Party ab bhi baaki hai..

Well.. there’s a saying, “An idle mind is the devils workshop”. The Devil in my mind has some incredible things to do. So creative, so imaginative, so bloody dangerous.

I’m going through a phase right now, where I’d like to forget. Weird, no? Who would want to forget about anything. I want to forget what color my shoes are, and which tee I’d like to match them with. (Uhhhmmmm, Yes, I try and match my tee to the shoes, and trust me its quite a task in itself). I also want to forget about what I’d typically be doing on a weekend, otherwise. I want to do something new, read, laugh, sing out loud. Well, I try singing this song often at home, but no one takes the hint -> Char baj gaye, lekin Party abhi baaki hai ! Daddy hai naraaz, lekin party abhi baaki hai. This is sooooooooo not my type of song. Weird I find it so catchy. Specially since its to DUMB. The implications, would be

a) ban on the song

b) a long talk, about my perspective of the world

c) insistence that my opinion doesn’t matter, one bit.

Ok, maybe not. I’m only going to experiment, and find out what truly happens.

Humm, HUMMM… ears sharp for reaction… None what-so-ever. Tip toe to Dads room, soft snoring sounds. Damn, maybe some other time.

Ok, I strayed. The song is too catchy, I tell you.

Anyhooo, I was thinking of a few things to do when one is exxxtreeemely bored/flustered/depressed. Here’re some of them -

* Go potter around. I mean, literally. I have a little garden, which I prod around aimlessly sometimes. Do this in social seclusion. The calm that it gives you is unparalleled. If you don’t have a garden, buy a potted plant. Thats how gardens start, by the way.

* Ding a dong, oh baby, sing a song. Anyone remember this song? It exists. Highlight, copy, Google. (Sorry, Yahoo it – fake it sounds). I mean, sing loud, remember the good times, smile.

* Turn Facebook off. Read some blogs. Read some of them that you’ll find through my blog, to be precise. They’re cartloads of fun.

* Take your camera, head out. Go for a walk. Move your sorry *** and click photos. Its fun. I’m still trying to figure out my camera. Be warned, I’ve some pics coming to get you.

* Dress up. Even if its for you to ogle at yourself/criticize yourself.  The good thing that can come out of this is that you could miraculously come up with the idea that you need to hit the gym, and get back in shape.

* IF you are a boy, go find yourself a playstation. Uhmmm I guess. No?

* Pull out your old comics, and read. Even if its just the Tinkle. (Post on Tinkle coming up soon, just thought of it). Remember Uncle Pai, suppandi, Shikari Shambu?

* Doodle. That could be the best piece of art you’ve come up with.

* Crib about Star wars. Pointlessly.

* Fight, for fun. Wrestle, if you have the “option”. Make up.

* Write – Pour your heart out on paper, on a blog or on any material you find. Share it, if its not too personal. You’ll be amazed at the kind of perspective you get when you do. Thats why I love my blog, so much!

* Most importantly. SHOP! WHeeeeee!!! :)

Now, you add to this list.

My work here is done, lekin party abhi baaki hai.

Daddy Hai naaraz, lekin party abhi baaki hai.

(Argh, time to pass on the bug to someone else. Watch. Jhess! You must watch! )

For your eyes only

Here’s something I’m trying out. Just as an aside from the usual bickering about me. Today I bicker about a fictitious character. “Short story?” Well, not so short, and certainly not one with a conclusion.

“There, thats the last of the boxes”. All her precious belongings, neatly tucked into brown boxes, with duct tape sealing them tight. Being the paranoid, cleanliness-obsessed person that she was, she made lists of her stuff in her boxes and pasted them onto the sides, taking care to mark her most important belongings with a red marker (which she’s obviously chosen to take-away from the stationary stash at her workplace). Glassware and breakables were tagged with the “Handle with care” signs. Almost all boxes were carefully marked with the “This side up” ones, although they didn’t really need to be. She often blamed her keen, over-enthusiastic and organised nature for her over cautiousness.

The week that was, was a whirlwind of events. Her decision to put her foot down, and move out, made for one of them. Hurt and sorry for the way things turned out for her, she decided that she needed to edge closer to her ‘zone of comfort’. Things were wrong, and unsaid. She never told him what she thought, or felt. He didn’t ask either. Her monogamous relationship was grinding to a slow halt. “My fault”, she often thought, since S was always right. He always knew what to do, knew what was best for them. She was alright with anything he decided. Spineless? Lack of self-respect? It was only her “non-controversial” self who stepped in, each time an argument brewed up. She had no idea how much S loved her, if he did at all. S would avoid talking about it. He cared for her though. He couldn’t see her hurt, or unwell.

She loved him anyway. She didn’t need a reason to stop loving S. He was perfect as he was. The one. She loved his determination, instinct, sharpness. She loved him for reasons unknown to them both. It was just love. Love that was projected by her, love that he probably didn’t want, love that was the only thing she could give him.

She looked around the room they shared. Every moment came gushing back, and she broke down. She’d never told S how much he meant to her, for fear that he would be intimidated. Fear that he would think her whole life revolved around him. S was always like that. She’d do anything to ensure that he didn’t feel boxed in or claustrophobic. She never told him how important he was. She assumed he knew. Now that she was moving, she’d decided, that she’d finally tell him. She stood to lose him as a friend, for maybe he didn’t value her enough to be a friend either. Quickly, she tore open her box marked ‘stationary’ and pulled out the letter-pad she’d bought. His favorite pale orange color, with her favorite black fountain pen.  She wrote as though she’d forget to pen down important points, swiftly, and neatly again.

Dear S, Darling S, My dear,

S,

I’ve been panic struck. Didn’t think I’d be nervous while writing. You always motivated me to write. You believed I could write well. I wish I could write as effortlessly as you, though. Don’t mind my scrawly handwriting, I’ve shivering hands as I write this. My last happy moments in this house really meant that I wanted to spend it writing. What makes me happier, is that this is for you.

I’ve loved you ever since I set my eyes on you S. We met because of some weird co-incidence, which I can’t explain till today. Random. I loved the randomness. Almost like the stars were aligned in some lucky pattern that day. Notice, that I say ‘lucky’. I’m an immensely lucky girl. I’ve been with a person whom I’ve been in awe of. For all that I’m worth, I’d say that you’re the best person I’ve ever met. In all ways. The cutest thing though, is how you believe that you’re evil, and mean. You aren’t any of that. I suggest you give up that part of the game right now. :) You’ve been awesome.

You know something? I’ve always been skeptical about everything. I would never let a man in, on my deepest secrets. I’d never allow a man get as close to me, as you have been. There’s something about you that makes me trust you. Was it a vibe? Well, I let you in on the parts of me I’ve guarded and been wary about. It was soooo soon, too.  I don’t regret it S. Nothing would make me happier than I was. I’ve loved every minute of it. The little bit of you that I had, I loved every bit of it.

I know we’ve seen this coming, the parting. I always knew this was too good to be true. I always wanted things to work out, but you don’t believe it ever will. Maybe this is my fault. Maybe I was never good enough. You’ll say you could never explain it, and that it wasn’t my fault, but which part of me would believe that? Nope. I know this looks really lame, but then, I’d never have told you otherwise, that I love you. That, is all I’ve wanted to say.

Just so you know, Deep Red is my fav color. I love Eric Clapton, Layla being the best song ever. I love eating out and struggle with chopsticks, which I hope to master. Give away my belongings if you need to.

Thank you for everything.

Love you.

S came home that night to see cardboard boxes neatly along the living room wall. Then an envelope tagged, For your eyes only. He read through it quickly, and decided that he was tired. He shook his head, ran his finger across the sheet once. Stretching and flexing his tired muscles, he silently tread towards the shower. “I sure need a long, warm one”, he thought.