Which is probably the most luxurious part of the day. Today I sit in front of the laptop with the cup in hand and writing this post with the other. I'm reminded of the first time I decided to drink my soup the Calvin way, with a straw. What resulted was a burnt tongue and hurried searches on google about how to nurse the tongue and still drinking the soup, fearing it would get cold. It also reminds me of the time when I had just started drinking hot beverages. I've never liked my food too hot, I prefer it somewhere between lukewarm and cold. The soup that day was exceptionally hot and made my mouth water after every sip. The ingenious solution I found was to drink water alongside the soup till I built up the habit of having hot things. Though now, the water drinking idea sounds ludicrous at best. I've also once pretended to myself that the soup was some terrible beast, from the Calvin and Hobbes fame, when I didn't particularly want to have it. I fought with it with a spoon and ultimately sacrificed it to my father.
And trawling through the net, I clicked on some link accidentally that got me to a post that was put up by Imran Khan on Amir's blog. He has good English, really nice. I like people with good English. I also like vichyssoise, the cold french soup, even though I've never had it. It's just that it's cold and wont burn my tongue.
Every year, the organizers of the Bulwer-Lytton prize, based at San Jose University, California, invite entrants from across the world to come up with terrible opening sentences to imaginary novels. Here are some of this year's best efforts:
~ Danny, the little grizzly cub, frolicked in the tall grass on this sunny spring morning, his mother keeping a watchful eye as she chewed on a piece of hiker they had encountered the day before.
~ There was a pregnant pause-as pregnant as Judith had told Darren she was (about seven and a half weeks long), which was why there was a pause in the first place.
And the winner is:
~ Gerald begain - but was interrupted by a piercing whistle that cost him ten percent of his hearing permanently, as it did everyone else in a 20-km radius of the eruption, not that it mattered much because for them 'permanently' meant the next ten minutes or so until buried by searing hot lava or suffocated by choking ash - to pee.
Laughing Hard - as hard as people must have thought to write the above, which is why I'm laughing in the first place.
Like when we're bored to death in a class, start playing Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl". Even more effective if you are in a girl's college like me.
Like when you see an absolute knock out and then take a look in the mirror, Radiohead's "Creep" would start. Alternatively, you see a drop-dead gorgeous dude with another girl and Avril's "Girlfriend" would start. ;)
Like when you have really pissed of someone, the song "Eello Ji Sanam Hum Aa Gaye" from Andaz Apna Apna would play. Alternatively, Linkin Park's "Leave Out All The Rest".
Like when you feel like the world is becoming a circus and you're the head, FOB's "This Aint A Scene" would start.
Like when you need to good pick me up, RDB's "Door Jaan Toh" would play.
Like when you need a friend, and "Jaane Kyun" would play. Or the Appy Fizz theme song, for that matter.
Like when you feel the need to head bang and "Pichle Saat Dino" would play. "We Will Rock You", "Rise Up" and about any song by Metallica would do.
Like when you storm in late for a class and the band behind you plays "God Save The Queen", which depending on people's interpretation could sound like the Bridal Waltz. Either way, you have a royally good excuse.
(Imperial Waltz playing) Signing Out,
In the noise, there was nothing to be heard. I tried and ultimately tried to imagine what could possibly be hidden in the crypticness of the sound. I imagined old grandmother's advice and young mother's questions. I thought about confessions and secrets, that were lost to the wind and swept up in the noise. There was suddenly a whole new dimension added to the seemingly annoying cackling in between the stations. There were stories that were yet untold, people yet unheard and lives yet unlived, all weaved inside the noise. There was much to be heard in the world that does not merit a listen. Songs, poems, writings and journals in the mind, all swirling in the white noise of life.
I stayed up for long, thinking about who all had lost their voices to the white noise of the world, the white noise of their lives and had become the background sound of humanity, which plays on amongst the babble of everything else that goes on. Wanting to know, whether I would too be lost in the white noise.
Hopefully not. Maybe I'll be the one that people listen to. Maybe I'll be more than just a cackle amongst the stations of life.
"Ignorance is Bliss"
"Knowledge is Power"
Reading a book titled, "The Kabul Beauty School" the other day, I realized why we forsake bliss and strive for knowledge. The bliss we know is almost puny in significance as compared to the feeling that comes with power.
The power to know, The power to change, The power to be so much more.
That is why we want more knowledge, we lust for the power it offers.
Reading the book made me realize that sitting here in my comfy chair and with my laptop and mobile, I am just incredibly lucky and blessed. I am happy and I can afford the priviledge of having a choice, something absolutely unheard of, not only in Afghanistan, but even in the heartland of my India. I have, in all respects, the power to be Me. Which is something I am truly greatful for.
Reading the book gave me the power to try and change something in me, think of changing society for the better and maybe, occasionally, change what I have been told can't be changed.
There is bliss in not knowing the wrong that happens, there is extraordinary bliss in choosing to shut out all but what is essential. It is comfortable, even pleasurable to exist in the confines of cocoon that all but threatens to expose you to the world. But then again, there is an undefined hope in being able to change the direction of life, there is a sudden peace in knowing that you have been a witness to someone's life and efforts. There remains a glow inside with the power to be more than what was asked of you.
Life becomes worth something, you know you can do something. You have the knowledge, the gentle push for the adventure you seek. Bliss is heartening, but Power, it is a strong and wily thing. It weaves itself into the fabric of your thoughts, till you die for more.
Which ultimately, comes from the knowledge of power.
This is definitely one of my favourite sketches, specially coz when I think of my home, I envisage the walls covered with plants like this..
This painting, I made when I was looking for some peace and quiet. Never thought I'd get it by painting it..
My Flying Dutchman.. I had fun doing this one, thinking of a story for each part of the ship I sketched..
Hehe, This is me in my dreams.. Thin, graceful and a dancer..
This one I made, simply because I love the Stuart Era and reading up about it. And the book cover was sexy!!!
My best so far (thats what I think).. Love the snow, Love the trees, Love everything in this..
Maybe (not) The Next Van Gogh