Monthly Archives: June 2007


When you stir to wakefulness today, just before you open your eyelids, what is the first thing you will think of? What thought will you shade your eyes with, for the day?

Will you see the day starting slowly, without your assistance and not needing your reassurance either? Will you notice how the stage is being prepared for your arrival before you come?

Will you smile up into the sky, marvelling at how grey and brown can look beautiful? And enjoy nature’s own showers the way you say you enjoy your machine-produced water parades?

Will you bring your own brand of humanness while you see the very many other kinds today, some brighter than you…and also see the ones that aren’t?

Will you stand firm but not unmovable and be your own best friend and hence do the world a service by not asking it to be responsible for your life?

Will you remember to aspire to perfection and strive for it but not get trapped in the chase? And to those who are, will you be a distraction, an inspiration, an alternate route or a competitor?

When you add a little dash of yourself to every minute, will it be arsenic or sugar or spice? The spoonful of you that you add to life….will it intoxicate or refresh or support?

Will you think joyfully, nostalgically of the past, even if it makes you an old fogie…simpy because it also makes you happy? And will you think of the future with trepedition but also a little excitement?

Will you treasure the child you have been? And protect him like you would your own, cherish her as you do those younger than yourself?

Will you respect your own dreams, forgive your own foibles, treasure your own imperfections since they make you so uniquely you? Will you fall in love with yourself today? 

Will you be more than a name, a body or a relationship? How about an idea, an emotion or even just a memory? 

What will you gift the world today?


Hotel California

I had a long, lazy lunch by myself at a cafe this weekend. I sat back in my seat, enjoying a quiet drink and my book. Over the speakers drifted a rush of 70s-80s hits which is their usual repertoire. Since it was lunchtime I guess, I was spared the agonies of the disco hits of that age and instead played a more mellow selection.

As the starting chords of Hotel California drifted over the speakers I mused that this was one of those songs that just caught the fancy of a large group of people who then claimed to ‘love’ the group that played it, even if it wasn’t their best song. Just like Another Brick in the Wall or Sound of Silence or Sultans of Swing.

And as always, my next association with the song was “AntiChrist!!!!” I haven’t been a believer in any religion for years and years now. But then again, in religion, just like in language and culture, I’ve been an orphan child. I grew up in an environment strongly influenced by Roman Catholicism. There was my school, over a century old, steeped in the influence of the church that owned it. There was the old, old village surrounding the old building, where most of the kids came from ….a predominantly Catholic environment. One funny memory I have is of my English. My parents insisted that I spoke good English and of course Scrabble and books were the chosen hobbies for me. Back in school however, I was surrounded by the typical ‘What man?’ and “Don’t sit on the dekkz, I’ll tell to teacher!” (with all due respect to my Christian friends, but this is how my childhood friends spoke!). ‘Bad English’ was a cardinal crime at home and this ‘good English’ was considered snooty and weird to the kids in school. So I smoothly transitioned between the two, neither group ever suspecting that I could speak the other type of English as well.

Hmm. As we grew, so did our beliefs and biases. Our early memories stay on even if our beliefs change which is why I never hear the Eagles without also thinking about the strong influence of the Roman Catholic church on my life. And yet, oddly enough it was my Christian friends who introduced me to the Eagles. And to dancing and wine.

All those years I thought I didn’t fit in, I just didn’t belong. But my rebellion, my weirdness was as much a part of our world as their adherance, their judgement. I had to fight to break free but then again, a jail might as well be home to some. 

Hotel California isn’t exactly a romantic song. And it probably isn’t romantic to be thinking of old friends and fears. But it reminds me of those who owned me once, when it was still possible for someone to harness me. In this age of freedom, I almost miss being captivated.

Last thing I remember, I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was meant for
Relax, said the night man, we are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Confusion compounded

A lot of people say

You are confused!!!

when what they really mean is

You confuse me.



You complete me.

is supposed to be romantic, what would you say if I told you that,

You started who I am, you define me.


I want to lay me down in the wet, squishy mud and let the moisture seep into my bones, the cold engulf me, numbing every nerve, blocking every vein…till the blood stops running, the breath slows down…slower…slower…slower. I wish life wouldn’t snap on and off like it usually does but just slow down like a pendulum, patience infinite, nowhere to go, nothing to finish….and never stop in the reality of science but keep moving miniscule, gaining stillness instead of speed. Isn’t dying the reverse of life after all?

I wonder why that’s considered depressing. It is such a peaceful, becalming thought. I’ve been called suicidal before but am I really, I wonder? Suicidal is when depression overcomes you and there seems to be no way to get out of one’s predicament. I on the other hand, am experiencing this feeling of everything being in its right place, of having done all that I need to do…and of waiting. Just waiting for whatever comes next.

I crack open my fortune cookie for the day online and it shows me the same one as yesterday’s. Even mild irritation no longer present, I refresh the page. And I get this:


🙂 It ain’t suicidal if I’m laughing, which I am. However, the wise one said,

Take your death with some gravity though. The lesser mortals may not be able to understand your laughing your way to your grave.

Telling All

For Shreyasi, who understands what I don’t say as well. And for the person this conversation happened with.


How are things?

What things?

You know…are you dating anybody? I haven’t heard you talk about any women.

I haven’t liked any women.

Turn left here, it’s around the corner. What were you saying?


It wasn’t nothing. Tell all!

I said, I haven’t liked any woman.










Bah, why am I suddenly sounding like I swallowed an entire barrell of ice-cream soda…all bubbly and bright and cheery? I almost miss my Behind Cobwebs self. Seems like as long as I had a place to put mopey stuff in, I found stuff to mope about. And now that I’ve ordered myself to be happy, I’m following myself to the letter. Huh. I’m so obedient for supposed teenage rebel.

On reflection, why should I care anyway? It’s my blog and I’ve every right to be Soapy Bubbles instead of Murky Mud if I choose. And so I revel in my mundanity and my ordinary life. Ah, the eternal sunshine of a spotless mind.

Also I’m rather tired of the fashionasta attitude of ‘I’m so cool, I don’t care’. Go fug…I was never one for fashion anyway. Another barrel of bubbles coming up….

Tropical sky

I know this is a slight bit late but what’s a week in a season of three months? My last impression of summer…doesn’t this look like one of those colourful photographs you see in Readers’ Digest about exotic Asian countries? Umm..of course we’re exotic and Asian as well. But I’m quite thrilled with the way this picture turned out, especially when a friend looked at it in amazement, after I told her where I took this and said,

It looks unusually beautiful!

Tropical sky

Hmm…I think it is the colour of the sky that does it. And from there, another lovely memory this year. I do my yoga on the terrace of my building in the morning. Last week, right in the middle of our sultry-still morning session, it started to rain. My instructor ordered,

Stay put. Its just a cloudburst, it will pass.

So we did yoga in the rain. It sounds funny but it was a lovely experience. I’ve always tried to run away from the rain, hating the splashing raindrops on my face and the feel of wet hair strands. I wonder why. Morning yoga is so much about letting go and surrendering to the universe. I welcomed the rain with closed eyes and open arms. Trusting, embracing.

And I drifted into my meditative trance on my place-mat. When I opened my eyes, the clouds had passed and the sky was sparkling clean blue. A few raindrops clinging to the wire overhead, sparkling in the sunlight. Welcome water, welcome monsoon, good morning beautiful sky!

Raindrops on the wire

I Style! – Designer

I saw a girl on the train carrying this bag that caught my eye. I asked her if I could take a picture of it and she agreed. A little surprised perhaps and guarded as anyone would be in this city of callous strangers but agreeable nevertheless.

K (I forgot to ask if I could use her name) is a designer-in-training and wanted to know if I was a designer as well. I told her what I did instead and it must have seemed very boring to someone as young and creative as she.

Who says style can’t have a sense of humour? This bag caught my eye since it cocks-a-snook at the blatent consumerism of our generation today. (At least, I hope that’s what its designer intended!) One little bag laughs a proverbial ‘Heehee’ at a city that creates and lives by brands. Here it is…tell me what you think.

The bag says,


MAMoth Perfect

Net Weight: 200g


And K, a designer is supposed to bring beauty to the world and what’s more beautiful that bold colours and a delightful sense of humour? All the very best to you and your efforts to beautify this world!


* Cross-posted to Divadom.

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