Posts tagged ‘heartspill’

A pinch of you

This week’s writing challenge is absolutely gorgeous. It asks for ‘your best recipes’ .. all the bits and pieces and quirks and foibles and loves that make you you. And while I am not writing out a recipe about me (not yet, not yet, anyway), here’s what I made up about my niece, who I totally gush over as can be seen. And I loved writing this so much, I figure there are going to be a lot more posts on this recipe theme. A lot more.

Good things come in small packages. Here’s the littlest one. This is a work in progress, so the recipe and ingredients will change over time and places and reactants and scenarios.

This small package is currently all knees and elbows, which seem about a hundred. Count multiple times until you get the figure down to two of each. Once that’s settled, look for the 2 really lovely large eyes. What these hint towards I can’t tell you, but it has been known to range from mischief, tears, smiles, wonder, absolute happiness to coyness as well. Make no mistake, there is a lot more, and, you can’t choose. You take what you get.

Next, voice. Figures, right? After the sight comes the sound. Varies from the happyish head over heels babble to the soft slop of the sucked thumb to the rare angry rageful shout. Oh and sometimes an excited scream, when objects of affection like mama and baba and mango pulp are nearby.

These major things when you mix together, you get a sweet armful of baby to cootchie coo with. No wait, you don’t get that armful of baby, ‘coz that armful pulls your hair and pushes out legs and demands to be set down, at which point those hundred knees and elbows are promptly put into motion and used to scarper away at a speed of 100 times light to act out another mischief.

Million Dollar Question

Daily Prompt: Why do you blog?

The title for this prompt is apt, it is indeed a million dollar question. And after seeing the stark question “why do you blog?”, I cannot go away, ignoring this prompt like I ignore all the other daily prompts.

I started blogging, when I was occupying a physical and mental space much different from the one I occupy now. I started blogging after a random comment made by a friend who blogged (not a blogger friend, there’s a difference). I started blogging, never imagining I would still be blogging more than six years later.

Coming back to the very blunt and beautifully short question, on why I (still) blog. I love writing. I love converting those random, messy thoughts in my head into something real and readable. I love hearing from the folks who read, and take the effort to leave genuine comments. I love the criss crossing of those comments, which forms a spider’s web* of virtual blogger and non blogger friends. I love putting out my writing for public perusal, though I have not publicized my blog and only willingly share the link with a very few folks.

I blog, because I can.

*Incidentally, has anyone else noticed the six degrees of separation in the blogging world? That can quite become another post in itself.

Hindoostan

The place where the zero was first used. Where it still carries a wealth of meaning beyond mathematics. A country which proudly holds the title of being the ‘largest secular democracy in the world’ and sadly ignores the well-deserved upcoming one of the ‘most populous nation on earth’. The newly independent country with the ages-old civilization. Where most people are proud of their ancestors and give a lot of thought to where they come from and unfortunately don’t think about where they are going. A world of cut-throat competition where a missed day of work or class counts as a calamity. A world in itself with hundreds of languages and thousands of dialects. Where people from one end of the country sometimes think those from the other end are aliens, yet where you find communal harmony reigning in the most unexpected places. A place with superbly developed and highly efficient mass transit systems yet no place to walk on the roads. A food heaven where you can sometimes find many gastronomic pleasures, but only if you turn a blind eye to the hygiene arrangements. Where the slightest move ahead sometimes means unravelling yards of red-tape, especially if you don’t know all the right people. Where ‘privacy’ is merely a word, and ‘graft’ a very significant piece of life. Where the concept of God is used by the deeply religious and the Godless alike. Where the seasons are perfectly delineated with no trespassing into the other’s territory. Where there are a hundred different Gods each with a special festival. Where localities comprise of effervescent rich, demoralized poor and unperturbed middle-class. Where apathy shouts from the rooftops and subjugates the softer voice of the truly concerned. Where two negatives don’t always make a positive. Where Myth, Magic, Mystical, Polluted, Crowded, Noisy, Rural, Poor, Tranquil, Metropolitan are only some of the words enveloping the surroundings.

A place where differently hued skins mingle to make the most colourful kaleidoscopes. Where lilting accents mix harmoniously in an orchestra of rolling syllables, unpronounceable tongue-twisters and guttural tones. A place which foreigners love to hate yet are inexplicably drawn back to.

And home to me. A beautiful country despite all the things going wrong with her.

In the land o’ Uncle Sam

this country with its contrasts. with its nasal twangs and strange vowels. with its freezing winters and sizzling summers. with its sporadic rains and heavy snows. with its elevators instead of lifts. with its sidewalks not footpaths. with its artificial smiles. with its omnipresent taco bells and soft drinks. with its evergreen malls. with its leafless fall, and flowerless spring. with its goodnight when its evening. with its coffee and cappuchino and frappuchino with no mention of tea. with its school buses and stop signs. with its varying speed limits and speeding tickets.with its immense self-importance and selfless charity drives. with its eight-hour weekdays and strictly no-work weekends. with its umpteen rules and regulations. with its 10 different variety of only potatoes. with its array of chain-stores, each a clone of the other. with its similar looking neighbourhoods, transplanted across cities and states. so you are often lost, and ironically, never lost. with a variety of organisations for the needy or poor, animals or others. with its voicemails and airtime minutes. with its food fascinations and weight-watching. with its car dependencies and people-less walks. with its beautiful christmas. with its pumped-up tourism and places to go. with its immigrants and locals. with its bewildering road network. with its long weekends and short workdays. with its paranoia about most things foreign. with its friendliness and reserve. with its expensive education and medicals. with its freedom, and past history of slavery. with its time meddling to save the daylight. with its under-patronised extensive, beautiful public library system. with its young money to splurge on everything and a day to celebrate every ocassion. or an ocassion to celebrate every day.

i dont know if i love it or hate it.

Random thoughts

Seen friendships wither away like beautiful flowers which haven’t been watered for long. Even seen some hibernate, no contact at all, but when the people in question meet again, the intervening years blow away like a wisp of smoke. You are right back where you were, and no awkwardness or formalities. And then saw a new type recently. Friendships dying blatantly on you. Mocking you, laughing at you. Daring you to do something to save them. Makes you think, are you supposed to save them? Do they want to be saved? The question is moot. If they did, it would hurt, the fact that they are dying on you. But where there’s no feeling, only a numbness – nay, not even that. Numbness is a feeling too – well, what do you do? Methinks, look at it mocking you, and when its done, go¬† write an obituary.