And I don't think one should be too hard on oneself...if the object of one's affection...returns the favor with rather...less enthusiasm than one might've hoped.
5 things I like doing in my city? (sorry if its touristy, but that’s how I am)
MY CITY 1 – Bombay
1.walk on versova beach, looking longingly at the madh island fort
2.sitting at the bar in zenzi and chatting up with friends/date and leching
3.dancing away the blues at the shack to ‘ra ra Rasputin’ or ‘one way ticket’
4.watching plays at my erstwhile adda prithvi, an arty haven in this unarty city
5.a late night drive to marine drive, stopping at haji ali for strawberries n cream
MY CITY 2 - Ahmedabad (where i spent 5 long years)
1.going to the Sunday market by the river and bargain for curios and books
2.buying veggie dyed fabrics from the old city’s ruins rani no hajiro
3.the garba at cept, and sitting on the lawns and looking at the skies
4.the solitary walks near the gufa, university campus to ponder while gazing at peacocks
5.the winter performances at natrani, by the river, with the overhanging peepul tree
People think I am a snob. I am. People think I am vain. I am not. People think I am lazy. I am not. People think I wear my heart on my sleeve. I do. People think I judge. I don’t. People think I don’t like them. But I do. People think I am not grounded. I am. People think my spellings suck. They do. People think my life is a cakewalk. ROTFL. People think I am materialistic. Am so not. People think I am a prude. I am. People think I am artsy. I am. People think I spend too much. I do. People think I am impulsive. I am. People think I am in control. I am not. People think I am very casual about most things. I am not. People think I am rude. I am not. People think they can tell me what to do. They cant. People think I don’t know what they think. But… can people think, at all?
i want to share a post-coital cigarette in bed with someone special (no i dont smoke, but still). i want to cut an apple or have someone cut an apple for me, in bed, late into the night. i want to be kissed on the forehead. i want to throw a tantrum at 4am and insist on driving down to holiday inn for a chicken club sandwich because i skipped dinner (or even if i didnt). i want to ramble away into the night about art. i want pretend to be listening to you while i stare into your eyes and think how crazy i am about you. i want a plain silver commitment band (no it so doesnt have to be from tiffany's) and i want a beach side wedding in goa. i want to wake you up in the middle of the night and tell you how much i love you. and i want to slap you if you woke up me like that. i want you.
The mess on the desk
The many wires
The mess off the desk
The many strings.
The pile of books
Yet to be read
The pile of non-books
Yet to be shred.
The fall of the empire
The rise of the czar
To ask why I have
Come this far.
To tell to me be
What I was
Why don’t you see
Its gone for a toss.
The name’s got
A nice ring
I could sing
The chance meet
The latent heat
I said you’d put out.
The mad flirting
Have you ever made-love, while the clock ticks? Have you ever apologized about being yourself? Or waited all day for that one message? Or an entire life-time? Have you ever gotten soaked to the skin when you wanted to be dry? Realized towards the end of a journey, that this is not the path? Been told that you don’t count? Wondered if anyone really cares about how you feel? Ever slept with someone who makes you feel like a loser the next morning? Been asked by a stranger, if you are alright? Cried in a party? Told everyone that you are fine, when you really want to curl-up and die, literraly? Wondered if slitting your wrists would hurt a lot? Told your friends that you hate them, when you meant that you know that they hate you? Been in a roomful of people who hate your guts? Been with someone you thought you loved but they thought you were dumb?