There is an unnatural sense of achievement today, yet it is coupled with a sense of failure. It’s one of those weeks when there's some sort of impending doom. It’s there, it’s definitely prowling around but I just cannot put my finger on it. It’s like buying a piece of clothing. You know when you know that there is something wrong, that it is flawed.

Everybody has these days, right? Everybody is damaged, right? Some, a little more than others, some secretly and some others not so much; so what do we all do with these broken pieces? Some of us walk around on tiptoe, some fearlessly and some can’t help but be clumsy. We know we can’t always control the slipping and falling, but we try. It’s called self-preservation.

Everyone is damaged. But why does everyone feel like they’re the only ones? Is being damaged somewhat like being in love then?

We break; stop to gather the pieces and we do everything we can to put it back together.
It’s the only way through.

it's been too long.

^

It's been a while.

^

would you want to work here?

Office Selgas Cano - Madrid

There is a land called passive aggressiva and I wish was their queen.
just for one day, just for the relief it would bring.

I never REALLY believed this till now... happiness is indeed just a state of mind :)

happy happy to you!

Sometimes there are stories I hear that fill me with endless wonder about how people do whatever they do to get what they want. About how they manage to gather the courage to fight, to love, to get the world to give them what they want just because they want it. It always reminds me of movies, of kings and queens, of knights and princesses and jesters with loads of goodwill, of happy endings. Scheming knights and princesses somehow always win the fairy-tale battle and leave behind the good approved-by-king prince waiting. What’d he do wrong? Why can’t he have the princess? Isn't he the one who is more likely to save the world? why does he have to go looking for another princess coz this one runs out on him? These are questions I cannot answer. If I had to choose between running away with the knight or the king-approved-prince, what would I do? I don’t know. I’d have to become the princess for that, fortunately I don’t have a tiger for a pet. The open secret however is that I’d want an approved runaway knight. I'm known to have a weakness for bad boys who are good.

It doesn’t have to be so complicated. It doesn’t have to be so hard. But it is. It’s been too hard for too long and the final test awaits us. The only way out is through but still...Each night when the day is through; I don't ask much,

I just want you.

I left home with a rug sack and a suitcase 2 months ago.

Architecture. Design. Revelations. The mortal gods. An office by the river. not noticing the view. Wanting, knowing, learning, being here. not being special anymore, finally. Working. Being a secretary. Being the boss. being told off. Scrubbing the office clean. Making chai. Steel girders and a hanging roof. A tired fabricator, optimistic designers. A model left unmade. a blueprint stamped. Life. Love. Lust. Loneliness.
Hope.
Perception shift.

Having to go to the ATM to buy milk. Locking my kitchen cupboard. Living out of a box, literally. Semi-naked noisy women. learning gujarati. Worrying about friends. Huge phone bills. Liking my mom. Menthols out, garam in. Kites and gujju food. Gathiya, Dhokla, sev khammni, maska bun and chai. Labella’s mutton fry chicken curry. The state. A restaurant built on a graveyard. Dog and monkey attacks. Mynahs, Squirrels, parakeets, morons. streetlights acting strange. Sitting on a ledge in a drive-in cinema. hitchhiking on camel carts. Ghajini. Chandhi Chowk to China. an embarrassment that wasn’t. Unfruitful groom hunting. 28 days.
shock.
Perception shift.

The train, Laloos bright idea of the third side berth. coffee at 3 am. Almost missing the train back. The expressway. Merc driver punching your tempotravellers. the almost drunken brawl. Lunch at the lake by the sunset. Chikki and homemade food. Running to catch a ferry. Seagulls. The Taj. NCPA. Philip Johnson. Tree houses. Ghat roads and conversations. A fort in water, a phone call. Nari gandhi. Mudh Island, Saath bunglaw, Lonavla. The glass marble, The stone chips. The slanted pivot door, the stained glass bathroom. Moha. James Bond setting. A house too big to be called one. Walking on Wet Grass on the roof. Chai by the sea. A famous artists’ house. A red bisexual chair. A sliver curved one. a bath with a view. The beach without. The ghost. a walk in the starlight. Strange drunk night. Another phone call. looking for the pool light switch, finding something else. no calm before the storm.
liberty.
Perception shift.

the house that has steel guts, and balls. fish and lights. meeting nemo. Doshi and his talking. the yellow car. the red car. the temple, the factory, the lake, the unfinished house. of stories in wood and concrete, with words between. of patience, of the doing and not thinking. the pilgrimage, the shorcut. the context, and not. reading between the lines and making new lines. of dicklord and titgoddess and not becoming millionaires. sculpted hands. not as much as the words. bholi-bhali-ladki. a muse. not wanting, or being wanted. concrete ceilings, new earrings.
irony, duplicity. attachment, need.

conflict.

perception shift?

letters

We all met up after a long time today. lunch for old time’s sake, sitting in a pub not drinking, for new beginnings. She’s usually a very talkative person. Too many awkward silences have been filled with her saying something stupid, just because she had to, always. She wedges noise into her life, I remember, by playing tv shows and harry potter audiobooks over and over and over and over again in the background, until she’s so sick of them she has to move on to another show, or book. They never go off. They’re always on. always.
How can two people so obtusely different be so similar?

Stillness scares me, maybe because I have lived around so much of it. Today I felt like I have completely lost my ability to be silent without extreme discomfort or fatal consequences, all I can hear right now is U2's All I want is you, playing in the back of my mind.
how appropriate.


cannot think. I have stopped thinking.

Red

on birthdays...


Red, originally uploaded by mitaks.

they're not so much fun anymore.

"Honey, all you have to be by the age of twenty-three... is yourself."

sigh.
Troy Dyer? reality bites.

what makes the world go round?
apparently, the answer's changed...
google earth?


:|

empty spaces

wish you were here.