Love is a losing game

I wake up at 5.30 am, not startled but out of frustration. Cold kills me sometimes. I couldn't breathe because my nose was blocked. I wanted to die actually. Its an agonizing situation, where you are deeply in your sleep but can't continue because you can't breathe. I feared if my sinusitis returned. I have nothing to do after waking up and I couldn't go back to sleep either. I chose to switch on my laptop and go online (may be). I signed into all that I could remember of and simply sat there, staring at the screen. Suddenly I thought of killing time by watching interviews or songs in you tube. Old songs / new songs/ Oprah/ Ellen/ MTV awards/ what not?! And I was also on a process of doing an in depth research on the people whose interviews I watched. Time went by really fast. I was happy. And then I remembered Amy winehouse who passed away recently. I had not heard any of her songs other than 'Rehab' neither did I know much about her. I first came to know about her when I happened to watch some crappy Hollywood movie where everyone (famous) were being made fun of! I did not understand who this lady was, she looked completely messed up and ugly with broken tooth et al. I was wondering who it was and Chindu said that it was this famous singer, Amy winehouse and she specifically mentioned that she was a drug addict. I felt sorry for her. That was it. I never thought about her again.

So today morning, now, I think about her. Want to know what Amy is all about . Let me hear her sing..I thought. I watched a couple of her interviews. Loved her accent. I got scared of the erratic behaviour that she showed in one of the interviews. I read the comments. 95% of the people loved her. They called her a real musician, a true jazz singer.. well, I felt glad and relieved after reading those comments because she wasn't anymore and she had an invariably bad history. So, I thought people might post rude comments calling her names and stuff. But that was limited. A very few said something bad about her. Which meant (probably) that she was deeply loved as an artist by the people around her.

I watched many more interviews of Amy winehouse. Sane, genuine, straight, fearless she was. I liked her. I thought she was nice but a little messed up like everyone of us.

I chanced upon a song of hers. The title caught my attention. 'Love is a losing game'
I thought i'll watch it and hear her sing... My heart weighed a thousand suns... it ached... longed for something that it knew would never be owned... I cried.... The song has her pain written all over it... Some fan commented "Am I the only one who believes that she died of a broken heart ??" She probably might have.. might have died of a broken heart rather than a drug overdose. I heard the song over and over again and got depressed in the early morning. I shouldn't have read about her, shouldn't have seen her interviews, shouldn't have heard her sing...I thought. The whole day I kept on thinking about this talented lady who died at the young age of 27. She needed love, She would have lived a happy life singing songs if she got what she had actually wanted. The deep ache in my heart grew.


"Self professed... profound
Till the chips were down
...know you're a gambling man
Love is a losing hand"


I respect love more.

Stealing Beauty

I wait.. I wait so patiently, i'm quiet as a cup.. I hope you'll come and rattle me...
Quick! Come.. wake me up.





PS : Title and words shamelessly borrowed from the movie 'Stealing Beauty'. The photograph - an original, tad bit of me.

My book of secrets

Our perfumed lives..

Imagine... we all have this beautiful perfumed lives... we connect with and relate to various fragrances around us.. and then we go back to the same situation, the same place, gets surrounded by the same people.. we relive those very moments...

I have this old revlon lipstick which smells of the time when i was in love...
Elle 18 naughty spray... smells of my teenage days..
Cuticura powder reminds me of Kodungallur and achaachan (grand pa)
New books, reminds me of the Academic book house and my school days..
The smell of soil when it rains.. takes me again, but back to many places at the same time.. Trivandrum, Trissur, Pune ...

Beautiful perfumed lives of ours..

Sex and thathaastu !!

I've always thought of writing something about her you know, my best friend. In fact i could write lots if i start writing, and i could end up winning an award for so closely observing a person and writing about her, or even direct a movie about her, since she has quite an eventful life! Every time we went outside , roamed around the city, spoke about books, cinema, love, betrayal, men or even the 'tartlet' who unscrupulously destroyed her otherwise 'not so calm' life, i had always thought.. man.. i need to write.! And she would yell.. " Indu you need to write!! " And then there are like tons of Topics to write about her.. and i never got to start !

But today, this moment i miss her.. She has gone to this particular place to do some work and will be back only by 'another day' which i am so not sure of.. I am waiting for her to come back just so that we would meet and just be us - talking our hearts out and laughing at how stupid it all seems!

Well, this particular post is a 'little story' about how funny even a serious scenario of making love could be!! I found it utterly funny and just thought of writing about it.

My dear, I know its a bad start. But i'll do some serious writing later on, trust me on this !!

Okei, so there in that small rusty old house (she's gonna kill me) which is quite intriguing and charming at the same time with its old-world looks, they make love..

Her soulmate (i hate the term boyfriend) is really good in bed, she had told me. So there he was busy doing things that he was supposed to do. He is a very passionate guy and regardless of his weak looking thin body, he would do anything to make his woman happy and satisfied. While he was busy, moving, like a rickety old bus on an Indian road ( well, forgive me for this part.. its just the writers imagination lol!) My best friend, just started talking about how good it would have been if an imaginary guy who had this six pack abs, broad shoulders, extremely tall and well built body, who totally looked like a hunk made love to her.. She was intensely describing the very minute features that she would die for and all (And originally, it would be a lot upsetting to the man who is making love to her listen to all this, but her man was very good in that regard i suppose, he didn't seem to have cared, he was cool and he probably very busy doing the 'act' and may be he never actually heard her talking all that time) He didn't respond for quite some time. He was busy.. She continued to describe. Suddenly from that tedious effort which he was involved in, he raised his head like a turtle would, and said 'THATHAASTU!!!' which literally meant that he wished her that she gets all that she wants! My best friend was shocked/surprised, and broke out in laughter knowing the very fact that he had all this while listened to what she was going on talking about.. She thought he never noticed..! So there she was, talking about someone with a ridiculously perfect six pack abs making love to her when her man was actually busy doing it. I would say that the person who takes the crown here is her soulmate who is rather very broadminded and cool and humorous, So much so that he granted her the wish saying 'Thathaastu' in the end! :)

My best friend told me this little story and we laughed a lot while we were having Masala Dosa at Arul Jyothi a few days back. :) End of story.

Moral : Sometimes little things make us happy in this enormously 'depression' driven economy, state and people! That, some funny little things in the middle of some serious and passionate efforts can bring in some peculiar kind of relief and a funny kind of perplexed joy!! LOL

Love you sweetheart, this is for you !:)

A small walk

So there i was.. back in Trivandrum city. Wasn't i waiting for this moment.. yes i was, but when i reached here, the fact that college life is over kind of weakened me.. Anyways i kept quiet, trying hard to enjoy. Yesterday i had to go to pay the electricity bill and the place i had to go was nearby, just a walkable distance. But in this scorching heat.. its impossible to even raise your eyebrows and look out of your house.. My eyes pained and i felt like i was having those protruding eyes that of a chameleon.. rolling inside out! I asked kuttu for an umbrella. Doomed. Both the umbrellas that we had at home were not in a condition to be used. I went out and to the opposite house. Asked them for an umbrella, while they were searching for one, i went inside and looked all over.. trying to find happiness in the memories that were intact in my mind rather than the house which held them. Yes, its after years that i had stepped into that house. I was attached to the house or the people who previously lived there, to be precise. I got the umbrella, and so started my little walk. I walked and walked and walked. Umbrella in one hand, the pink colour purse and the blue colour mobile phone in the other hand. Started to think and then because i was alone and had nobody to talk to, i started talking to myself. It's so enjoyable. You are the one who talks, the one who listens, the one who argues, the one who criticizes - everything is by you. And so very limited by you alone! Anyways i was thinking how i stopped writing for so long... and i wondered how much more lazy i have become. But i also thought that i write all the time.. its not that i don't write at all. Its just that i write in my mind.. sometimes words flow out and i pen it down in my mind.. i dont take the pains to go online and write. So, many times i wrote like that. And this small walk played a catalyst to write later! While walking, I felt a bit odd. People looked at me. Either because 1) i was too good looking 2) Too ugly 3) Dressed differently 4) seemed like a Maali 5) Out of the world??
I don't know but they looked..! I was tired and gave them all this tired "i-am-a-poor-girl-just leave-me-alone" looks! I continued walking, and i thought i loved Trivandrum so much.. Like Trivandrum was my love, my soulmate or something.. but then when i was walking through those familiar streets, i didn't find it familiar anymore..i felt like Trivandrum is alien to me. Or may be now,i have become an alien as far as Trivandrum is concerned. I was sad. I normally enjoy walking alone anywhere in this city but this time i was overwhelmed with sadness because i was not able to find that joy i used to feel before. I wondered why.. But then the small walk ended abruptly as i reached my destination and paid the bill. Walked back home. While i was walking through the lane.. i saw Rafael, this elderly person who does petty works in our residence association walk towards me.. My eyes met his and he asked me why i looked so upset and serious!
I was in total shock.. i mean, was it so visible? Does my temperament reflect so well and make profound impacts on my face? I was embarrassed. I smiled to him and said nothing and nodded my head to show him i'm completely alright. He smiled and walked past me. I was wondering how people could read your face so well.. I started walking again. It is so hot in trivandrum i thought. I went to the house opposite mine to give back the umbrella, but they seemed to have closed all the doors. I assumed that they must have slept so got back to my home. This small walk, i thought!