Of Quirky England! #1

England is where cricket was born and football is worshipped. India, I confess I do not know what sport was born here, probably chess (?), but cricket is most definitely an addition to our many Gods. As a highly skilled migrant from India, cricket jargon came with the crib, I had no choice in the matter whatsoever, you see, but well football, not so much. Now that I have established how I met MANY cricket fanatics, football fanatics was a first for me when I landed here.

It is easy to spot a football freak in England. It is still easier to find if there is a match going on at a stadium near you. A clear indication of whether there is a Hull City match at KC Stadium (or anywhere else for that matter) is the bee-like appearance of old and young, yellow and black striped T-shirts swarming the city pubs. And while all these bees sit in front of a beaming light-box (more like light-planks, now that all pubs have super-sized flat screen televisions), sipping frothy, fermented nectar from pint-glasses - frankly, it felt odd walking in the opposite direction away from the bustle and into the arcades, where shops were getting progressively emptier as the match got increasingly interesting! Good for me!

What made me ponder over this apis phenonmenon was the difference I noticed in the sports watchers' cultures. In India, streets clear out as people head home hoping to watch the Indian cricket team win the day's match, for a change. While India headed home, England came on to the streets into the pubs in support of an equally appalling football side.

P.S.: A disclaimer is in order, I do not watch sports obsessively, I would not watch it all if there was a film (any film) on television. I know what you are thinking, I'm not judging anyone and you shouldn't either!

Of Job-hunts.

Making CVs and hunting for jobs is the only time that one is mandatorily made to introspect. What am I? What do I know? What do I know that most others might not know? What skills should I advertise? What should I hide? What insignificant incident can I manipulate and magnify so that I sound brilliant to have done it? How am I better than everyone else out there? This is the sort of introspection that calls for all the vanity one can muster.

And asking those questions, sometimes I've come to undesirably awful answers. In this situation, what does one do? Answer them all and be brutally honest? Or fake it a little, gloss it a little and give them the precise answers they want to listen to? Any person, who had to do as extensive a job search, will agree that the second option is the way to go. My only problem being, in this crunched, cramped and unemplolyed economy, everyone is writing the same old faff. How do I make my gloss glossier is the question?

Oh, well! I hope I overcome the recession without depression (pun intended).

Of Nightingales and Norah.

Nightingale
Sing us a song
Of a love that once belonged
Nightingale
Tell me your tale
Was your journey far too long?

Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer
To a question I can't ask
I don't know which way the feather falls
Or if I should blow it to the left

All the voices that are spinnin' around me
Trying to tell me what to say
Can I fly right behind you
And you can take me away

--Norah Jones

I've come to regard these lyrics as a definition for my life in general.

Looking forward to watching "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist", which is releasing soon at a theatre near me. :)

Notes Of A Bride-To-Be. #1

Meetu gave her way-to-go-about-looking-for-a-mate mantra.

“Judge how much you’d have to change for this person.”

Following had been my selection criteria and it can be different for different people, but I have a feeling that the more intellectually inclined people will understand what I'm saying here (or so I would like to think). :D

I was looking for "THE GUY", not the "The Right Guy" because there IS no such thing. This was my marking system, a system where you will never get a full 100%... (let me stress again) because there is not such a thing as the "The Right Guy":

a) Talk it out and see if and how the guy fits into what you want for your future. If he wants the same/similar things... 10 points scored!

b) Try and see if you can identify where the guy is coming from. Let me explain; I strongly believe that where, how, and what of a person's background affect who the person is today. If you can do some digging and find the origin... 10 more points scored!

c) See if both of you "like" (not necessarily love) to do the same things in your free time (coz you'll be spending most of your free-time with your significant other). If you can find atleast 2-3 things that match... 10 points again!

d) See what the guy likes and you completely dislike. If it's not more than 2 things... 10 more points!
(thats where Meetu's mantra comes in, coz this is prolly how much you will have to change)

e) Meet him under different conditions, for example, meet him where he is in his comfort zone, meet him outside his comfort zone and again in a neutral zone. This will give you a fair idea if the guy is really what he says he is. If he is almost the same under all those different situations, he most likely isn't faking it. 10 more points!

f) Meet his family. If you like the family, 10 points!

g) If you can have long conversations with him without "much" effort. 10 points again!

After all is said and done, 70% is a good enough score for you to jump into marriage. And I use the word "jump" because you will never be ready for marriage until you actually jump into it. At least I am unaware of any person who was "ready"!

I intend to continue this with more of my notes... because life continues after the JUMP and brings with a lot of surprises! Trust me! :D

Of Things.

It's not like I haven't written anything this month. It just happened that this month has seen the maximum number of unpublished posts. I have 5 drafts on relatively important issues but I haven't the will or the courage (?) to post them here. I'm not sure if I'm an example of a private person, but lately I've raised my guards. Knowingly I've kept (almost) everyone out.

The reason, you ask me, well, haven't you read that I've become private?!

Hmmn, so I don't really know the point to this post. I want to ramble on, about nothing in particular (like always)... but words evade me (like always)...

Has someone already said it better than me? (like always)...

I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
See your faith in me subsiding
See you prime for giving in
I give you all that I am

----

Life. I wonder what it is?
I wonder why I'm made to live by the rules?
I wonder if I'm capable of breaking the rules?
I wonder if I can survive after breaking the rules?
I find myself in a place and time in my life where I want to thrash all the Right-things-to-do and rebel, point blank, irrespective of whether I like it or not. Simply put I desperately want to go on a wrong-doing spree! I'm so full of myself and yet I can't figure out WHY? The answer eludes me.

Life happens. Then why have things ceased to happen in my life? I'm living a string of melancholic days and these force me to rethink my strategies and plans.

Isn't life just another term that has become so redundant that it has lost all it's meaning?

I'm sure now that I hate sitting idle. I need to work. I need to have things on my mind to lead a normal life. I need something to keep me occupied so that I can feel like I belong somewhere.

I am the white dove for a soldier
Ever marching as to war
I would give my life to save you
I stand guarding at your door
I give you all that I am

----

"Another one bites the dust", one of my UK friends said, she wants to get married too, you know :). This really has been a year of marriages for a lot of "my" people.

My school best-friend is getting engaged tomorrow and I am so happy for her.

Life is changing for us (for the better)... and I'm enjoying that we are going through it together.m We can actually exchange notes. We've both been hopeless with men so far and then we found our respective fiances. It's an exciting time in our lives. It's assuring to know someone else also understands exactly just how happy you are, how jittery you get, how nervous you feel, how cheerful you can be, how much love you can suddenly feel for a till-now-unknown human being, how grown-up you become, how you willfully change, how you can sway between extreme happiness and sadness in a span of a couple of hours, and finally, know how lucky you've been! It's amazing.

I am the sound of love's arriving
Echoed softly on the sand
Lay your head
upon my shoulder
Lay your hand within my hand
I give you all that I am

----

I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
I am
the blind man for a watchdog
I am prime for giving in
I'll show you all that I am

And I breathe so you breathe
Let me stand so you'll stand
With all that I am

----

Interspersed lyrics from Rob Thomas' song, "All That I Am".

Puss in Boots.

We met entirely by chance. And he burrowed into my life so unobtrusively that I find it hard to believe he hadn't always been there. Our story has only just begun...


Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there lived a poor miller with three sons. When the miller died he left his mill to his oldest son and the mule to his second son. He left his third son his cat.

But this was an unusual cat, because this cat could speak! "If you will make me a pair of boots we will always have good luck," the cat said. The boots were made and then, as if by magic, a whole set of clothes appeared! There were velvet trousers, a silk shirt, a fine red jacket, a sword and a large hat with a very beautiful feather. Dressed in his new clothes, the cat looked quite splendid.

He set off for the royal palace with a large fat rabbit which he had caught. " My master, the Marquis of Carabas, sends you this gift," he said proudly, as he bowed deeply.

He took a new gift every day, and the king was pleased with tht presents. He pretended that he had heard of the Marquis. But, of course the cat had just made up that name!

One day, Puss in Boots heard that the king and his daughter were going to the river. "Go down to the river to swim," he told his master, "and stay there until I call you."

The young man went into the water, and Puss hid his ragged clothes. Soon the king came by, and Puss called out, "Help! Help! The Marquis of Carabas is drowning!"

The king's footmen helped the young man out and the cunning Puss said that Marquis' clothes had been stolen while he was swimming! Immediately the king ordered some fine clothes to be brought from the palace for the young man.

The miller's son looked very handsome in his new clothes, and the king's daughter fell in love with him. They went together to the palace.

Puss ran ahead of the carriage, and asked all the people in the countryside to tell the king that the land belonged to the Marquis of Carabas, and that he was a good master.

When the king heard all they said about the Marquis of Carabas he was very impressed. He liked the young man very much, and thought that he would make an excellent husband for the princess.

Puss in Boots was still busy with his cunning plans! He came to the large castle which was the home of a giant who had great powers of magic. Puss ran up to the great doors and told the servants that he had a message from the Marquis of Carabas.

He made his master sound very important, and the servants led him through the dark dusty rooms to the giant's door.

At last he was face to face with the giant.

"I have heard of your magic powers," said the Puss, with a grand flourish of his hat, "and I have travelled far to see them for myself. Can you really change yourself into whatever you wish? Could you become a mule, or an elephant, or a fierce lion?"
"Indeed I can," thundered the huge giant.
"I can turn into any creature I wish to."

And quick as a flash, he became a mule, and an elephant, and then a fierce growling lion.

"How wonderful!" said Puss. "I see you have truly amazing powesr. You have shown me how large and ferocious you can be. But is it possible for a big fellow like you to become as small as a mouse?"

"That is much more difficult," said the giant, "but I can do it."

He closed his eyes, and concentrated very hard. Then, suddenly, he became a small brown mouse scampering about the room.

This was all that Puss wanted. With one quick stroke he pounced on the mouse and killed it! The wicked giant was dead, and the sun shone again through the dark and dreary castle.

Puss ran to the door of the castle just as the king's carriage came rumbling by. The king and his daughter and the miller's son were riding in it.

"Welcome!" called Puss. "Welcome to the castle of the Marquis of Carabas."

They all went in, and a fine feast awaited them. After dining the miller's son and the princess told the king that they loved each other and they wanted to be married.

The king was delighted, and everyone in the kingdomwas invited to the wedding. There was great joy and feasting throughout the land.

Puss in Boots, a very special guest, indeed, looked grand in his fine clothes.

Only the miller's son knew that all his good fortune was due to Puss in Boots, and he was grateful to him forever.

The miller's youngest son would never be poor again, and he and the princess and their faithful friend, Puss in Boots, all lived happily ever after.



...but this is not our story. I mean, we are going to have a happily-ever-after, just that this isn't our story. This is Charles Perrault's story, and this is my way of acknowledging his great contribution to our story.

*Blush*

Contemplating The Changes.

Looking back on the year that was, a good year? Can't make up my mind. I would've labelled it one of the crappiest years ever... except June.
Everything changed in June.
All questions of cosmic magnitude resolved with a plain and simple "yes".
(Who would've thought that answer to the ultimate question was not really 42, it was "yes"!?!)

I've gone from lost to found!
From None to N!
From single to engaged!
From PhD to job!
From USA to UK!
From sad to happy! (literally!)




Life should look a lot more complex looking at the changes. Suprisingly it does not. Probably because I still haven't really digested the magnanimity of it all? Probably I'm too happy to look at the lows? Probably I'm still lingering in my perpetually confused state of mind?
No! I haven't been saner in making a decision, or faster, or more sure, or never ever has a decision felt so right.

I'm happy and that is all that matters anyways :D




Looking back some years from today, I will reminisce with N sitting by my side, how stupendiferous 2008 had been for us!
I will not remember this as a bad year, ever!

To many, happy changes! Cheers!

To New Beginnings.

Like always, something I read sums up pretty much all that I want to say right now.

We wait for the perfect thing to happen. To meet the perfect person. To land the
perfect job. To wake up one day to that perfect figure.

But maybe perfect things don’t exist. All we get is a chance to choose, what imperfections we live with.

:)
:D
:)

Crossroads.

Standing at the crossroads not for the first time in my life. While the clueless, spirit dampening insecurities I face for the first time in my life, I ask myself again, repeatedly, Am I too scared to take risks? Am I not worthy of the future I seek? My heart tumultuous, plays tricks with my confused, worried, harried mind. My brain tirades endlessly. Doubts about a wrong decision, wrong timing, wrong person swarm the remains of my once sane and safe territories of life. Ideas about my future are foggy, almost fiendishly so. In the eerie wastelands of this thing I call my life, a lot of doors have shut with an utter refusal by the new ones to open up for me. What do I do? continue looking for new doors and open them myself, or just look for a window?

My Morrie.

The story said that the heavens cry with you when a loved soul departs this world.

Nice story.

"Right, then hardly any African or for that matter Indian souls were ever loved! Bloody the countries live in continuous state of droughts."

I take back my words.

The 13th day of mourning my Morrie. The day the soul departs the realms of this world and enters heaven. The day you say your final goodbyes...

... it rained!

Mourning My Morrie.

They did not call me to come to the hospital in the morning. I thought they had a replacement and I would probably be needed in the evening. Ma and Pa came back and just as we were getting ready to go meet him, Pa's cell-phone rang. It was from his cell-phone. I did not have to hear anything after that. I knew. It felt like a lightening had struck me. I felt numb and then tears ran uncontrollably.


I was flustered.


For a long time I sat outside his house waiting for them to get his body, all the time wishing I had known yesterday that that would be last time I ever spoke to him. They knew it in the morning, but she could not make herself to call me and tell me the bad news. Everyone thought I am too young to watch him die. In a way I agree with them. Now I will only have happy memories of him. They saved me his trauma.


He looked peaceful today, as if he was meditating as usual, as if he was sleeping and dreaming of something beautiful.


It felt surreal looking at him like that. He seemed a different person. For me, it wasn't my Morrie lying there, I wasn't saying goodbye to him. The goodbyes were for someone who resembled him, that's all.


I keep visualizing him in his white kurta-pajama and blue bata slippers coming down the stairs, seating himself on the sofa and asking me, "Kay mag, sadhya kay navin challay?"
He was the only person who could understand and speak my tongue. I still need him. I hope he knew.


It's weird talking about him in the past tense.

I am happy that he is free. I don't know what happens after death, if the soul is reincarnated, if there is heaven?! But I am sure of this, whereever that is, he has gone to a far better place. His soul will rest in peace.

I do believe it's true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
(Death Cab for Cutie)

Of Memories With My Morrie. #3

I sit and stare at him all day. That's pretty much all that anyone can do at this time.
He moves. He tries to make sounds that finally die away in painful moans. His lips are dry, he cannot speak properly. All the time he's awake, it seems that he is thinking. Seems he wants to say something but somehow words evade him. These days words shy away from everyone else around him. Seems like what needs to be said doesn't need the help of words.
A silent encouraging smile, a gentle caress, a warm slight pat on the shoulder, a sad look, a tearful eye sums up most conversations I have with my Morrie. Sometimes all he does is try and recognize people that come to visit. He looks hard at them, I think he tries to focus his vision and then says the name of the person looking down on him with sorrowful and sometimes pitiful eyes. (I personally hate all those with the pitiful looks!) I wonder how important recognition is in terms of defining his cognition of other matters?
There are times when he says absurd things. Today he wanted to tell me F2's name (?!), said he wanted to meet Dinkar Gangal (none of us have ever heard of this person), wanted to exchange gas cylinders with Reliance Power (now there's a thought!). You know, how does one define cognition, coherence of thought with recognition of people?! I think people like to please themselves by the knowledge that he still remembers them.

Seeing him today, the number of bed-sores and bruises on his body, the morphine patch, the butterfly with needles stuck in him, the saline bottle (the only thing that's keeping him alive) made me want him to pass away now. I might sound like the most wicked person that ever walked this planet, but it's far better than seeing him go through all the hurt and pain. I was holding his hand and caressing it today when I saw how different they looked; his looked deathly pale yellow and mine pink. I thought it was like comparing the hands of death with life. When I realized this I felt his hands warm in my hands and that warmth comforted me. The thought that he is still breathing makes me feel better. I know I am being selfish feeling that, but I don't want it any other way.

I don't cry anymore. I don't see the point. It's fate. I agree with him now, what is meant to happen will happen. He said another thing some days back, when he could still speak a little, he said, "I still want to do so many things, but now I've realized that life doesn't work that way; we don't live to do things. We live, therefore we do things." For me, that was a profound lesson and after that day, I had taken it to be his last lesson.
I was wrong. I was terribly, horribly wrong. His final lesson is a prolonged session of understanding death, of accepting it gracefully, of facing it as if it were life and most importantly, it is a lesson in letting go. "Letting go of the carnal pleasures", he had said, "is the most difficult thing. You cannot leave your flesh and body that have defined *you* since the day you came into existence."
What I've taken from this is that memory stays and I am bent on making every last minute with him as memorable as the all the other happy times we've had!

My Morrie wanted to do a champagne party on his and my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. They had planned on doing the Europe tour, leave a day before his anniversary and come back a day after my parents'. Go to the Jules Verne on the Tour Eiffel and open a bottle of Champagne overlooking the most romantic city in the world. His wedding anniversary is on this 15th and I'm praying to God that he stays until after 15th or he goes before that (my concerns are now mainly for his wife).

Of Memories With My Morrie. #2

I used to go to the hospital every alternate day, sometimes less often. Now I go there everyday. Everyday counts. Everyday is important. He wants to see me everyday. "There is so much I want to say to you", he said. No tears came to his eyes. There is no water left in his body. But for the first time, after a long time, I did not stop my tears. I let them flow, unhindered...
He said, "You cannot cry. I thought you were on a different level than everyone else. I know you are stronger than that." I wish I could explain to him that I wasn't different at all. I was a selfish little girl who did not want her Uncle to go off to Neverland. That him leaving like that was going to affect her more than he knew. She wanted him to stay for her sake, so that he could tell her stories of far off lands, of a prince who would one day sweep her off her feet and take her away, of fairies who looked after her, of giants that he would fight to keep her safe. She is selfish. Very selfish. She wants him to stay at any cost. And she refuses to understand the pains he would have to endure to make her wishes come true.

In his efforts to make me understand he spilled his secret. He was giving me hints before, but I only accepted the facts when he told me in so many words. The doctors think that any treatment will have only two effects; maintain status quo or further deterioration of his system.
He had already made his choice. He wasn't going to take any treatments. I suppose he is more in touch with his insides than most people, he knows best. Besides there was the question, "Do I wither up and disappear or do I make the most of my time left?" He does not have time, he was not waiting for answers. He already knew the answer. His relatives have started pouring in and I now realize how loved he is and how love matters more than anything.

This year he celebrates 25 years of his marriage. He said, "25 well-lived, happy, and satisfied years are far better than 50 spent fighting and bickering". "Besides one keeps repeating similar motions for the rest of one's life anyways. The 80/20 principle: Only 20% of your activities are responsible for 80% of productive work." He said he has lived a full life and he would not want it any other way. He has no regrets and he is proud of that fact. I know how loved he is and somehow knowing all this, I find acceptance of facts easier...
Acceptance is easy, letting go is not.

If Only I Had Only One Wish...

would life loose colour?

If only I had only one wish...

would the charm of it linger?

If only I had only one wish...

would it be enough to last a lifetime?

If only I had only one wish...

would I never wish again?

If only I had only one wish...

Of Solitude and Such.

I love being alone. I like to be myself amongst the madness and the maddening. I cherish my solitude.

There have been times recently when I felt it's cold fingers creeping into me like a chill, clutching my heart and gut, wrenching till I felt hard painful knots forming deep in my throat.

I feel like I'm slipping into a dark void, a supermassive black hole.

Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations

Am I a lonely being or a being who is lonely?

Of People and Miracles.

Hospitals are such humbling places. There you will find hope beyond hopes.

I have been spending the good part of my days in a hospital caring for one of my favourite persons. One of the most important people in my life actually. I am the daughter he never had, and I love him that much too. My father gave me genes and practicality, he gave me character and spirit.

Yesterday, the man who loved life, who was responsible for giving me hope was lying frail and worn when I entered his room. He saw me, and he said, "Me khallas zhalo ga..." These were the first words he had said to me in months. I sat there stunned, unable to utter words. Tears shot to my eyes. I could not cry. Not in front of him. Definitely not now. I had to speak to him, tell him that everything is going to be right again, this is just a passing phase, it will be over soon. It was as if his helpless words had snatched all my words from me. As a gut feeling I knew that that was not what he wanted to hear, because all that I would have said was going to be a lie.

The strongest man I know, the man who taught me how to live my life (happily) had lost to pain and was lying on the hospital bed wizened beyond his years. He had successfully combated and won over cancer. I knew he could and he did. He could do anything.
Why then this? I could not handle his helplessness. In that moment I could "see" his sheer agony he felt while surviving.

I haven't felt so lonely. He was the last person I knew who would ever loose hope. If he had lost faith, there was definitely something terribly wrong. I felt this strange rage. How could he say that? How can *he* loose faith? There had to be a way out of this. I sat there pondering. Struggling to keep my tears to myself and say something to restore his hope. How I wish I could tell him that I would give anything, absolutely anything just to see him healthy again. From what I had heard from his relatives, I was hoping against hope that he would just sit and talk, talk and laugh with me, just like we used to...
And then... he actually sat up to eat and began talking like he was healthy again (almost, well... almost like the old times). I could see him struggling with his pain as he was doing that. I knew he still wanted to put a brave face for me. And I just sat there, looking away from him. I don't know why I did that? I could not see him like that. In that moment I felt weaker than him.

He joked about how *small* my watch was and how I should consider getting a bigger one so that people won't feel the need to look at a wall-clock! Someone had answered my silent prayers amidst all the chaos. I was sharing thoughts with him again. He was smiling, almost laughing. Someone was definitely looking out for the both of us. I felt contented. Deeply moved by everything.

He started telling me how another chemotherapy would kill him. He said it wasn't that his body could not withstand it, he asked me, "At what COST?" He kept talking about how pointless any therapy would be because he saw his disease as his "destiny". He said, "What is meant to happen, will happen. How much can I take? Why should I suffer?" Again. I was at a loss for words. I could not imagine the pain that made him talk like that. It was too much. It wasn't him saying those horrible things. It was the pain. I hated his pain!

I don't claim to understand psychology, but I knew, and he knew I knew that I would understand. Suddenly out of no where he brought up the topic of miracles. He said he believed that miracles happen, but they never happen to us. I do not how I thought of the words I said to him. I still don't know if they came from me. It felt surreal. I said, "Miracles happen all the time. We know something was a miracle when we see the bigger picture. It's some years from now that you would call something that happened sometime back was a miracle." For some reason, I knew I had to speak of smaller things. Telling him about miracles he would find from a few months ahead and asking him to believe all of that was asking for too much. (In my heart I was too scared to think of a few months from now, did he have that long?) I was hopelessly trying to make him see a light. I said to him, "Compared to the last couple of days, his getting up and sitting and talking with me about all these things was in fact a miracle. A tiny miracle, agreed, but it was a miracle. And it had happened to him." Later I repeated similar sentences of which I have no memory because, as I was saying those things, I saw a twinkle in his eyes. I saw him smile, and his smile telling me how all he wanted was to hear those words. He had seen the light, in the end.

The fact that all that came out my head was a miracle for me. I have spent sometime with him now, and I have tried my best to encourage him to sustain and survive. Survive and battle it out with life.

I will appreciate all your prayers for him. God Bless Him!

Of Things I Want To Do Before I Die.

*Lists not prioritized*

1. Get a PhD.
2. Go to Paris.
3. Have babies.
4. Go to an opera.
5. Go to a U2 concert.
6. Have an enviable wine-cellar.
7. Get in (supermodel) shape.
8. Make a movie.
9. Write a book.
10. Learn to play the Guitar.
11. Be able to tell a joke and make it sound funny.
12. Go Bungee-jumping.
13. Spend a night at the shore under the stars.
14. Be the first / youngest someone to do something extraordinary.
15. Make more lists of "to-do before I die".

I had to do some major modifications to this, to make it sound do-able. It was a lot more fantastic and that much more impossible. It looked like this earlier:

1. To travel the world over.
2. To read all the (good) books ever written.
3. Own a book-shop, just like the one in "You've Got Mail". (I even had a place in mind).
4. To be part of a band.
5. To be able to talk in at least 10 different tongues.
6. To win the Nobel.
7. To make an award-winning film.
8. To build a house on the beach.
10. To live all alone by myself. (I've already ticked that off my lists)

9. is omitted here for a good reason.

What is Home?

Is it a place? Is it the people? Is it a feeling? Is it within you? Is it in your significant others?
I have gone home to so many different people and places that it progressively gets difficult for me to define it.

I am at home enclosed within the walls at 15/3 Chinar Society, F4.25 St Marks Residences, 1 Devon Road.

I am home with A, J, S, T, S, D, P, R, R, P, M, S, N, J, M, A, Y...

I am home at AISC, FC, UoL...

I am home at EBL.

I am home jogging at Hyde Park on a spring morning.

I am home sitting at the shore watching the waves, listening.

I am home watching a sappy old film on my lappy.

I am home listening to whistling white and sipping coffee.

I am home amongst the smells of crisp new books, intermingled with the musty smell of old, yellow books.

I am home shopping at NEXT clearance.

I am home cooking aloo and dal-chawal.

I am home in my red elephant... I miss you *sniff sniff*

I am home making collages.

I am home sitting, waiting, wishing...

I am home. And that's what matters.


Home - Chris Daughtry.

I'm staring out into the night,
Trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

Well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
Well I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love remains true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,

Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all,
And then some you don't want.
Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all, yeah.

Oh, well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.
I said these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
I'm going home.

Important Note to Self: THINK, mull, ruminate before you write. AND then READ what you write.

I apologize that the English in my last post was SO SCREWED. I got carried away by the surge of complicated emotions and I worte some terrible crap. Sorry!

What I really wanted to say was this:

I have a feeling that a lot many things in my life have come a full circle and now another
circle has emerged from within the first one and it seems
it will continue expanding till I complete yet another full
circle and then some.

Is this life? One wave after another; One tide after another; One
circle within another and each one pushing me forward slightly,
towards a life unknown?
Probably towards a different me?

On Coming Full Circle And Coming To Terms.

Last week has been very draining, emotionally and physically. It has been a strange week...made me believe in Karma, made me come to terms with a lot of unresolved issues in my life. I felt that things in life came a full circle and then a new circle has emerged from within it and continues expanding till I complete another full circle.

Is this life? One wave after another; One circle in another and each pushing me forward, towards things unsaid, things unknown...?