ENTROPY - Design of Decadence: May 2007

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Cheesy, Crappy Love Story.

Hi M,

Your best friend A, who was my best friend A before you came into her life, refuses to give me your new email ID (which isn’t new anymore) for some strange reason - maybe she thinks i'm one of those freakzoid jilted ex's who's gone putputt - and I have obviously forgotten your cell number after that day years ago when I deleted it from my phone and my memory in a fit of rage. Not that it would still be active. But, and I’m surprised at why it didn’t strike me until today, you probably still may be reading this page. So for lack of a better medium, here goes nothing.

I was ripping my favourite music to fill up my nephew’s I-pod – it’s my gift to him on his 12^th birthday, and while rummaging through all my CDs I found our soundtrack. You know the one. And as it always does, just looking at the CD sleeve reminded me of all the text messages, and the long distance calls, and the fights, and the laughter, and the walks on Carter Road, and tea on your terrace. It reminded me of you, like it always does. And I always get this feeling that’s a mixture of a rush of blood from my arms to my fingers, and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like it, I should let you know. Because nothing else in the world but this soundtrack makes me feel like that.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I think of you sometimes. I don’t love you anymore though, so you can rest assured I won’t go Shah Rukh Khan on you. Though when I saw your graduation picture (A sent it to me, the bitch) I found myself beaming with pride for some strange reason. Economics! Who’d have thought. Attagirl.

I just wanted to know if you too feel like that if and when you hear our soundtrack or look at the CD sleeve. But I guess that’s not really important to you now and I understand that.

I hope you’re happy wherever you are, and your husband spares enough time for you from his software engineering or waste management or selling Amway or holding up 7-11’s or whatever the fuck he does.

And please tell A that she’s a bitch for having left me with no choice but to do this.

And I hope your sister’s life is sorted out by now.

And I hope your parents are finally proud of you.

And I hope you purse your lips and say ‘Okay’ just like you used to.

And well, here’s another song that I’ve always thought would’ve probably become another of our songs.

hone hone de nasha
khone khone ko hai kya
ek saans mein pee ja
zara zindagi chadha
hai yeh toh ek jashn
tu thirakne de kadam

abhi saanson mein hai dum
abhi chalne de sitam.

Take it easy, always.
N.

posted by n.g. at 00:05 (5) Peg(s) of Whisky

Sunday, May 13, 2007

I'm 'It'.

So i've been tagged by T.

The rule is that i'm supposed to post the 5th paragraph on page 123 of the book i'm reading right now. If there is no page 123, then the 5th para of the last page. If there is no 5th para on page 123, then the last para.

And I have to tag 5 people.

Grafx.
Sonia.
H.
T.
Dobe.

And the last paragraph on page 123 of the book I have been reading is ...

He whose mind is untroubled in the midst of sorrows and is free from eager desire amid pleasures, he from whom passion, fear and rage have passed away, he is called a sage of settled intelligence.

The Bhagavadgita - S. Radhakrishnan

posted by n.g. at 22:22 (1) Peg(s) of Whisky

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Everytime I turn a sharp corner while driving, its at the back of my mind that I may collide with an oncoming vehicle, and my stomach lurches a little until I make the turn and nothing happens.

Though the guy next to me turned purple with all the turbulence and strange whirring and clanging, I felt no fear. The only thought in my mind was that if the plane were to crash and I were to die, it would be alright.

posted by n.g. at 20:31 (1) Peg(s) of Whisky

‘The Kite Runner’ by Khaled Hosseini is an extraordinary book.

In the past few days, I have found myself moved to tears while reading it.

Also in the past few days, I have met people who are uncannily like Amir, the narrator of Hosseini’s story. They are introspecting, some of them have been doing so all their lives, they are battling their demons relentlessly, searching for an uncommon love, seeking strange redemption, hoping that what they did was the right thing, but are distressed at the thought that it may not have been.

I met a little bit of myself too.

Which is why, I cried my heart out after I read Hosseini’s last page.

But I was smiling.

If there’s one thing Amir’s emotional story has taught me, it’s to always do the right thing.

Why?

Because that’s the right thing to do.

Perhaps my only grouse with Hinduism is that unlike with some other faiths, our departed don’t remain with us. There’s no tombstone to talk to; no resting place where we can find solace in the fact that they are still close to us, and we still share the earth with them.

posted by n.g. at 13:23 (2) Peg(s) of Whisky

Name: n. g.

Home: Bombay, India

About Me: this fire is burning and its outta control its not a problem you can stop its rock and roll.

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