There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the making of a toast and tea.

-T.S Eliot: The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock

Yesterday you told me things that made me shiver.

They just don't fade. The more you try to divert your attention away from them, the louder they get. And closer too. Until they're inside of you. Liquid, and trickling down the insides of your bones. They move things within you, until you realise that things are no longer in your hands. Your fingers are not connected to your palms, your arms are not connected to your shoulders, the corners of your mouth are not connected to your eyes. Yet your heart is connected to your mouth, and you don't know why.

They don't sleep. Even when you do. They whisper words of sin in your ear, and you soak it in. Like a sponge. She told you this, and that, and the other. Why do you not remember? Why do you believe? I wish you knew. You wish I knew. I do know. What did you say? I can't hear you.

Its a smudge now, across the tangible. The intangible was never there in the first place. Its a blur. How do I cross a line that is blurry? These lines are not all the same to me. They are of different lengths, and some of these circles seem to go on longer than the others.

Your words, to me, mean more than you think. More than I think. We think too much. Far too much. In the end, when the lights fade and all these circles come together, it will be time for judgement. Perhaps all that matters in the interim is knowing that waiting is all we can do. And while waiting, we shiver in the cold. The rain drenches us through, and we sigh, holding on to the bubbles that escape from our mouths. It is all we can do, and all we should do. And probably all we need to do.

So give me your lines, and I will give you mine.
And we will lay them down, stand on them, and lean forward into the vast plains so carelessly referred to as the future.

don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?

For this is what we do. Put one foot forward and then the other. Lift our eyes to the snarl and smile of the world once more. Think. Act. Feel. Add our little consequence to the tides of good and evil that flood and drain the world. Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of a new day. With love: the passionate search for a truth other than our own. With longing: the pure, ineffable yearning to be saved. For so long as fate keeps waiting, we live on. God help us. God forgive us. We live on.

It is the 27th of January.
Funny how that worked out.
Funny how when one year ends, another just begins. Out of nowhere. And every year seems to reflect your last, in a strangely obstrusive way.

Its so funny that, well, it isn't anymore.

scarlet shivers
in your speech and in my breath
the rhythm of the days,
the rhythm of your ways
form the beat of the blood inside me.

I know its a new day.
I just wish you would too.

Mornings are particularly generous because they give you the opportunity to start again. Mornings are the best time for forgiveness, because there's something in the rays of the sun that makes hearts slightly larger than they were the night before.

Someone once told me that forgiveness is they key to all unhappiness. At first, I thought it to be one of those baseless rhetorics, but the more i think about it the more truth i find. As I do with most things. The only thing that stops people from hurting themselves repeatedly is the pain of a previous wound.

I remember saying that once before, in slightly different words. Its funny how we arrive at the same conclusions so often, without realising it after we do.

Its all just one big circle, really. You, me, us, them, friends, foe, loves, the past, the future- all of us are just walking in this circle pretending as though we have a say in what life deals to us. More often than not, as i realised yesterday, we don't. That is a very difficult thought for me to digest- that sometimes I may not have a say with decisions that concern my life. Some things leave you with so little room for choice, it breaks your heart.

I wish i was able to write this out with more fluency and coherence, but this is all i can manage to get out of myself.

Thank you god for giving me the people around me, my friends, my family, and everyone else who has played a part in helping me, for lack of a more original phrase, go on. With so much more than i ever thought i would get, or deserve.

The Scientist

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start

Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on a silence apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh take me back to the start

I was just guessing
At numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart

Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start

Running in circles
Chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard

I'm going back to the start

The Sphere

Within these walls
it expands

slowly.

Wet with warmth.

It will not explode.
It is well contained.
Yet the wetness soaks through
sseeping into the crimson.
Which rises
And spreads

Into the sphere.

fuck the poets of the past, my friends.
there are no beautiful suicides
just cold corpses with shit in their pants
& the end of the gifts.




-courtesy postsecret.blogspot.com

Today i learnt that making friends is a small step, but its keeping friends, and maintaining friendships that forms the most part of the challenge.

Its times like these that make me wonder what I'm here for, and what I want out of things.

Let them leave language to their lonely betters
Who count some days and long for certain letters;
We, too, make noises when we laugh or weep;
Words are for those with promises to keep.


Mr Purvis said literature is an appreciation of genius.
I couldn't agree more.

To put thoughts into words is painful enough. Once you put your thoughts down to words, you are held responsible for that thought. It becomes your thought, and there is little that can be done for you to shrug responsibility for that thought anymore. Yet that responsibility is a price to pay for getting the burden of the thought off your shoulders. The question is whether or not it is worth it.

I marvel at those who have the courage to assume responsibility for their thoughts. It is a step I am not willing to take as yet. Even more so for those who can actually do a good job of it, and manage to produce a literary work that can move you enough to think about it. Because that's really the first step, isn't it.

But today alone, i have realised that when you're really upset, words desert you. And I suppose that makes what are considered literary gems even more valuable. Because it is the product of a giant leap across a very tall hurdle.

Name- Goo Goo Dolls

And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away

And now we're grown up orphans
That never knew their names
We don't belong to no one
That's a shame
But if you could hide beside me
Maybe for a while
And I won't tell no one your name

And I won't tell em your name

Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star
And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are

You grew up way too fast
And now there's nothing to believe
And reruns all become our history
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell em your name

I think about you all the time
But I don't need the same
It's lonely where you are come back down
And I won't tell em your name

Announcement:

I have long exceeded my SMS quota, and it is only the 15th.
So I have decided not to send out anymore SMSes for the rest of the month, unless absolutely necessary.

So if you need to contact me- either send me an email, or call me on my home number, as my handphone talktime has also exceeded its quota. Send me an sms only if it is an urgent message, and I will call you back should it require a response.

Wait. While we're at it. Since people SMS me for fun, why don't we try this instead? Email me for fun! People have stopped doing that. Nobody emails each other just to say hello anymore. We should. We should all pretend to be each other's penpals. The last penpal I had was when I was 11, but my brother convinved me that 'she' was actually a 50 year old paedophile. Now I have a closest-thing-to-a-penpal-in-this-digital-age-whom-i-wouldn't-be-able-to-recognize-
should-i-see-him-on-the-streets, but that is a completely different matter. Because I still insist upon the just-to-say-hello emails.

And let that be the new trend, that starts right here on my blog (my blog.. my blog... my blog...)

How do you go on with a straight face after seeing Hemachandra cry?

This show is so different from any other singing competition on television, because there's so little gossip and backstabbing. Its truly a pleasure to watch.

Except when you see Hemachandra cry.
Heart pain. ):

She Spreads Her Wings- Semisonic

At night she spreads her wings
She dreams of bigger things
She floats above the town
She sings without a sound

She can be anywhere at all
She can be anyone at all

A glow and then a shine
What she hoped she would find
Tonight, tonight

She's got a picture in her mind
She can be anyone at all

At night she changed her mind
She left the world behind


***

This week was been tumultous, and I can't believe it is only the second week. I cannot believe today was only the second day of lectures.

I hate it when i say stupid things like I cannot believe. It really is such a pointless phrase. What's there not to believe? Sometimes I surprise myself with my own stupidity. Things like falling down the stairs in the most embarrassing fashion only serve to drill this further into my mind.

The best advice I have received all week is take your time to know people. I can't believe I never thought about that myself. I hate it when I can't think of things like this myself and have to have people tell me. Yes, so take your time to know people Sneha, because thats the best piece of advice you have had in a long time. Though eat your ass comes a close second.

When things get really annoying I talk to myself in third person, or write to myself and leave the letter and leave it in my notebook to stumble upon later. I did it last year, I did it in Cochin, and I'm doing it now.

She's gone to the movies now, and she's not coming back

Sneha has left the building.
Toss salad and scrambled eggs.

Cochin 2005- Photo Entry

Here's the long promised Cochin 2005 photo entry.
With captions! Hurrah!



Upon arrival at Chellanam, moving our luggage into our accomodations (Mrs. Jendak John's house)




Students at St.Mary's High, during lesson time. Note that their classrooms only have makeshift walls, and no doors or windows.



View from the front of St.Mary's High. If you look closely, you will see that there are no walls or any other form of boundaries to separate the school compound from the rest of the village.



The church inside the school compound. I didn't get a picture of the lower parts, but about 30 cm from ground level the colour of the walls distinctly changes and is covered by moss. This marks the level the water reached during the Tsunami.



Debbie and Jay fooling around near the clotheslines in the backyard during our free time. Suffice to say, I was not involved. I was probably busy doing more important things, like cleaning the crud from under my toenails. That was meant to be a joke. My toenails have no crud under them.



Group 2 members during what looks like a group discussion. One of the more serious ones, from the looks of it. This picture was taken in the outhouse, the humble abode of groups 1 and 2. On a messier day.



Again- Group 2 members, on the same day, probably within the same hour. This picture speaks for itself. Though if I could attach a voice clip of Liu Hui saying something at this instant, it would have been a hundred times more effective.



Lunch at Chinmaya Vidyalaya. The school building itself was very impressive, and the students very, shall we say, hospitable. No, really. Very nice people, and the food was brilliant.



Children at the kindergarten 5 minutes walk from our house. We helped sponsor a toilet for them.



The Arabian sea, in all its splendour. We lived 5 minutes walk away from this. This water rose over the breakwater and rushed into the village. The village wasn't very badly hit but it did cause a reasonable amount of damage which it could have done without.



Me with Hella, a little friend I made at the kindergarten. Our friendship didn't reach dizzying heights, considering that she seemed more intent on eating shells and ripping through plastic sheets with her powerful little teeth. We did progress significantly though- she even gave me a gift. A tiny fistful of sand.
This is my favourite picture of the whole lot. Thanks Jay!



This little guy has a super sneaky look.



The whole team outside the kindergarten.



The two-cubicle toilet we sponsored



The quote with one wall of the mural- at St.Mary's High, Chellanam. This is the computer lab to which we added a few computers, 4 UPS', as well as a projector.



Mr Tan with some of the boys from the village.



Some quiet time next to the sea



Us during our dance performance at Chinmaya. My first public dance which i thoroughly enjoyed. Brilliant experience.



Some of us conducting an english lesson



Varnishing furniture for the school.



Deuter, Peak, Puma and Adidas, with our omnipresent teacher Ms Goh!



The seven of us- Jagdssc at the beach



A very tickled Leader Goh with her minions, as ready to serve as we have always, and always will be.



The seven of us with Mr Tan, our team leader (twice) and mentor to the Jagdssc. This picture means the most to me of all the pictures we took, because it just sums up so much- what we were there for, what we've been through together (twice), and what we learnt in the process. And the fact that the eight of us are in that picture together just makes it a thousand times more valuable.



Jagdssc with the kids from the orphanage at Fatimah Convent.



The sun setting over the arabian sea.

***

For the first time in my entire life, while looking at my father's Leshan pictures, i can see the resemblance between me and one of my parents.

My ears are like my father's. And as much as he insists that my nose is like his too, I still maintain that my nose is far more prominent than his, and blame it on some sort of srange amalgamation of large-nose-genes.

Other than that, i still don't see any resemblance to my mother. However, this, coupled with the photos of me at birth, confirm that I was most definitely not adopted.

I have been reading The Secret Diaries of Adrian Mole: The Cappucino years. It's a crackpot book, and makes me laugh to no end. Out Loud. Which is why I decided not to take it on buses. I already have a reputation as a rather strange commuter, with my frequent naps in all sorts of positions. I won't be surprised if someone told me i talk in my sleep on the bus.

This year, shorter bus rides and a new bus route means that i get the chance to start over! Yay!

I can't think of a suitable way to end this entry. So it shall end here, like this.

Orientation was Awesome with a capital A.

Everything about it- the atmosphere, breaking of stereotypes, making new friends, learning new things about people, feeling good about myself, feeling alright about making mistakes- all of that.

I don't want to go into detail about it. But suffice to say, it was a fantastic way to start the year.

And thanks to all my dunkin mates, every one of whom is special in their own right, and very talented too. :) Thanks for making this so great for me. And for breaking the skeptic in me.

Here's to a fantastic academic year!

First day of JC.

More fun than i thought it would be.
Met new people.
Remember most of their names.
Smelt like a man for the most part of the day.

Looking forward to tomorrow!


P.s: Going for Oasis! :D

On the Rocks

Flesh pressed against the rocks, she sat with the waves gently playing with her feet. She knew that she would be found soon, but every moment of seeming serenity lightened her load a little, and every bit helped. She wasn't upset. She was slightly disappointed, but mostly just sad.

It had been a long time since it started, it happened, and it finished. There wasn't much time between the three. She counted the days, and wished she hadn't. The act of counting made her seem very small, through the eyes that she saw herself in. Small was something she was trying very hard not to be. Yet, every thought made her cry and every tear that slid down her satin skin seemed to wear away a little bit of what made her who she was.

Baby's black balloon makes her fly.
I almost fell into the whole in your life.

She knew that it was a silly thought, and hardly worth tears, let alone nostalgia. In front of her, she saw the sun sink into the horizon, its light scattering across the surface of the water, and could almost feel the warmth at her feet.

Almost. A lot of things break at almost. She wished she had stopped at almost. Most people do- almost is what you can get away with. I almost broke the plate but I didn't. I almost said yes, but I thought twice. She did not stop at almost, though. She consciously broke almost into several shards, and took a conscious, liberal, even haughty step across the line that separates almost and actually.

Don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?

She was not some sort of larger than life hero. All she did was take reins for once, and she got the directions wrong. A far cry from heroic. She knew it. But she also knew that the sun was shining too brightly for her to sit beneath a tree. She basked in it, and let the light seep through her skin, into her blood.

She knew he would be somewhere else, dancing, or racing, or doing something else equally silly and meaningless. The water meant nothing to him. Atleast, nothing that it meant to her. Or maybe it did. She knew little about him, or who he was. What she did know, and recall at that instant, was how good he was with his hands.

he first time she felt those hands, she knew more than she thought she did. When his fingers ran through her hair, she felt beautiful. When the crevices between her fingers were filled by the vines that were his, she felt complete. Then, all that mattered to her was him- his fingers, palms, the veins in his wrists, and the rest of him.

She thought she heard someone calling out to her from behind, but she wasn't sure. The water and the sound it made against the rocks was all she wanted to hear. She tried to let things be about what she wanted. It offered her a sense of control.

She pressed her thumb against her tear-soaked cheek and put it in her mouth. She let her tongue roll over it, feeling the smoothness of her uncut nail, and letting the edge cut into the tip of the tongue. Just so much that it hurt, but not bled. Her palms secreted sweat at the first taste of salt. Her tongue now wandered to her shin, and tasted it through the bristles that found their way up, from the previous thursday.

And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away

Not quenched, but too tired to continue, she stood up and smoothened her white linen skirt across her thighs. The rocks had formed a pattern on her thighs, creasing them in intriguing ways. After examining it for a period of time, she pushed down her skirt and wiped her face with her sleeve. After making sure the patterns were hidden, she turned around and headed towards her friends. On her face was a smile, which would remain until the next time she came back to climb her rock and seek solace in the song of the ocean.


***

Credits: Goo Goo Dolls, for lines from their songs- Black Balloon, and Name

Heralding 2006

The good old year is with the past;

Oh be the new as kind!

Oh stay, oh stay,

One parting strain, and then away.

- From 'A Song for New Year's Eve' by William Cullen Bryant, 1794-1878