She could be me in another garb!

I know for a fact that each individual has her/his writing style which is unique to him/her but when I stop by at some blogs, I am reminded of the blogger ME. Yesterday, when I was supposed to be doing some serious work, I stopped at a blog for taking a wee break which extended beyond wee (that's another matter) and was astonished beyond belief that the writing was so very ME. In that blog, stood many posts which were drafted in my mind, same lines, same expressions and even same cliches. I was flabbergasted and a bit worried because the posts inflated my sense of 'uniqueness.' The topics were quite assorted but the thought process of those posts stripped me my sense of uniqueness. I guess that happens to almost most of us. No matter how much we talk of individuality and being special, some of these findings deflate our own brand that defines us.

The first post that I read piqued my curiosity because here was someone who thought and expressed things like me. I moved on to the next post and like that I would have read about ten posts or so which spoke of diverse interests and meanderings. Maybe the writer and I were some sort of joint souls who were separated many births ago but still have come together through posts in this era. As my reading progressed, I came to understand that I enjoyed those posts - the identity of the person behind those posts came alive with every post and that brought me close to the writer herself. I could see her smirk, delight, excited and morose. While she poured out her heart in her posts, I identified me. The thoughts that were a blur in my mind gained clarity when I read hers. Maybe I am exaggerating but I did feel like that when I read those posts by her.

The only thing I regret is that she had turned my drafts into delectable posts and I might not be interested in turning those drafts of mine into posts. She has already done that. Now, to prevent her turning more of my drafts into posts, I have to blog more regularly so that the girl who could be me would not steal my unwritten drafts.

This post is dedicated to her. I will not disclose her blog's name for you might land up there and exclaim, 'Really? She is not like Susan at all. In fact, she is much better!' Even though, you will not scream this on my face, the chances that you will find no similarities between us is quite high. So, I will leave you wondering about this blog I am referring to and also whether you have found any blog that captures the essence of YOU.

Balancing equlibrium

So, by and by 2014 arrived quietly and stealthily into my life and the euphoria which wasn't there in the first place died down. I had grand plans to write a sweet and fantastic post welcoming the new year but not having a computer to call my own, I postponed the post. Little did I realise that postponing a post is almost like forgetting it. These days when posts do arise, there is no keyboard to tap in and hence I seek refuge in my wee journal. It is quite cathartic to see pages filling up rapidly but the itch to read comments remains unfulfilled. I have forgotten reading and replying to comments. Well, that does not mean I don't have any plans for 2014. I do have. Like everyone, I also vocally and virtually scream that I don't make any resolutions, far from it, I make resolutions every single day consistently. Some infamous ones are:

1. Stopping sugar completely (Wait! Stopping anything white - rice, maida, sugar, milk . . . And so far I have managed it by baby steps)

2. Stop the past from pulling me down (Half the time I'm half-bent by the load!)

3. Stop worrying and analysing details too much (Ah, if wishes were horses)

4. To stop listing my weaknesses in social media (I will not go beyond three)


Well, anything new always excites and makes me savour the joy of living and a new year certainly is one such time.

Hope your year started off well and that you didn't make any resolutions like me.

Cheers to us and our blogs.

Image: Shutterstock

Virtual friendship and broken promises - A tribute to a dear blogger-friend

The last time I met you, you promised to spend more time with me in December. You also promised that in the December trip you will stay with me. You cruel soul - you broke your promises. Why do you make them when you were to break them!

*****

We meet in the world of blogs and bloggers. We both were relatively new to the whole game of blogging. I saw her blog in one of the blogs I frequented. I casually stopped by. I liked what I saw and read. I started stopping by more often. Then she started noticing me and returned the favour. This was in 2009! From then on, we stopped by each other's blogs and gradually started emailing one another. The mails were usually two or three liners in which we mutually complemented one another's words and thoughts. We were never obliged to visit each other's blogs. I only commented when I had something to say and vice-versa. A bond had been formed.

Then I got married. I sent her an invite. She didn't come but sent me her wishes. Then, she got married. I sent my wishes. Our blog entries became infrequent but we kept in touch. She drifted towards fiction and photography. My visits to her blog were intermittent. She still came over to my blog and logged in her insights. We started chatting through Facebook.

She then gave me the wonderful news of her visit to the city where I lived. We met briefly over some snacks. Her mom and her sister were there with her. We were quite excited and thrilled to finally meet one another. She promised to spend more time with me in December when she planned to visit my place again on a road-trip with her better half. I thought December was quite afar off.

Unexpectedly, I had a chance to stop in her city for a break of journey and she played host along with her parents-in-law, husband and her non-human companion, a Golden Retriever named Rocky. They were lovely people and stumped me with their hospitality. She drove me to the train station. I was glad to have met her the second time and we refreshed our December promise and plan.

But she would never see another December! She broke her promise and along with her husband passed on to another world leaving me with memories of her blog and two meetings. 

I am glad that we did meet each other and exchanged meaningful conversation, if only once. Her sudden passing, though left me shocked and devastated, enabled me to understand the transience of existence. She was a quiet and unassuming person who thought deeply and tenderly. On some mornings, I wake up with thoughts of her and feel quite sad but as I mentioned earlier, I am truly happy that I met her and spent some time with her.

RIP my dear Sameera Kesiraju (1987-2013)

A poem by Sam:

Every evening is a conversation,

Sun’s retiring talk with a dear tree

“I’ll come in the morn looking for you!

I’ll knock on the doors of darkness with a request  

To let my rays caress with love, your gentle leaves

As they swing with joy, with hope, to see another dawn

Waiting for me to bring that dawn to you

I’ll come, but promise, that you will not let...

The black dusk swallow it all up - every time I am gone.”

                                                                          ~Sam

Seven: Day 3 - Seven Blogs that I like to Visit

 

I am participating in Write Tribe's Festival of Words from 1st to 7th September where nearly 82 bloggers are writing on the theme of Seven for Seven days - a post a day! Today is Day 3.

 

There are some blogs which resonate with us but either those bloggers write rarely or we seldom find time to visit their space and relish the posts. So, here are seven such blogs that I recommend.

1. Nevine Sultan - Dreams, Deliriums, and other Mind Talk

Nevine is a deep and soulful writer (I say writer because she is one!) who probes the inner crevices of the mindscape and brings out the visceral feelings beautifully. A wordsmith who strings beautiful words effortlessly and seamlessly is currently pursuing her Ph. D. in Psychology, a subject that befits her personality and writings.

2. Sylvian Patrick - Sylvianism

A marketing professional, Sylvian is passionate about films, social affairs and any controversial topic. Though he writes rarely, his posts have a fiery quality that leaves one thinking on various levels.

3. Karishma Kulkarni - Why is Everything Four

Karishma is a doctor-to be and she writes posts which are inquiring, fresh and so very tender. Through her posts, basic emotions are shared with syrupy nostalgia, tangerine memories and beautiful lines. I could stay on her blog forever!

4. Karen Xavier-Fernandez - Contemplations and Ruminations

Karen is a blogger like me. Her blog is a show-case of almost everything albeit with an intimate coating. A fan of country music and cooking, most of her posts discuss her current favourite artists and recipes that engage her.

5. Bhumika Anand - Boumika's Boudoir

Bhumika is a sensual, passionate and vibrant writer. Her posts border around love, lust, memories and unbridled passion in either succinct prose or neat verse. She empties her heart and soul in her posts. After reading her posts, I'm almost always overcome with strong emotion - happiness, sadness or both.

6. Ravi Kunjwal - Yet Another Horizon

A young research student, Ravi infuses his quest for life through questions, nostalgia and songs. I especially like his nostalgia posts - they leave me with a smile and mellow thoughts.

7. Ashwathy Nair - Dreaming in Metaphors

Ash is a keen photographer who exhibits her pictures with apt quotes. I started following her blog because she had a lovely name for her blog, "Dreaming in Metaphors." I wish I stopped by her blog regularly so that I could read fantastic quotes accompanied by equally wonderful pictures.

So these are seven out of the many fabulous blogs that I follow and try to be regular. There are more but I will save them for another post. Hope you get time to look up these blogs and savour their content.

What are some of your favourite blogs? 

Do you remember your WORDS?

Burying myself in the watery landscape of Amitav Ghosh's The Hungry Tide, I lift my head to wonder when Piya asks a question, "How words are lost?" The line, for a moment, tore me away from the tides and made me ask myself, "How do we remember words and how do they inhabit us?" The question has been rising up and down in the undulating terrains of my mindscape much like the tides in Gosh's novel. I wonder when the word, 'scintillating' find root in me or when did I caress the word, 'reverie?' Books? Perhaps. Teachers who sprinkled their lessons with lovely-sounding exotic words? Maybe. Newpapers, magazines, TV, blogs - Gosh, I wonder how each of this medium has made way for a new word to enter and dwell in my system.

Sometimes I wonder if I was cut into two, how many words would tumble out and wriggle free from the thoughts and memories. The idea thrills me. But the thrill soon disappears when I think of the million words that haven't met me. No matter how much I try, my vocabulary will still be wanting. I try hard to recollect the time when I liked to pronounce words which sounded lovely to hear - sen-su-ous, dil-ly-da-lly, bour-geois, . . . I can go on with words as these. I remember the times when writers always added an extra dash of beautiful words in their works of art. I had to curb myself from running to the dictionary to find the meaning of a word that was lost to me. I never did go to the dictionary. I tried to decipher the meaning by myself by reading and reading the lines. Most of the times, the meaning unfurled without any fuss but then how will I remember that beautiful word in the future. Will I be able to use the same when I write or talk? Then in a casual conversation, the word gingerly drops itself in an appropriate conversation. I am aware of what I has just uttered. I ask myself: "Really?" I smile at the knowledge that the word had somehow taken to me and has decided to grace my language with its presence. What more? The word makes its presence felt and in some cases, for the word to be used the situation is created. It's not long before the word has built a permanent residence in me. Then the romance fades. It becomes another word in my vocabulary.

Like the smell of blood alerts the senses of a Bengal tiger, a new word lurks somewhere there, waiting for me to attack and relish it. I read a blog - the blogger has used a fantastic word. Like the previous times, the word is new, fresh and sounds good to pronounce as well. I flirt, cajole, and before long the word is nestled in the safe havens of the mindscape.

But then, as Piya remarks, words can be lost as well. Some words don't get flushed off the system that easily and those are the ones that has appeared in various parts of the chronological self - memories, nostalgia, letters, conversations, speeches and lectures. But there are the other words - which just disappear. What is that word for that wee opening? Crevice? Oriface or Orifice? Strange how words are remembered and forgotten like incidents that are vague - ones whose smells are remembered but people forgotten.

Do words have an independent existence apart myself. Of course, not. Words cannot be on their own except for a receptacle like me or you or a book or a blog. Words are parasites that mingle freely with our existence. They are parasites in a nice way, maybe not always. There are times when we can wriggle ourselves free of those words by choosing silence, once in a while.

But they say, even silence is a language. Now, I don't remember when along with words, I also learnt to embrace silence. Perhaps another post maybe.

Do you remember how words came to inhabit you?

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

Sometimes I wish . . .

For the first time, in my four years of blogging, I am participating in a blog event - Blog Tag . . . You're it - a blogging chain event where lovely bloggers from 28 countries around the world are writing on one topic, Sometimes I wish . . .

This post was preceded by Ron Reed, who actually blogs but has titled his blog, IF I HAD A BLOG! He is a very soulful and deep writer who leaves insightful comments whenever he visits your blog. I am glad to be succeeding him in this event.

Sometimes I wish . . .

Having been given to extreme flights of fantasy and day-dreaming, I should mention that I have sometimes wished that I could be given the power of becoming invisible when I choose to be. I could listen in during conversations and hear what moves people, what turns them on, what irritates them and what makes them live the lives they are living.

Being invisible, I would be able to traverse boundaries and mountains without the hassles of visa and money, like Dave so eloquently mentioned in his post. I would sneak into kitchens and discover the secrets behind seductive-looking recipes and steal the cellars for the oldest red wine.

I wouldn't need the trappings of clothes, make-up, bags and shoes to live a life and I would be glad to leave them unattended. 

Being invisible, I can escape without being captured by any camera which I detest and I could enter closed security doors without being detected and change the papers of policy-makers wherever necessary.

I could use the power of being invisible to bring smiles and joy to anyone who is in need of them by giving them surprises when they least expect it.

And, finally, I could sleep perched across a treetop blessed by the touch of dew or in Johnny Depp's home without being traced! What a life that would be! 

This is a wish that has sustained me during many of my vacant hours right from my childhood till date and this wish will always remain a wish. Though the acts that I could have done have changed from time to time, the desire to become invisible has always remained :)

This post will be succeeded by Suzy who blogs at Someday Somewhere. Whenever I land at her place, I start humming the song "Someday . . .," by the cheesy MLTR. Suzy who loves travelling and photographing was born in India and has spent some time in India and during that time fell in love with Bollywood and the many colours of India, some of which are showcased in her blog time to time. Stop by her place for some colour, fun and some interesting stuff from her collection of memories.

Image: Internet 

A day in the life of a comment-hungry lazy blogger

Well, this post has been on my mind for some time but the urgency to post something like this was egged on by a visit to a recent blog which I came across in a recent blogger friend's blogroll. So here, goes the post.

Let's call the comment-hungry lazy blogger Narnia.

Narnia logs in after coming to her work-spot and the first thing that she does is open the dashboard of her blog simultaneously thinking, So many blogposts and so less time. Let me shoot!

The first blog she opens is a poetry blog. Narnia thinks to herself, "Ah, everyone is a poet these days and I can't imagine reading through this poem no matter how short it is." She hits the comment icon and writes, 'Good poem.' and moves on to the next blog.

The next blog is a photo-blog. Narnia with a sly smile, does not bother to appreciate the picture but hits the comment icon and keys in, 'Nice photo.' Narnia sits smug thinking that the owner of the photo-blog will return to her blog following her link and reward her with a comment. Some back-scratching for my popularity won't hurt anyone ;)

A prose writer's blog is the next one that Narnia stops by. Here she has one look at the long prose rendition and thinks, "Let me read the comments and then write a comment. That will save me some time from reading that loooong post. I wonder why people write such long posts and think that they should receive comments." She reads just three comments from the twenty and types her comment, 'Good read (and a summary from the three comments)."

The next blog is also a prose one which has reflections as part of the title and Narnia wonders, "Reflections, Musings, Thoughts, Pondering . . . I think all these literature students can just not get wacky titles and end up saying heavy stereotypical words like reflections. Well, . . .." This time Narnia adopts another strategy while commenting -- She reads the first paragraph and the last one and keys in her comment.

Narnia is happy that she has managed to satisfy and ego-boost the bloggers whose blogs she follows and finally sets to write her own post. After completing her post and giving it appropriate labels, she hits the publish button and starts her regular office-work. But every two minutes, she checks and rechecks her blog for comments and is pretty restless when the comments don't come. Finally, after checking the post for the seventh time, she finds the message, "New comment on  . . ." Narnia happily clicks on the comment that is waiting to be moderated. She finds the comment and it says, 'Good post.' Narnia is angry, and on the verge of spewing expletives. She mutters to herself, "Why do people write comments as these. I wish people like this never stop by my blog. Then, on a whim, she adds, at least people are reading what I write." Narnia waits for the comments to come one-by-one.

This post is sure a funny one and to be honest, I have not come across any reader like this. They may or may not exist but I am sure that sometimes time and passion don't always fuse to give a wonderful blogging experience.

What say, dear readers?

Image: Internet

Why do you blog about trivial things?

The title of this post is a question that is posed many times to me and I've come to a stage where I no longer choose to answer in words . . .  I smile and leave. Many friends and even my husband have posed this question to me about my blog: Why on earth do you write about trivial things? Why don't you write about academic and social issues. Blah. Why should I write about 'serious' stuff, I sometimes shoot back? Why not trivial stuff? I agree that I am a poor analyser of the political scenario in order to write a commentary on that. Poems??? I am not a poet. There are many many people who can write on one single topic in all their blog posts. I know many friends who do so but I cannot string words into verse. I love words but I cannot bring myself to compose a verse. I have tried doing so and I feel that I am not for it. Of course, I have attempted short fiction. Two posts only, titled Inside-out and Dream-stealer but that's all about it. No more.

My friend says, "You can write academic posts!" But for whom do I write "academic" posts? All my readers are not academicians. Well, if I do want to write an "academic" post, I would write the same in a peer-reviewed journal. Why do I need a blog space for that? How about Indo-Pakistan political issues, asks another dear friend. Well, well, who am I to sound off on that? I am aware of some of the issues that involve India and Pakistan but I guess those issues are familiar to any average paper-reading person. And, why should everyone be interested in Indo-Pak issues. I avoid blog posts which dissect politics, stock-markets and cricket.

My penchant lies in talking about everyday stuff that normally goes unnoticed and unspoken. My audience is not limited to any one set of people, I think. Academicians, passionate cricket junkies and even a twelfth grader can relate to the things I say. Does that mean I write for an audience. Let me be honest. When I started, I had no clue about audience or traffic but now I am aware. I know that if I post this, x and y will respond. I write what I like but at the back of my mind, I also know that these kind of people will relate to what I am saying. Take for example the post on fart. It has no divide based on caste, colour, gender, language and race. Everyone farts. Some do it silently, some loud. Some accept it as normal and some cringe at the thought of doing it in public. No matter what, everyone farts. Right? Trivial things make everyday life. Political issues don't make life. They may be for some souls but not me.

So I write to glorify the trivial in my everyday life and the topics I write about are common to everyone. Period.

Well, has anyone questioned the subject of your blog/s? How do you defend your writing? And, finally, what thoughts do you have on the contents in my blog space.

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

SLR clicks, stale jokes, a big TATA Grande and lots of bloggers

For the second time, I bravely attended a bloggers meet alone. The last time, I attended one organised by Indibloggers, I met some good bloggers with whom I am still connected via blogs. This time the meet was at The Hyatt Regency and Tata Grande sponsored the event.

Though less apprehensive than the last time, I put up a bold front as I was a 'veteran' blogger and one blogger meet old. I slowly walked in and registered myself and got a stamp on my wrist which confirmed my registration. Picking up a tall glass of juice, I scanned the room for familiar faces. I was disappointed as I could not spot any (either no one from the last meet had come or I had forgotten faces). I settled beside an animated group and after few awkward moments of silence, I barged in: "Can I also join you guys?" I was warmly added to the group and then on I began non-stop . . .

All the while we were in that ball room of Hyatt, someone or the other was clicking pictures, either in posh SLRs, or digical camera or through mobile phone cameras. For once, I did not mind the flashes though making myself unconsiously ready for the angles.

Some bloggers were given 49 seconds of fame which allowed individuals to talk of ther blogs and other things. The Tata Grande people were also there to promote and sell their 'grand' SUV. Well, people were given test rides and so on before the actual meet took place.

After some time, I did spot few familiar faces and I was genuinely glad. It was wonderful reconnecting with Websnacker, Srivalli and others. In both the meets, I met a blogger who maintained 49 blogs!!! Can you beat that? I was astonished at his ability to prioritise time for all his blogs.

The food was sumptuous comprising of blueberry tart, chicken roll, potato croquette, chocolate . . . (I don't remember what it was. Maybe a pudding or a cake!) and tea/coffee. I met some more bloggers over food and chatted about their blogs and interests.

The clicking and flashing of SLRs were still going on. I bet I am there in many photographer's pictures (I hope that people do trace me and send the photographs).

Like last year, we were all given free T shirts. This time it was a grey one unlike the last time which was black. And, again like last time, I walked out with a lone kid who was working at Amazon in the books section.

I came alone and went home alone, just like last time. I guess this would be the norm for me.