Good Morning!

The last 2-3 days, Aj and I were busy clicking photographs at home with some really good results!

Images and Words

And when I ask him why he likes the song so much, he just looks at me and says there’s something about it. I look back at him and ask, “It’s me, isn’t it? The girl in the song reminds you of me, doesn’t she?”

One step back and a step down, right foot forward and just zoom ahead. A step back up, one right and one forward. The right foot goes forward again, and you zoom ahead. It’s easy to just ram the accelerator and drive past everything, drive away from everything.

Back.
Right.
U.
Straight.
Right.
Left… and straight ahead.

I’m away from it. By now I’m zipping past everything on the fourth gear in my little 4-wheeler. Everything beside me zips past in a blur. The camera tries to focus on one object but the motion is too fast to allow the cameraman to focus on one particular object. Distances are changing. Focuses are changing. Before I know it, I’m 3 kms away from where I started. I look at my watch and it’s been a mere 2 mins ago that I was struggling to get rid of the brakes and just zip forward.

But where have I come? It’s not unknown territory. I’ve come here before. I come here everyday and look at the grey walls that run along it. The grey walls with the glass pieces so nobody gets in, or maybe so that nobody gets out. Barriers, security, blocks… It’s at every opening. But I’ve come here before. I come here everyday. It’s the farthest I’ve gotten. It’s the room I’ve locked myself in, to block out everything else that disturbs me. But I didn’t build this grey wall. It was already there. I didn’t put the pieces of broken glass there. They’ve been there since I knew it. Somewhere Poiccard was running saying he chose nothingness. Did I choose grief?

I found myself seated at a table this afternoon. I wasn’t alone. The sound of the piano was continuously playing in my head… “water can’t cover her memories, and ashes can’t answer her pain…” sang LaBrie to the notes of the piano.

I asked him why he likes the song so much, he just looks at me and says there’s something about it. I look back at him and ask, “It’s me, isn’t it? The girl in the song reminds you of me, doesn’t she?”

“She stares at the ceiling
And tries not to think
And pictures the chain
Shes been trying to link again
But the feeling is gone”

Wait for Sleep – Dream Theater

Randomity revisited

I’m enjoying at home with the family. Mom and I were going through some old photographs the other day, and I found some photographs that I really liked. So here’s me back then!
It’s been 21 years, and I guess I’m still as random and pointless as ever!!

Randomly fooling around with my brother…

 

Being daddy’s sweet little daughter…

 

Being mom’s little happy soul…

 

There’s so much to take back to Bombay when I leave! Photographs are one thing… I want my mom and dad. I really wish I wasn’t 21 and could throw tantrums and get everything I wanted… :)

Sigh.. Wishful thinking is exactly what that is!

The Homecoming

It just gets better everytime! I get to see things that I miss seeing in Bombay…

The confused look on my nana’s face when he saw me enter the room with a camera covering my face…

Mom avoiding the camera in the funniest ways.

My niece and nephew being silly in the cutest possible way!

Thatha smiling and talking, making the best of all that he can hear!

The romantic discourse between my grandparents!

Apu agreeing to drink milk after much coaxing.

Thatha slowly tearing the paper off a chocolate bar…

I’m now counting my days in Delhi with mom and dad and the rest of my family, and hoping against hope that my stay extends longer!

The Need to Blog

Blogging becomes an addiction once you actually get into it. This would be a normal conversation in the life of a regular blogger…

Random Arbitrary Person in the Background: Oi! Whatup? What’re you doing on the comp abhi? At such a bizarre hour?

Blogger with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (now) for Blogging: I’m blogging.

Random Arbitrary Person in the Background #2: Blogging? At this time of the day? Oh c’mon, man.. You can do this whenever, later!

Blogger with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (now) for Blogging: No, man. I just feel the need to blog so badly. There’s this thought… and I like totally totally have to blog it.

Random Arbitrary Person in the Background: But thoughts are like always there. If you’re thinking about it so hard, it’s not like they’re gonna ditch you and run away or something.

Blogger with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (now) for Blogging: (now throwing random blogging philosophies in the air) You see… Thoughts are like a train. It’s there at a particular moment. If you leave it at that moment, it never comes back in time for you to use it when you want to. Of course, they’re not like the local trains in Mumbai because the same train always comes very frequently at your convenience. That’s a good thing the government has done. But then again, the government doesn’t really symbolise thought.

What the Blogger with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (now) for Blogging doesn’t realise that his/her audience has now absconded (to be read abscondified because that word sounds better) themselves to a place secure from the Blogger with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (now) for Blogging’s constant rants.

But yea.. Coming back to why I wanted to blog. It’s often seen, and also evident from this post, the kind of trash that people can come up with through their ‘NEED to blog’. So then is it a need to blog or a need to get an obscene number of ratings by advertising to the world that you’ve put up on your blog so that everyone goes to read it (what’s interesting here is the fact that nobody really is told of the quality of the posts since it’s from the blogger with obsessive compulsive disorder (now) for blogging – note the lack of capitals because it is now a generalisation of the creatures of this unique species – and is obviously then a biased opinion)?

Now look at me… Why am I blogging? Maybe it’s because I have nothing better to do and a stubborn mind that refuses to do the assignments dumped on me (and the rest of my class – jeez! how can I not be inclusive?).

But yes… I think at this point my audience (or rather patient readers) might just about be ready to pull out their hair (or hunt me down to pull out mine) for my incessant and pointless rant. 

Toodles!

*written sometime last year…