But She? She pulls the wind into her, pushes it off her, and brushes it like it is dust.
She will make life seem like a piece of cake with her go-get-it-no-matter-what attitude.

She’s a Wonderwoman, she’s my dearest Ruchi Ma’am.

I cannot even begin to describe how my life changed after meeting you..those ten minute conversations in the medical room in school everyday was the high point of my day. You taught me what it is to enjoy what I’m doing, and in the first place, to do something that I know I will enjoy.
I don’t know much about this world, I don’t much about life, but I do know that if I smile and say “Bring it on”, I will be able to face anything. And that is only, purely because of you, Ma’am.

You are THE most amazing person I know. You’re a Fighter, you’re a Magic Wand that can do anything.

I will be with you throughout and one day when I open my wings and fly, I will carry you on my back.

Happy Birthday, Ruchi Ma’am!
I love you

And anyway..I was having another jobless photo commenting session on where else but facebook, and for one particular picture I wanted to comment “Oh, he likes being a Circus Master most time”. And it hit me then, but I was lazy to take my notebook, so I just typed it on V’s chat window on skype.

———————————–
10th Feb, 2012

The Circus Master

He was the master,
the master of the circles,
of the leaps, of  silences.

His clap, his throw of  sight,
and so would change the animal’s
plight.

Master, master of the ring,
of the cage, of the wings.

Blue and yellow he wore,
of things that didn’t fail to bore,
lights would flash, cameras would buzz,
the animals would move without a fuss
For, he was the master, master of the stage,
master of life.

with looks intent and hammering,
he would swirl around and finish with a bow,
as applause thundered, as the animals shuddered.

and so within those lines
he found his world,
his freedom of life,
and of movement.
The keys to control became his,
as he became the stage of his own life.

And he was, yes he is,
The Circus Master with the free eyes.

—————————————

Its been quite a long week, and I can’t wait to start with my other exciting projects(and finishing the Greece Collection completely). But before all that, and before anything, I realised that its important to be in control of myself at all times. Not because I’m in design school but generally, I truly believe that only we can control our life.I think somehow all the panic that attacked me in large brown sacks in the past week has made me understand a tiny bit of how to control myself and not lose it.
And the Circus Master comment linked itself mentally to this thought thats been running around in my mind.

Take charge, control. You will be what you want to be.

P.S: there will be no Sartorialist picture for this because I have something else in store!

Watching the movie with half dazed, sleep eaten eyes, one particular scene stuck in my mindless head. It was the scene where the Palm Reader sprays some mystical dust into the Lovers’ life.

And then..well, we all know what happens.

—————————————-
30th Jan 2012

The Palm Reader(part I)

She says I’m a lover,
a dancer,
a singer of my heart.

Pressing my palm tighter,
the lines stroked out
invisible, seen words to her.
She lets out a laugh,
a free, loud one,
and comes closer to my face,
cups my cheeks with her other
hand,
and whispers,

The treasure is
within, darlin’
Don’t keep it locked,
run not so fast,
stop, and open it.
You are a Traveller,
the mystery is meant to stay,
look within darlin’,
the lines will lead you.

And with that,
she slowly became one
with the purpled, dainty
moondusted night,
leaving me with my
starlit chaotic lines,
lost and mazed.

—————————————-

Palm Readers fascinate me.
They’re quite mystical and they probably have Purple/Rainbow coloured Unicorns for pets. and speak to the Universe through their crystal ball, and get notes through snow flakes. Hmm. Maybe should I step into the river-ed forest and find someone.

Tada.

Today was one of those nights..we weren’t hyper and chirpy. We just wanted some peace. So Mr.Cool, Kutty and I packed some junk and sat by the water today(not on the bridge as per tradition).
Mr.Cool is one of my favourites ever. We discuss through various things of life, and if there IS life at all.
So anyway, walking back to the MRT station after much of “MITH CAN YOU EAT FAST THE TRAIN WILL LEAVE”, he finally decided to finish his 6 inch sub which he ate for one WHOLE hour, I stepped onto some pieces of shattered glass. It was like small abandoned diamonds lying on the road, glistening and waiting to be seen.

And my hand reached for my phone-as it does when I don’t have my blue notebook and pen along with me- and I typed out the following:

————————

Kingdom of Belief

Shattering pieces of glass,
She ran through the winding
purple vineyards,
Cards of kings and queens showering
through her almond coloured hair,
She wanted to believe that
she was the Empress of her heart-
Never understood, never heard,
Never wanted to.

Winding and shattering,
Running and gliding,
She wanted to conquer
the Misunderstood in her,
to rule through the storms,
to hold her Torch of Hope-
never Faith,
to believe to be an empress,
of hers-as we are, of ours.

—————————

this journey began with my belief that I am my own Empress and therefore, I rule myself.
We belong to ourselves and not to things and places and other people.
We are our own people.
So discover your Kingdom, believe in it, you will then open the door of the World.

(and speaking of purple vineyards, and winning the biggest magic show on earth called Life, I have a picture from Sartorialist:

Think. do.

———————-
Walking on those tracks,
writing those words
on my mindless canvas,
I wonder why I sail
on madness,
riding on waves of hypocrisy,
desiring to swim on
the basket of my dreams,
walking free without
a painted face and a tinted mind.

Pausing midway,
I start to wonder
all over again.
O’ Madness, bring me alive.
Give me your brush,
I shall paint you.
Give me your oar,
I shall make you sail-
untroubled and unburdened
For, you are my Old Friend.
O’ Madness, don’t stop.
———————

Its going to be a long, fun semester and I can already feel the energy getting the better half of me.
I wish I could fly and swipe insanity in every corner of this small, crunched world.

And Sartorialist never fails to make me sit up, and stare. Here:

Absolutely classic.

Look your best every single day, its your turn every second to feel like a Superstar.

…………And so, this is a fraction of my everyday story. I will never really understand how people can complain about life. Because every single minute, every single hour, every single day is yet another chance given to us by the Universe.- to do, to see, to hear, to feel, to dream, to create, to be, to live.

And as for my Sartorialist picture, this one caught me.
And its a true reminder of why I love Milan so much.

Have a happy week, all of you!

So we fought, we formed the most silly first impressions of each other, secretly gave each other the disgusting looks and thought “oh my god, i wonder how someone can actually be like that?!”

But days rolled by, we were forcefully put together and were made to work which required us to actually speak to each other. And chole bhatures happened, 5th of september happened, the koffee dance happened, and I discovered a lovely young lady in this girl called Poorva Nangia who has gone from becoming friend to best friend to sister to soul sister.

Our dreams have us invariably in it together, we know we will age through life and one day sit with grey hair and cigars and drink wine and wonder how silly we were, laugh over the ridiculous tears over love and exams, the balcony nights and the rain dances, the hot steaming momos and galleria laughter, the one million phone calls and “bitch you better know what you’re doing”.

You came in like Sunshine and brought so much joy into my life and today if I can go to bed every night happy it is because I know that at the end of the day I have a friend whom I can always count on and that little brat of a woman is you, Poorva Nangia.

Life is so much more beautiful with you. Thank you for everything.

And I know I’m late but still…Happy Birthday

But as the lines in Forrest Gump go, “Don’t you just love the New Years? You get to start all over again. Everyone gets a second chance”.

So I hope this year gives you not many reasons for you to wait for next year to give yourself a second chance. Instead as Laila says in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobaara, “Seize the day, my friend” to Arjun.

Love. Dream. Believe.
Go to places you’ve never been to, and that which will take you to other places where you find romance and good food.

As for me, I’ve proclaimed myself as a Nomad and I’m already working on my itinerary for London, Paris, Belgium that I plan to go with my parents during the first half of summer and Bombay, Delhi with my girlfriends in the second half. And if all goes well, Bali.
And as for my blog, along with my posts I will be uploading one picture from http://www.thesartorialist.com/

Take some time off, look at the stars and love yourself to infinty.

And here’s a song that I started my New Years with :

Trust a New York woman to pull off this fun yet classy look !

New York is my dream destination. So if you’ve been there don’t bother making me jealous ’cause there are high chances that I’d know more about that city than you do.

Happy New Year, all!

So as I’m trying to win this game here, here’s a little something that I wrote ages back and found on my old blog(for which you’ll never get the link to)

————————————————-
(September 21st, 2008)

Black Love.

the sky growls,
angels above cry,
little children
play in the mud puddle;
the ice cream vendor
rings the bell-
adding tune to the crystal
rain which pours down
vigorously.

i gaze at the
black clouds,
the hatred stings
me, and demons weep for
love.

i sip my hot koffee and
think about all the love
which exists in the world..
in some tiny lil corner..
yet to be discovered…

————————————————

I still remember how I wrote this.
I was in tenth standard back then(SCHOOL!!) and I was sitting in my much dreaded French extra class. My friend Tushar and I were sitting together and scribbling in my red notebook(I’ve had notebooks all my life) and staring at the rain that was dancing with my classroom window. And instead of scribbling, I wrote this. It was that initial phase when I had started writing poetry. And its strange how I still feel the same today.
I want to write all my life. ’cause I believe in complete forms of expression of thoughts and feelings, and a life bereft of that, is quite pointless.

Go out there today. Tell anybody, somebody what you feel. Its important. We’re all connected and its sad to see the joints between those dots fade away.

I feel like I’m on a constant pursuit of “my” place. We all have that one city, or maybe that one town or whatever it is that we call Home.
I don’t know if what I’m looking for is a Home or simply just a place where, upon setting foot on it, my heart smiles and stays calm and does not radiate any energy of the slightest discontent. Where my mind is at peace, and I feel protected yet absolutely free. Where without knowing the language, I will be able to communicate the little million things that fill up my mind every minuscule of a second.
Where the physical process of adaptation is not a barrier yet comes about like its been waiting to see this day.
Where I can smile from the inside and simply KNOW that I’m thoroughly happy just by fusing my inner self with the energy around and not wanting it to stop at all.

I feel like I’ve been all over the place. I feel like that photograph. Running into, knowing yet giving into the feeling of unknown. Like lost Maple Leaves going with the wind and flying to unknown places, knowing that I do not know anything to expect something.
Not lost, no. Just like a Nomad. In search of her land. Leaving one place not because I’m not satisfied but because I know there is something better in store.

But sometimes I wish I just got it sooner. I wish that place would come rolling down to me. And without a moment of hesitation, I will smile and hug myself. For that, would be My Place.
With questions, and answers. With me in it, and itself around me.

And if that is what you call Home, then show me the way..