Category Archives: love

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon


I’m quite glad I didn’t hit the ‘yes, I’m sure’ button, a few seconds back. Had I done so, I would be writing this post under another name. I would keep my blog name intact. I love Alice in Wonderland. The story and the meaning. It gives me a sense of freedom, of relief. Obviously, because it was the only fairy-tale where the Damsel in Distress didn’t need saving from some stupid Prince. I wish you could see me roll my eyes. Stupid stupid Prince. (More rolling eyes). Moving on. For auld lang syne, I have pondered over hiding my domain name. Not under the carpet. No, I do not belong under the carpet! But somewhere in the esoteric cyberspace. To be stumbled upon those seeking, not me! but adventures similar to those of Alice in Wonderland.

Oh but how tired I am for those potential matches trying to judge me by what I write. Dude, one thing you gotta know, is that I write completely different from what I think. My writing is my meditation, if you’ll have it. It’s those moments when I get lost in my own words. Lost in my own world. It’s ME time. So lets pretend that I’m not in this room and that you cannot see me through that thin curtain and that for the time till I finish my piece, I do not exist.

Too bad you cannot do that. Stupid stupid Prince o’mine! Too bad you are forcing me to turn anonymous. Though that is something I should have done long ago. For this world is not a stage, but a courtroom, where your every thought will be mocked upon, every action judged, every friend masked with betrayal.

Behold thee in your eyes, dear Prince, for what I may seem to you, am not. I am the leaf that will dance to the tune of the wind. Sometimes pleasantly, sometimes so rough, that I may slit your very eye, in which I reside. Do not judge me, my dearly beloved, for I was told that you’d ne’er come and alas I roam this desert alone, seeking your reflection in the mirage.

Thus I change my existence to infinity and beyond. After all, nine to the dozen does equate to one hundred and eight.


Apologies and something else …


Erich Segal once wrote ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry’ yet, time and again, we keep apologizing to a loved one, for doing something stupid (that’s the term they use to describe emotions, now you should’ve known that already). I wish for Utopia (yes, I know that you know it already) where I could be me and you could be you and we could be together and watch the pink sky turn grey, walk the creek till the dawn breaks and throw nose clips from my balcony to let you know that I was up there. Fortunately (not!) we have watched the sky, never knew we’d watch it turn black, pitch black like the pullover you wore back in the days, when the sky was still a deep rose pink. Oh! I forget, you live in a real world, where each sunset is followed by a sunrise. And you forget, that I live in the reel world, where I pin your face to the moon and he follows me (it so does in the real world, too) to where ever Life leads … I wonder if the moon is following me? or am I chasing him? And this is where the whole confusion starts! Sitting on that secluded beach, a place where you walked before, I tried retracing my steps, hoping that they’d lead me to you, subconsciously, tracing them to my mistakes, the confusion evaporating, cruelty settling in (I see a cloud in the distance and as it pours over the Arabian Sea, I cry, hoping the wind drowns my howl, which starts as the rains hit the plastic roof ). A debate here a debate there, through my tears I try to reason; why Jay and Meera make a great love story, why I want to retract my steps to 200X and never let go of your hand. I feel cheated, by you, for not letting me on the happenings. Even though I could clearly see inside of you, I wish, oh! how I wish, you had the courage to tell me things, to my face. In my ear. On an email. I feel angry, yes, with you, for not being able to communicate. And with me, for not understanding, the man you were and will be in the future. Oh! I don’t, still. I do. I just don’t understand why you are so rigid? So unforgiving? Get over yourself Preppie. I’m not sorry for; trying to keep us together, to make you fight for me, or to tell you that I’ll always love you and not just be in love with you…

The Wind and the Leaf


It was a chilly new moon night as I sat in doors wrapped in a blanket; funny thing – I left the balcony door open. But then I always loved staring at the winter night sky, without leaving the comfort of my couch. As I stared into the darkness, I wondered what was so different about this night? It felt like any other, yet I felt the presence of Change around me. Maybe it wasn’t the night that was different. Maybe it was me. But then I had followed my daily schedule – corn flakes and milk while reading a book. As I watched the Wind ruffle the leaves of my new Mogra plant; I thought I heard something. Were the leaves whispering something? I decided to cross the threshold to hear better. As the cold breeze hit my formerly warm skin, I heard the leaves say to me, “We leaves sit under the Sun all day long, turn anew all week long. And as the first star is visible in the night sky, we slowly retire, just so that we can sit under the Sun all day long. But when the Wind comes, as silently as she does, we wake up and let her play with us. We dance and whirl and let the Wind sing her melodious song. She is silent, for she is sad. She never tells us her story and we never ask. Maybe that’s what friends do. They know and therefore, they are always there.”

I wish I could say I had no idea why the leaves were telling me their story, but then sadly I did. Thankfully, I’m surrounded by friends who coax me into stepping off the comfy couch, getting out of my comfy pjs and heading out to a place where a party needs to get started. Today was no different, though it was different from last night, but well, I do step out on my own sometimes! 😛

So I get off the couch, switch off my mp3 player, replaced pjs with pants and the blanket with an overcoat and headed out to The Tea Shop. Unfortunately, as the Wind changes direction, I did too. Hey! the car needed a wash alright. Well, ask me again, why I didn’t land up at the intended destination and I’d say, maybe just like the Wind, I was sad and wanted to be silent about it. Or maybe I wasn’t meant to be there. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be there. Maybe I didn’t want to be there. No, I did want to. I did want to be there. So I head back. Retraced my steps only to realize that I had arrived a tad bit late – by an hour. And since there was nothing else to do that one night at the gas station, I got my car washed.

Love Aajkal


They say that as you grow older, you start losing your hair, teeth, old friends, maybe gain a few new, younger friends, if you are rich enough. But never did I realize, that you lose your feelings too. (No, no, I’m not talking about loose feelings … it’s lose feelings … as in lost :P)

Any ways, so Im not implying that you become cold hearted, or maybe if you are an 80 year old who refuses his granddaughter his coin collection, then you might just be cold hearted enough. But what I really mean to say is that you become Chuck Bass types, as you grow older (I know! He’s oh! SO HOT!) i.e. you dont feel a thing. Maybe jumping from a building, crashing your bike on a long winding road or hiring people to hurt you and stop at nothing, might make you feel the pain that you wanted, but is the pain enough? Is it this endless pain that will help you feel what you want to feel? Is it the overpowering feeling of self loathing that will help you forget the mistakes of the yester-years?

Or is it that you forget the mistakes of the first date when he sends you a text the next morning, just to say … G’morning? Oh, yes, I did partially burn the clothes i wore that day. Partially because the fire alarm went off and i had to drown them in the sink immediately. Thanks for asking btw 🙂

Why is it that you suddenly start getting butterflies in your stomach when you meet that TDH man for the gazillionth time? Why is it that we can endure all the pain and sadness that the world shoves our way, without breaking down? But we cannot hold overselves together when that oh! so unimportant person glances our way or sends us a ‘hello’ text or two?

Are we truly turning into a new breed of humans in relationships? If not, then why we cannot gather the courage and sincerity to be bonded in a committed relationship? Why is it that what was good for our fathers and our forefathers is no good for us today? Why doesn’t Love at First Sight exist anymore? Why doesn’t the guy love the girl, who is standing in front of him and asking him to love her? When did all this get so complicated?

Maybe it always was. Maybe we anrt a new breed. Just the old one and a tad bit cold hearted. Or maybe more practical. Cause after all, we all have grow up, grow older, grown out. Oh! grown soo out of love. Love – seems like a feeling/expression/intoxication so extinct that it lives only in children’s fairy-tales now.

So maybe this is me asking, yes, for my fairy-tale and this is me wanting every bit of it. I don’t want no pain no more. I don’t want to take a bullet though my heart no more. I don’t want to live in a world without love no more. Even though, it means living in a children’s book, for the rest of my life. Atleast this way, instead of running around town like a headless chicken, trying to find my Mr. Right, I know I will find my Beast and live happily ever after…


One Fine Day


Dearly Beloved,

I do not ask for your love

Or the comfort of your arms

I do not ask for your care

For I know you do already


I do not ask for your trust again

For I’m not sure if I can be trusted

I do not ask for your hopes from yesteryears


But I do hope that one day; one fine day

Your love will come to me

Your arms will wrap me in their comfort again

I will care for the care you show for me

And that you will find your trust in me.


This I hope that one day; one fine day

You will know that it is you,

To whom my fate belongs

This I hope that one day; one fine day

You will ask me to walk your way

For I have been waiting, my dearly beloved,

In the shadows of your Immortal Love.

The things we lost in the fire


I landed at Paddington Station, in the heart of the hustle-bustle of London. I removed the list from my coat pocket and looked at it. Not that I hadn’t looked at it before, rather, now it had become a habit. I was merely reminding my self – not to lose focus. I have to find love. I have to find it! That was the only unchecked box on this list. I had to complete the list in order to find love. So I threw two bags over a shoulder each, carried two more in one hand each and strategize how to pick the fifth one. Some where midway between my struggle, a hand appears, hairy one – hence had to be a males’ and he lifts the fifth bag with two fingers and smiles at me as he hands it over to me. “need help?” he asked. I smiled and  said, “yes, with the remaining four, please”.  Surprisingly, he  took the two bags from my hand and replied, “only till the Bear Booth”. The Bear Booth?! Did he mean the Beer Booth? Or the Bare Booth?! What is a Bare Booth?!

Even before I could register the thought of accompanying an unaccompanied male to the Bare Booth, he dropped my bags and informed, “there you are Miss. Have a nice day” and went behind the Bear Booth to continue his duties for the Paddington Bear Booth. “Oh! The Bear Booth!” I blurted out loud. And again, astonished at my train of thought he looked at me and said, “ the Paddington Bear Booth. I work here. Would you like to buy one and look after him?” He was a good salesman! After all the trouble he took for me, I figured this is the least I could do. So I unwillingly parted with a couple (more!) pounds and got the classic bear with cute red boots, navy blue coat and a bag of his own. Yes! The sixth bag I would have to carry till the hotel! Nevertheless, the bear was adorable and he had a tag around his neck which read ‘Please look after this Bear. Thank you.’ How could any one resist him? Okay, the real story, why I brought the bear (after all I’m a Desi, in London, and shelling pounds where a thank you would suffice goes against the basic values of being a Gujarati! And not to mention, my Mom wont be particularly pleased!).

Ever since I can remember, my sister, Rajul, used to and is still obsessed about the Paddington Bear. She loved him as much as I loved my Care Bear – Pinto. He would even accompany her to her daily trip to the school! However, on that unfaithful day, she let him rest at home as he had a lot of marmalade for his midnight snack and was not feeling too well. It was the unlucky year of 1993, the unlucky month of May. At 1:13pm exact, we got off our school bus and ran to the grocery store located in the building adjacent to ours. I religiously purchased my orange ice lolly and my sister, a choco bar. Through the exit door, I noticed my paranoid neighbor running towards us. No matter how naughty we were, we ensured that we never crossed the line, where our neighbor would have to run to catch us. She was an old lady, after all. Well, not really, but I like to think she was old, because she loved cats and I always wanted an old, mad lady who loved cats, as my neighbor. We exited the grocery and she hugged my sister who looked at me questioning, ‘I didn’t do anything. Did u?’. By this time, we could feel a lot of commotion around us and as I cranked my neck to count the number of floors to figure out on which floor were men trying to enter through the balcony instead of the door. I realized, it was our floor!

I ran towards my building entrance to see the entire building population was in the lobby. Were they there waiting for me and my sister? So, I turned around to warn my sister about what I saw.  I bumped into her knocking both our ice sticks down and I said, “they are waiting for US”. “don’t worry, Im here. They wont do anything and if they do, we will run up the stairs”, she replied. So we walked hand in hand, pushed the door open and another neighbor came to us and said, “its not safe to go in now. Wait here. You mother has asked me to look after you” “But I didn’t do anything! I promise!”, I retaliated and tried to wriggle my way out of her grip. My sister, who was more friendlier with the neighbors than I could ever be, gather enough information to put my paranoid mind to rest. “Amrita, our house has caught fire”, she informed. Now those weird men on my balcony floor made sense! They were fire fighters! However, a good detective needs evidence and I once again darted towards the grocery shop to take a better look at my balcony. Thankfully, there was the big, bright red fire tuck and oh! They had a ladder too! Satisfied that what I heard was correct, I skipped back to my building entrance and gorged on the juice, chips and sandwiches my neighbors offered me.

My sister and I were then shipped off to my Aunt’s house across the creek and spend the remainder of the day watching Tom and Jerry with our cousin, Sagar. Apart from the falling-off-the-couch and uncontrollable laughter whilst watching the cartoon, he was a quiet kid. And that’s exactly why we liked him so much. He would never interfere in our cat fights, never stay over at our house, coz we used to scare him with our fights and hence no one had to give up their warm beds, never complained to our mom about the mischief I did and during the rare occasions when I would get caught, never opened his mouth in his defense, when I blamed my mischiefs on him. He was the perfect cousin! Next day, as we prepared to go to school, my sister insisted on picking up Paddington Bear so she could consol him and take care of him after the disasters of the day before. As we crossed the waters that separated Bur Dubai and Deira, I made a mental note of the things I needed for Arts and crafts class that day. I was one of those kids who always forgot at least one requirement off the list and made her parents run from the stationary shop to school so that I could ‘create’ my master piece for the week. This week, it was multicolored crafts paper. As we got off at the Bank Of Baroda Abra Station, I ran to my mom and told her about my early morning worry.

Unfortunately, more worries were coming my way. I never missed school! So how could today be any different? I was not ill or hadn’t burnt any part of my body, so I couldn’t comprehend why I couldn’t go to school. And if school wasn’t possible, then why couldn’t I just sit at home? Why did I have to go back to Sagar’s house? My tummy was already paining from all the laughter from the evening before. All I wanted was to go to school, eat the famous mini pizza from the school canteen and hog on my desk partner’s lunch box. All these thoughts made me do one thing. Wail! I wailed louder than a whale and when my mom couldn’t control me at the abra station any more, she decided to take me behind the nearest closed doors – our house. I was aghast when I saw it from the inside. Never in my childlife had I imagined the damage fire could do. All I expected was a fire somewhere in the kitchen or the temple and small green men dancing with the smaller flames that were thrown out from the main fire. But when I entered the main door, I couldn’t see any color. All I saw was black – all over the walls, ceiling and on the remains of furniture. I ran to my room, to see everything was burned to cinders. It looked like the insides of a horror movie – dark. I ran to were my bed used to be and looked around if I could find any of my books, toys or anything vaguely familiar. But nothing was to be found. Even the metal piggy bank was disfigured. The fire and its little green men took it all.

I turned around to see my sister holding her Paddington Bear which was half burned and blotched with dark grey stains. She was devastated and I was devastated that she was devastated. I had forgotten about school, the arts and crafts class and everything else that I had on my mind before I entered through the main door. It was like the fire had taken my memories with it. And in reality, it truly did. I never really had any affinity  towards the things I owned. If I had them, it was great. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be too concerned. But my sister loved Paddy. It was a gift on her first birthday from our Grandfather. As she hugged and cried for her lost Bear, I couldn’t help but shed a tear too. I was the braver one between us two, even though she was elder to me, but I always ended up taking care of her. I gently pulled the bear out of her grip and said to her, “When I grow up and have a job, I will go to London, just like Dada did and get you a Paddington Bear”. We hugged and cried a lot. Not for the things we lost in that fire, but because we knew we only had each other now and well, we will have to learn to be more tolerate of each other till we could get new toys! So that’s how and why I ended up purchasing the Paddington Bear and even though I had long forgotten my promise to my sister, a stranger had unknowingly helped me remember it.