Je ne sais quoi

She cuddled herself and es-consed in a comfortable position with a book in her hands. Thats her favorite position, knees huddled in hands.

Specially in a train, she prefers no other business than reading and eventually sleeping. Sleeping does not come easy, but she waits for it. Till then she reads, as if reading is the last thread to hold on to, in life.

She abhors speaking to anyone while traveling. She likes being alone in her journey. All puns intended.

"Get the F*** out of here" - She suddenly hears this, from someone sitting right in front of her. It sounded like a very young guy. 22-23 maybe.

She usually hates people using the F word in front of a woman, so she buried herself deeper in her book, and wished the night came soon and she could go off to sleep and dint have to bear any small talk from anyone.

She is a bit of a recluse

"Are you working with Satyam?" - Its the same young guy's voice, but seems like its directed towards her.

She very reluctantly raises her head from her book, hoping its not for her.

But he is looking directly at her, and she cant but notice that he is strikingly good looking.

"Yes" - is her reply

She has learnt one thing in her life, about how to be around strangers(read it men).
- Do not say much, to show that they can ask you more and get comfortable with you.

- But at the same time, do not show disdain and aloofness, cos that arouses more dangerous and unwonted behavior from them, which she did not want to deal with.

So a "Yes" is what she thought appropriate and what she could muster.

He found it little wired that she dint even bother to know why and how he guessed that.
"Would you not like to know how I guessed that?" - He probed.

She quizzically looked at him, without saying anything

"Its the bag with the company's logo next to you. I was surprised when you said just a Yes. I felt that you looked the kind who would sarcastically say : Cant you see the bag? But looks like you don't bother" - He added with a smile.

She noticed he looked adorably vulnerable with that smile.Very unaware of its effect too

She then mentally tried to form an image of her, as to how she appeared to him at this moment.

She was in her Capri, and a t-shirt. Her hair was tied in a french braid. There was no make-up on, as it is with her in train journeys.

She does not expect much action and tries to prevent it too.

But this guy was different, he intruded without a sign of encouragement

People told her that she looked good with her hair loose.
She un-knowingly loosened her hair, and tilted her head in a way which gave the best profile shot of hers. The dimple shown generously and a soft jawline.

But the very next moment she was irritated with herself, for such a display of attention seeking behavior from her side

She pulled her hair back in a stern bun again, and slumped her head in the most ungracious way. Hoping to combat all her earlier efforts to look attractive.

She never thought herself to be someone who needed to seek attention from a man and this behavior of hers put her in a bad light, not to anyone but to herself and she needed to obliterate that.

She threw a glance his way, just to be assured that he was not noticing any of these changes.
But to her dismay she found him staring at her, not like a lecherous guy ogling at a woman but as someone who was trying to figure her out

And she knew the exact thoughts that might be going in his mind..
"God, She is so mysterious!"

She knew thats the impression she made on most people, in the very first meeting.

She could never fathom what men felt was mysterious about her? They thought she is reticent, and does not like to mix with people
But did they know she was always an amalgam of confusion, who was so caught in her own mesh of thoughts, that others cease to exist for her at times.
Is this what they they found mystifying?

But they dint know if something dint consume her, it dint interest her.

If she did not find a reason to laugh at their banal jokes, she would give back a stare, which they found profound?

She liked men in control, but they moment they tried controlling her, she would slip away..was that dis-concerting?
She could love a song to bits, yet hate it to its core..both together..did that make her inaccessible?

She dint know the answers, yet she knew people found her mysterious
Which made her shiver within, what is it that they found unfathomable, when she could get herself?
Was the inaccessible in her, her strength?

She was quite sure of such thoughts in his mind
YET, she did not know ONE thing

He knew exactly what was going on in her mind.
He knew she was wondering what makes her mysterious, he knew she could not grasp her own attractiveness

Yet there he was..

Falling in an abyss..
He was reaching out to his guts to stop himself from touching her
He was reasoning with his impulse to hate the same things which seemed so endearing to him
He was bewitched byan amalgam of confusion....for no reason explainable to her or to him

He was falling for her je ne sais quoi

As Promised

More than a year back, I moved into my house and had promised to put more pictures here.

I dont know if anyone has been waiting for it, but I am here to fulfill that promise of more pics on my blog.

Here are the bits and pieces of my heart...





































I have been busy decorating, setting up, and its an on going process. There is still dining table to be bought, few more changes to be done.

Yet when I see all of this, then I can not have the heart to ever complain to God about things s/he did not give me. It is more than I asked for.

And to think that all this is solely my doing, all this is only and only mine(no gifts and bribes taken :)), my heart can not but swell with pride

Note : - Btw no enquiries on where I got what, will be entertained :) I have spent days googling, running helter skelter to all god forskane places, to buy stuff. I now know the difference between Venner, types of solid wood, melamine finish. So you go figure for yourself, its fun and it worth it!

In the name of religion

I once met a man in the US. He was an American by birth but had changed his religion to Sikhism and was taking some sessions for getting initiated into it.

It bewildered me. Why would someone want to change one's religion which s/he is born with? Whats this strong connect/disconnect to religion that so many people seem to exhibit? "I am an atheist"..I have heard that statement many times and I feel that if people can be fanatic about their religions, then even atheism is a sort of fanaticism

If you want to defy existence of God, and display it by doing things like not entering temple and standing outside when made to accompany, then you are actually in some way emphasizing the existence of God. You are no better than a fanatic in my eyes.

And I find it funny why someone would want to change the religion they are born with? Is it like a hobby or some school which you change?
What is it that you are seeking in different religions?
Isn't every religion about self discovery in the end? How would learning how to put on a turban and everything else that goes with it, help you in knowing yourself? What was missing in what you believed earlier?

What is this hoopla over religion?

I follow my religion cos I was born with it, that's what I grew up with.
I like my religion for many things..like the smell of incense which fills my house, like the beautiful colors of my deities, like so many stories around each of them.

But most importantly cos my religion wasn't thrust on my face by my folks.
I was never forced into anything, and never stopped from anything, for the sake of religion.

Even though there are restrictions on women in my religion to practice a few things, like you are not supposed to enter temple in one of those days etc. But my parents never bothered to tell me that(by parents I mean my mom, my father is happy being an atheist thought he would not practice it as a law anyway). I learnt it from other girl friends of mine, or other relatives.

And the best thing(for me) which I love about praying is total submission to someone(I call it God). A thing seen rarely in me as a person. I like the way I bow my head in total faith and regard. I sometimes beg, sometimes just blank out. A feeling of total belonging and unquestioned trust. Which I cant seem to have for anyone else in life. Not to forget the perennial hope which comes with my belief

I had gone to a masjid near Charminar in Hyderabad. There is some mystery about a masjid which enchants me and made me want to enter it. But I was stopped and told that women are not supposed to enter. The front bearers of that place looked at me with some ridicule and disdain. I was enraged and wanted to utter something, but checked myself. It wasnt my place.

I once went to a church in US, it was thanks giving or some such important day for the church. I had a catholic friend with me. At the end of the ceremony, all made a line and went up till the priest who was giving some white colored thing to eat. He was feeding each of them with his hand. My friend said I should not do that since only Catholics, who are baptized, should take that. I was irritated, and determined to take that thing. But the moment I reached the priest, I felt some fear. As if I am peeking inside some sacred secrets which I am not supposed to. A feeling of unknown guilt came over me and I backed out.

I hate it when I have to check myself, without knowing why I am doing it. I want to go with the flow of things, and for me anything is not consummated if not done in its entirety. So for me getting that white thing from the priest would have consummated the whole festive mood, but I had to miss it

On these two occasions I realized what probably makes an atheist. Maybe its the restrictions and bars by each religion which makes one loathe it. Which makes one stop believing in a God, who conforms to such baseless things.
Hence they make atheism their religion.

I can never become an atheist though, maybe I have selfish reasons for that.

Those who say "I love you" too soon, are the ones who mean it the least
                                                                                        ~me

Hoarders of beauty

People have a way of stripping off beauty from everything which is grand and make it mundane.
They say.."Art is nothing, poetry is bullshit"

Basically everything in the world which brings peace to a some souls can be negated, blown away and shred into minuscules of ordinariness

Why do people do this?If thats true then what do I hang on to, in order to believe that life and people have much more to offer than what they seem to?

Cos I have always been a hoarder of beauty, splendour and everything which was a little out of my reach, yet it intrigued and tantalized me..like a faraway light
A shimmer of glamour which I always thought is my eventuality...that in the end I will reach there

Its easy to shred things apart to their base nude form and say "this is what it is..nothing". But its difficult to weave a romance around everything, like a child, to be wide-eyed about things.

As a child I used to hoard beauty, in all forms..

I would cut pictures of a pretty face, a handsome guy, a scenery, a poem..
The house I lived in, had beautiful stones spread on its pathway, I used to sit for hours and pick the most beautiful ones
And store all of them in a box

I dint do it to show to anyone, but I treasured them in my heart secretly
Every night I used to open them and have a look at all the beautiful things that I had...I loved that moment of the day, it had a strange thrill to it, the whole day waited on me for that moment

I love beautiful words too, the way they feel and sound in my mouth
We used to have a book in my high school called "Words are beautiful" and I used to score a full marks on that cos learning new words was a passion for me
I would even read a lot of urdu books by Mazaaz, Iqbal, Meer Taqi Meer and few others, cos I found unnerving beauty in it
Even though urdu is not my first language, I would spend time to know the meanings of each and every word I came across
Cos by doing so, I brought beauty closer to me..in my grasp

(In class 6th I wrote an essay for my Hindi class.I displayed all my knowledge of urdu in that essay. The teacher next day read the poem in the class and said its a beautiful essay but totally not understandable cos maybe its written by a Muslim girl. I sheepishly told her that was not true :))

Beauty is an absolute for me, like truth
Its self containing and self preserving
It does not need acknowledgment from the world,
Like a black hole, it sucks in people without itself being involved and disturbed

Beauty is a way to connect with another who understands it

We all love beauty and know that too, yet we at times want to ignore it and claim beauty does not exist? Is it cos we are threatened by it, or by lack of it in our lives?

We try to find flaws in a stunning face.."The nose is too big"/ "Her Smile does not reach her eyes"/ "I find his face expressionless, lacks something"
And we try to glorify an otherwise ordinary face.."She has character on her face"
If you don't acknowledge beauty, does that change it?Why run away from it?

And at times I wonder what is this need to have beauty in our lives?

To have a beautiful house, a pretty wife or a good looking husband, a nice dress or shoe..
Everything is about storing beauty in our lives
Stocking beauty, so that we never have dearth of it in our lives

Yet we deny it its credit..

For me, beauty is what keeps my life interesting..

I am someone who marvels at beauty openly..and off late I have started taking beauty with a bit of gratitude ..and guilt too, for all that I might have maligned in this world, knowingly and unknowingly

If I read something written so nice that it tugs at my heart, I love that..and I thank God that there is someone in the world who can write like that..isnt that beauty?

I see a good movie or a well executed scene, or acting, I cant forget it for days..and I can never tire of watching it again and again..as if to keep beauty in a loop

A good song, we all know, sometimes defines us, our idea of romance, sorrow, love et al..
Isnt that creation, art and beauty?Can everyone make us feel the same way?

And when I see good dancing, I am mesmerized..

On that note I am totally awestruck by Hrithik's dancing.
No, I dont ogle at him like a woman ogles at a man and lusts after him, believe me I dont...but I ogle at him as someone who is just so perfect
I cant stop gushing at his perfection in looks and dance, when I see this,
He is just too groovy....and he fills me with reasons for all possibilities in life


He seems so happy just being himself, knowing his own charisma, and regaling in it..that's a superlative

So is the case with Madhuri and all her dances, I can never have enough of it

I get goose bumps when I read authors like Milan kundera, or many bloggers whom I read..I cant express that feeling when I read something which is akin to my feelings, which I could never put in words but someone could do it like s/he got inside my mind..thats beauty too

What would you call it? How would you shred apart all that beauty? And say its not art?
You dont have to think differently to be an artist, its the way you express it which creates art
And if others can feel a sort of oneness in their art, that's a good enough reason to be regarded as one

Beauty is my peace and solace, and I wont let that ever go from my life...

Beauty can make your world topsy-turvy, make you blind, bedazzled and you might think that you lost your way in its enchantment

But then, that's the only thing you would remember, which was worth it, when you sit and account for your life in your own mind

I might give up on love, on relationships but I will never give up on beauty..

Jagjit Singh

I had gate crashed his live show at Siri fort auditorium in Delhi. This was was some 14 years back. I was with my younger sis and a couple of her friends.

We dint have tickets and managed to make our way through the crowd and ran from under the arms of the security who was trying to push the crowd out and failed to notice us.

As soon as we entered the auditorium, we ran like headless chicken and plonked ourselves right in front on the stage, on the carpet(we did not have the gall to sit on seats after gate crashing)

When he began singing, I was a little disoriented since I could not make out if the voice was coming from him or every pore of auditorium was singing
The voice had the quality of all bass/surround effects which are available in the high-tech speakers of today

I just gaped at this good looking man, and lost myself in the voice
We were sitting right below his nose, and he could see us clealry..so in my mind I believed that some of his songs were directed at me :)

I had heard rumors of him being a womanizer, but his talent compensated for me, and I feel an era has ended with him

I have seen a lot of live concerts : Bryan Adams, Enrique..but his is the most memorable

Here is a lesser known song from him, but my all time favorite
What a heart-wrenching, defenseless love..this song portrays

मैं कैसे कहूं जानेमन, तेरा दिल सुने मेरी बात
How do I say it sweetheart, that your heart can hear what I have to say

Voracious writers

I have heard about voracious readers. But have any of you heard about voracious writers?

Yes, there is a category like that.

Some people just dont know when to stop writing, once they begin to write.

They have this habit of(and no knack whatsoever) dissecting every human emotion, nature, very clinically and then serving it in a platter.A dish made of amalgamation of their own sick mind, complexes, in-inadequacies.
As if they are some authority in reading human mind and its complexities

They are not even psychiatrists. It beats me how they churn boring sentences after another.

I'm talking about few specific people here(2 in mind), and I am pissed. Very, very pissed.

If only this person knew when to stop!

But just to tell them - What you write is ill-written, utterly boring, repetitive, senseless and nauseating to me. Probably over the years some people have fed you with the notion that you write well & now you have gone ballistic with it. But please read what you write. May be its not exactly what you had in mind.Your thoughts and your writings might be miles apart.

I understand that you have the rights to write whatever you wish to in the confines of your space, blog, diary, journal or whatever it is.
But stop badgering me with your over-the-top theories, ideas, conjectures, pseudo-intellectualism. It becomes difficult to even comment on another blogger cos of this.

I can not read beyond 2 lines of what you write. I swear I have tried, cos I believe in giving everyone his/her due. But I start yawning and my head hurts.
Man, you are caught in your own mesh of objectifying everything and fail to see beyond it.

And then there are some people who have created a whole blog just for me. To lament over me. The blog was created for the sake of putting me down, and it was made sure that I know of the blog, and every single post is a response to what I write here.
It makes me smirk at times, cos that's the degree of effect I had on this person.

But just a question to you, do you know the definition of a loser? Maybe just do a reality check and see if you are a synonym for it? Move on!

I could have let this go, as I have done so many times in the past, but since i have decided that I wont anymore, hence this post. Hopefully once and for all.

And I dont wish to be in the category of voracious writers, so I will stop my rant here.