quintessential aquarian

surnames

2011-12-06T12:30:00.001+05:30

kapil sibal,
when you're hungry,
what do you nibbal?
and when you're bored
what do you scribbal?

corgi

2011-11-15T06:44:00.001+05:30

What kind of a do(r)ggie
Is a corgi?

gngngngn

2011-11-06T10:52:00.001+05:30

i neva gnu
what they call a gnu-born gnu

Bulgogi

2011-10-20T05:44:00.002+05:30

I don't think I can ever eat bulgogi
'Cos it makes me think it's made from a bull froggy
Or worse still, from a bull doggie

If U were A

2011-10-19T08:07:00.000+05:30

Behold the Great IndianBustard,
who wants his story to be heard:
So miserable he felt
That because his name could be unfittingly misspelt,

Proud peacock became India's national bird

NB: this is apparently true! Please see http://www.archive.org/stream/NLBW1#page/n24/mode/1up

if wishes were beamers

2011-10-11T12:48:00.001+05:30

My spoilt, lazy pet lemur

Scratches his tibia, scratches his femur,

Yawns and rolls about

Glares at me and rubs his snout

And yells "Take me for a ride in your beamer"

Say I, "You impatient li'l lemur,

Stop being such a screamer

Its time for my tea

I'll let you have my BMW key

If you be a dear and pass me the creamer"

not a lullabee

2011-10-03T19:40:00.002+05:30

The wallaby
Is a kangaroo wannabe

no mere cat

2011-09-29T09:33:00.000+05:30

Meerkat, meerkat
What do you peer at?

its closer to the rhino than you think

2011-09-28T19:48:00.002+05:30

What a name, “Tapir”

It can rhymewith pear

या फिर

it can rhymewith Amir

scaly

2011-09-28T18:49:00.000+05:30

I met a pangolin in a zoo in New Jersey
He complained how humans were cruel and hadno mercy
Pangolin’s pretty scales
From snout to tail
Are used to make clothes and many a purse-y

murine cervines and cervine murines

2011-09-27T06:29:00.001+05:30

Well, there are mouse deer, and there aredeer mice

But there ain’t no douse meer, there ain’tno mere dice
Deer mice are mice with deer-like fur,while mouse deer aren’t true deer at all
Which is mousier and which is deerier? I can't say. That’s yourcall

slow loris

2011-09-26T11:20:00.000+05:30

I once met a tiny slow loris
His name, interestingly, was Morris
He'd grip with all his might, and he had a poisonous bite
Sadly, his kind are dwindling in the forris(t)

ungulate and cucurbit

2011-09-25T12:23:00.000+05:30

Anteloup

Don't eat cantaloup

2009-09-19T21:26:00.000+05:30

change, change

the only thing constant is change

letting go

2009-07-30T14:13:00.005+05:30

It was a sure feeling of losing something. Letting go of something that was a part of me for six years - something I was a part of too... IARI. The rain was adding to the nostalgia that was building up. It was raining on the day of my M Sc counselling.. and its raining now, six years later as I circulate the notice for my final Ph D viva voce.

I can feel that rush I felt when I first set foot here. I remember being totally mesmerized by the thick trunks of the stately Arjan trees and ancient looking wild Jamun trees... the chaotic vegetation that was so unlike the previous campuses I had studied in. There were grey hornbills on some branches, and plenty of peacocks. The jamun fruit lay scattered, squashed making purple blotches on the sidewalks. The air was thick with moist odours of squashed fruit, wet wood and earth.

Today, as I walked back from Lal Bahadur Shastri Building, towards the gate, I stopped to look at the amethyst globes of jamun, splattered around. Some had collected in a puddle, fermenting - as if in a mini mud-vat of jamun wine making! A little microcosm - the puddle was teeming with little water bugs, fruit flies were suspended mid air in their lazy, non-buzzing flight wondering whether to oviposit or not... so much activity in a few square centimeters! The drizzle strengthened into rain and I stood in it, soaking in the last rain I would catch at IARI!

Many students on their bikes whizz past. I don't know them, and they hardly know me.. I am a 'super-senior'. Some Malayali juniors trundle past on their Ladybird bicycles.. one of them recognizes me and waves out to me with an effusive smile. The 'brown dog association' as I called it.. a bunch of brown dogs, all part of the same litter is all grown up now. Pummy hated it when I called out to them and talked to them as they looked at me quizzically. Now they are heading towards the porch of the library - they hate getting their paws wet.

I reach the turning where, on many of our 'after-dinner strolls', we (Pummy, Chhawi, Vinni, Kalyani and I) would abruptly veer away at the familiar sight of a bunch of approaching lumpenous seniors - who had changed their dinner timings just so that they could bump into the chicks who were out for their walk! Many of those lumpens are scientists now! Married, with kids and all!!

Okay, now. The gate is here. Out I go. And I'll be back pretty soon, so I should save some words for the final farewell ;)

Gosh, I never knew time could fly this fast... I slowly approach the end of my extended childhood.. a prolonged state of studenthood, that was my Ph D.

angels and demons

2009-06-20T14:22:00.003+05:30

i wonder why i should make my lines rhyme

when everything happens without rhyme or reason..

i look back in wonder at the years and times

the fulfilled dreams, the treasured seasons...

those unfulfilled.. i think less about

the past wounds, some dried scars, some still lesions -

somehow matter no more, may gnaw at me, no doubt

but i've learnt to treasure the angels and ignore the demons

100th post

2009-02-09T12:51:00.002+05:30

in my hundredth post
i talk not of what i like the most
i shall not rant or rave or boast
nor will it be like a toast

in my hundredth post
i talk not of spirits or witches or ghosts
or mountain scapes or sandy coasts
or treacherous guests or lecherous hosts

on the phone

2009-01-18T11:17:00.005+05:30

The 'Flying Dutchman' was playing in the background as she mumbled into the phone .The conversation goes like this:
She: So.. had your dinner?
He: yaa. burrrp. gosh I'm so full
She: good
He: heyy whats that noise?
She: Music. Wagner
He:What??
She: nothing. aise hi
she mutes the sound
He: hmm.
Silence
She: Hey...
He: listen listen.. I'll call you back.. kya match hai..ooh WHAT a catch
click. whirrrrrrrrr

2009-01-05T22:20:00.003+05:30

I wake up filled with guilt

And squirm and toss about under my quilt

old n mouldy

2008-12-29T15:46:00.002+05:30

crumbly, infested with mould

is this story.. long untold

Udita tells me a story..

2008-12-09T11:52:00.004+05:30

"If its doubtful, its dirty!"

Said his Mum, of his shirty

When he yelled to ask IF it was clean

She said "If you're not sure its washed or has not been

Its not clean, surely"

So this story makes you think clearly

That when in doubt

Rule it out

2008-11-19T21:47:00.002+05:30

she is possessed

by the devil

she is obsessed

with things so trivial

she has transgressed

stepped into a terrain so evil

her life is messed

she lies, shrivelled

can't move

2008-11-16T11:44:00.002+05:30

i feel caught in a dollop
of viscous, unmoving syrup

2008-11-16T11:02:00.002+05:30

enchantment,

entanglement,

estrangement.

what a prollem

2008-08-19T13:01:00.002+05:30

whats the prollem? oho... you got stuck up in the traffic? what to do na, its too too bad. this traffic prollem is not finishing only.

2008-07-22T22:36:00.002+05:30

when the popcorn is too salty, and the hall is stuffy

when the fizzy drink is flat, and the actress's eyes are puffy

you know you're not enjoying the movie

2008-07-22T20:31:00.002+05:30

the dark beckons, the unknown enchants

Id The Subber... Sdiff Sdiff

2008-07-06T11:33:00.002+05:30

Height of irony... havig a cold in subber. (sdiff sdiff sdort... aaargh Ah-ah-Atishooooo)

I'm miserable. I'm just not able to DO anything. my throat aches,my head throbs and as for my nose... this nose is the root of all my sorrow. Its sheer size ensures unspeakble amounts of snot and phlegm in hideous colours and consistencies.

Grrrr...

Motley lot on bus nos. 721 or 853

2008-06-17T19:29:00.004+05:30

A lady with a sack of chillies (yes, a SACK) - Pimply-faced pubescent lumpens - Aunty-jis with talcum powder, now a sweaty paste in the folds of their necks - Lecherous uncle-jis with offensive cologne - Grimy bus conductors who won't stop banging the bus frame/ slamming coins on the window panes - Giggly secretary types with earphones, gurgling and cooing to some idiot on the other end - a puny female counting the minutes left to reach D block

एक बेकार सा दोहा

2008-06-01T20:43:00.005+05:30

छोटा हुआ तो क्या हुआ

जैसे बेल अंगूर

उसपे न बैठे चिड़िया

न बैठे लंगूर

Delhi

2008-05-31T19:33:00.007+05:30

Well Delhi has to be it. The city that I'd call home. I was born here. Spent some of the most interesting years of my childhood here. Did most of my studies in places I never imagined I'd live (Gwalior, Ludhiana)... but am completing my studies in ... dear old Dilli.

Chandni puts the first few years so well. Reading her post brought back memories so vivid, that sitting right here in the children's room, (on the lower half of what was our bunk bed...) I can see a curly haired brat grinning mischievously and prancing about on the pouf (I ALWAYS thought it was poof), I can hear Amma calling out to us for our headbaths, and smell cloyingly sweet Lakme Satin Rinse shampoo (I loved the rounded cap of the shampoo bottle)... As these images and whiffs hit me, I remember more.... compasses and colour pencils, my jaundice days painted yellow, walks in Eucalyptus park, evening games in the compund with crazy kids , much awaited visits to CP.... (Nirula's), Golden Dragon....

Fast forward to the present. Three years at Pusa. The three years that taught me so much. The gigantic Arjan trees, my drab hostel... with a name I (for some odd reason )always hated to spell out in public - Mandakini and now rechristened a rather unimaginative Varsha..just to add to the kitty of seasons the boys' hostels are named after.. Hemant, Vasant, Shishir. NBPGR.. my days at Lab E 206 and the days at Lab E 202. I learnt, taught, laughed, and cried so much that looking back, I don't know which if them I did the most.

The current phase in my Delhi Diaries is pleasant. Fed up of my hostel life, the oily repetitive menu in the mess and general depression (which I'm sure would have acquired massive proportions, had I decided otherwise) drove me back home. So here I am, sitting on the lower half the bunk bed right where Chandni and I had this ridiculous discussion about how when I'd be 11 she'd be 7. (And how old she's be when I'd be 13. And how old I'd be when SHE'd be 13... ad infinitum).

Living with parents for the first time is a different experience after several years with grandparents, and nearly over a decade of hostel life. I'm sure they know me better now.

I love the metro, the fact that CNG has made such a difference to the air we breathe now. I love the malls, Dilli Haat, Connaught Place, District Centre and all the places we hang out. I love Inderpuri and Krishi Kunj.. Oh yes, I love Delhi.

PS
Delhi Daredevils lost. huh. What Daredevilry.

A.R.S.E.

2008-05-26T22:13:00.003+05:30

This is NOT the humble aperture

That lies somewhere on your posterior

Its the Agriculture Research Service Examination

Taken by scores of agri post grads across the nation

Almost every year

And takers wait in fear

For the result, that comes out some time in October

Whatever that will be... atleast the worst is OVER

2008-05-19T23:05:00.003+05:30

'twas a tryst

twixt silver and amethyst

2008-05-16T17:55:00.003+05:30

More leaf samples have arrived

My time I need to divide

For one week, from the lab I must hide

yogi bear

2008-05-14T15:03:00.006+05:30

wow... I managed to do Supta Vajrasana today. One month of feeling scared and awkward... it happened. I got the same feeling of elation I felt when I could do Chakrasana. yippeee

It is my earnest advice to the world to do yoga... it changed me for the better. People.. pick up your mats and join Yoga class. Today.

Gunter Blobel

2008-05-10T13:11:00.004+05:30

Gunter Blobel

won the Nobel

for something that was by no means banal

back in nineteen ninety nine.

He found that proteins had signals that enabled

them to be transported, localized and variously aligned.

this dog of ours

2008-05-07T09:44:00.002+05:30

dogs chase cars
and dogs chase cows
but this one dog of ours
just sleeps in the house

dogs chase cats
and dogs catch rats
but this dog of ours
just sleeps on his mat

dogs love to play
and dogs snap and bite
but this dog of ours
sleeps like a ball, curled tight

dogs are hairy
and dogs are furry
but this dog of ours
is just.. imaginary

spoilt brat at the breakfast table

2008-05-06T15:28:00.000+05:30

she breakfasted on scrambled eggs and toast

tossed in a sausage for fun

the orange juice went so well, and she enjoyed it the most

she now eyed the cheese filled sweet bun

between gulps of the frothy banana shake

she nibbled a walnut or two

sprouts were there, she had to have them for "Mummy's sake"

and pomegranates were nothing new

and mangoes, apples and melons lovingly cut

into cubes of equal sizes

She chews and munches with her mouth shut

"What a spoilt brat I am" she realizes

Four golden lessons for a scientist

2008-05-05T18:28:00.000+05:30

No one knows everything. You don't have to.
Aim for rough water.
Forgive yourself for wasting time.
Learn something about the history of science.

These four lessons were given by Steven Weinberg, a Nobel winning physicist. Read the Full essay.

Well, I believe in rule no. 3 whole heartedly, and am in that state of constant self forgiveness. Ahhh such glee

Three skinny girls

2008-05-01T11:41:00.001+05:30

Three skinny girls sat at a coffee place

Giggling and chatting away

Three skinny girls discussed their current love-life phase

On a hot summery afternoon in May

Three skinny girls envied each other's waistlines

Teased one another, laughed and cried

Three skinny girls advised each other what to do about thinning hairlines

Ogled at passing hunks and sighed

Said one skinny to the others, "Sunday I get engaged"

Skinny 2 laughed it off, 'cos she didnt believe her

Skinny 3 flew into a rage

Skinny 1's life is in such a mess, to her it doesn't matter

The afternoon pulled along, with advice, warnings and more

They sipped mojitos and devoured tarts

Before they knew it it was dark, and time to go

As they left, they knew it was one of their meetings, last

my googlegangers

2008-04-26T08:58:00.001+05:30

Don't we all run a google search of our own name often? Well I keep doing its a sick pastime.
Ok, the first few are some Sunaina Singhs on Facebook/ LinkedIn (I haven't signed up for these, but hey, thankfully Orkut pages don't show up!). Then there are these three to four year old scholarsip proclaiming sites, with names of successful candidates/ interviewees etc that refuse the leave cyberspace. I have won several schols, but THOSE don't show up here grrr. So, as of now, I am none of the Sunaina's on the first page, except as a member of SOGA (Scindia Old Girls Association)

There's a Sunaina Singh who has compared Margaret Atwood's and Anita Desai's feminist perspectives in their literature, or some such

Interspersed between several matrimonial sites advertising very Rajput brides is a porn star Sunaina Singh. YIKES.

Humph, I appear on the third page. My book chapter
Then there's some swimming champion, then there's
Uh Oh... page 5.... An ESCORT!!! She's some 5'4 Oriental Gem from Punjab. @#$%%
and below that #+**@ page is a news article about ME (PAU announces Thapar gold medals )

Some more old scholarship schemes ..."Stipend 2003 list of Meghalaya" ?? Why aren't such redundant pages REMOVED?

Huh, my paper appears on page 8 (my short communication)

Enough now. I need to be spending more time writing a high impact factor article. Or studying for my ARS exam. THAT would put me on the first page... lol

yay! me likes such stuffs

2008-04-25T19:42:00.000+05:30

Last movie seen in a theatre: Juno

What book are you reading? : Do academic books count? Well, they better count. Biometrical Techniques in Plant Breeding (Singh and Narayanan). I actually finished all 24 chapters. Phew. Otherwise Bagchi's... Above Average

Favourite board game: Scrabble. and Chinese Checkers.

Favourite magazine: Dunno why... but glossy glam mags. Femina. Cosmopolitan. Elle.

Favourite smells: There are these smell amalgamations, I'd love to detail 'em
1. This smell I get when I enter villagey parts of western UP- suspended dust+fresh cowdung+cowdung cake smoke+freshly cut green fodder. Memories of Rasmai vacations
2(a). Temple smell: North India - hint of the above dusty-cowdungy + desi deciduous-petalled rose + tangy marigold+ hint of fresh milk
2(b). Temple smell: South India - sandalwood paste + jasmine flowers + coconut oil from teeming heads of thick black hair + Chandrika soap
3. Puppy mouth smell... specially after a milky belch
4. Cuticura powder (from a vintage orange coloured tin)
5. The first time the cooler is switched on, on a dry April day

(No guesses... I DO have a large nose)

Favourite sound: 1. All night sounds in Rasmai... A distant moo, a tubewell spweing water for a late night irrigation, the crickets, and random barks from random dogs

Worst feeling in the world: Feeling that I could have done a better job... about a job already done. YUCK

What is the first thing you think of when you wake up? : Snooze my alarm a coupla times

Favourite fast food place: City Square Mall (Rajouri)'s Food Court. Dunno why

Future child's name: Can I make that.....
Future pup's name? Ah well.... : Snippet (heard it somewhere... and I I love it)

Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…” be THRILLED. It would get spent in no time

Do you drive fast? : On my scooterette.. yep

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No. I'd prefer a real furry creature (pun intended) eeps. hey, no, I can't sustain a cuddle for very long

Storms - Cool or Scary? Scary if alone. Otherwise... thrilling.

Do you eat the stems on broccoli? If well cooked, maybe I wouldn't mind 'em stems

If you could dye your hair any colour, what would be your choice? Streaks of purple and red. Provided I can undo it whenever I to!

Name all the different cities/towns you have lived in: Delhi, Ndola (Zambia), Riyadh, Gwalior, Rasmai (Mathura), Ludhiana, Thalassery, Kozhikode, Mussoorie, Radhakund (Mathura)

Favourite sports to watch: Sports, and me? I'd rather fiddle with the remote and count how many rotten sports channels exist

One nice thing about the person who sent this to you: My bumbling bee, mah lil sistah! She's so full of love! For all creatures, great and small.

What’s under your bed? My slippers maybe. I wish there were a dog, though :( sigh

Would you like to be born as yourself again? Thats my prayer

Morning person or night owl? Morning person

Over easy or sunny side up? Sunny side up. Gooey yolk going " jiggle jiggle"

Favourite place to relax: Home. "The cooler room" at present. I someimes miss my hostel room... which was kinda peaceful

Favourite pie: Broccoli... Mum makes this delightful cheesy broccoli pie

Favourite ice cream flavour: Mint Choco Chip

But then...I may keep updating this post.

And I'd like Periwinkle and Mr X Files to do this now

2007-09-07T23:11:00.000+05:30

i wonder
at the blunder
that threw my life asunder

i think
then i sink
so low, down, under

at a wedding

2007-09-02T11:56:00.000+05:30

Binny's face was crusty with the make up. She called it 'cake up'. The mascara and eyeliner were no longer where they were to be and she appeared like a harried, and very married raccoon. The husband was bored and glanced at this black-eyed pea from time to time. Sighing at his sozzled bachelor friends prancing with PYTs on the dance floor, he wondered if it was all a big mistake. Raccoon, meanwhile played with the idea of rebonding her hair. Meghna looked fabulous with that oh-so-stright hair. Oh no, she was approaching the stage. Sheesh look at her navel. I'm sure Aditya's looking at her. Sure enough, he was. What a body, look at that navel, why isnt her blouse as diaphanous as her chunni?

PMS

2007-08-27T23:01:00.000+05:30

My horoscope is a horrorscope
Things are getting out of hand, and I can't cope.
No one understands me,
I am not what I seem to be.

I try, try, and then lose,
I hate PMS blues.

I dogle

2007-08-20T21:55:00.001+05:30

Wet drops on noses

And whiskers (not on kittens)

Bright eyed daschunds and hungry curs in kitchens

Brown mangy mongrels tied up with string

These are a few of my favourite things

Cream coloured retrievers and half shaven poodles

Angry dogs, sad dogs and pups who leave puddles

Wild dalmations that fly, and don't listen when you call

I love them... yes I love them ...all

Pomeranians and lap dogs always so snappy

Loving labradors lazy and happy

Silver white huskies that I've never seen

These are several of my favourite theeengs....

I belong to a family of 'doglers'. Oglers at dogs. Its crazy ... our unconditional love for canines.

A trip to Baraut

2007-08-13T21:49:00.001+05:30

There's something about the villages of western Uttar Pradesh that makes me feel like running on the dusty roads or along the bunds of the fields like the urchin boys... in nothing but grubby shorts that are falling off my bum!

My field trip to a couple of orchards in Baraut, a Tehsil in Bagpat District, U. P. reminded my of my ancestral village near Mathura. How do these places... miles apart seem so similar? The whoosh of dust, cowdung cake-firewood smoke and aroma of freshly cut chari (Sorghum, used as fodder) filled my nostrils and made me so nostalgic. And the bumpy roads..coupled with the rickety Armada we were aboard formed this deadly combination in which my head felt as if it would jerk off from the neck, and my internal organs seemed to have got dislodged from their various points of attachment to beome a homogenised pulpy mush inside. Nevertheless, the overcast sky and cool breeze laden with familiar smells kept me happy.

The orchard men were pleased to oblige with their knowledge of local mango varieties. They were surprised and probably dismayed that I had come all the way from Delhi for leaves of those trees,and not fruits. Shabudin alias Shaheen (pic) was of great help. My guide, Dr. Bhat and the HOD (Collection & Exploration), Dr Malik, were amazingly cooperative - doing all the jumping and plucking... while I simply did the labelling (Womens lib? HUH.. its great being a girl... and a shortie at that).

Forty three varieties later, we decided to stop. We lunched at Malik Sir's nephew's place. The ghee was superb. Ghevar, the sweetmeat of the monsoon was there in its saccharine, perforated glory. We bought lots on the way back.

The onward journey was bad... bumpier as the driver got mixed up ith the roads. I wanted to cry as I felt my medulla separating from my spine. AARGH. Dr. Malik had to be dropped back yo Mayur Vihar, my leaves had to be refrigerated in NBPGR, and I was dropped home last. Reached at 8 30pm... But it was a rewarding trip.

evenings in bus no. 721

2007-08-09T22:45:00.000+05:30

The blueline buses have been in the news for all the wrong reasons. Anyway, now that the rogue buses are back on the roads, my onward journey from my lab is the same hellish experience. What with lactic acid soaked armpits all around, the sight of sweat-drippy females in SYNTHETIC fluorescent salwar-kameezes makes me feel all the more nauseous. Add to that the entire architecture of a part of the male anatomy pressed against the side of my thigh...I count to three and take deep breaths...there's no place in the bus, thus the squashing. But when the rascal inches his way closer and he actually begins hints of gyrations and thrustings, my elbow comes crashing into whatever part it can perforate. Darn, I forgot the pins my lab mates thrust into my hand - a better weapon to puncture lumpenous thrusty elements. The good-for-nothing gets the hint and shimmies himself out of the way. My stop is approaching (actually I'm four stops away), but I've got to move ahead otherwise I'll never make it (make it? a couple of INCHES of bus space towards the door)!

Getting off the bus I dread the next day, just because of all this...

want don't want don't know

2007-07-23T21:53:00.000+05:30

Have you ever felt that you knew
Exactly what you didn't want
And didn't know
What you wanted exactly

mango maniac

2007-07-19T22:04:00.000+05:30

Some think I'm an insane snipper of mango leaves. I lovingly collect them, then ruthlessly snip and de-vein them (as if they are prawns waiting to be cooked). And what I do to them later is worse... crush them by dehydrating them in liquid nitrogen in a regular mortar-pestle. Its so difficult explaining what I do exactly... and why.

2007-06-28T21:07:00.000+05:30

she was giddy with glee

she could barely hear or see

she swung from tree to tree.............

..............................................

and finally got stung by a bee

................bzz

bzz..........

.....bzz

bzz..

..bz

lizard lizard on the wall

2007-04-29T22:24:00.000+05:30

lizard lizard on the wall

who's the most accommodating of them all?

you slither about on my lovely walls

making me scream and my skin crawl

with your friends up there, i'm so scared you'll fall

right on my face... so just stay up there, on the wall

drown 'em in soap suds

2007-04-12T17:56:00.000+05:30

I know something to lift your spirits

when you feel really low

In just a matter of a few minutes,

you'll feel upbeat and happy, here we go:

Pick out your dirty laundry ( I mean it literally)

Then go at them with a vengeance -

Pound and squeeze and rinse nicely and properly,

turn on the tap full gush, and wash as if it were for your sustenance!

You'll see, with the soap suds and grime

your sorrows and anger wash away

Up and up your spirits climb,

As you put 'em to dry on a hot sunny day!

(Cheers. try it. it really helped me today)

autumn in spring

2007-04-04T17:54:00.000+05:30

There's this dry dry wind blowing
Trees are bare, the branches are showing
The yellow confetti of dried leaves saunters to the ground
With a swishy swooshy sound

hoarse teacher

2007-04-02T23:28:00.000+05:30

I realized today that I love teaching. I can explain somthing till I'm hoarse and till the student is satisfied and most of all, I am sure that he /she has got it. can I see myself as a tacher/ lecturer/ professor? hmmmm.
maybe

dear blog

2007-03-27T11:48:00.001+05:30

dear blog
gotta keep ya goin
my brain i gotta jog
to keep some writing showin

to stop u frm becomin a ghost blog
my jammed brain i've gotta unclog

?

2007-03-18T11:52:00.000+05:30

what happened to all of what was
and how is it that what never was, now is

how can it go on, without a pause
what ever happened to make things as bad as this

gold

2007-03-11T10:21:00.000+05:30

golden stalks sway
rooted in the dark soil

2007-03-03T19:51:00.000+05:30

is it worth it to wage a war aginst the planets?
malefic malefic planets
that are wreaking havoc with my fate?
can i?

words

2007-02-26T18:31:00.000+05:30

Consonants and vowels strung together
Scribbled carelessly on a paper scrap
Mumbled softly in a lover’s ear
Sung, forlornly
Painted huge, proclaiming
Typed hastily
Whispered surreptitiously

What is it with these concoction of syllables that makes us think, want, do?

Pusa Krishi Vigyan Mela

2007-02-24T22:37:00.000+05:30

Rustic country bumpkins love agricultural fairs. They have gathered from different corners of the country to attend the three day Krishi Vigyan Mela at Pusa. There are plenty of food stalls and farmers flock them in large numbers once they are through with conversing with farm experts. Their noisy kids blow those squeaky-trumpety things that come with shocking pink feathers. “paaarp—squeeeeak” and out rolls a silvery chamaleon-like tongue. Egad. Anyway… smug agriculture experts display their satin badges while some meek weather beaten farmers approach them with questions about the latest pest that’s been bothering their potato or wheat. Some prosperous farmers linger around the implement stalls eying the latest tractor attachments. Some farm women are gleefully carting back mango and guava saplings while sinewy lads are lugging sacks of paddy seeds. All happy :)

Pooch

2007-02-22T18:58:00.000+05:30

A blue string bites deep into the mangy scruff
He snaps at pesky little flies in the dusty sunshine
His coat is threadbare and rough
But if he gets crumbs from here and there, he feels fine

He chases tyres on the road
And barks when urchins pull his tail
The crumbly footpath is his abode
And if you whistle, he’ll give you a wag without fail

wrong job

2007-02-21T13:43:00.000+05:30

puerile attempts at prose

grammatical mistakes so gross

the line of work she chose

and her capabilities, were't even close

truancy on the job

hand mostly on the doorknob

dying to run out and sob

when her peace, her colleagues would rob

tick tock

2007-02-19T18:57:00.000+05:30

Time abrades rocks to grains of sand
Time bids rivers to cut gorges grand
Time heals a broken heart
Time brings together, time takes apart

Time passes you
As you pass it

Rajjo

2007-02-16T17:25:00.000+05:30

She hasn’t eaten green vegetables in weeks. Even a coriander-chutney or chillies seem a luxury as they go to the male members of the family. She doesn’t mind. Her broad shouldered, had working husband needs it more than she does. Her bosom swells with pride at the sight of his shoulder blades peeping from his vest. His expanse of a chest was like the desert around her – vast and rippling with sand dunes.

Her anklets clink and the faux ivory bangles clack as she washes the dishes. Just a little water will do – there’s no grease. The clanging vessels smother the sounds of her rumbling stomach.

“Rajjo!!” summons the mother-in-law. A huddle of old women are cackling and cawing in the courtyard and they fall silent as Rajjo enters. “Four years. Four years since this ill-omen of a woman entered this household, and there’s no child.” screams Rajjo’s tyrant. Rajjo bites the dupatta to keep it from flying away from her wheat brown face. The sludge of tears and kohl- murky as night, spreads under her eyes. They know nothing of the miscarriages, the pain and blood. “We’ll tell Manohar to get a new wife. Arrey Saroj… tell me who will look after the fields? And Paro, who will look after us in our old age? Will I die without seeing the face of a grandson? Oh how unlucky can I be?”. The women look at Rajjo, the harbinger of ill luck “Baanjh hogi” (she’s infertile) says one “she’s so ugly, he wouldn’t want to hold her” says another.

Manohar appears at the doorway. He growls at Rajjo to go inside. One look at his mother and she knows that the incriminations are futile. She sighs and whispers to her friend Saroj “Look, she has taken him away from me..”

14-02

2007-02-14T17:30:00.000+05:30

another day replete with false promises
empty words
shifty eyed glances
large fur balls of teddy bears and hearts
a candy world full of candied dreams

2007-02-10T13:07:00.000+05:30

Her eyes are glazed
with the stoic film of acceptance of her fate

The fine lines on the parchment of her skin
run deep with the stories of her life

She gives me her martyr smile
that is a shadow of her sadness

The once dark monsoon of hair
now a withered autumn of frizzed white

Is she beautiful?
I have seen her this way, always
I have not seen her in full blossom -
a tender bud, eager to burst forth
and spread her colour in the canvas of life

But now the colours on the palette are dry, are few
O Lord wield your brush anew

four lines

2007-02-10T12:36:00.000+05:30

i found

that i had lost something

i lost

something that i had found

pilgrim's progress ;)

2007-02-05T23:45:00.000+05:30

Varanasi or Vrindavan. There's a certain something common to these holy places in North India. The five senses have an array of things to absorb..

Olfactory: musky agarbatti fumes combined with heady fresh-cowdung and a hint of marigold aroma

Auditory: Resonant bells, urchin cries, the Lord's name being sung or chanted...droning in the background

Visual: Colour splashed around...saffrons, reds, greens... water in ever changing moods

Taste: Saccharine sweetness of prasada, charan amrit...

Touch: the textures... of fabric, of the gritty dust...

This year has started on a good note.. a trip to Varanasi in Jan, a trip to Vrindavan in Feb..
hmmm Ver next??

limerick no good

2007-02-05T23:36:00.000+05:30

If it were to happen, it would
If I knew it was to be done, I would

I never even understood
That it was for my own good

I think of you often
The bitterness has now softened

But forget you, now I really should

can love be unwelcome?

2007-01-20T22:48:00.002+05:30

Love can come in many forms... Dutifully giving a toffee whenever we meet, caring admonitions, a glance that says so much, an invite for coffee for no reason at all, a chewing gum in the middle of a class in which I'm nodding off to sleep..
The distances and differences are so much, yet there is so much closeness and care. One worries for me, the other dotes on me. And I simply bask in the combined warmth of their affection. Not giving, just selfishly receiving. Because its NOT THEIR affection that I want.
Although it is a manifestation of some kind of love, I don't want it. They both are such wonderful friends, I've never had male friends who actually cared or bothered about me. But I can't reciprocate it to them. ...

Why do I like Billy Joel's songs?

2007-01-11T23:35:00.000+05:30

Ther was a certain somebody who had set Billy Joel's numbers as caller tunes....

"In the middle of the naaaiiiiiiiteee.... I go walkin in my sleee-eeee-eeep...."

"Sing us a song, ur the piano man..."

" .....But its still rock and roll to me...."

" We didn't start the fire..."

"O--o---o... uptown girl..."

I dont know where that person is these days and what he's upto. Upto no good...of that I'm soooo sure...

trashy gothy

2006-12-04T11:19:00.000+05:30

how unconventional is unconventional? and what is convention anyway. dump convention, norms and all... to hell with society that doesn't care for you till you do something outrageous enough to make them point fingers and pass around hot-cross-buns of gossip.i want to be a goth. without the piercing and all (ouch)... but there we go again, i wouldn't be a true goth n the gothic community wouldn't accept me. hey... wy be part of any community. being an individual would be better.. living by one's own rules

kelly clarkson: beeecozzz of youuu

2006-11-25T17:13:00.000+05:30

"Because Of You"

I will not make the same mistakes that you did

I will not let myself

Cause my heart so much misery

I will not break the way you did,

You fell so hard

I've learned the hard way

To never let it get that far

Because of you

I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you

I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of youI find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me

Because of you

I am afraid....

I lose my way

And it's not too long before you point it out

I cannot cry

Because I know that's weakness in your eyes

I'm forced to fake

A smile, a laugh everyday of my life

My heart can't possibly break

When it wasn't even whole to start with

Because of you

I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you

I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of youI find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me

Because of youI am afraid

I watched you die

I heard you cry every night in your sleep

I was so young

You should have known better than to lean on me

You never thought of anyone else

You just saw your pain

And now I cry in the middle of the night

For the same damn thing

Because of you

I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you

I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of you

I try my hardest just to forget everything

Because of you

I don't know how to let anyone else in

Because of youI'm ashamed of my life because it's empty

Because of you

I am afraid

Because of you

sob sob sob

sniffle

PAARP (blowing nose)

once again

2006-11-24T11:48:00.000+05:30

So IT had to happen. The finality of IT is so in-the-face. Nothing more, nothing less. It. The IT that happens. That doesn't happen, but does sometimes.
IT has many forms, and I've seen most of them... the false, the pretentious, the oh-so-true-now-and-forever.
I see IT and yet don't know.

white on blue

2006-11-21T16:46:00.000+05:30

white scallops on a blue shore..or curd spattered on a blue counterpane?

a love story embellished white in a script arcane?

2006-11-19T10:13:00.000+05:30

the silent refrain

plays on and on in my brain

agony contorts

and the devil cavorts

in this caged mind thats no longer sane

on and on, plays the silent lament

the silent prayer to dilute my predicament

but the torture persists

and the devil insists

its not just past, its dire portent

SS28011982

2006-11-13T19:20:00.000+05:30

In medicine, the term syndrome is the association of several clinically recognizable features, signs, symptoms, phenomena or characteristics which often occur together, so that the presence of one feature alerts the physician to the presence of the others - A collection of physical signs and symptoms associated with a disease; a group of malformations that that occur together frequently enough to be recognized collectively as a distinct abnormal condition.

(I like):

A recognizable pattern or group of multiple signs, symptoms or malformations that characterize a particular condition; syndromes are thought to arise from a common origin and result from more than one developmental error during fetal growth. A constellation of signs (wow) and symptoms that recur regularly in clinical populations. a complex of concurrent things; "every word has a syndrome of meanings"

We are all walkin talkin syndromes

Its all programmed in our respective genomes

I have "sunainasinghsyndrome" I. D. SS28011982

And what syndrome, pray, have you?

The nog and the frightingale

2006-11-09T21:49:00.000+05:30

Never had anyone begged me so much, so I couldn’t help but give in and sign for the post of literary secy, PGSSU. I’m a spineless wimp with no decisions of my own and NIL assertiveness. So, when I finally became LS (much to the disdain of my friends…. and to the delight of ‘certain elements’), I remembered a coupla lines from *Sickram Wait’s… ‘the *nog and the frightingale’
“ … far too nervous
far too tense
far too prone to influence…”

that’s so much like me

Breaking out of (brackets)

2006-11-08T13:37:00.000+05:30

Enclosed in parentheses.

Excluded, yet important

Marked, yet separate

Pertaining to, yet not in it

Ensconced between two curves

Wanting to spill out -

and spread all over the page,

Uninhibited.

Let me burst forth in abandon -

delve into the depths of evil,

and seep into the crevices of iniquitousness.

Let me wrong all right -

undo all done,

gushing, rushing..

wreaking havoc to the hilt,

till the madness ebbs

and I simmer to an eddy

that creeps, congeals and hardens -

suspended in inert abeyance on the edge of nothingness.

lazepython

2006-11-07T14:05:00.000+05:30

there's this certain python,

lazepython.

when it wraps itself around me , i feel peaceful warmth and ease

and want it even more with every squeeze

i breathe easier

life seems breezier

and i feel like i'm a langorous trail of molten cheese

memories

2006-10-19T23:10:00.000+05:30

The memories are in faded monochrome

What remains is a whiff as if from a dried up rose stuck to the yellowed pages of a book

tears wept, empty promises and meaningless words whisperd with fake sincerity

a face

some dismembered sounds... mocking laughter

crunching and crackling of what was a heart...

Shards

Nyctanthes in the morning

2006-10-02T07:58:00.000+05:30

Went for a morning jog. Swept my room, had a bath and did a bit of Pranayam. Plucked Nyctanthes (Har sringar)... those orange and white heady smelling flowers... Sounds like an ideal way to start the day? Sure is. This Dushehera I'm planning to fight the evil asuras of

slothfulness

untidiness

disarrayed and disorganized state of mind and room

greed (for unlimited supply of clothes)

envy (of people with great jobs and love life)

Listening to Vishnu Sahasranaama and waiting for the tamasic N to wake up so that we can go for breakfast.

Somewhere Me

2006-09-22T21:58:00.000+05:30

I wake up feeling lost and empty
Something tugging at my heart... an incompleteness
Fear of the unknown, worry of the known, dread of the sure .... all loom over me
Teetering on the brink of sanity I search for me, somewhere

CURLY FRIZZY UNRULY

2006-09-20T22:46:00.000+05:30

CURLY FRIZZY UNRULY

that's my mane

drives me insane

conditioners and hair serum ... all down the drain

efforts to straighten the frizz are all in vain

mum sez 'its lovely hair!'.. i say its a pain

with a dowdy long plait i look like a plain jane

the frizzy rings behind my ears

move me very near tears

the frizziness atop my crown

gives me endless reasons to frown

Bohemian 'Symphony': Mozart's 38th

2006-09-15T13:48:00.000+05:30

Courtesy (www.stevenledbetter.com)

Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgang Gottlieb Mozart composed the D-major symphony late in 1786 for the city of Prague. The score calls for two each of flutes, oboes, bassoons, horns, and trumpets, plus timpani and strings.
The Prague symphony exists because of the long and happy relationship between Mozart and the music-loving citizens of the Bohemian capital during the last years of the composer’s life. Almost a year before composing Don Giovanni for Prague, Mozart wrote a symphony for intended for that city (true, it had its premiere in Vienna, but it was heard in Prague a month later). Like the later opera, it is in the key of D and begins with slow and powerful opening music in the minor, with tension building almost to a breaking point through dissonance and chromatic harmonies. Mozart had evidently learned a great deal from Haydn’s symphonies, because the first movement of the symphony, built out of arrangements and developments of motivic figures more than “themes” per se, is almost monothematic. Mozart avoids any hint of monotony by his brilliant reworking of all the ideas throughout the movement. The Andante is also based on motivic structures to an unusual degree, and its sweetly lyrical character sometimes seems on the verge of being overwhelmed with more tensions like those of the introduction to the first movement, until the chromatic harmonies disperse and the sun reappears from behind the clouds.There is no Minuet movement in the Prague Symphony. In any case, it is unusual for Mozart to write a symphony with only three movements, and we do not know exactly why he did so. The very first idea of the lively and brilliant finale carries with it the suggestion of operatic comedy; the theme seems to evoke physical gesture on the stage. The first audiences can hardly have failed to imagine that Figaro and Susanna, favorite characters from the Mozart opera they had loved so much, were back again, here in a purely instrumental guise.

The 38th Symphony was a temporary return to the three-movement, Italian-style symphony, but it is imbued with some of the musical ideas of The Marriage of Figaro, which was about to be staged in Prague. It is considered one of Mozart’s greatest symphonies. Several steps more advanced than anything in that genre he had composed before, it was wildly appreciated by audiences in Prague when it was premiered.

yellow curtain

2006-09-09T10:18:00.000+05:30

I got my yellow curtain from Sarojini Nagar market. It was the kind I was wanting for some time then. Checked, cotton, with wooden buttons. When I spotted one, it made my day.

Putting it up was one task. As my window was bereft of a pelmet, I had to have nails hammered on either side. Without a hammer, I did it with a crumbly brick (how clever of me). So, several percussions and lots of brick powder later I managed to get the nails in, but realized (too late) that I had to get the spring and the curtain in BEFORE the second nail was hammered in. Now after much tugging, I got one nail out and did the needful. But ever since that, the second nail is precariously perched in a cave of sorts (the hole for the nail widened into this gaping thing) and the spring bearing my beloved yellow keeps falling off.

Now its been behaving itself. I hammered the incorrigible nail with a giant Vaseline jar and... bingo.. it worked!!

Crumpled thoughts

2006-09-08T16:50:00.000+05:30

More gashes across the mindless disconnected sentences. More crumpled paper balls. Yellow crumples, pink, powder blue, and now I’ve reached the green pages of my notepad. Before I construct a rainbow of sorts, I’d rather stop. And what’s the fun in doing it on a computer? After the painful cycle of deleting and restoring from the recycle bin my attempts at rudimentary prose, I empty the darned bin so that the rubbish is lost forever. 0’s and 1’s lost in an unfathomable silicon maze.

Memories of my puerile attempts at rhyme, insisting that the last two words of consecutive lines rhymed thus twisting the sentences into syntax horrors - descended upon me. I’ve been trying for some time now, to put pen to paper for reasons FAR from academic. But words don’t come out. My thought process and imagination have been eroded by years of wasteful rusting... imbibing whatever was taught to me and faithfully exuding those imbibed fluids onto examination sheets. Unquestioningly, in a manner expected of a good obedient student, I have been corroding my intellect by that continuum of absorption and desorption, interspersed with periods of blank, thoughtless idleness. My thoughts amble like aimless blades of dried grass meandering in the mini currents of a stream. Some wisps adhere to the muddy bank, while some, enmeshed together, gather bits of skeletonized leaves from here and there. Others disperse and get lost in the gurgling rush. No thread of continuity.

hungarian dance 5

2006-09-07T15:36:00.000+05:30

Move over Amadeus

I think I've fallen for Brahms

I don't think he's Aquarius

But i'm just in love with 'Hungarian Dance'

Electric-blue gladioli

2006-08-14T09:49:00.000+05:30

They looked artificial. Just like the artificially coloured orchids at florists’. Never seen a gladiolus in that fluorescent blue hue. Realized the dyed-water trick used to colour orchids – the orchid stalks are inserted in little plastic vials of blue dye. Fine, but why that garish colour, that no flower could naturally acquire?
The usual mauve, flaming orange or pristine white that gladioli usually come in would’ve looked so lovely. These stuck out like sore thumbs.
Now someone once said that an ideal gift for an Aquarian gal would be electric blue heels. Well, however Aquarian I may be, I’d never wear a pair of those. Oh yes, I’d gladly accept them, model them in the privacy of my room wearing an electric blue feathery stole (that I bought on some weird whim and never wore) and that’s about it. The heels and the plume would sit in all their electric blue glory in one corner of my wardrobe.

Amazing Amadeus

2006-05-15T17:41:00.000+05:30

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart must have been a quintessential aquarian. Well, his birthday is a day earlier than mine so I feel I can relate to his music. The frequent ups and downs… see I don’t know it in music terminology… but the modulations or whatever are so aquarian. Unpredictable twists and turns… like the 25th concerto. As for marriage of Figaro… its just super.

Guava bliss

2005-11-24T14:40:00.000+05:30

Well, long ago, Leafing through Linda Goodman's Zodiac signs, I found that Aquarians can find the most unusual things funny, or unusual things can make them smile (like a red balloon stuck in a steeple.... something to that effect). Today I saw a vendor with a fresh harvest of green guavas. I don't know why, but it was a heartening sight. I stopped and bought some, and as I type this I'm munching on a salt sprinkled fresh guava. That's made my day!! If you're low, have some fresh fruit... off the tree. You'll feel an inexplicable closeness to nature, and true bliss.

Sip of Beer

2005-09-28T23:57:00.000+05:30

I hate being prim and proper. Following the ethos... the 'done things'. Smile politely, wait till all have got their glasses, then say 'cheers' and take the traditional sip. So what if I took a sip before the hostess had poured out her glass. Well, a glare from my father jolted me out of my reverie and inadvertant sip. Sigh. The evening pulled along with the usual chit-chat. The beer did go to my head, but I felt great. Why the polite smiles? I mean, get to the point, don't be so cloyingly polite. Its ok, we're all humans, out for some eats 'n drinks. Lets eat and drink in our own way... however each feels comfortable.

Coleslaw and pineapple soda

2005-09-26T14:32:00.002+05:30

What a day. Getting my papers together, print outs, photo-copying...Things weren't going smoothly. Kept misplacing the dratted stapler. Then the paper clips went missing. Dashed off to the market to get some. The courier service was in the opposite direction. Heaving a sigh I thought...'Ok. someday I've to garner the courage'. Its scary to take my little scooterette on the main road, especially where there are wild roundabouts where bus drivers go nuts is a disconcerting thought. Well, I've been wasting a lot on autorickshaws lately and its about time I started scrimping.
Horns blared around me, car drivers were frowning or rolling their eyes as I gingerly forayed into the main-road madness. I don't know how I made it but before I knew it I was at BlazeFlash courier service asking the sloppy-man-at-the-counter how much I had to pay to send the papers to Italy.
With the parcel sent, and me feeling all proud at my bravery, I stopped a 'Omelletes' and had coleslaw salad, fries and a pineapple icecream soda.
Wierd combination... but thats me.

Rain in my shoes

2005-09-24T15:44:00.000+05:30

Om ganeshaya namah.
Finally I've managed to create my own blog. Not that its such a big deal. Its my laziness and perpetual dreaminess that distracts me while filling out on-line forms. Yawn. No, No... got to go through wth this.
So. How do I feel today. Lousy. Squelched about in my keds that got drenched as I pulled my scooterette out of slushy puddles. The rain just doesn't seem to go away this monsoon. Anyway, me and my squelchy shoes, went squelch squelch squelch slosh squeak in the department. And after that wrestling with my scooterette and squelching about... we didn't have class.
Came back to my room. Lazed and lolled around... after throwing my squelchers and peeling of my sodden clothes... and thought of creating my blog. Wow. I hope to be a regular blogger.