Gordimer Re-interpreted

“I don’t believe in love… and give me a reason why I should
You left me for that skinny bitch…
The one who’s white and came to ‘help’ with our apartheid fight.
How gracious of her, how extremely nice...
To dirty her feet in the mud and in the bargain, get some heat free at night.

I’ve heard those stories of men leaving their women,
But you always professed that you would be ‘different’
You left me and the family,
Left us in the cold
When the fire went out,
Out, alone I had to go.

Like a character in those plays, they show once in a while
Or those obscure hindi movies,
Where dreams melt in the rain
But here, there was no rain
just the pellets of guns fired
and the smoke from what had transpired
but have no fear, I was told
‘your husband is committed’
Committed of course,
To pleasuring his whore.

Surprised at these words?
That I am so bitter?
But didn’t you want this?
To hear me pine?
To see me shiver?
To hear just how lonely sleeping alone gets at night?
Surely I should cry, so you feel more of a man.
And swell up with your own importance,
because thats a part of you I’ll understand?

But I’m no house cat or domesticated dog
You hold no chains to keep me to this house
I’ve survived so far and that too without ‘needing’ you
I’ve heard those whispers when I’m longing for sleep
Your breath only too clear in that half-awake mind
‘I need Hannah, not you… oh Aila if only it wasn’t for you’

So this Aila of ‘yours’, she doesn’t give a damn no more
And now sings a song that our Baby taught me
‘If I don’t believe in love’, but without the ‘if’ in between.
I sing just the first line but over and over again, just so that it’s all clear;
Crystal clear in my head.
You tore away my love and my faith in it lasting,
You snatched it away and crawled with it to her
With that precious gift I gave you
And you ask me now,
You ask me now!
With that look in your eyes…why I don’t believe in love.
And why things have changed so…”

Yours Truly :)

Context- Google, Gordimer 'My Sons Story'

Ps- Writing this, when i should be Studying! Sheesh! :P

Knowing and Looking

It occurred to me, randomly of course, that knowing less never hurt anyone... (unless its an exam, in which case.. *ouch*)

But on a more social level, knowing less about someone...or their life.. never really hurts.. and, it doesn't matter- at all!
So why the senseless curiosity...?
Why the morbid desire to rub my face in facts that i KNOW will make my eyes water?
Wouldn't i, rather, know less and be happi-er?
Erm, apparently not.

No matter how ugly the facts might be, they're far prettier than the lies.
and no matter how badly the eyes sting, it's okay, cuz better now than later.
The sooner they water, the faster they dry up. Simple.

Besides, all this talk of 'pretty'... there was a time not so long back when looking pretty became the worst thing one could do (honest)
It came down to reductionist analysis by people who liked categories (yes, i shall finally speak up...umm, write up now)
Something on the lines of, the prettier you looked ...and of course by prettier it had to be the 'conventional' blonde girl pink cheek look...well, the blonder the hair (metaphorically) and pinker the cheeks (less metaphorically)...the lower falls the IQ in the eyes of the presumptuous.

Now we can yell ourselves HOARSE screaming that it doesn't really matter and people can do what they like..say what they like...feel what they like...But.
But it changes a few things

-a- you don't like the people who do reductionist readings of you. period.
-b-you don't like them at all, and probably never will...even if that analysis changes.
-c-you get to hop around (cuz you're mad. not insane mad. angry mad. sheesh)
-d-you realize that there is nothing in the world you can do to stop people from being/acting/thinking the way they are...so you 'get' it..and yes, not like them.

There is something just so patronizing to be considered pretty and just that. And it is never about the marks you score or the books you read or even, the way you DO converse about life as a whole. You-will-be-stereotyped by the majority just because you look a certain way. Now you can either fight back by becoming just like 'them' or actually care enough to NOT convert.. to not judge people by the way they look....good/bad/apparently-ugly... there is no one who is 'ugly' in the world... no one, just some people who don't care enough bout the way they
look and others..others who might have the most aesthetically appealing face but not be a good person. That, to me is ugly...and no one can guess that based on the colour of your cheeks.

So to sum up, my hands are freezing cold and i have to go study some more and type a wee bit less. :)

*Peace*

Ps- 2 exams down, 2 more to go! :)
Ps2- Wow, i should have written that post like 7 months ago, but i guess I'm like that guy Camus talks of... the one who killed himself 5 years after his daughter died... no, not slow reflexes... but sometimes, things just hit you later and then you take action. (yes, writing it out is my action!)

Allegory Ignored

They say i should suspect, guard with a frown.
a frown so deep that it clearly spells out...
'hey you there trespasser, keep out! keep out!

you're no snowy bunny
nor an orange owl
not a ray of hope
bouncing off those clouds

not furry
not cuddly
not hug-prone
nor round

you're not those things
you're a suspect they've found
they said to be careful
they said be aware
they said you would sneak in
against all obstacles rare.

but you're not sneaky
or nasty
or even too proud

then why the warning?
why insist upon that guarding frown?
why demand all this secrecy
lest the world know you've escaped

they say you're what we fear
when we huddle closer in the dark
they say you'll disrupt
all thats been mellow in the past

so what? i ask
there has been change before
and scoff all i do, those who say no!

so i leave the door open
just a tiny bit...
just in case you're around
through it, you can fit

and on that very table
will be a cream coloured cup
and a brownie to go
and along with that,
will be a yellow note

a note with curly writing
and a request to not go...
so i too can face this fear
and heed not dusty myths, simply centuries old!

so listen to me now,
and listen to me good,
piffle to the warning
that i've been following
from people unknown.

they....they.... they're nobody but someone elses left toe!

Amen?

The unexpected High... walks in and shuts the door behind... it(?)

We've all known (and at times, hated) inconsistency...
but isn't it effinbloody amazing when the most monotonous thing turns out Fabulous?

So, When is it okay to do the unexpected?

-One- Post several hours of goddamn serious studying, you randomly break into a dance in your pink old navy shirt and older pj's!

-Two-When you think you're losing control and suddenly you grab the once-forsaken reins and well, back in the drivers seat you are! (or the horses back, whatever)

-Three-When from being walk-all-over-me doormat, you scream
'I'm a bitch, I'm a lover... I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed, I'm your hell, I'm your dream, I'm everything in between... So take me as I am, it may mean you'll have to be a stronger man... '
with Morissette and mean EVERY bloody word of it!

-Four-When you blog it out that very minute cuz luckily the computer was just sitting over there and this moment turned out to be too precious to not store immediately!

-Five-When nothing really changes as per the facts of life and circumstances and yet, yet the future...with or without people.... just begins to sound like a GOOD path to be on!

-Six-When from worrying about health, staple pins running out, exams, friends, weight, dogs, height, calories in a bar of dark chocolate, academics, guys, career....everything... you unexpectedly shove all the baggage and take a chance at being happy. Just like that, in the present.

-Seven-When eating dinner makes you realize you wanna go off for a pilgrimage to some religious place, like a call....thats loud and obvious. Getting louder and more obvious. Great unexpected plan!

-Eight-When from a kajal-applyin addict you go cold turkey.... and then decide that you're still passable to look at. Odd right? :-)

-Nine-When you find yourself liking Beethoven' Ode to Joy just as much as Pussycat Doll' Buttons. ie. Lots :D

-Ten-Finally, and obviously... When it makes you feel SO darn good :)... It is good to do/think/feel things that make you Happy!... Now why, why would people wanna do drugs to get this high? .... Try experiencing life as it is, Seems to work okay :)

Peace!

Love to zii Good souls!...ie. All. :)

Of Girls- Finally!

Me- *croons*

I did this whole 'Quotable Quotes' thing, where i was jotting down all the hilarious things we tend to say and then howl with laughter... they're mostly at the expense of boys, life, boys, relationships, boys.. (uhh excuse me for that, but i-dont-give-a-damn)...and generally ABOUT life, the universe and everything :)

But then, i read Swayam's Blog... and it made me wonder.. why girls never GOT it... there must have been a thousand books written... a million sitcomes aired... a billion talk shows based on it...Why don't girls just GET it?
I think its quite pointless to even attempt to express how this goes,
(but that won't stop me from trying...duh!)

A girl is born.
A girl looks in the mirror (freud...lacan....identity formation.. *read up*)
A girl experiences things- mothers love, food, throwing up, bumping against a chair, music, writing, reading... reading.
A girl reads.
Later, she watches TV. (i forgot to mention, but she talks too)
So she reads and watches TV.
She looks at her mum...her dad...her bestfriend...her brother...her barbie doll.
She looks.
She wonders what it would be like to touch that hot pan.
She touches the hot pan.
She gets burnt.
She had read about getting burnt but this feels different, more painful?
She does not know. She realizes that somethings cannot be compared until you experience both..the knowing and wondering...and then experiencing and knowing.
She is able to draw comparisons now.
She knows not to touch a hot pan.
She grows more. Reads more. Wonders more. And then each time she wants to experience something new, she wonders if the risk of knowing enough to compare will be worth the pain of the hot pan.
Sometimes, she says 'no' and turns away...the other times...she warily moves forward and her hand reaches out...
The times when she refuses to know for herself...refuses to know for sure...
Then she reads...she reads some more...She reads what all the other girls have written about THEIR hot pans and how it worked for them.
Some say, it was worth the effort...the others, they warn her not to try.
She chooses now.
She chooses different things at different times.
Always hoping, that when she looks back...she wont regret it.
She fears the awkwardness of a mistake more than the mistake itself.
She questions life, the universe and everything.
She questions why God made hot pans so hot.
She wonders if God is up there frowning each time she tries.
She wonders what God would have done in her place.
She grows up more but the choices she makes are always divided between the hot pan and the not knowing.
She doesn't know when she gets it 'right' or when its 'wrong'.
Just that some people ..they call some of her decisions 'wise'.
The little girl who used to look at her barbie dolls, she still doesn't know.
She won't know till she is dead says the Igbo tribe and their concept of chi.
But she isn't part of their tribe, will it apply to her still?
She read about them, you see... for somebody said she should.
She just wants to do what is 'right'.
But no one can really help....
For the pain of the hot pan is relative.
Relative to how you feel, what you've been through, what that has made you expect... relative in terms of how badly you want it.
The Girl, she reads more and more.
And then she writes, writes her own story...about her own hot pan
and what that did to her.
Then some other girl reads it and reaches out too....

Girls don't change...and they just never GET it.

Dark Chocolate

Of Doughnuts, Dreams and eating your Cake!

This year will be a cake
With cherries buried deep
melting Rum chocolates and brandy
Leading to immeasurable ecstasy

The pressure won’t kill
And ambitions won’t crumble
The steam shall rise
And with it, fly dreams

Salt will melt in oceans deep
Like sugar buried in coffee and cream
It’ll be happy
And oh so gay

With analysis discarded
For sense wholesale
this year, it has started with hope
And that remains, it’s sole support.

-----

'May God Bless Us All Everyone’
(Know your Christmas tales)

I pick the sweet crumbs falling off the warm dough… and that makes the sugar-rush stronger. - The philosophy of jam-doughnut munching. :)

Ps-Barry Manilow is a Genius.

The Year that Was.-:)

Then(when?..sometime ago)- There was still the odd dream that college would include racing about in an open car with the wind rushing past you... (sheesh. bollywood i tell you!)

Now- The wind whips the shivering body in the auto as an attempt is made to reach home post-sleepover the night before... (almost true)

Then- There was the idea that one would know what to do after Bachelors.

Now- We laugh at the dreams of ignorant children.

Then- Romance was a possibility lurking around the corner

Now- We laugh some more, roll over and play dead. (wuff?...*nudge*)

Then- Booze, bonfire and boys, all together on the windy terrace of a pals house sounded like the 'coolest' things. (chortles)

Now- The bonfire flickers and dies out, the booze is ignored for the diet-pepsi and the boys... boys just matter not. (really)

Then- Walcott sounded like an easy poet to study

Now- Those lectures gone by enjoy my heartfelt respect.

Then- College, *sigh* college sounded like a world unknown.. unexplored in its full potential.

Now- Now, i know... i know that it was AS magical as it had seemed from a distance.

Cheers i say, cheers to those 300 cups of cold-coffee, 216 mini-cups of hot soup, 59 hours of waiting for the 2-minute maggie to be cooked...

Cheers to the many days we slept with friends, those 10 paise phone calls till 3... the joy of just lazing in the field while moss sprouted around our discarded bags..

Cheers to the grass that stuck to our sweaters... to the cold water for which we longed (and swati refused to give)

Cheers to the time we all spent together... there was really nothing quite like it.
2008... an introduction was made by you to So many people...yet, what 7 stuck around?
But for those 7..or maybe 9... i thankyou. i thankyou so very much.

For they will last, long after I've left that grassy patch...shrugged off 80% of dry twigs clinging on...walked away from activities most loved... They will last long after the bhel-puri wale bhaiya' been crossed... the overpriced Mithas strolled past... the odd directions to our new 'home' have been taken...
for they won't follow...or tag my steps... but four winters down...when im drinking soup and thinking of today....all that'll be needed is the speed dial, to find the people i seek. They will last and that is why i thank you. again. :)

Ps- the picture, the bonfire that was. :)