Mumma! The weather is playing games with me!

... and it rains. God, can you please stop adding more drama to my life. Let it be plain and boring. I'll manage to make drama. I don't need this. Let the rains be. Let it not be grey.The sun is great. Its nice to feel like morning when it is 7. Let Monday be Monday. Let the day not be an endless evening. Its been three years since I enjoyed the rains. I have had a bad time adjusting to the grey. I hate the sky in the rains. It clouds my mind. And as I write this, its pouring outside. I want to run down and make paper boats. Its a good thing I live on a slope. Ill try to get wet in the rain tomorrow. These rains will be different. I wont let them merely pass. Ill enjoy it. Ill love the rains like everbody else does. It should rain in the day and the sun should show. I want to run out in the day rain, not alone. I hate to be alone in this season- with friends. Ok. Lightening roaring! I'm scared. Time to shut everything and pretend to sleep.

The photograph was clicked by my father from the window of an airplane.

Girls who lose their teeth should read this.

This is something I found on Cinnamon Girl's Blog. Its short and worth your visit. I loved it.

I'm in Love

5 movies in the past 3 days and I'm not going to watch movies ever.
Because I'm in love with every HERO, even Ramji Londonwale.
I need therapy don't I?
Stop making movies about love.
Stop making the men so loving.
Stop selling happiness to me.

the movies I saw were
The Perfect Catch, The Librarian, National Treasure, Ramji Londonwale and Fanaa.
Only Ramji Londonwale was watched out of choice.
Ramji Londonwale has an interesting song- Ramji ke pass hai sab ke liye masala.
I love it!

The story of old Mrs. Brubeck and How She Looked For Trouble and Where She Found Him.

Old Mrs. Brubeck was a nervous person. She stacked her plates and hung her cups in rows the better to keep her eye out for trouble: Who can tell what might come leaping out from behind anything?
Old Mrs. Brubeck looked out of the door “Walk, Dearheart, don’t run, you’ll fall and hurt yourself,” she called to her grandbaby, little Beatrix, a nice stout child with a brown braid down the middle of her back. Then Mrs. Brubeck went to bed. She spread the sheet and smoothed the eiderdown because you never know what might be inside a fold or underneath a lump. And it came to Mrs. Brubeck : What if the ground lumps suddenly underfoot and little Beatrix trips and hurts herself? Old Mrs. Brubeck ran to the window and saw Beatrix perfectly alright, digging a hole with a stick. Then it came to Mrs. Brubeck. Haven’t I known trouble all my life? Don’t I know the moment I look for a bump on the ground tripping up my darling, she might be rolling down a hole! And Mrs. Brubeck ran to the door but the grandbaby was perfectly fine, truing a somersault. Old Mrs. Brubeck was walking back in the door when it came to her: What if trouble tricked me keeping me looking for a bump or a hole in the ground, and all the time he’s creeping up behind my darling to push her over? Old Mrs. Brubeck quickly truned and ran out of the door and saw Beatrix sitting in the grass and eating a strawberry and quite all right.

The old woman was turning to go when came to her: May be that very moment while I looked for him in a bump or a hole or creeping behind my darling, trouble was getting ready to drop on her head? “But I know a trick or two!” said Mrs. Brubeck. She made as if to go in the door, humming a song and turned suddenly and Beatrix was perfectly fine, standing on her head. “Just in the nick of time” said the old woman. “You’ve got to get up pretty early in the morning to fool Grandmother Brubeck! I know what I’m going to do”, said she “I am going to hide myself behind the door, and I’m going to keep my eye out for trouble from a hole or a bump or creeping up from behind or dropping down on Beatrix. Trouble won’t have a moment in which he will come bothering my darling!” By evening the poor woman was so tired she said, “There’s got to be an end! I’m too old for trouble. Another minute and I’m going after him!” She took the grandbaby by the hand and said, “Come Dearheart,” and led her in the door. She gave her bread and milk for supper. Then she stacked on its hook and when the grandbaby was safe asleep, Old Mrs. Brubeck set out for trouble “I’m going to find you too”, she said “After the life you’ve led me, if it’s the last thing I do”

Old Mrs. Brubeck looked in the corner behind the stove, under the cupboard and in every fold of every curtain. “Don’t I know your ways?” she said “The moment I come looking where you are , you’ve come off to where I have finished being. The truth is I’m worn out and I’m going to bed.”, said Mrs. Brubeck and that is when she saw him lying right under her eiderdown and she said “Isn’t that just like you to be where I’m not looking the moment I’ve forgotten all about you! Is this where you have been all this while, waiting for me?” She gave him a long look and she said “Nasty aren’t you! Why are you worse than I ever thought? But its blessed relief knowing where you are, after the chase you’ve led me all life long. Now, where’d you think you are going? Oh no you don’t!” said Mrs. Brubeck, and she climbed in to the bed and laid herself right next to trouble. She put her arm around him and she said, “So long as I’ve got you, I know that you can’t be troubling my darling and I’m going to keep my eye on you as long as I live” She pulled the blanket to cover the both of them. But Mrs. Brubeck was tired; her eyes began to close. No sooner had her arm loosened from around his neck than trouble snuck out of that bed and left the house and did’nt bother Mrs. Brubeck ever again.
By Lore Segal

Need a new umbrella

donors welcome

Time Travel?

I'm coming I'm coming. I'm getting back. Its one of those times when you want time travel or teleporters to exist. Heck! You always want them to exist. See you in Bombay!! I just love saying it. I know I'll hate it as soon as I get there. I hope the rains wait a bit I don't want them to start right away. There are paintings and pictures waiting to be scanned and uploaded. SO see you again Bombay!

Dream a Little Dream Of Me, Granny

I feel like a preserver of silence. The royal chief of the Chuppies trying to prevent every decibel from entering sleeping grandmother's ears. The doors are shut. The disgusting tweety wind chime banished from our kingdom. Pillows guard giant granny from turning and falling. No slippers allowed in the territory. No use of keys or trinklets. No words either. Whoever said actions speak louder than words was deaf. We use mime. Mime is the language of our kingdom. The T.V. is on exile. The phone is on low ringer and right next to me. I sip my whiskey on the rocks (read lemonade) .
The tables are coated with bubble wrap. No cups couple and no pens penetrate.
All that prevails in our kingdom is the joint hum of the fan and the hollow sound of granny's snore. Occasionally I turn a page, but I'm taxed for it.

Happy Screw Your Birthday Day

So this is the man who is here to screw your day. Today is his Heppy Budday.We shall fry Beb Marley's dread locks and serve them here today. How old are you child, today?Oh Dear Dear God, Bless this child, today. Grace him with the presence of all his loved ones, today.For today is his Heppy Budday!

Heppy Budday to you
Heppy Budday to you
May you swim in your goo
Heppy Budday to you
May you never have flu
Heppy Budday toooo you!!!

budday = birdday

An ambidextrous, paranoid dyslexic, Leonardo could draw forward with one hand while writing backward with the other, producing a mirror-image script that others found difficult to read—which was exactly the point.

Thoughts in the train

The earth breathes. It has veins. I can see them light brownish ochre on the brown. The bushes stand like hair and fuzz my view. Little ponds slide by. Just another shade of brown.

Little mounts folded to mountains and some are flattened for dark coloured cows to graze. Flat land seems still. Rarely do I see another colour.

Inside the train, nothing is brown. All is blue. My jeans, my pencil case, pune aunty's blue dress and the blue curtains.

The big brown mountains remind me of the ones we saw on our way to bangalore. They always will remind me of them. Only they had huge white windmills too. Then they disappear. Drowned by the heavy thorny bushes.

A field spotted with patches of dirty white and brown and black. Two men with sticks and blue checked lungis guard these sheep. Then the voice distracts me. May be Nick Drake would have been better travel music than Shubha Mudgal's Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi.

Colour! My eyes wake up. There are people in greens, reds and oranges. Synthetic pinks, glossy florescent plastic , nitrogen packed food. Cookies in jars. Suitcases and men with tea in their hands. Wait. Wait on their faces. Are they waiting for Sharona? Muh muh muh muh My sharona!

Then again we start the train.Old Man with Nehru cap sleeps peacefully in the heart of the platform stairs. Feet on suitcase. Legs folded. Chits being opened. Tickets being checked. Hands on sweaty foreheads. But I miss all the action. I am just a spectator. Hand painted Billboards. Advertisements on houses. Spare rail tracks rest alongside. They begin and end.

Follow the electricity wires. But the sun tears your stare with its glare.

The man walking alone on the endless green stretch along the river makes me wonder about his wandering. Where is he going? Is he even going someplace? Why is he there? Isn't he quite like me? Not knowing where to go but going there anyway with hope in his suitcase.

Where I sit everything seems to be moving away from me. As if they belonged to me and now they are going away. I see them 0nly after they are not with me anymore. The sun has drowned and taken the browns with him. The blues and blacks now rule the sky. The windows hold the reflections of the talking ladies and me.