Tag Archives: Party

A Date With Polyamory

I first heard of polyamory when a friend guest-blogged about it right here. I went back to talk to him about it and I was surprised at the simplicity of his explanation.

Polyamory is the idea that we can love many people at the same time.”

Last month I went to a party hosted by someone who had told me they were polyamorous in our second conversation. We have since, spoken of gender politics, health (mental and physical), the cities we have known and a lot of other things. I like the time I have spent with them. Conversations with them have given me ideas and feelings that have furthered my life experience. I can see this tangibly – how I understand myself and the world a little better because of the conversations we shared. Is there any life experience that beats this?

At their party, I settled quietly into a corner. I have never been one for big, strange groups which is what most parties are. I prefer the intimacy of one-on-one conversations. Or with a group of people that I know really well. I seek depth and when I miss that in interactions with other people, I find it in being silent around them. There is such richness to be experienced in just watching other people be. The trouble is that most people are not comfortable with being watched, even as they really, desperately want to be seen. Thankfully, this party was not one of those.

I lurked quietly, shared some light banter, smiled in on other conversations. And then I drifted into a chat with a stranger sitting next to me. We spoke about art, about our work, about our generation, about cities. When I think about it, there is an unexciting predictability to the kind of conversations I seek and have. But that’s probably true of most people. The same things entertain and engage us over and over again, even as we learn newer things from them.

About an hour into the party and having been part of group conversations, interactions with other people and then back to talking to each other, the stranger told me they were polyamorous too and had been invited to the party because of having this in common with the host.

I’ve been talking to my new friend often since then. We met one evening and decided to go for a walk and look for a smoothie place – an actual smoothie, not the milkshake-that-passes. We found a parlour and drank our smoothies out of glass bottles that we got to keep. Normally, I would roll my eyes at this and call it hipster. But I didn’t. What made the difference? The person, the conversation.


And is this not the core, the essence of love? An experience (usually with another person) that makes you see the usual differently, that makes you examine yourself and the world around you and want to smile? How lucky we are then, to be able to find this with many people.

A friend asked me what a polyamorous person liked. I collected my thoughts together and said,

“I don’t think there is any one kind of polyamorous person. But something they all have in common is they really like to talk about stuff. It’s very, very important to them to talk about feelings – their own and other people’s. All emotions are okay, jealousy, anger, all of it. And it’s all up for discussion.”

I know that a lot of people associate polyamory with cheating, with sex, with drugs, with hippies and a lot of other things. But those have as much to do with polyamory as they have to do with being alive. Love is an experience, one that you may share with another human being. It could be as finite as sharing a smoothie with them. Or as vast as co-habiting and sharing a bed, a home and a relationship status with them. We share something as basic and as intimate as breaths with other people. In a crowded place like a city, we do this with hundreds of strangers. We share eye contact, we brush shoulders and thighs on public transport. We make tiny allowances, minor adjustments, little kindnesses. We also wage small wars and micro aggressions. Because these are a part of being alive, of colliding with (or brushing against) other people’s experiences of life, just as we are going through our own. How could this not be manifold?

I wrote this post on XX Factor but I realised it sounded a lot more like my The Idea-smithy side so here it is. I am manifold in myself (as we all are). How could my experiences with love be anything but?


If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.


#Ideastory: Party


I’m throwing a party, she says,
and you’re not invited.

Fine, he replies,
Then be sure not to send me the bill.

Mills To Malls: The Monuments Of Mumbai

The city of malls was once a city of mills. Mumbai, home to Bollywood, financial capital of the country and one of the most populous cities in the world also lays claim to being a key vertex of the textile boom of the last century. The mill redevelopment was big news for a few years the start of this decade. In my own adult lifetime, I’ve seen the grey industrial belt of Parel-Curry Road-Cotton Green metamorphose into the glitzy gaudiness of malls, pubs and fancy retail outlets.

Walk into High Street Phoenix and the disposable income of this city is all around you. It’s grabbing a beer at one of the pubs or flashing a credit card at the latest ‘it’ designer’s collection or checking out the coolest entertainment that money can buy. Subway, MacDonald’s and Big Bazaar are only for those who’re slumming it.

But stop for a minute and let your eyes drift a few feet upwards. Over the neon hoardings, the new glass-and-metal construction and the mega-parking lot, you just might catch a glimpse of an old soot-stained chimney. The next time you’re at Hard Rock Cafe or Zenzi Mill or Blue Frog, let those same eyes catch the massive overhead pipes. They’re not a fashion statement by an eccentric interior designer. They’re the last remnants of a bygone era.

I’m not just being nostalgic. I worked in this belt for most of my career. My first job, an internship with a marketing agency required me to travel around in this area. My first memory of Lower Parel is a filthy place full of muddy lanes,  zero rain shelter and depressing buildings. In the past ten years, I’ve seen each of those spaces get cordoned off and then re-emerge with fresh paint, a new construction or two and a fancy (very fancy) price tag attached to whatever is being sold there. It’s literally an Eliza Dolittle on this city.

I think spaces hold memories, of people who’ve lived in them and what  they’ve felt and said and been. These glossy new addresses are the new  avatars of what used to be the salt of the earth of this city. Standing  in the middle of the hottest nightspot, sipping a fashionable cocktail,  I’m suddenly struck by the contrast.

Who were the  people who spent their lives in these places? Who called this home or a  place that provided employment for them and sustenance for their  families? The mill belt carries memories of places no one else  remembers. Mumbai’s success story is an epitaph to the forgotten workers whose toil made this city.

Tread respectfully the next time you’re here. Mumbai’s history lies beneath you.


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Reverb 10.11: What I Don’t Need In 2011 (And How I’m Avoiding Them)

A list! I love lists! And that’s only the first reason why this Reverb 10 prompt has me singing.

December 11: 11 Things

What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?

(Author: Sam Davidson)

Fooo…..yes, I was all enthusiastic and eager and ecstatic (and other good-sounding ‘E’ words) at the thought of a list. But having discovered the list is (again!) about things that one has to bid goodbye to, my E stuff feels D’ed (dampened, defeated, disgusted, demeaned, disillusioned, devastated…).

11 Things My Life Does Not Need in 2011 (why not and how I plan to get rid of them):

1. Writer’s block:

I’ve faced this enough of times in the past year and can testify to it being the vilest, most horrible, uncomfortable, lonely, sickening feeling ever. It’s like being constipated for days on end and watching everyone else eat sumptuous tasty meals. It’s like being pregnant for eighteen months, watching your belly bloat to alarming proportions and wondering if the only way out will be for you to burst. *Shudder* Never, ever again, please.

I don’t really have a plan to get rid of the possibility of this but I guess I can keep my proverbial medical kit handy. Good friends, other career options and enough of distractions to tide me over till it passes.

2. Financial worries:

I’ve never been poor. But there have been times when money has felt a little stretched. Add a generous dose of good South-Indian girl guilt to that. That’s when if the outgoing includes items that are not mind-enhancing and matrimonial-prospect-inducing, they’re considered wasteful. Incoming has got to be a steady, predictable flow, no windfalls-followed-by-empty-periods for this one.

Considering I’ve chucked up a sensible, respectable career for a newfangled, alien venture like writing, am well past my sell-by (as prescribed by the Southern powers-that-be) date and show no signs of making up for it, pressure is high. Much of this of course, is self-induced which is the beauty of any childhood-implanted guilt. The recording plays on inside your head, long after the originators of the voices have fallen silent. Anyway, I really do not need the cringing self-doubt of dwindling savings with no albeit tiny-but-definitely-incoming money flow in sight. I don’t believe I have the nerve to go through with being footloose and income-free for very long. Which just means, I’ll run back to the safety and uninspiring boredom of a respectable job, again. And that’s the end of my writing career, my dreams and my self-worth.

How I plan to keep this wolf at bay is by thinking ahead and keeping open to income-generating options. Naturally, I have my pride and conscience and I don’t intend to resort to get-rich quick schemes. But I have chalked up a number of things that I can do and do well. There’s writing of course (all kinds) and also number-crunching, business analysis and a number of other things I’m still discovering. It’s still a tricky thing for me, marketing them in a way that doesn’t sound like I’m full of myself. But very simply, these are retailable skills. Money earned for work done is a simple enough mantra. And fingers crossed that there will be enough of takers for what I’m selling.

3. Emotional distance

One of the first things that I decided I wanted to do, when I quit last year, was to go back to being the person I was a decade ago. Starry-eyed, idealistic, passionate, uncontrollably alive. Also unfashionable, socially outcast and totally uncool. But I wanted that and I wanted it all, no exclusions.

A big revelation happened over the course of the year (through the novel and many wine-soaked conversations with E Vestigio and long distance phone calls with P, L and others). I cut out sarcasm. Then I whittled away at cynicism. I chipped off bitterness. And I’m gnawing away at polite behaviour.

The results are that I’m exploding more than once. I’m often caught at a loss for words or saying the most horribly inappropriate things at the wrong times. But I feel so very alive! The sense of being weighed down is going. Even though I’m actually a few kilos heavier than when I had a rigourous daily schedule, I feel lighter.

I’m not completely there yet but I intend to keep at it. Emotional distance from people and experiences is what I thought kept me sane. But it also kept me stifled, tiny and mostly dead. I’m letting go. Be warned, much madness up ahead but it’ll all be authentic, 100% me.

4. Poor health

Rheumatism. Spondilitis. Diabetes. All things that doctors have been threatening, are creeping up on me.

Malaria. Gastroentitis. Low blood pressure. Vitamin D deficiency. Weak bones. All things that have already made their presence felt in my life.

I was always a skinny kid but also a bundle of energy and I recuperated quickly. The most ironic thing about my health in the past decade was discovering that I was overstressed and vitamin-D deficient. On asking what I could do to get better, I was told to work less and play more!

That seems like wonderful advice to follow (even doctors say nice things sometimes). So I intend to worry less, laugh a lot more, eat well, run around like crazy in the sun – and hopefully live not just longer but better.

5. Unhealthy weight gain

As mentioned above, I was a skinny kid and I grew up into a lean adult. But shortly after I quit my job, I discovered that I was alarmingly fleshy for my snugfit jeans. I ended up getting a new wardrobe (of dresses and skirts) but that niggling belief that I was bloating hasn’t left. Of course I’m duly grateful that it’s only a little weight, that actually does look good on me. But I’m alarmed by the idea that it could just inflate (pun intended) out of control. What’s more, I really don’t want to add cholesterol, heart disease and other things to the repertoire I’ve listed above.

What I plan to do about this, has actually already been set in action. I signed up for yoga six months ago and did follow the regime for a good while. But the schedule didn’t suit me and I fell off the bandwagon. Mercifully for me, I also started swimming, an activity that brings me even more pleasure than health benefits. The weather has gotten a little too chilly to enjoy the swim much but I still managed to get into the pool 4 days last week and complete around 15 or more laps before shivering my way back to the changing room. Maybe I’ll sign up for a dance class too.

Persistence and patience are my friends and I don’t intend to let those sneaky kilos get the better of me.

6. Boredom

The killer of all things creative, happy and joyful, who would be scareder of boredom, than a storyteller (an entertainer)? Thankfully for me, the world is a treasure trove of interesting things and people and experiences.

I’m not going to deaden this by putting a schedule on it. Suffice to say that when something occurs to me, I explore it. A new hobby? An interesting person? A novel idea? I’m a sleuth for interesting experiences and each one I pick up only leads to bigger and greater delights.

7. Control

This is the other card in the evil side’s deck, supporting the first card of boredom. Control by family, by employers, by social norms, by stereotypes. It kills the spirit, it kills my soul and it damages my creativity.

I don’t have a plan to avoid every instance of being controlled by another person or entity. But when I do face one of them, I intend to stand my ground and not cave. Enough died, already.

8. Other people’s problems

Egos. Insecurities. Complexes. Weaknesses. Negative sentiments. I’ve had a strange affinity for all of these from other people. That, coupled with the ability to absorb and expand on all, I feel like I’ve been quite a bundle of other people’s nerves.

It’s rather tricky detaching oneself from these things without imposing emotional distance from them. I don’t get it most of the time. What’s more, standing up for myself has never come easy (no matter what the image may dictate).

No plan on this one either. Just the will to oppose it and hope that practice will make perfect.

9. High bills on clothes, makeup and socializing

This I really, really don’t need. I am no shopaholic but after a decade of denial, I decided to indulge. Now I think, enough of self-pampering and now for some balanced restraint.

This is the other aspect of keeping away financial worries – curbing the unnecessary outgoing along with building the possible incoming. I don’t really have to have expensive shoes that only last a month. Mumbai roads make dust of everything and none of the big shops guarantee any quality on this terrain. High-voltage partying has never been my scene and mercifully the social circle I move around in, doesn’t really cotton to it either. Mostly I am now okay with saying that I can’t afford it and so I won’t. Out with the fabulous lifestyle, in with some peace of mind.

10. Goodbyes to people I’m close to

This is more a fearful wish than an intelligent item on the planning list. Six months of 2010 were spent in trying to cope with saying goodbye to good friends, to notions of loyalty, to dreams of greatness. I know I learn from each of these experiences. But I’ve had a rough, really rough enough ride of it. I’m not sure I’m ready for another dose, just yet.

I can’t think of anything to put under 11 so this is going to be a list of 10. That’s my bit for letting go of control (even my own OCDness)!

Reverb 10.9: Party

I couldn’t think of what to write for this Reverb 10 prompt, at first. December has always been the social month for me. Friends from out of town come back home. Employers are a little more indulgent (or just busy planning their own social calendars). Vacations happen. Parties happen. Outings happen. Fun happens.

I ran through the list of things that have happened earlier this year, focussing on the second half since that’s when the cheery part of the year began. It’s not that there weren’t great things. There were a lot of good times (lucky me!) and it was hard to pick one that was the best. Also, in all truth, each of them was special in a very personal way (like the anniversary where the wonderful boy and I cooked together). That, I figured, didn’t quite fit this bill. Looking through my picture albums for memories, I hit upon just the one! And what’s more, it had happened in the otherwise dark part of my year, early on in January.

December 9 – Party

Prompt: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

(Author: Shauna Reid)

I got to know Reena at The Wall Project. She was a friend of Adi, who I had just gotten to know the week before and invited to the said event. He brought along Reena with her twinkling eyes and brilliant smile. On our first meeting, when she came to pick up Adi from the lunch he’d had with me, I grinned at her and said,

“You’re so beautiful!”

Of course she was (and is) and it also seemed perfectly natural and possible to say something like that to her on the first meeting.

The Wall Project was a mad and merry day of colour, silliness and laughter. Reena’s wall echoed her sunny, colourful and romantic self as she painted,

You’re one fairytale waiting to come true!

Six months later, I was a little surprised to receive an invitation to her wedding. We had gotten along but I never thought that she liked me enough to invite me to her wedding! In high spirits and after much planning, Adi and I made our way to Vasai. The weekend that was, is chronicled here.

Without doubt, Reena and Melroy‘s wedding in lovely, green Vasai and the warmth of her family and friends who hosted us, was the high point of my social calendar in 2011. It wasn’t just the great decorations, the mad dancing and the greenery of the place. It was the friendliness, the tangible warmth, the genuine hospitality (as opposed to the flashiness I’m used to in Mumbai) that really made this event memorable.

'Tis The Season To Be Jolly

Celebrations are things you don’t exactly notice until you have to make a conscious effort to make them happen. Christmas has been an integral part of my life for years and years now – one of the consequences of growing up in a Christian environment and having a devout Catholic for best friend. My many yuletide memories include midnight mass, home-made wine, marzipan rolling and jiving at 2a.m. This year she’s a new mama and will most likely want to have a family Christmas so I’m not about to intrude.

Last evening the office bunch decided to organize a ‘Secret Santa’. Each of us has picked a chit bearing the name of one person at office. We are to be Secret Santa to the person whose name we picked. I went shopping immediately after work to fill up my Santa bag. I came back with chocolates and a funky toy thing that I think he’ll like.

This morning I walked into an office that looked like red had exploded in here. The HR mail did say ‘casuals with some red or white’ so I figured my wine-red with grey tartan on light trousers would be good. Everyone is dressed in a blinding shade of red with a few Santa hats here and there. I dodged to my desk before any of them would pounce on me. Thank goodness for the reindeer antlers I picked up on a whim last evening, intending to wear them for the mandatory photographs at the end of the day! That’s been accepted as suitable Christmas Eve apparel.

So I’m jingling bells (sewn onto the red antlers affixed to a green headband) when I’m walking. Which reminds me of the friend who suggested I decorate my Secret Santa gift with red ribbon and green mistletoe. I refrained of course, realising that she didn’t know the significance of mistletoe. Now mistletoe on a headband might be a really nice idea, mightn’t it? Especially if the object of one’s affection happens to be standing close by…hmm, hmm, hmm, some Christmas gift that would be! 😉

A couple of years back, the very year J got married, in fact and I decided not to intrude on the private celebration she was sure to want with her new husband….I went to a houseparty with another dear friend. Our host greeted us at the door with a hot bod squeezed into a tight tee, a knock-you-down grin and a Santa hat. The funny thing was that no one at the party was a Christian, practising or otherwise. Oh well, I rationalized, you can celebrate a holiday simply because it makes you happy. My celebration is not religious, it’s sentimental but what difference, either way? I don’t really remember getting home that night but we did have a crazy blast.

This year has been….well, much, much better than the heartbreaking hell that 2007 was. But it leaves us on a sad note, trailing behind a terror-struck debris in place of the unstoppable city I used to call home. Less than a month ago, I also lost a colleague, a work-buddy, my right arm at office. I feel the loss of this mild-mannered, always smiling 25-year-old every single day. Sid, I never told you just how much I relied on you, did I?

This year, I don’t know yet what I’m going to be doing. I don’t want to – like every other holiday this year – spend this one working off my sleep debt or doing something incredibly fashionable (and expensive). For the last holiday of the year I think I’ll celebrate it true Ideasmith-style – with loads of sentiment and nostalgia and warm practicality.

I’m meeting a longtime comfortable-as-a-cuddy-pillow friend and I think I’ll go to midnight mass with him. It would be nice to attend mass at my school church which is where I stood next to J for all these years. I guess I’ll bump into her there which should be good. It isn’t really Christmas without J.

Merry Christmas everyone!!

Another Candle On The Cake

My body really is a wonderland. It celebrates 29 years of existance this week. And I’m still discovering new things I can do with it.

I don’t feel old. Or older. Or wiser.

All I am is happy, very happy. I’ve felt very loved and cherished this month. Thank you, world.


Almost every single present I received this year was a book! 🙂 Yes, my world finally understands me. And Landmark ought to make me honorary platinum-studded-with-diamonds something and give me books free for all the publicity and extra sales I’ve single-handedly generated for them!!


I’m happier and more grateful. I’m also thinking that it is worth learning to be a bit of a brat. Since people don’t always take you seriously or consider that you have feelings…unless you let them know it – I’m going to!!

So those of you who did not make it to my party or turned up and left in 20 minutes (yes, you know I’m talking to you…I hope you are cringing)…I’m very, very, very upset! Yes, I did have a number of wonderful people who did turn up and stay to celebrate with me. But people aren’t like oranges where if you lose one, you can pick up another. Each of you is special to me and irreplaceable. My party (and my life) is incomplete without your presence in it. And you reminded me of that on my birthday. Are you feeling guilty enough about it? Good, because I want you to. I would if I had done that, too.


My parents think of the most amazing gifts! One year they organised a treasure hunt with each clue attached to a gift! Some of the things I received were a book, new sandals, a handbag, a gold chain, a diamond pendant and a stuffed toy. This year I received a book, a new blouse (the kind mum is always raising disapproving eyebrows at my wearing), a silk tie/sash and among other things…a set of towels! 😆 So cute, no? But I needed them anyway.

When I think back to the best gifts I’ve received from them…

1. Childcraft
2. The Landmark Forum
3. The lesson of always thinking for myself
4. Life

Yes, I’m aware that this is extremely Hallmark-greeting card. So I’m sentimental, so I’m cliched, so sue me. 🙂


A late realisation that made me feel good – while battling allegations that I..

– diet
– am anorexic
– suffer bulimia

…I protested,

But my body is that way!!! I haven’t lost an inch since I was sixteen. I’ve worn exactly the same size of jeans for all these years!!!

My friend observed that most people in their late (very late!) twenties couldn’t say that. Yes, errm.

And the Evil A.E. remarked on b-day,

You’re eating chips and cheese dip?! Now that you’re older you know you can’t be doing things like that..!

Phooey to him, I’ll eat what I like. And stay happy with that, I hope.


I also had some flash revelations right during my party.

1. I don’t fall in love easily. It’s like the second-most difficult thing on my planet, right after getting me to stop talking.

2. I am a wanter. When I want, I want want WANT want. Nothing stands in my way. Not emotions, not fairness, not relationships, not social approval. That’s quite different from caring, love or committment.

3. I find myself in possession of an ego. A SuperEgo. I don’t forgive easily (but of course I told you that). I can be annoyed, irritated, upset, angered, enraged, wrathful and furious. I know the difference between each of these. And the object of my ire will know…eventually.

4. There is too much ‘I’ in this list so I’m stopping right here. I’m bored easily, even by talk about myself.


I even managed to spend an hour at my favorite bookstore, reading. If my ‘imaginary date’ had come looking for me, he would have found me in the very boy-aisle of comics/graphic novels reading the very girl “Spiderman loves Mary Jane“. I’m a just a girl in the boys’ section. 😉


So I had a party. The first one in this new house. The second one in my twenties, the last one being 5 years back. Only two guests from that party were at this one. One of them was my chaddi-buddy whom I’ve known since I was three. I gave him a rundown on the guests, adding “She’s a really good friend” to which he raised an eyebrow and said, “Tell me who isn’t?”. Well, I’m just lucky. In a way, sort of. I know some wonderful, lovely people. Only there are loads of them and they don’t all stay lovely for that long, simultaneously (especially if I date them, wherein they turn into Neanderthal man-meets-Psychopathic Creep). So there’s a new set of wonderful, lovely people now. But I really, truly adore them all to bits.

Maybe it isn’t that I’m not meant for love. Maybe I’m meant exclusively for short-term love.


They say Cancerians are loyal. They say we’re changeable too. I’ll quote something I read a long time ago…

Here’s to me and here’s to you
And here’s to love and laughter
I’ll be true as long as you
Not a single moment after

And that is my birthday toast to my body, my relationships and to this world. Cheers!


The otherself was on the phone.
Best Friend was entertaining…and trying, successfully almost, to be entertained.
Astra opened her eyes from the earth-healing meditation and hugged her mother.
Precious was in deep slumber…one hopes.
All was as always with the soul-family.

The pater and mater were hugging the alter-pater and alter-mater at the airport.
The photo-negative was muttering a silent plea.
The villians were smiling at their families.
The eternal love was kissing his wife happy new year and saying hello to the big Three-O.
The cast was in their places, ready on cue.

Preacher was admiring the stars (human and astral).
The child was grinning from ear to ear and counting down 7…5….4….6…3…..
Shooting star was watching the fireworks with a sinking feeling in the stomach.
The badgers stood firm, feet planted on the ground, ready as ever.
The peripheral was intact and the circle complete.

A hundred little bubbles were bursting inside her head
While tiny light-bulb filaments flared and sizzled out inside his
As the grey-white filaments of air swirled around them
Each of them donned their party-hats and hung on the matching accessories –
Brilliance, exuberance, cheer and a wide smile.

Home was waiting and watching
An eternity, a lifetime, a constellation away
While the blue-green planet turned another revolution around Sol.
I smiled back.

I Am Jill's Unfeminine Wiles

Jack’s eyes lazily scanned the room, taking in all, accommodating none.

Gillian paused mid-speech, in spite of herself and her breath stuck in her throat. Then she caught herself and smoothly moved on, ramming her words into each other to create an artful slip of tongue. The ripple of amusement that passed through her listeners washed away the traces of anyone noticing her real mistake.

From her peripheral vision, Gillian knew that he had moved into focus and was weaving his way slowly but definitely towards her group. She never did the ‘corner of the eye’ thing…it was too obvious and blatant, a real pathetic ‘I can’t help looking but I don’t want to be seen looking’ gesture. No sirree, she was never pathetic. No sidelong glances, no downcast gazes, no secret looks, she didn’t do those.

What Gillian did do was yoga. It kept her eyesight as flexible as her fingers, her mind as nimble as her feet while dancing. Yoga allowed conversations to become like dances. Where you could move, navigate and control without actually thinking or making an effort to. Doing without trying. And what Gillian was doing without trying was turning herself and her little knot of people into a Jack-magnet…by sheer non-magnetism.

The man on her right turned slightly to accommodate the newcomer. Jack was smiling as he looked at the guilelessness in the eyes that seemed to be focusing and finally noticing him. Interesting, he thought.

And then, inspite of herself, Gillian smiled. Graceleness was her art and artlessness was where she was most graceful.


* Yes, the title is an unabashed rip-off of “I am Jack’s cold sweat” from the movie Fight Club.

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