Lets smell each other
bosom rose buddies
near the red riverbank
lets smell each other
your chin is pointed
so is mine
my nose is long
shorter is yours
soon we adjust
soon we impose
soon we dominate
soon we suckle
suckle is passe
squeeze is that
tongue lick lick
tingle toe tinkle
square , round , rotates
still we lie
sweat beads form
still we try
Come, another winter day
my love
you shall see
we will smell each other again
no bosom buddies then, we.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sono Aisha
I haven't seen the movie yet. Although I plan to. But the reviews are not too good. I have observed something (this time too !). Now, I have been following many reviews over the weekend and have come to the conclusion that most film critic and reviewers either like the use of the word 'Banal ' or simply think the same about the movie. How else would you explain the generous usage of the above mentioned word in almost every third review! Sanjukta Sharma of Mint used it, Mayank Shekhar of HT used it and another movie website used it. What is it with this word ?
Anyway, I guess it will become too banal if I stretch this too far . Adios!
Anyway, I guess it will become too banal if I stretch this too far . Adios!
Monday, August 2, 2010
You lier!
I am supposed to be studying right now. I have my exam on this Sunday but, well, what the heck. This , too shall pass, like all else. One thing scary about life is that someday we will grow used to it. I mean, you become immune to malaria, WOW. You become immune to your life threatening mother-in-law, Double WOW. But, you becoming immune to life , sort of scary. I casually lie to myself that this will never happen to me. But , someday , I really don't know how would life shape.
Btw, Do you remember the first time you lied to someone? I know 'the last time' was all too recent, so haven't really bothered to ask that. I remember. I set the foundation at a very young age, mind you. They don't say for nothing that kids are fast learners. That way, I intend to teach my kid trigonometry when she is, say , 5 or 6 . I have a feeling, that I would be saved the headache and cribbing of a teen at a later stage in my life when I am almost reaching dangerously close to the word 'old'.
Yes. Let me take you into flashback. (Random : Is it the season of flashback, with 'once upon a time' and now my blog ?) I stayed at Borivali's MHB colony with my parents. It was a semi- chawl-wadi set up, where residents peeped in to your life with as much transparency as yourself!
They know everything,that yesterday you and your wife decided to ditch the missionary and go for the 69/96, that your brahmin boy secretly wanders off to Mr. Sawant's to taste the oily, semolina coated, delicious fish fry, which was by the way made by shalu, the youngest daughter of the house to impress one Mr. Sonavane , who works in the near by garage and has lost his heart to rekha , the local doodwaalah's daughter. The residents know that Mrs. Gonzales intends to run a small beauty parlour camouflaging her possible intentions of running a massage parlour. They know that 2 weeks before Diwali you will start painting some remote corner of the house and pretend to not have money for any further celebration. etc etc. Life is a series of 'I know- you know' in such houses.
I stayed in MHB Colony till I was 6. In those nascent years I made my best friend, Dinku. I dont quite remember his name, but this is what I called him , then. Dinku was gujarati, fair, big-eyed and had thin, long, brown-black hair reaching upto his knee in a total frame of 2-2.5 ft. I was impressed! His mother, who badly wanted a girl child and was working really hard at it for the second round with the husband, used to dress dinku up in a , well, feminine way. The hair was neatly oiled , uniformly combed, and tied in to two plaits perched atop his tiny ears, like two tiny bulb balls.
Dinku and I decided to play badminton or whatever little we knew of it back then. We got our plastic pink and fluorescent yellow rackets out accompanied with the 'I-don't-live-longer-than-a-day' shuttle cock and reached the passage area between two blocks. We fiddled around with the ensemble for sometime and while we decided to go to our respective houses the shuttle cock fell in the verandah of a family I knew little about. The reason being their ferocious dog that ensured no decent human entered their house. The shuttle was lying right in front of the dog's feet. The dog streched itself and made himself comfortable with the shuttle to his right. The shuttle was mine and since neither Dinku nor I had the courage to go up to fetch the cock , we left it there. We left everything it did in our lives just a few minutes ago there. We forgot that we ever played badminton. We forgot that we came down that day. We shrugged ourselves and walked like any other normal human would. I reached home and coiled on my father's lap. He saw my fluorescent yellow racket(yes, the pink was dinku's) hanging close to the TV set and casually asked me where I had kept my shuttle cock. I froze. I coiled some more and said I didn't know. He asked again and I didnt reply. He asked me again, this time a bit sternly and I said I have forgotten where I had kept it. Not a good reply. He had seen me entering just minutes before this conversation and knew very well that I was playing with dinku. He reminded me of this background and asked yet again. I said I didnt know. Thud. One tight slap on my little rosy cheeks that were tired of being the teacher's pet !He took to down stairs to the crime scene and asked again. I was in tears and didnt have the courage or the energy to confuse an angry lion. I pointed towards the dog. He fetched it and thud again. He told me , you will not learn to lie to your parents at such a young age.
----- The End------
Btw, Do you remember the first time you lied to someone? I know 'the last time' was all too recent, so haven't really bothered to ask that. I remember. I set the foundation at a very young age, mind you. They don't say for nothing that kids are fast learners. That way, I intend to teach my kid trigonometry when she is, say , 5 or 6 . I have a feeling, that I would be saved the headache and cribbing of a teen at a later stage in my life when I am almost reaching dangerously close to the word 'old'.
Yes. Let me take you into flashback. (Random : Is it the season of flashback, with 'once upon a time' and now my blog ?) I stayed at Borivali's MHB colony with my parents. It was a semi- chawl-wadi set up, where residents peeped in to your life with as much transparency as yourself!
They know everything,that yesterday you and your wife decided to ditch the missionary and go for the 69/96, that your brahmin boy secretly wanders off to Mr. Sawant's to taste the oily, semolina coated, delicious fish fry, which was by the way made by shalu, the youngest daughter of the house to impress one Mr. Sonavane , who works in the near by garage and has lost his heart to rekha , the local doodwaalah's daughter. The residents know that Mrs. Gonzales intends to run a small beauty parlour camouflaging her possible intentions of running a massage parlour. They know that 2 weeks before Diwali you will start painting some remote corner of the house and pretend to not have money for any further celebration. etc etc. Life is a series of 'I know- you know' in such houses.
I stayed in MHB Colony till I was 6. In those nascent years I made my best friend, Dinku. I dont quite remember his name, but this is what I called him , then. Dinku was gujarati, fair, big-eyed and had thin, long, brown-black hair reaching upto his knee in a total frame of 2-2.5 ft. I was impressed! His mother, who badly wanted a girl child and was working really hard at it for the second round with the husband, used to dress dinku up in a , well, feminine way. The hair was neatly oiled , uniformly combed, and tied in to two plaits perched atop his tiny ears, like two tiny bulb balls.
Dinku and I decided to play badminton or whatever little we knew of it back then. We got our plastic pink and fluorescent yellow rackets out accompanied with the 'I-don't-live-longer-than-a-day' shuttle cock and reached the passage area between two blocks. We fiddled around with the ensemble for sometime and while we decided to go to our respective houses the shuttle cock fell in the verandah of a family I knew little about. The reason being their ferocious dog that ensured no decent human entered their house. The shuttle was lying right in front of the dog's feet. The dog streched itself and made himself comfortable with the shuttle to his right. The shuttle was mine and since neither Dinku nor I had the courage to go up to fetch the cock , we left it there. We left everything it did in our lives just a few minutes ago there. We forgot that we ever played badminton. We forgot that we came down that day. We shrugged ourselves and walked like any other normal human would. I reached home and coiled on my father's lap. He saw my fluorescent yellow racket(yes, the pink was dinku's) hanging close to the TV set and casually asked me where I had kept my shuttle cock. I froze. I coiled some more and said I didn't know. He asked again and I didnt reply. He asked me again, this time a bit sternly and I said I have forgotten where I had kept it. Not a good reply. He had seen me entering just minutes before this conversation and knew very well that I was playing with dinku. He reminded me of this background and asked yet again. I said I didnt know. Thud. One tight slap on my little rosy cheeks that were tired of being the teacher's pet !He took to down stairs to the crime scene and asked again. I was in tears and didnt have the courage or the energy to confuse an angry lion. I pointed towards the dog. He fetched it and thud again. He told me , you will not learn to lie to your parents at such a young age.
----- The End------
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Blocked
I met a man , I met a man
At the cold storage in a blue blue can
the frozen ice decided to melt
giving sight to the cold old man
I was dressed in shimmering yellow,
my presence , I know, melted
cold ice in his four-pipe
Off my mirth,
I saw him warming hands at the fireplace,
so close was his touch, it brought me closer
He of icy demeanor, me of fiery touch
firefly like in the ruined winter castle
except shabby corners, no place could I find
In my search for fire, I forgot what ice thought,
But ice thought, ice thought to leave
shook off the firefly, rattled some hints
Returned to the cold storage never to look back again.
- Subha Ramachandran
At the cold storage in a blue blue can
the frozen ice decided to melt
giving sight to the cold old man
I was dressed in shimmering yellow,
my presence , I know, melted
cold ice in his four-pipe
Off my mirth,
I saw him warming hands at the fireplace,
so close was his touch, it brought me closer
He of icy demeanor, me of fiery touch
firefly like in the ruined winter castle
except shabby corners, no place could I find
In my search for fire, I forgot what ice thought,
But ice thought, ice thought to leave
shook off the firefly, rattled some hints
Returned to the cold storage never to look back again.
- Subha Ramachandran
Monday, June 28, 2010
Yeh Sunday kya cheez hoti hain?
I was thinking this sunday, while lying on my bed facing the bedroom window, staring at the host of crows seated atop a branch on the jamun tree, curling my curly hair with the forefinger of my right hand, when I suddenly realised 'What if , we never had a sunday'?
I know , for millions, sunday doesnt make a stinking difference, but it does, for me. Coutesy: Joblessness.
What better day to think of Sunday's importance in our lives than on a sunday? Hain na?
My fondest memories of sundays are from my childhood (Usually the words 'fond' and 'fondle' , somehow, find their ways in to our childhood). Till my fourth grade my sundays were quite family-oriented. I would be up by say 8 - 8 :30 and wait for my father to get hot jalebi, khandvi, dhokla and spicy vada pav from the jalaram farsan mart and Azad hind dairy. Mom , dad and I would have a longish break fast till 10:00 with Mahabharata , Sri Krishna, Chandrakanta etc playing on DD. After which would follow a long paper reading session, sunday papers, something I still relish on. Then lunch and some film on surya, star movies and then for an afternoon nap. I hated sunday evening because I had nothing much to do. We still follow this tradition, its lotsa fun.
Actually, Iwanted this post to be silly and funny but am unable to pull words together. I feel very emotional , thinking of this sunday tradition and thinking of what would happen tomorrow when there wont be a 'us' to celebrate it.
I know , for millions, sunday doesnt make a stinking difference, but it does, for me. Coutesy: Joblessness.
What better day to think of Sunday's importance in our lives than on a sunday? Hain na?
My fondest memories of sundays are from my childhood (Usually the words 'fond' and 'fondle' , somehow, find their ways in to our childhood). Till my fourth grade my sundays were quite family-oriented. I would be up by say 8 - 8 :30 and wait for my father to get hot jalebi, khandvi, dhokla and spicy vada pav from the jalaram farsan mart and Azad hind dairy. Mom , dad and I would have a longish break fast till 10:00 with Mahabharata , Sri Krishna, Chandrakanta etc playing on DD. After which would follow a long paper reading session, sunday papers, something I still relish on. Then lunch and some film on surya, star movies and then for an afternoon nap. I hated sunday evening because I had nothing much to do. We still follow this tradition, its lotsa fun.
Actually, Iwanted this post to be silly and funny but am unable to pull words together. I feel very emotional , thinking of this sunday tradition and thinking of what would happen tomorrow when there wont be a 'us' to celebrate it.
Der aayein par durust aayein (yahi hai na?)
Ya ya I know. I have been playing hide and seek with you for a long time. The other day I saw someone dressed in a strange attire standing outside the Mulund police station, all angry, like the Daya from CID. Just that this fellow /thing looked rather confused to flaunt its strength. I went closer to get an exact look and was startled to find a black and white xerox copy of what looked like a A3 size photo of , well, the world famous, super intelligent, Oh-so-good looking- Subha Ramachandran. (Thats me, btw!)
I ran, I did, I did in my new Raw Hide sandals, which according to my married friend resembles her four year old daughter's playschool shoes. Thanks huh, so much for buying Raw Hide!
Ya, so I ran and caught him /it by his shoulder and asked in my broken marathi 'Kay re, Majha fotu gheyon ekde police station chya samor kay kartos? Tu kaun re?' and what you read next will shock the hell outta you! This chap/ thing didnt understand marathi?!?! Ha! He looked at me with a "Waat?' expression on his face and replied in english 'Wat you talking about'?
Fraction of a second: this thing holds me by my arms and starts weeping and says 'Where have you been all this while?, I missed you so much.
Su: Who are you? Take your hands off me!
Thing: Its me. Me. ME.
Su: Ain? Kaun hai yaar tu?
Thing: I am your blog!
Remember the feeling, when you had dropped ink on your dad's important papers (by mistake , of course!) and he confronts everyone in the house asking for 'the person' and you trying your best to busy youself in studying want to simply melt in you shoes and evaporate in thin air? Yes, I felt something similar. My blog came searching for me when I didnt turn up at its door for more than a month. A silent wind of guilt embraced me and I just stared back.
My blog had decided to post a 'WANTED' on my name just to find me. It thought I got lost somewhere. I did, but I have come back. These months have not been too kind to me. People asked me to get out of their lives and vice-versa. But , I have finally found my way back. And I am here to stay.
So, Hi ! I am back. Btw, Dear bloggy , the next time I go missing like this, for whatever reason that may be, instead of searching at the police station, I suggest you try finding me at the nearest Monginis stores. Usually the owner knows me. Curly hair, eats chicken pattice/spicy chicken puff and Sacher with choco chips. You will find me.
Forever yours,
Subha
Afternote/Prayer to god : Thank god I found this thing on the road before Raj Thackeray's men could !
I ran, I did, I did in my new Raw Hide sandals, which according to my married friend resembles her four year old daughter's playschool shoes. Thanks huh, so much for buying Raw Hide!
Ya, so I ran and caught him /it by his shoulder and asked in my broken marathi 'Kay re, Majha fotu gheyon ekde police station chya samor kay kartos? Tu kaun re?' and what you read next will shock the hell outta you! This chap/ thing didnt understand marathi?!?! Ha! He looked at me with a "Waat?' expression on his face and replied in english 'Wat you talking about'?
Fraction of a second: this thing holds me by my arms and starts weeping and says 'Where have you been all this while?, I missed you so much.
Su: Who are you? Take your hands off me!
Thing: Its me. Me. ME.
Su: Ain? Kaun hai yaar tu?
Thing: I am your blog!
Remember the feeling, when you had dropped ink on your dad's important papers (by mistake , of course!) and he confronts everyone in the house asking for 'the person' and you trying your best to busy youself in studying want to simply melt in you shoes and evaporate in thin air? Yes, I felt something similar. My blog came searching for me when I didnt turn up at its door for more than a month. A silent wind of guilt embraced me and I just stared back.
My blog had decided to post a 'WANTED' on my name just to find me. It thought I got lost somewhere. I did, but I have come back. These months have not been too kind to me. People asked me to get out of their lives and vice-versa. But , I have finally found my way back. And I am here to stay.
So, Hi ! I am back. Btw, Dear bloggy , the next time I go missing like this, for whatever reason that may be, instead of searching at the police station, I suggest you try finding me at the nearest Monginis stores. Usually the owner knows me. Curly hair, eats chicken pattice/spicy chicken puff and Sacher with choco chips. You will find me.
Forever yours,
Subha
Afternote/Prayer to god : Thank god I found this thing on the road before Raj Thackeray's men could !
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
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