Ek Kathak Aur Uski Kathayen

Sunday, March 27, 2005

#4, Wistful - or plain reflecting?

#3, #2, #1

Soma looked out of the balcony. It was her, with her favourite cup of tea. They had this thing going for them, to put it colloquially. Plenty of times they managed perfectly normal conversations with each other; at times they even managed company. There were times Soma could have conversations with her books, and at times with the characters in her books. She did monologues; dialogues with her imaginary friends; and sometimes even conversations - with people in flesh and blood.

"Soma, it wouldn't hurt either of us if we walk together."
"Your home is that way, mine is this way"
"'tis a long way to your destination. A little company wouldn't hurt"
"It will"

She left Akash where the road forked and carried on.

And, on her journey Soma met him. She knew she wanted a companion. She craved for one, to put it lightly. She was addicted to the need for company but she knew she would leave him again, once the road forked. She knew how the conversation would run once they approached the fork - she had rehearsed it over and over again; with herself, her cup of tea, myraid characters from her novels and imaginary friends! She knew the drill, many times over now.

Ravi carried on in his quest to capture another emotion. He captured love; he captured abandon; he captured innocence. He was looking for his next, when he chanced upon Soma in the balcony. Was it wistful longing? Or... was it what his lens captured - serene reflection and a smile of a woman at peace with herself knowing what she was doing - and enjoying that cup of tea!?!!

Friday, March 25, 2005

A bunch of random lyrics

Songs that have been doing the rounds of the memory bank

Hold me till the morning comes
Until I see your smile
Take all the sadness from your eyes
Hold me till the morning sun
Let me stay we've just begun
(Paul Anka - Hold me till the morning comes)

When I'm feeling blue, all I have to do
Is take a look at you, then I'm not so blue
When you're close to me, I can feel your heart beat
I can hear you breathing near my ear
Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love
(Wayne Fontana - Groovy kind of love)

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
(Ray Conniff - Killing me softly)

Tonights the night
It's gonna be alright
Cause I love you girl
Ain't nobody gonna stop us now
(Rod Stewart - Tonight's the night)

Let me hold you in my arms
Let me thrill to all your charms
Hold me, hold me, hold me tight
Tonight, tonight my love, tonight
Love me, love me, love me so
And never, never let me go
Hold me, hold me, hold me right
Tonight, tonight my love, tonight
Forever, I will love you forever
The mandolins are playin'
The moon above is sayin'
It's love, it's love, I know, I know it's love
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me warm
Make me feel like I've been born
Hold me, hold me, hold me right
Tonight, tonight my love, tonight
Forever, I will love you forever, yes I will
(Paul Anka - Tonight my love, tonight)

We’ve got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
Let’s make it last, let’s find a way
Turn off the light, come take my hand now
We’ve got tonight babe
Why don’t we stay?
We’ve got tonight babe
Why don’t we stay?
(Bob Seger - We've got tonight)

The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never for get, the way you look tonight
(Chris De Burgh - Lady in Red)

There are a couple of others, but the post's getting tooooo long!

Monday, March 21, 2005


I've been always been intrigued with obsessions; having a few myself (probably not dangerous ones, *smile* ) they amuse me to no end. So when two of my most favourite readers did posts on obsessions (Incurably Yours and Pink), I decided to join the party!


Walking through the crowd on a busy street she was thinking of him.
Going through the daily chores she was thinking of him.
At the mall, at the workplace, at the basketball court, she was thinking of him.

She was obsessed with him, and she knew it.
She loved her obsession and enjoyed it.
She enjoyed the pleasure the obsession got her.
She enjoyed the pain it brought her.
She enjoyed every moment of her obsession.


Every evening, she would come home and talk to him. Tell him the entire story of her day, what she did-where she went-who she met-who said what-what she told whom; the whole story! She listened to what he told her, she loved his advice. She loved he held her hand when he spoke to her. She loved the way his hand caressed her the nape of her neck; she loved the way his hands played with her hair. She could stare at him for hours to no end; she was so in love.

She wasn't selfish, was she? Of course not. So she listened patiently to his story of his day. She knew he didn't like being interrupted, so she politely smiled and nodded at the right time. She thought he was the smartest guy on earth - and she knew all his stories by heart. Like the time he outwitted his boss in a meeting and impressed everyone there to become his boss's boss the very next hour. Or the time he saved an old woman on the street from stray dogs. Oh and the time he ran to get into a train he missed and managed to catch the train - that was her fault actually, she loved having him drink tea with her and couldn't bear him going away. She laughed at those stories. Oh, he was just so funny... he could turn the dullest stories to the most interesting and hilarious ones!

Suddenly a wave of depression came over her. She realised that he would be going that evening to Mumbai for 3 days. She hated when he went away. She had no one to speak to. No one to admire her, no one to approve her work, no one to crib to, no one to laugh with. She hated his boss; she hated his work; she hated the entire world. She hated herself for loving him; she hated him for loving her; she hated him for being there. She started hunting frantically for his picture. She would shred it in the shredder - it would serve him right for not resigning from that job. But she couldn't find the picture. She knew she had kept it with her perfumes, and broke a bottle trying to locate the picture.

"Well, it was just another bottle of perfume", she sighed.

And as the script said, the broken glass cut her foot, her pretty foot. The pain cut through her, she still couldn't locate the picture. She could take it no more and started crying on the bed, her foot bleeding and the blood making a mess of the sheets besides dripping all over the floor. As always.


It was a good 4 hours before she woke up. She tried putting her foot down but there was an excruciating pain in her leg, and then she remembered the events of the evening. He had to fly to Mumbai, she remembered. And she had to clear the mess.

"God! Why does he do this to me? And why do you do this to me? Why do I hurt myself each time he travels out of the city?"

She took a deep breath and started to clean the mess. Looking wistfully at the bottle of perfume - 'twas a good fragrance. She hoped he left her a note, but realised he hadn't.

"He was probably angry with me again, how stupid of me to hurt myself"

And went to the kitchen to get herself a cup of hot tea. She never liked drinking tea alone, but he wasn't there to give her company. She had started enjoying the pain, the pain in her leg every time he was to travel out and she broke the perfume bottle and the glass cut her leg. The masochist in her loved him travelling out and loved her breaking the perfume bottles for her to cut herself. The tea and the pain put her on a new high. She figured if she can't talk to him, she might as well pretend she was talking to him. So she played the game and told him about her day. By now she knew the drill; she knew what to tell him. She pretended she was on the phone, she pretended he called her from Mumbai. And she started apologising about the perfume bottle and the mess in the bedroom, and about all that blood. She knew blood nauseated him and she went on to tell him how sorry she was. He was as usual patiently listening.

His patience sometimes got onto her nerves. And today, she lost it.
Why can't you ever lose your temper?
Why don't you shout at me?
Why don't you slap me?
Why don't you abuse me?
Why don't you tell me I'm a psychiatric case?
Why don't you throw me out of the house for me to fend for myself?
Why at least why don't you tell me to change my job, my clothes, my hairstyle, the way I cook food?
Why don't you ever say anything Raj?
Why Raj, Why?

But this time there was no answer. She shouted and shouted and kept shouting till she broke down and started crying again.

She knew something was wrong. She knew she needed help. And she knew it was already too late. She knew she was obsessed with a figment of her imagination, she knew Raj didn't exist; she knew she was playing games with herself. And yet, she needed Raj. He was her need, for her to survive. She needed him to take care of her, she...

And once again her brain went into a state where her obsession with Raj was controlling perception of reality.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

#3, the fields beckoning!

The next in the series
#1, in the rain
#2, in the sea

"Hey Mister!"

The photographer stopped in his tracks. The voice stopped him. It was the sweetest voice he had heard in many years. The voice brought back memories of the days when he, a carefree kid, cycled down these very roads to the big mango tree and manage to pick a handful. Evading the caretaker at the farm was quite a task but he was adept at the skill of dodging the fellow for the coveted fruit.

He looked at the mango tree a few feet away, age hadn't done much to the tree and the mangoes up there that hot summer afternoon looked just as delectable as they did 25 years ago. The voice called him again,

"Heeyyy Mister"

He turned around - the grin not yet wiped off - to see a little girl, probably 11 or 12 years in age with the friendliest smile on her face. Her hair were tied in a ponytail but there were plenty of those hair all over her face; her black hair accentuating the blackest eyes he had ever seen. She was the fairytale pre-adolescent in flesh and blood! The most endearing kid he had seen in his 38 years, the kind of kid that manages to get a genuine smile out of you with zero effort!

If he really came here to reclaim his lost childhood, he mused, then this was the moment he just managed it!

"Yes missy?"
"You see that tree"
"I do"
"And those mangoes?"
"Oh those! of course I do! They're just like what they were 25 years ago"
"How do you know what they were 25 years ago"
"I used to steal them, you see!"

Her eyes grew larger with excitement. He could read the excitement; he was getting quite excited himself. She looked at him, earnestly, her expression betraying her thoughts alltogether. He gave her the kind of grin his face forgot about years ago managing plenty of betrayal itself! And before you could say "yes" or blink they were racing towards the tree!!

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Toshiba and the headless notebook

And then there will be a time when the morning scamper wil include looking for your notebook screen and not just your car keys!

[via engadget]

So there was an earthquake

At the gym, sometime around 7 pm in the evening

Random person #1: What's an earthquake called in english? (The question was asked in hindi)
Random person #2: Earthquake
Random person #1: not yet convinced, looking at me for an answer
Me: Earthquake

Random person #1: So, did you feel it?
I'm assumed she was asking have you ever experienced an earthquake, and I started off with, "yeah... I was in the 5th standard once" (of course I would have been in the 5th once, but anyway) but random person #1 cut me off mid way "no no... I'm talking about today's earthquake"

Me: Earthquake? Today?

And then there was pin drop silence. The world stopped. The entire gym pounced on me "WHATTTTTTTTTT????? You're not aware of it??"

The silence for a few seconds was unnerving and then I casually shrug it off... afterall I slept through the earthquake!

Another a few seconds of bewildered silence, and life was normal again.

Quite like an earthquake itself!

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Its Official!

People... I'm officially 7/8th an engineer now!

After over a months delay Pune University have announced the results of the 7th semester BE course. How kind of them to do so a couple of weeks before the term ends. Wouldn't it have been simpler to have a combined BE result in Aug? Oh well... never mind.

It's been a long journey from a quarter to 3/8 to half to 5/8ths and then to three quarters and then the figure 7/8. In a few more months, the fraction should be complete!! One of these days you can expect a post titled "The story so far", the title could change though, if I come up with something I find better, or if I get bored of this title before I get down to working on the post.

And, as a parting shot, some trivia - I officially hate the figure 0.3. I could say its a boring number, but in American you say "it sucks" and not "its boring", and I shall switch to using American because I think I suddenly like America (And I hope *certain* Americans like me for liking America and liking George Bush, the later a tad difficult, but what the heck!)

0.3 You Suck!

Thursday, March 10, 2005

All for a few beers!

The players: FBI Agents Smith and R. Private investigators Charlie and his Angel.
The game: No one still knows!

But the game was on. Charlie and his Angel taking the lead and striking at all possible times and places. Till now no one even knew it was a game!! Till, Agent R decided it better be one. Because all those moves by Charlie and his Angel was getting the Agent rather flustered.

"If they can stike, why can't we?", mused the Agent.

After a few weeks of contemplation, decided to officially throw open the game - Along with the other Agent they decided to strike. Team Charlie had made a lot of progress and the Agents needed to do something fast. But unfortunetely there was another game that was on, and team Agents couldn't strike - Agent R's revenge couldn't start, forget about making moves.

And then, in what was a totoal unprecedented turn of events - involving a few beers and some vodka - the game took a dramatic U turn and Charlie found himself in the midst of another game - minus the original players of course!!!

Irony, when it strikes can blow you off your feet!

Note: This post may not be understood by anyone else, except our players and those who've seen the game unfold. Sorry folks, I'll have something up for you soon enough!

Monday, March 07, 2005

Our stud from India finished his first ever F1 race

Well, yes, thats stale news.

If you're looking for something new, the phrase of the day is triply redundant case of redundant acronym syndrome syndrome.

The fact that my yahoo messenger status message is alternating between "bored" and "very bored" might explain this post.

Thank You!

Wednesday, March 02, 2005


This was probably the last time they would ever speak. The last time the switch in his local office would route a call to that ever so familiar number. The last the time the switching office would multiplex the data stream for an uplink to that communication satellite. The last time her the MTSO would switch that call to the base station she was in, the last time her LCD would flash the ever so familiar number.

Thats what she was thinking while the phone was ringing. The last call she would probably get from him... she could let the phone ring and not answer it, he would probably call a few more times, a few unanswered calls and he would give up, or not. Or she could end the call there, and he would get the message, which he would anyway have got with the unanswered calls. The only problem being she didn't have any message for him to *get*! Oh well... and there were thousands of dollars worth equipment, switching that call from Chicago to Pune... and considering, that the convoluted statistics including newer ones devised every few seconds by studs out of business school would go down a few decimal places, she might as well answer it. Okay, that was't the only reason but the point here is that she answered the call!

He was pretty much thinking on those lines as well. Sometimes its not a good idea to know what goes on in those air conditioned offices of your phone carrier.

And sometimes its a better idea to let your heart hurt and to feel the pain.


And then a long pause. And a longer pause, and pin drop silence. Silence doesn't really utilise all that bandwidth very efficietly, but then there are those times when you can drop the big words and listen to the silence, for it speaks much more than words ever can.

The silence, spoke, loud and clear of memories burried so far away that they were no longer in focus, till now.
Of the long walk down the road talking about the mundane things of life
Of the ice cream that melted in his hands while he was animatedly explaining concepts from 12th grade physics
Of the 12th grade results, which should never have seen the light of the day!
Of the sitting at the restaurant talking for hours eating saunf
Of the waiters not kicking them out of there
Of the pizza with toppings of last nights left over sabji and chole
Of the never ending instant message chats

The silence, spoke, of things so fresh that even yesterday would be far away
Of their first kiss
Of the fact the the first kiss finally happened after a zillion clumsy attemps
Of playing tennis with a 2" wide freshly healed wound, only for it to re-open
Of the only time she actually let go of all inhibitions and cried in his arms
Of the many seemingly unproductive hours doing nothing, except staying in his arms
Well... they loved each other, and thats what couples in love do, right?
Of the way she could change expression every few seconds
Of their only fight
Of the minutes of silence glaring at each other, when what she needed was not the fight, but a hell lot of love, which he wished for her every living minute.

The silence spoke of things said, spoke of things that were left unsaid.
Of her insecurities
Of her fears
Of her being so stubborn
Of the way he always thought she was his, forever to love and to take care of
Of the perfunctory conversations in the last four years
Of the pain, and the gamut of emotions after those perfunctory conversations

And it didn't just speak of "him" and "her", but it spoke of "them"
Of their dreams, their aspirations, they goals.
Of their time together
Of their time which they couldn't get together

It spoke of the months she longed for him, for his touch, for his being there.
It spoke of his need for her, for her just being around him.
Of the confort zone they had once stepped into, brutally torn apart by that one decision four years ago.

And the silence spoke of the reality, today, after an entire four years, which was his marriage. A committed relationship to someone else, for a lifetime. And while it was at it, it also spoke of a new beginning, a new life. A new journey, new friends, new lovers(!) and a hell lot of fun.

"I'll miss you, like I always do"
His words cut across the silence, like a hot knife cutting through butter. And for what would have been the first time, she said... "I'll miss you too"

And finally the circuit was free to switch another call.