Seven

This is the funnest style of writing ever, thank you. Anyone who has tried it will agree. I make up words, very often. I don't think its schupid as long as people get what you mean. Maybe someday i'll have my own language and dictionary. This is my seventh post in this style. I have always believed seven is my lucky number. It is a random claim, based on my birthdate. I am insalubriously indecisive. I don't have a favorite colour, food or book. When making a decision I experiment or spend an eternity in concentrated contemplation eventually deciding on more than one thing. I currently own nine different colours of osho chappals. They are not my favorite footwear, just comfortable. Bombay winters are the bestest. So is cookies and cream ice cream. You can make your own by putting crushed oreos on vanilla ice cream. I am such a control freak I actually enjoy making my own lunch and dinner. It turns out just like you want it. Pity life doen't always turn out just the way you want it. If it did it might be boring. I just contridicted myself. Kinda. I hate hypocrits and liars. I like languages and music and music in different languages. So do most other people. Its amazes me that every person is unique and nobody I know is normal. Normal is relative. It is not neccecarily a good thing. Genius lies in eccentricity. I only know one such genius. She has an anonymous blog somewhere out there. Genius is relative. Blogging is addictive. It eats into my time. I'm scared I will have to stop. I always wanted to go to boarding school so that I could learn horse riding. I want to move out at twenty one. I probably won't for lack of funds. I would like to learn the salsa again. I never have a partner. I haven't yet found a good class that doesn't need one. I am feeling incredibly dumb at this stage in my life. It is not a good feeling. Often I am happy and sad at the same time. Its stange that paradox is plausible and oxymorons are not moronic. I have developed a talent for monologues... random prattle as you will have it. I do not understand why people call when they have absolutely nothing to say and absolutely no inclination to carry on a conversation I am desperately trying to kickstart. I could go on like this forever. But for now I will stop.

Torn

There are times when I am a privilaged keeper of secrets.
Revelations and confession, deep and dark secrets, are they cause for regret? or just personal.
And there are other times I keep two.
Two secrets. Two people. Two confessions.
One situation. One listener. One conflict.
A conflict between doing the right thing and the correct thing.
Between justice and fairness.
Trust and faith.
Love and loyalty.
Heartbreak and hope.
There is no right and wrong, black and white.
Only grey, more shades of gray than conceivable.
And then you fall into the abyss, it adapts and accomodates;
to swallow you whole;
Incomplete.
Upheaval.
There is no redemption, no return.
Words once uttered cannot be withdrawn, not like the sword.
Letters once written cannot be erased, no not like a pencil.
The pen is mightier, yes mighter than the sword.
More damaging.
Put your foot in your mouth, and leave it there.
Let your hands loose, to fly over the keyboard.
Enter.
Release.
Delete.

How many colours are in the rainbow?

I have neveerrr eveeerrr been tagged and honestly didn't notice this one until today. Rather excited and having nothing else to post I decided to comply and bore all you wonderful readers with mundane, irrelavant facts about moi.
Annyyyhooo...

Seven Things I Plan To Do:

1. Backpack (India,Europe, South America alll overr)
2. Work at the UN (If only for a little while).
3. Kareoke.
4. Stay in touch with all the people that have impacted me.
5. Take my parents on a cruise.
6. Run the Mumbai Marathon for a cause.
7. Take a year off.
   

Seven Things I Can Do:

1. Cook.
2. Eat. Alot.
3. Listen.
4. Lie (except to myself).
5. Pick up the lyrics to songs and make up the lyrics when the songs are in incomprehensible languages.
6. Strange things when intoxicated
7. Come accross as an absolute Bitch. (Or maybe I just am... nyah woteva)

Seven Things That I Can’t Do:

1. Sleep in the day.
2. Fake Non- Indian Accents.
3. Live without my computer and internet connection.
4. See people I care about cry.
5. Movie Marathons.
6. Figure myself out.
7. Pretend to enjoy some ones company/ be effectively fake.

Seven Things I Say Most Often:

1. Dammmiiitt!
2. Shatz
3. Phine! or Fine! Fuck you! (in a most endearing way ofcourse.)
4. Nyah woteva...
5. Well Heyyyllluu
6. I do/did not.
7. Bleh/ Euch/ Blah/ Ewww. (Very effective descriptors of the days of my life.)

Seven People I want to tag: (at their own behest)
Shivvy
Dhanur
Ummm... (to be tagged call 777-7777)

This and that

In that moment...
my butt was numb, my neck was sore, my back virtually broken.
my head was reeling with profanity.
it took utmost constraint to keep from voicing my opinion.
I slept like a baby... with colic.
I learnt about people teamwork and compromise.
priorities were reconsidered and reorganised.
gossip and food was shared.
we had finally arrived.
And in that moment I was happy.

In this moment...
the dogs bark and crows... crow.
I am capricious and indulged.
there is laughter, conversation and memories.
senses are hightened and the brain is dead.
Insomnia confronts exhaustion.
Punjab resonates in the four walls that are my room.
a chill runs down my spine. Goosebumps.
And in this moment I am happy.

Hyderabad Blues

All my bags are packed I’m ready to go (well maybe tomorrow…) but underneath the excitement there is a twinge of homesickness that I feel every now and then... which will probably be forgotten within the first few hours of the journey.
Anyhow the visit is the reason for an enforced sabbatical from blogging as I get on the highway to Hyderabad (woe is meee). A journey, I anticipate will be fraught with craziness and car sickness. No boredom, we will have none of that. Rowdy ‘roll calls’, incessant disruption for accompanying passengers (until they threaten to throw us out) and rapidly depleting food supplies.
1 bus
15 AIESECers
God (and the bus driver) only know how many hours.
Lots of excitement.
A week of incessant sessions and (hopefully) interesting parties.
Of exploring a new city and re-discovering friends.
Of bonding, laughter and drunken conversations.
Tune in next week. Same time. Same (old) blog.
Hopefully more interesting posts.
Until then ta.