New Year, New Resolutions

So as is typical, I have my new year resolutions for this year.
The first one (as it is with many women) is to lose weight! 😄 and I’m starting with a bang – 108 sun salutations! Yes, it’s ambitious.. And yes, it sounds crazy! But I’ll report back on Jan 3.

The next resolution is to rejuvenate this blog and write! Write anything and write a lot!

Happy 2014 to all who (still) follow this blog. 😊

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Bombay

I miss those balmy nights of summer and the salty breeze of your beach. The beads of sweat & water in the heat and in the rain. I crave passionate conversations with friends in the quiet haunts of  your lonely streets.

But Bombay, you were not the city of my dreams! You’re the city of my nostalgia; the city of bittersweet things!

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Chicago on Broadway

Call me vain but I have a few things on my bucket list that won’t really figure as the usual stuff people have on their bucket lists!

One of these was to watch the musical Chicago on Broadway.

A year in Manhattan and I hadn’t the heart to spent over a hundred and fifty green ones to be seated at an appropriately located seat at the theatre so that I could at the least see the faces of the actors performing.

But since Broadway week was here!!! we decided that this ought to be checked off the list this year.

So there I was – dressed formally as is traditional when one goes to watch a Broadway show (yes I made a fuss about it but I wanted it to feel like a special occasion) seated in the front mezzanine row C exactly in the middle of the small ambassador theatre anticipating one of the best experiences of a live performance!

And it was everything I’d imagined. Among the entire cast, I was stunned with Bianca Marroquin who plays Roxie Hart. I wasn’t particularly dazzled by the actress playing Velma Kelly but Roxie Hart stole the show for me and of course R. Lowe (the man) who plays Miss Mary Sunshine. Like many others in the audience I could not have guessed she was actually a he!!!
And the actors playing Amus Hart and Billy Flynn, Chris Sullivan & Marco Zunino were just as enjoyable.

I find myself smiling at the memory of a wonderful evening spent watching the longest running Broadway musical in history!

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Me & Her

Her: how is he now?
Me: he’s there, as always
Her: btw, im still laughing at facepalm : D
*Her new status Message – Facepalm 10: 13 AM*
Me: its become an actual word which = slaps forehead
Her: that I understood duh!
Me: bangs head on desk has also become a word = headesk
Her: hahahahahah
Me: Really? U shd get on twitter.
Her: facepalm sounds like cyclopalm
Me: hahaha
Her: The Medicine that J takes when she chumms
Me: no she doesnt take cyclopalm she takes Meftalspas and i take it too
Me: its very effective
Her: no she takes cyclopalm
Me: arre… she takes Meftalspas, its an antispasmodic
Her: only we can disucss these things na, flit form one topic to another, one stupidity to another, and you’re getting boring also!
Me: :O

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The two red lines

She wrapped the covers under her body, cocooning herself to keep warm. It was March already but the winters refused to go away. The weather made her gloomy and she’d feel whiny towards the evening. It was warmer in the day but the wind crept up at night. The last of the snow showers paid a visit from time to time. The radiators in the house would whistle intermittently with hot steam but it didn’t seem to make much of a difference.

The clock on the nightstand was telling her to sleep. But sleeping had become increasingly difficult. Her breasts would feel sore, sometimes painful. Made it difficult for her to sleep on her stomach. She got out of bed for a smoke and took the blanket along with her. Rummaging through the papers on the desk, she finally found what she was looking for. She walked up to the fridge, took out a pint of beer and walked over to the window seat with her smoke and the sheet of paper.

A few dim lights in a few lonely houses told her she wasn’t the only one struggling to sleep. She lit her cigarette and inhaled the first calming puff. It was a pre-war neighborhood – walk-ups with brick exteriors that were slowly giving away. Hers was a 4th floor apartment. She didn’t think it would be a problem though she was feeling increasingly tired of carrying laundry and groceries home these days. The constructions were rather odd; with terraces on different levels in different buildings.
The building next to her jutted out and the window gave her a view of the occupant’s living room. Every night, the TV lights would cast shadows on her walls. She took a swig of the cheap beer and swallowed it with distaste. The letter lied in front of her. She didn’t want to read it just yet.

She looked out hoping to find courage somewhere in the dark of the night. The crescent shaped moon reminded her of better nights spent at that very windowseat with wine and him rather than cheap beer and a smoke for company. Nevertheless the smoke did its job. The beer didn’t taste as bad anymore. She wasn’t as restless now. She picked up the letter, this time with resolve. It had been lying in the pile of mail for four days. There was no return address. She didnt even know if he had moved out.

She scanned the letter for an explanation but found none. The tears came rolling and refused to stop. After two more beers and too many smokes, she passed out in her bed.

“I know I’ve hurt you. It all happened in a rush.”

She wanted it to be a bad dream.

“I’m Sorry I just couldn’t help it”

She was in and out of sleep.

“I didn’t know what to do. She was pregnant and…”

She woke up with a start. It was still dark. Her eyes were swollen and the hair was a mess. She wasn’t feeling too good. No it wasn’t the liquor!

She ransacked her closet. She knew she had a few kept somewhere in a drawer. She always kept them, just in case. Ten long frustrated minutes later, she found it.
She wiped her mouth and ran to the bathroom. The tears had dried down on her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. She splashed cold water on her case. She was now fully awake.
“I didn’t know what to do. She was pregnant and…”
That line rang through her head like a loud, deafening fire alarm. No! It couldn’t be! The fatigue, the soreness, the mood swings… it all began to make sense, although… she shook her head. It couldn’t be! No! It couldn’t be!

It can’t! But what if…? She wanted to check and make sure.
The three minute wait was killing her.

A smoke later, her worst fears had been confirmed.
Two more smokes and Two more strips later, the two red lines had pronounced this the worst day of her life.

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Mirror and shiny things

I live in my own castle.
made of mirrors and shiny things.
It reflects a thousand images
of many happy beings
They live in my delusions
merrily going around.
When one fine day i woke up
My thoughts had all been bled
All happy beings had gone away
The crazies were back in my head.
So now i walk around me
reflecting black shadows of gloom
And the mirrors all around me
have sealed me in a cocoon.
I’m locked in my own castle
made of mirrors and shiny things
I cling to the threads of my (in)sanity
waiting for death to bring me wings.
I know! That safe seclusion
will let me fly unbound.

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A Decade ago

She wore a white Tee and capris with a sling bag weighing her shoulder down. The class was fairly occupied. She found an empty bench and walked up to find him across from her; sitting in the other row. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans and never carried books – kept to himself, always quiet. Until the week after when the teacher asked him to read. He looked around to borrow one. She offered hers.

Weeks went by with acknowledging half-smiles. He borrowed her book when he was asked to read. The obligation to speak had reached its brim but neither had anything to say. The half-smiles extended into full-smiles, nods, a word here n there and then into conversations.

He had plans to go to New Zealand and study photography, had just 1 friend and sketched and wrote for a girl he was madly in love with but had never spoken to. He didn’t get along with his father and hated his first name.

The need to spend more time, talk some more, sketch together had taken over. They met often to show each other their work, to talk passionately about the things they loved, and sometimes just to watch the rain. She knew he was going to leave soon. Saying goodbye wasn’t going to be easy and the day was soon approaching.

The rains were fierce that season. It wasn’t supposed to rain that day. It poured! Like never before. The thundering blocked out the sound of her thoughts. All she felt was the cold wind against her skin and his eyes watching her now n again. He had given her his windcheater. They walked fast trying to outrun the rain. Shivering against each other; neither saying a word.
They reached the doorstep as she fumbled for the keys. He waited as she turned the key in the lock, sealing the fate of the moment that quivered in the space between.
Hungry kisses were cherished, each touch meeting with acquiescence. The alchemy of that day had changed everything!

———
I feel the soft drops of rain on my hands.
It had been a decade ago!
It wasn’t supposed to rain that day!

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