"so how's your dissertation going?"

"i'm writing @ 3 words per day. on most days, the words are 'i hate writing.' "


yes, i've turned this blog into a bitching station because really i don't want to work and i'm feeling extremely lazy and just reading three pages makes me want to go take a nap and what's worse is that i actually do take that nap. (of course that doesn't stop me from reading three books of fiction over two days - one on saturday morning, one on saturday night and one on sunday. but obviously my clever brain knows when i'm feeding it dissertation reading, and promptly goes off to sleep right then. bah!)



being hip is just TOO much work.



(if it doesn't pass
if it doesn't change
if it doesn't turn
may be it's not
just a phase?)


on intellectual curiosity

i would like to think
that the world is mostly
an experiment conducted
by white mice.

you, me, your neighbor's best friend
we could all just be
tiny pieces of jigsaw
lost from different boxes.

is the colour you see
the colour that i see,
and is the mountain we know
a molehill for someone else?

if my life is indeed
written on a palm leaf,
does it say in BIG BOLD LETTERS
"don't panic"?

most importantly,
is the object of my
intllectual curiosity
curious at all

about me?


rain = win

1. mirchi bajjis, you, me, sitting in the terrace and staring at tank bund. philosophising, talking about politics, bitching, fighting, making up.

2. sitting on the swing in my porch. staring at the rain in my lawn. reading whatever i'm reading that day. a cup of tea. popcorn.

3. long drives, whiskey, oddly shaped clouds, colours, kissing you.

4. heaters, cocoa, wet socks, freezing toes, sheets of white ice on green grass, ice on my tongue, rahman music, 2 am. showing tanay how not to be scared of the strange rain. 

5. there's no rain like the rain at home. (but the rain here is pretty nice too.)


on living in delhi

if you've been in enough earthquakes, you know that the first thing you ought to watch out for is the noise. it has a deep boom that you can feel while the ground shakes and the windows rattle. 

smaller earthquakes just feel like mild disorientation. like how sometimes you're sitting on a sofa and staring into space, and when you tune in, right at that moment, you feel like everything moved just a little bit. 

the slightly bigger earthquakes are much, much louder. the doors and windows rattle, the steel almirahs dance on their already unstable legs, the floor vibrates, and every other piece of furniture is moving like there's a drill underneath. 

obviously, i haven't been in really really big earthquakes or i wouldn't be writing this, but i suspect they're louder than anything else, and it's not just the doors and windows and furniture that are moving or threatening to fall down.

anyway, the point of writing this was to provide context to a conversation i just had.

"earthquake aaya kya abhi?"

"huh? no."

"okay, the AC was making a noise then."


a lot like love

you're the digestive biscuit base to my cheesecake.