day he....." 

                              I understand, a new bride is somewhere anatomically compelled to speak of her husband in superlatives and suddenly turn from midnight snacker to domestic Goddess! 
On the other hand, who am I to speak against a happy union?

 What I have a problem with is that somewhere along this path, there comes this woeful sigh when you speak of those who are blissfully unmarried. The plight of the "un-domesticated woman" is something that a lot of these people find pitiful. Unfortunately, they don't realize the joy of fixing the fuse all by yourself without the help of a father/brother/boyfriend/mechanic. They don't feel the surge of pride that comes to our face after making it to work on time despite indulging in 4 LIT's the night before.

                                                                                                                    We may not be the one's who boast of the best fish pickle this side of town and we can barely manage our own family without having to worry about in-laws. Despite all this, we are quite alright and we'll see you on the other side of the stove...

Friday, January 25, 2013

The Fate of a Poor Little Kid

Many years back, I found myself standing at the platform of a railway station. It was a family trip and we had alighted from the train or waiting for one. The vague memory of a yellow frock teases me to believe that, that was what I was wearing then. The twilight rays bathed the station and everyone was doing something or the other. Everything was going well until we noticed a goat's kid in the middle of the tracks. I remember looking at it for a while until I heard its knell; the sound of the train. It was struggling to find its way out of the tracks. I was standing right across and every fibre in my body told me to jump and save it but I froze and stood there, dead still. The train ran over the little kid. Perhaps, that was my first experience with a number of things. The sorrow of death, the horror of its inevitability, being ashamed of my cowardice and having to accept it and move on.