Pinku-Enchanted Life

Waiting to break free to be bound again see the horizon turn a brilliant orange see shy flowers bloom I am waiting for downpours which can quench my thirst Waiting for rain for the smile that lights up my life for it to be light again Waiting, just waiting Waiting to see the world for the world to see me for you to see me the way I am without pretense Waiting to live life Waiting to die I am waiting, to be born again

Walked into another traffic police tow away yard to claim my vehicle, it’s become almost second nature now. Feel orphaned if those guys don’t pick on me atleast once a week. The city is so crowded one cant find a parking space in the rush of meeting an appointment deadline and ever so often when you come back for the car you find it missing and some gaping hanger-ons grinning at your discomfiture. So that’s what had happened yet again. By now I am pretty well trained to handle this situation and I walked up to the cops cabin to pay the required amount and retrieve my vehicle and then happened the incident that refuses to fade. As I stood there, a small white car zoomed out of its parking space towards the exit point from which a truck was just moving out. Shouts of stop, rokko went up everywhere and the truck guy stopped moving thereby effectively blocking the passage, the white car came to a screeching halt. The window on the driver’s side was rolled down and the choicest expletives h

Hi! Lisa tagged me and I knew nothing about this tagging business. Didnt know what to do about the messages that came floating in aka Harry Potter's summons from Dumbeldore. I had to ask her what to do with it and then she said I must answer the following and in turn tag seven more friends. I have done her bidding. Truth be told I began doing it pretty mechanically, thinking of it almost as a silly game, but then it caught my interest and then I revised my answers, this gave me an oppurtunity to know myself better and I hope it gives you an insight as well. A lot of my friends who read this blog don't have blogs of their own so I didnt mention their names in the list below however I would want all of you to also do this exercise, by all means use my comments page to publish it and if this triggers off your own blog , nothing like it. 7 Things I want to do in this lifetime: A cottage by the sea And one in the mountains A trek in the mountains and spend a night in the open desert

The first view of the sea when I finally approach it after crossing many winding roads The happiness of being able to reach the top of a peak Waiting at an airport/station and then finally catching that first glimpse of a dear person Rain falling over sloping roofs while I sit on a verandha sipping ginger tea Turning a corner on a mountain road and finding a beautiful valley laid out in front Dew drops on a grassy field Sunflowers blooming over a garden fence The excitement of planning a trip The exhilarating feeling of finally leaving the city behind The warm feeling that reading a good book brings Being woken up with a cup of tea and a smiling face for company (Guys and gals do list your fav things too in the comments. would love to know.)

I started out in life with some dreams, a couple of aspirations and a few vague goals of how I wanted to live life. There were some do’s and don’t in my list of things like am sure everyone has. The most important of these was an attempt to live an honest, uncomplicated life. Honest not in the Gandhian sense of telling the truth no matter what rather in being able to openly do what I wanted to do. One thing I have always hated is the need for camouflage. I never wanted to be the prettiest, the best, the wealthiest all I wanted was contentment and the opportunity to be happy and make those around me happy in whatever small measure I could. Now at the much experienced age of thirty when I survey the scene around me all I find is a Mahabharat like battlefield littered with the carcasses of my dreams, aspirations, well intentioned actions and my goals …my goals are nowhere to be found. They abandoned the field long back, stealthily, leaving me to fend for myself as best as I could. I have

Woman: I miss you so much it’s difficult to carry on... Man: yes, I know you do, I miss you too. Woman: No you don’t atleast not the way I do. For me your absence feels like a gaping whole in the center of my being and whatever I may do or wherever I am I feel this empty space besides me, within me. Man: I understand all that but listen there are so many things you could do to keep yourself busy that will take your mind off me. Read, paint, listen to music, go out, catch a movie or a play, concentrate on your work you hold a responsible position. Woman: Why don’t you understand? I do all that, I also move things around the house, re-do my wardrobe for the umpteenth time, make friends with the neighborhood children and look out of the window at the neighbours but your non-presence still irks. Its like a toothache always there and no matter what you do, say or see it never leaves your side. Man: Sweets, you are being unreasonable, why can’t you enjoy life as it is and whenever we are tog

A friend asked me to post something on Women's Day which speaks about the harassments meted out to women on the roads, in public and not so public places. I promised to do so before the 8th Of March (Women's day) but like the equality of the sexes the post too was late in coming. Not because there wasn’t anything to write but because there was far too much of it. I wondered what and how shall I write about this oft written about topic that would make it stand out in the clutter of all the articles all of you must have read on the subject especially over the past week. (Writer's vanity you see, one would rather be remembered than forgotten). Bra burning feminists wrote, men posing as friends of women wrote, men who really are wrote, victims wrote or atleast someone wrote for them, so did those who had won victories major or minor. Politicians wrote, academicians wrote. What then was left for me to say? Cite yet another story of watching a woman being whistled at or her dupat