A Drop Of Elixir ..........

Just enough to last a lifetime or enough to last the lifetime an eternity ...That again is a matter of opinion

Thursday, March 31, 2005

A Dollop Of Cold Cream

The below mentioned is a SHORT STORY!!! n yeah i need no more instance to show that im not meant for it. But then ive written it, so anyways...thats that.N so the winter :P

*a dollop of cold cream on the palm* Its winter again. Im not sure if I like winters. No matter how much moisturizers and cold cream you apply, it just isn’t enough to make your skin elastic and supple. Never mind what ads on TV say. Winters make ur skin flaky and dry. Scaly. Reminds me of the fish we had for dinner yesterday. I think its gross, the way maharaj leaves the eyeballs still in the socket of the dead fried fish. Eerie looking a dead fish in its eye, just when you are about to put a chunk of its tender meat into your mouth.
Any which ways...

So a 16 year old should be interested in moisturizers, anti-frizz ( I have curly hair), lip balms which come with shimmer, Bath gels that smell divine…so I really shouldn’t have guilty conscious. Admitted im a pampered brat. Always want my whims satisfied and take great pains to see that they do. But then almost evey 16 year I kno is like that!!! *pouting* Some people offer to psychoanalyse me and my behaviour. They want to know why I behave like a rebel. Know and offer sympathy. Understanding. Show superior state of their living. Pooh!!! Too bad my nani’s sister doesn’t think im angelic. She would have hysteria if she knew what some of my friends are up to.. I wonder why then she gives me that look and tells nani that maa could have been more careful. Bah, her grand son is just 12...u just wait and watch amma!!!*evil grin*

I don’t dope, I don’t smoke and I booze only when thr is some social thingy happening. Or if there is beer. So all in all I really am a very good gurl. And since it is very normal for a 20 year old to indulge in materialistic things, no issues there too.
*zoom bak to winters and cold creams* I really like the smell of this one. And same smelling shampoo and liquid soap not to mention deo. So when im done, there is this beautiful floral feminine fragrance all around me. am I being shallow?? It gags my best friend. Lol, obviously, floral scents aren’t suppose to charm 16 year old guys, especially not when they are oozing out from every square inch of their best friends. He is kinda cute, when he thinks he is being tough and uncaring. Thinks I don’t notice. Thinks I don’t recognize that sadness when he looks at me. That love and that concern. So quickly evapourated and distilled into pity. Or maybe so I think.

And that mightily pisses me off. I don’t want love and concern. Or pity!!! Sympathy. Or maybe im jus hopelessly rong. But I refuse to see how I, I can be wrong??!!!?? I am normal. Bratty, temperamental 16 year old who just needs direction in life and its kinda late for that.

So then neways, I was saying I don’t like winters. When we are at it, I don’t like summers either. It must be the clothes that make me despise the season. Its just so hot and the only thing u can wear then AND be comfortable is shorts and a cotton tee. I think I look pretty in shorts and tee. *mischievious* you see I have beautiful legs. And I flaunt it. Or I used to. But I don’t wear shorts anymore.

They are disfigured and scarred after last winters accident. My legs. And I cant walk anymore. But I still cream them. My legs. Waiting for the day I can flaunt them again. And love summers again...

But for now...I just don’t like winters...makes my skin flaky and dry. And scaly...like the fish we had for dinner yesterday...

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

My English Essay Book...

Yesterday was another room cleaning session. And this time my maa decided it has to be my study table. What with term coming to an end and exam fever all around. So when I was clearing the heaps of papers, books, writing tools…one thing never ceases to amaze me is the amount of things that can lay buried. I found some of my drawing books and paper whales and air planes made. No its not like I hadn’t cleared the cabinet since 6th class but id kept it, reminiscence of the fun days (not like im not having fun now, but then the most scary thing that could have happened in life was the Head Mistress writing a note in the skool calender asking my parents to go meet her –which never happened btw)

So I have this special place with all my skool stuff. Like the eraser belonging to my first crush…my paper air plane that stayed air borne for sum 10 seconds…that’s how friendly me n technology can be at the most.…10 seconds...my drawing book, my English Essay Book among other things.

And then I sat going through my writings when I was in 5th Class. And though my vocabulary has improved quiet a bit…my writing style still remains the same. Goofy, inane and pathetic attempt at humour.

And the kind of essays…Im still chuckling. It was the same…again and again and again every single year till we were in class 8. And we wouldn’t even copy the same ol matter. We read me, was a achcha bachcha even bak then :P:P
And I had this really weird crazy habit. Id start off each and every composition of mine with some quote. Most of em would b quotable ones by literary geniuses, some made by me…and then…neeche id write anonymous. Lol till my English teacher said I need not write anon if I made em myself, but just let em be. (COME ON NOW!!! I WAS 10- admitted kids these days are a lot smarter at 10...)

My Mother. Some variation like my grandparents…if the teacher felt like it…
“...I look like her. There is this photo clikd in her childhood, with her holding a doll and there is a picture of me holding a doll in almost the same setting. And we look so similar that it could have been my photo taken in black and white… she is the only one who really understands how I feel like even before I say it. *sigh…those days*
She makes the best rajma chaval in the whole world…. (and the end) I really love my mother and may God bless her. :P

Next came My Hobby.
I love reading. I more than love writing. *lol so u see I more than love writing even now* it is important to have a hobby in life, it gives a person a direction….blah blah blah…
The best part about “My Hobby” is that everyone in da class had their favourite hobby as stamp collection. And you wonder why? Because that was the only composition listed on the hobby in the “Essay Book” present in the library.

A letter to the Head mistress asking for a leave of absence :
Respected Ma’am,
….I am a student of ….blah blah blah…I need a leave of absence for a week so that I can attend my cousin’s wedding. From the second week of august to the last week.
Till date I don’t understand why did we ever have to write a letter to da nun. Not like had I written the letter, she would have granted me “the leave of absence for the same”. Also, I promise that I will more than make up for the classes missed and pass out with flying colours. Yours, sincerely….

A letter to a friend apologizing for returning the class book late. Here again there was some stupid reason why I could return the book and that I was profusely sorry *spelling mistake on the ‘profusely’* for the inconvenience *yep mistake again* caused.

A report for the skool magazine on the open man holes and the nuisance it caused to the residents of the locality during the monsoons.

An autobiography of a coin. Lol, here too some innovative story on how people didn’t like me (the coin) because I wasn’t as shiny and as pretty as the other coins I would jiggle with in the pockets *I still prefer the more shinier ones. These days there r all shiny coins but bak then, the old 1 Re. coin was not as pretty and shiny as the new coin*
And that finally my life is just being passed around. And how I would like a steady and stable life in a piggy bank to forever remain some place permanent *I really wasn’t that good with spellings bak then* but the fact that im money means I have to go around the country being passed from one place to other and one person to the other. And how some people treat money and how dirty I was and that no one ever thought of maybe giving me a wash or something. *God!!!*

A visit to the local market, another letter to a friend telling him/her about your good grades. A report on some community service done...
And so on and so forth...My English Essay Book.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Wishlist : I Need...

I need pain to know I am not numb yet.
I need people to know I am not alone yet
I need colours to know im not blind yet
I need love to know im there yet.

I need rain to know I am cleansed
I need sun to know there exists tomorrow.
I need wind to caress my face,
And the surety of permanence.

I need my own prince charming,
I need impish eared elves,
I need a tower in the exotic lands I dream of
I need a glass slipper to believe yet.

I need that little brook
Where I talk to my butterfly,
And see that there is depth,
But seems so shallow yet.

I need the world at my feet,
Just so that I can tiptoe and say im sensitive
But when my chest fills with arrogance
I need that pinch of the stray thorn.

I need expressions like a lifeline,
I need words to come to my defence,
I need beautifully strung lines,
And I need the meaning to creep in yet.

I need enchantment to know I am not jaded yet
I need impulse to create magic.
I need wonder and shining eyes,
I need to know I can cause that.

I need the memory of a frozen moment,
And the eternity it wraps,
I need faith to survive
I need love to live yet.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005


Im not superstitious.
Only scared of offending the angels.
Just yesterday was telling rohini that life finally is back on track. And that finally im content. And that things r sailing smooth. And its almost magical the way things have ironed out. To now being a smooth raw silk. *how cool is that!! RAW SILK!!! Pat pat on the back ships*

And now look what happened. *frown* life is back to being just the way I like it!!! Tangled in the very own wool I was knitting my sweater with. *nope not as good as RAW SILK. Raw silk was better*

Reminds me of my skooling days. When the worse thing that could happen was the Head Mistress’ signature on the skool calendar asking for a meet with the parents.
Just da change is, the signature thingy has changed to attendance problems and allied discomforts. Now is it my fault that I was born a nocturnal being. N no matter how insomniac I am, I still need a couple o hours o sleep, isn’t it?? Now am I to be blamed if sleep fairy dusts her magic powder at the unearthly hours of the morning. *pouting* And they are cutting internal assessment marks on that. *double pouting*

And then comes tests. Silly really!!! How do professors expect students to study regularly??!!?? *shudders* now I have a test FULL PORTION on marketing. Man I tell you, people who will become teachers can be spotted early in life. They r regular with their studies. How else do one explain such insensitivity of the professors?? No amount of pleading, begging, groveling helped. He (the prof) jus postponed it by 4 days. 4 DAYS??!!! He has no heart in his chest nor blood in his eyes!!! (translation of: aakhon mein khoon nahi or sum shit like that)

And then comes music. Divine, no doubt bout it. But my voice isn’t. at least not 24*7. And who will explain that to my music teacher??
She doesn’t eat ice creams, doesn’t drink fizzy drinks like it is elixir. doesn’t scream to get people to stop talking so that she can talk. She doesn’t scream, howl, cry till her voice turns hoarse. Sing in a soprano voice jus to piss off her friends!! Yakk her way 2 Armageddon. BAH she has no life!!! yeah!! That’s it!!!!! *enlightment* Her sole aim in life is to make people sing. SING AND PLAY HARMONIUM TILL U’VE DROPPED DEAD!!!
No wonder she makes me drink concoctions of lukewarm water and salt and sugar says it cures bad throat. *gagging* but I like my hoarse voice. I think it sounds sexy *batting eye lashes and blushing*
Ahem she is a real sweet lady but me going wid da flow here. And bitching bout all n sundry. (`so please God, don’t turn my voice into like that of a frogs I have enough problems no thankz to me!!)

Love life or or the absence of it. 20 bloody years of existence and what do I have to show?? Phone book full of numbers of classmates, mates of classmates, people met on the way, chat pals their pals, mom’s friends, their kids, veterinary’s number, class teachers numbers. Class representative’s three numbers. DA PIG doesn’t even give attendance and eats up space on the cell phones memory.
So the phone book is a real handy device. Ive become directory service to my best friend. How convenient. And how inconvenient that his friends are all losers!! Of the first order!!!!

Sister troubles. How many times do I tell her that we share things and that when we fight... we only temporarily segregate our things n then again pool them bak 2gether when we r bak 2 being sisters. What is the point of having a sister, when u cant use her bag when it matches with your outfit?? Doesn’t help any with her being da younger one and more mature...*psst psst: just people’s perception. Whatever makes them think that!!! Wink*

Maa is a different ball game altogether. She reinstates she wants to take horoscope to manglore on her latest visit to our ancestral house. Says, the purohit there can read things real well. My future. Yeah yeah, I precisely know what future she talking bout. All that cousin’s wedding and preparations has swept her away. Im jus 20!!! *bawling*

And friends are no consolation. NOSIR!!! I told purva all this and pat comes the reply.
“write a blog post on it. I have my comment ready already”

So here is to every soul who is hell bent on crushing the never-say-die spirit of a gurl who just wants to live...tangle free and jinx free. *wink*

Friday, March 18, 2005

Public Displays Of Affection

No im not a prude.
Or would like to think so. Umm...I don’t really have strong opinions about public displays of affection. Coz it doesn’t really matter. So I have no issues when it comes to people being openly affectionate, kissing hugging that sorta thing im cool with. Err… when other people are doing it that is.

Agreed have averted my gaze on seeing cooing love birds at juhu chowpatty or at railway stations and bus stands. *urgh!!!*
Now imagine when u have a couple who cant seem to keep their hands off each other and they r sitting right on da front seat. And you have nothing else to amuse urself with but to watch them. (psst psst : id watch em even when I have stuff to do, I think its like the thing. People gawk at you when you are dressed differently n stuff?? No. don’t comment if they don’t to u)

That happened to us during our trip to Goa. Rohini, Purva and me...three hot babes ( no da point is not open for debate) went to Goa november last year. It was a major blast. Sun, sand, sum film festival and tones and tones of fish curry. Too bad we didn’t get to see any hunky studs there. But that’s besides the point.

Back to the affection part. The Volvo was late, it was scheduled for 9 in the night . And maybe it was the marriage season or something coz the Volvo was full o couples. We three and two more were the only people traveling without the significant other. So there was a lot of action
And there was this newly married couple (frm da way they were giggling) seated in front of us. Newly married how?? They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. So how NEWLY?? Hehe coz they were giggling. *Display of superior logical sense by Ships*
Man it was oh so hilarious…

Zoom back to the couple in front. It was November and the Volvo was air conditioned…wasn’t that hot I suppose. But this couple obviously were very hot (no pun). They were making out under the blanket. And every two minutes the blanket would be thrown open…lol breath of fresh air im guessing.
Purva and me cudnt help giggling. And since we couldn’t giggle loudly, we ended up sniggering. Rohini on the other hand was half asleep. Keeping her outta what was blatant fun would be cheating our closest friend. We woke her up. Lol. God alone knows which world she was in, she instead of being amused was staring intently at the couple, maybe trying to make out (no pun again) what precisely was going on. That put purva n me in another fit of laughter.

Man was it difficult to keep it low. Both us and the couple in da front. And that wasn’t all. When the vehicle stopped for some refreshments…all this happening at two in the night, the lady grinned at us. WE...grinned right back.
Well that was like one really hilarious episode. Which just added a sparkling beginning to a memorable trip.

But then what made me think really, was when da visit to aurangabad happened. *oh I need to write Revelations II*
Classmates turned couple. Hehe. It was kinda…I dono I felt very weird in their company. It was like they were flaunting. The caresses and the hugs didn’t seem natural, more like staged. So alright we understand that it has been only two weeks since both of you admitted to each other the koochi cooing feelings you both have, but why do you need to do da cooing in front of us?? Or show how much you know each other.
“shipra, we have a relationship where we don’t believe in showing that we are a couple, infact we both try and maintain a distance consciously. U know him naa. So... *ehhh??*

“u kno ship, HE is such a nice guy... when we are talking on the phone late at nights, I suddenly fall asleep and he gets so wild. But he still calls me the next day.”
all the while they r holding each others fingers or I don’t even know how to describe it…touching each others fingers wid jus one finger. Man...such are people in love.

Then there was this scene when we got down from the bus and saw da guy kissing the gurl’s neck. Lol! right in the middle of a buzy road. What was more amusing was that maybe they didn’t notice but our professors were on the other side waiting to cross the road.
We didn’t wait to see what happened next. I admit I was too embarrassed to see if he was really kissing her neck or... I now, would love to imagine variations in the ending...aah missed opportunities!!
Everyone would whisper. Even those gurls who feign distaste or disinterest. And that led to an extensive and urgent single-gurls-meet. Where we bitched bout one and all...talked about how disgusted we are with such improper behaviour and that such people have no shame!!! :-P ;-) A friend even had her mouth agape. Name withheld for author’s safety.

A lot happened actually in da visit to aurangabad. Like there was this another couple who were making out in da train. Ohh yeah. Not that I saw it, *darn* but we all saw da hickey on da guy’s neck and God alone knows where else. Yes we talked about the love bite too in the sisterhood-convention *wink* And during the bus journeys the gurl would sit on the guy’s lap. Not due to lack of seats… Again the finger thing happening.


In all this I was paying rapt attention…don’t ask me why…coz I don’t wanna lie.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

A Matter Of Choice? Really??

Purv, the eternal optimist wrote a beautiful piece on making a choice. On how you decide what you wanna do. But she spoilt it for me by telling bout the creation of the poem. So now I am biased about it. And maybe, just maybe I don’t even like it.
I choose??!!??

Choices. Not really talking about the mauve one or the green one, whether to style my hair or not, clean da room today or wait for Seema...but the more bigger ones, the ones that make u look back and say, Im glad I chose that or during the less fortunate times regret da decision?

Ive always believed that no matter what choice you make, eventually you get what you are bound to get.
And no im not calling it Fate and shrugging off responsibility. It is about evolution. About being worthy of getting what ultimately you get. About grooming. To accept the inevitable, good or bad, is predestined. But relatively how much of both is what you choose. Because you get. You oh soo get what you deserve.

The Theory:
In Life. When you are grown up enough and your maa thinks so too, enough to let u make your own decision, there are always two choices. Not mandatory. But more often. Not the right or the wrong one. I don’t think there really is absolute right or a wrong. But two different choices which have life altering consequences. Or so it seems at that moment.

It is like a matrix I think. Or just a criss cross of paths, having the same end. Like da game where we choose the rite path for the rabbit to reach the carrot or something. Only here all the paths invariably lead to the carrot.

Choose ‘A’ and go on. To the next decision moment. Which is more often than not a result of chosing ‘A’. Choose ‘A’ again. Or whichever you choose. Then further, you choose ‘B’ and so in life you go on making choices, decisions, picking, preferring… creating more options and more alternatives merely by the choice you make in the previous situation.

But I think, had I chosen 'B'as my first decision, which again lead to two more choices, rather repercussions of my decision, the next set of choices again ‘A’ or ‘B’ leading to more picking and fretting eventually takes me, at some point which is the same as when I chose ‘A’ initially and went ahead.

So eventually, whatever way I choose, I in the end am getting precisely what I am suppose to get. I don’t believe in chitragupt.
So then is it fate all the way? Umm...I don’t know.
So am I saying we are not really responsible for what happens in our lives??

No. We are responsible for the next set of choices, for the responsibilities and the reactions. Ours and others. But all lead to something. And that something is I say predestined.

And how we take what is at the end of the journey is what our choices have shaped us up to be. Accepting, rebelling, regret, joy...

What we get is not altered, but how much we value it, definitely is.

Friday, March 11, 2005

FB is dying.

FB, Frozen Beauty is dying. Almost on her death bed.

should have recognized the signs early on. Her wheezing and sneezing. Her constant freezing. And i thought she was down with cold or something. She is aligned along the window and it gets real cold. But then the visits got frequent. My compwala's. First it was every 6 months, then it was every couple o months, then we decided to get babe. More on history bout babe n FB's rivalry here. Well, even then FB held her own.

i guess the competition is too much for her these days. But then no one compares em these days. Its like owning children, two of em. No comparison. Each one is beautiful in her own right. But then with FB, im partial. Right from when babe was brought. After all, FB lives with me, in my own room, sharing my joy, my happiness, my days, my memories...everything.

So i was talking bout her symptoms of illness. Being slow. Everyone attributed it to her old age. Like i said in da earlier post, she is SIX years old. Seven Running now. Then my tech savvy friends offered help and suggestions and tips on how to make her work faster and all. Did work for some days i admit. Then started the freezing phase. That is how FB came into being. The name. Till then babe wasnt in the picture. Then more freezing, more driver failures, more headaches, more phonecalls to the compwala....

Then babe happened. Then rest as they say is history.

Even then i was loyal to FB. I had made my decision, my choice. FB loyalty does count for sumthing. These days, its getting worse. Was getting worse rather. Alarm set in when one day when i turned her on and then did some work in word, loggd on to the net, realising some of the applications like the yahoo, wares, time n date stuff didnt load. Umm it wasnt as alarming really but more like a realisation to what was happening. Was kaam chalau. Wasnt so scary.

The day before, she started in Safe mode. Me thought, it was one of the normal recurring phenomenon. Didnt think much about it. Did what was the required process and then rebooted.
TRING TRING!!!!! Alarm ringing loud and clear.

Some intructions..
*not so calm anymore*
Read em in haste...maybe even followed em.
try the rite clik and da properties, NOTHING...try the control panel shit. *so I DO KNOW about computers unlike purv...whos a techietard*

calls to Compwala, cell outta reach. *cussing...dissing*

log on to the net. frantically talking to all the so called tech guys *rolling eyes*
" mayb ur fan's bummed" "try rebooting again...press the F8 key all the while, select the first option when it comes" "did u try kicking her??" "me charging u 100 buck each word i utter"
*shrug* fate. screw em all. Doing stuff in 640 x sum resolution. 16 colour bit shit.

Yesterday finally got through the stupid compguy. He came over Ghar pe aaj.
Said the video driver "udd gaya hai"
*eyes widen*
"nahi nahi, it wont cost u anything"
like me gonna give u a single paise. BAH

Hes taken her to format her now.

Psst Psst: i dont think she is gonna survive the latest onslaught. Admitted have babe. But she aint like FB. If she dies, people, me mourning her death and gonna not blog for a week as a mark of my respect for her. And that folks... is sayin something.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Thinking Of You

Damn u, damn u to hell and back. For being strong. For being indifferent. For moving on. For living life. For taking a second chance and a third and a fourth till you find her, ur true love yet again.
When im stuck. Unresolved. Undecided. Vulnerable and hurt. Scared.

No. I don’t think of you. But thoughts creep in. when I least expect it. And when I push them away, dreams weave a story. Or is it nightmare. U, I suppose will never realize. It is just an obsession. That we are not together anymore. Maybe I would have gotten over you had we still been friends. But talking to you was suffocating. It was getting claustrophobic. I was feeling closed, caged. Frustrated.

Me thinks me moving on. I think less of you these days. It’s a conscious effort. A premeditated decision. Pushing back the thoughts, the words, the images when they surface. Brutally crushing down the pain. Mercilessly stopping the tears. Forgetting you. And the fact that you exist. So a stray tear run down unchecked.

You decided I needed to get acquainted with what is music. With what makes a song. Never did u ever realize…I cared not so much about the music as much for you. Seeing you so passionate, so animated. Your voice actually enthusiastic till I would start giggling with delight at such innocence. Your eyes twinkling like the million starts I would be gazing at and then when you would be annoyed that I wasn’t listening to you, that sparkle fading into a dull sober glint. Toned down. But still there.

You were always different. Special. Singular. And that drive…the palpable energy. The one that would sweep away with it into the world where everything was perfect. Perfect for you. And a hundred faceless beings clapping. Giving you a standing ovation. And my heart…bursting with pride. My face growing with that silly grin and my soundless voice…screaming, breathless, excited.

Stories about how you will conquer the world. You doing what you always wanted to do. Doing what maybe you were destined to do. Stories, dreams, thoughts, fantasies all woven in Technicolor glory. So that the dreams look larger than life. You look larger than life. Stories, dreams, thoughts, fantasies…you.

I miss you sometimes. And your stories. And your passion. Your crazy techniques of wooing a gurl. And philosophies to make people feel nice. And that selfishness which is in every cell of your body. Your f!@#%^& self centered nature. Childlike simplicity. Adult pains. A bundle of paradoxes. Your whine. Your ecstasy.

I will move on. Will just take a little more time. And look back and smile that you happened. And praying…that never do u happen again. Ever.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Revelation I

Having fun when u are with ur best pals and good friends and likable acquaintance is a no brainer…but reaching into urself as well as the place you are in, so much that you are almost physically drained when its over is something atleast I have never experienced until now. Until this trip happened.

The factory visits happened. Informative they were. Insightful.

But the sights, the smell, the taste (distaste rather) of the place, the people, the things is what made a profound impact. Places that were created from rocks, mountains, homage paid to the queen, the fort…awe inspiring.


Reaching Ellora Caves, we were given an hour to go round the place and be back. We thought of hiring a guide to show us the caves, the history, the myths and the stories.

But I am glad we didn’t. We decided to go see the niches and the temple by ourselves. It was O-V-E-R-Whelming. A mind blowing experience. The carvings, the sculpture. The sheer beauty of the huge figures, the splendor of the hands and the imagination. The craftsmanship which died centuries ago, the touch, the feel, the sense of the rocks, the stones. The mythology, Nataraja, Kali…the caves!!

It was like being in a time wrap. It was being there yet detached with the noise and the excitement. There was serenity, purity. An almost holistic sense. It WAS awesome. Running fingertips over the statues gave flashes. Overworking imagination. Ours. But for sometime im soo sure I felt how it must have been done. When there was no sense o architecture, im guessing, no floor plans either. Creating a space from one huge boulder, a rock. And then with such perfection.

The beliefs, the hopes, the devotion all culminating into something which transcends people, eras, time. Maybe the sculptors, the craftsmen, the architects have died and born again. Revisited what they created eons ago. Had a sense of déjà vu. Instinctively known and seen the chisels, the torches, the bruises on the hands, the occasional death of a mate. Spanning 5 centuries, says the board outside the entrance. Building the structure and yet not complete. Almost in ruins. But the ruins is what makes it romantic. Broad shouldered men, tiny waisted women, cherubic looking children, Vishnu’s avatar as Padhmanabha, Shiva’s cosmic dance. Youth, desire, fatherhood, sculptures, eras, stones.

Yes it was beautiful.

Psst: thr’s more but I am tired to put it up now. Maybe there will be revelation II or maybe thr wont.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Still trying to get mah bearings...

Bone Tired

Had been to aurangabad, for a week. Industrial visit says the form that needed to be signed by a parent or a guardian. Ends up more like a picnic

We DID go to Garware Polyesters and Videocon for a visit.

Then some sightseeing, Daulatabad Fort, Ellora Caves, Bibi ka Makhbara and some crappy invention by sum local on using water to grind wheat *speechless*

Things were fine, have a presentation today and dead tired. sleep deprived.

More on da trip when i regain my sanity.