A promise all over again


I recently revamped my blog, added a few gadgets here and there, changed the color of the layout from a leafy green to the colors that you see now. Changing such small things actually has such a big impact on how I write, when I write and even what I write. There are some days when I feel like dressing up like am going for a funeral, and on other days I dress up like a rainbow at home. My hubby has given up. Immaculate dresser that he is, he cant figure out why I can be more careful about things like that! Truth is, as a writer I have now come to believe that the lack of a dressing sense is almost EXPECTED from me, and it will be forgiven. After all, don't people usually assume that a  writer isn't exactly like other Normal people?? I know a number who do. 


So am working against the clock. Again. I don't want to be stuck with my laptop the whole time am there in Cochin, so am trying hard to finish off some current projects. I remember a time when I would weep because there wasnt even one single project around and nobody even knew I existed. By God's grace, at least that has changed. I now have clients who ask specifically for me, and who are willing to wait till my work schedule clears up a bit. One client is patiently waiting for me to go home and get back, so that we can begin work on his project. I feel so guilty I cant tell you how much.. But then again, with a toddler who is endlessly testing my patience, I have to make a sacrifice somewhere..


On the cooking front- I recently made some home made custard with a blueberry compote. I am not even sure if you get things like blueberry back in India, and I really want to make use of the fact that you get them in plenty here. If you like custard, chuck out the ready made powder that you get which needs to be added to milk and then cooked. Make it from scratch. Trust me, its worth it. The custard tastes different, has a silky texture to it and is just divine. In the end my trifle pudding wasnt exactly the kid you may be used to. I put one layer of cake, which was in my shelf for weeks, topped that with a huge layer of custard and then blueberry compote ( blueberry+water+sugar) on top as a kind of sweet dressing.  Whats the point if you cant play around a but and improvise somebody else's recipe?


So I begin this month with another promise- one that I have made so many many times before. That I will write my blog more often. Not because I have a huge following or something, but just to keep in touch with the real me and my thoughts. These days, its easy to forget yourself..

AND a New Year begins..

On December 31, 09 I decided to give myself a wonderful treat. Just a nice way of patting myself on the back in encouragement for all the good work done this year.  I should have taken the opportunity to walk inside one of the city's hotspots and enjoy a drink that's really easy peesy to make but goes by a long seductive name such as ' Long walk on the beach', or ' Triple Strawberry licks' or something else like that.Motherhood has seriously buried that side of me which wouldnt have thought twice about a pub drink a few years back. Today, fun means going out of the house by myself and getting back before kiddo gets up. Yes, my little brat even determines how much fun I should have these days. No wonder then that the fun o meter is always steady at zero! 

Anyways. I went for a book sale!!! If am not writing books, I am buying or reading them. I picked up so many books for kiddo and then picked up some good titles for myself. Lets see- I picked up Jhumpa's Unaccustomed Earth, Revolutionary Road, a book on philosophers, another on Geisha, a non fiction and then Amitav Ghosh's Glass Palace which I adored. It was absolute mayhem there, and I really wished I had four hands instead of two. Clumsy me, I dropped two books twice, stamped an old gentleman's foot and accidentally knocked down two books from a stand. So yes, I got noticed and also plenty of smirks. Don't blame me. Something happens to me whenever I see tempting signs like' Buy 2 get 2' or up to 70% off. It just triggers something off. Now I have a few books to last me the next few months till my next India trip, whenever it is. 

This year, we decided to stay put at home and avoid being part of any celebrations. For some reason, I felt really sober on the last day of what's been a highly eventful year, and not exactly in the right way. Just when I thought I could use the last few moments of 1009 to reflect and think and pray, I ended up doing nothing of that sort. Our neighbours were having a garden party and there were such loud sounds of drunken singing, laughter and what not. Then they all began the New Year countdown. That set me thinking- Do they think that we are boring people? That maybe we werent invited to any party? That maybe we dont have anything to do? So psycho that I am , I began to shout and scream Happee New YEARRR , wooo hooo in my sitting room, hoping they would hear and think we were having our own fun at home. Did they care? I think not. And what was the great programme we were watching on tv? A stupid awards show called Sabsey Favourite Kaun, where an award was even given for the fittest celebrity. But watching my kid dance to the music added the much needed New Year spark.

Its almost a year and I miss my grandfather very much. I didn't realise I loved him so much till he left us in Jan this year. I wonder if I told him I loved him enough or if he knew. Personally, I find that good people are so few in this world. And my grandpa was undoubtedly one of them. When I think of him, I have tears of pride every time, because its so wonderful to me that I knew a good man so closely and that I have the fortune of calling him my grandfather. If I can be even 10% of the person that he was, that would be fitting justice to his goodness. I like to think that up there in heaven, he is happy, has plenty of friends around him and even gets to fix a car or two. He loved cars, and how ironic that he was such a fab driver and I am such a lousy one. I just wish my kid could have known him. For now, I will just keep my grandfather safe in my memories and heart.

So am hoping that this year has pleasant surprises in store. That I am finally able to kick out my post pregnancy weight gain. That I get to write more books and many more writing projects. That I grow as a mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend. That I am able to make a few more dreams come true. That the ones who matter most are happy and healthy! Have a great New Year...love and hugs

On the relaxed road

This week I am trying hard. Making all efforts possible. Leaving no stone unturned. All in a bid to relax. And do nothing remotely related to writing or creative thinking.


If you are reading this, you must be thinking, whats so hard about relaxing? To me, a confessed writeaholic it really is. On the other hand, this sabbatical is more or less self imposed, because I decided that I was getting weary of the schedule that I follow every day from Monday to Saturday. I was getting weary of typing out almost similar sounding mails to my clients, and waiting for them to respond. I felt that my brain needed a vacation. So, we planned a short holiday, just a 2 night 3 day package. 


As crappy days would have it, I can say with sincerity that my steaks of luck are entirely over and not coming back anytime soon. In November, I was wrapped firmly in the arms of a viral flu, which turned bacterial. The fact that I can barely think straight, my head feels fuzzy all the time and I am always tired, were reasons enough to postpone our much looked forward to trip. We have now shifted the dates to Jan, but am sure something will come up then. Not being pessimistic. Just very realistic. After all didnt Murphy say that if something can go wrong, it just will? I bet he has tone of research to back that up.


So back to my tirades on relaxation. Yesterday I didn't do anything creative, substantial or even concrete at all. I parked my hideous behind on a leather sofa which is no longer soft and plump, and watched a few episodes of the Tudors. Yes I do like Jonathan Rhys, and I love the Tudor period. Something about kings and queens sparks an interest in me. And I felt happy. Yessss, first day of relaxation and I really felt relaxed. Then I wondered... why hadnt I thought of doing this earlier? 


Maybe I was a bit too optimistic. Today I tried doing the same thing. Sat down and tried to watch the Tudors. Instead I was waging a battle in my head with my brain-


Me- " Brain, this week is all about relaxing. Now REELAXXX.'


Brain- ' Dont you feel so useless, sitting here and doing nothing? Write a poem. Read something. GET UP.'


Me- ' No brain, you need to relax. Now keep watching the Tudors. Even if you have seen it before.'


Brain- ' Am bored. Cant we do something creative?'


Me- ' No creativity for a week. Reelaxx.'


Brain- ' Not interested..'


In the end, my brain won. How do I know? Well am writing this creative piece ain't I?? I wonder what tomorrow's attempts at relaxation will bring!!

Of late -

1. I made the lousiest pasta in tomato sauce, which deserves the top spot in the category of my worst cooking blunders. I tried force feeding hubby, but he was smarter. My one year old kid, puked just seeing the pasta. I decided not to poison my family and threw it away.

2. I had a big craving for cheese. Not the white creamy kinds, good old cheddar, with its strong taste and yellow colour.. So I bought myself some. Not having allowed myself the humble temptations of cheese had its aftermath. I puked in the loo, because the cheese was too calorie rich for my tummy thats better accustomed to boiled broccoli and carrots. Moral of the story- get tummy to realise there's better food out there.

3. Aravind Adiga's second book irritated me so much that I couldnt get through it. What a tragedy! He had actually restored my faith in Indian writers with his White Tiger novel. It was a shining beacon blah blah. Cut short- the book was really awesome. The second one? failed to match up.

4. I mailed the respective websites to delete my timesjobs account- they were so pesky and kept asking why I wanted to do that. Told them that I already had a job. Thankfully they did the needful.

5. I get up early ( yes 5:30 am is early for me), put on my track pants and jogging shoes to sleep walk outside my home. In the process I get to dream a bit longer and I sweat with the heat. Exercise for the day over!

6. I have this huge fetish for making desserts. I just love making them and watching others eat. Am trying to be as creative as I can and sometimes my wonderful never done before because its too insane ideas backfire like mad.

7. My kid does have a few things in common like me- irritates people to get attention, loves books, loves playing hide and seek, likes to shake it to good music and chatters away. On the flip side he firmly beleives in throwing tantrums and doling out firm punishments. The bite marks on my arms are proof enough that I have been a bad girl.

8. I am so excited about being asked to write a short story for children. Today I commence thinking up ideas for the same. I love writing for children.. there's a certain innocence to the ideas and books that cant be replicated in adult writing.

9. I decided not to work weekends again. Its too much of a strain and the days ended up being nothing different from the weekdays. I ended up falling ill because of creativity overcooking.

10. I have decided that I have to write my blog more often! even if I am the only reader

The poet in me


I was genuinely so worried. I thought I had lost it. Not my sanity which gets lost ever so often but my touch of poetry writing. Its been months since I sat down to write poetry and it hurts. Hurts because I am a poet first and foremost, before being an article writer or a short story writer or anything else. The last time I tried to write a poem the words got stuck and wouldnt come out the way I wanted them to. I had a different image in my head and on paper, something else which wasnt even a shadow came out. I blamed my muse- damn stupid muse who has nothing new to say.

I realised way too late why I couldnt write a decent poem- I couldnt find any inspiration around. Yeah terrorists are having fun creating havoc, the world is getting madder and Angelina Jolie is getting insecure about Brad Pitt; but nothing concrete that can be caught and released in a poem. Then there's the other half of me that says its purely my fault. How did the Romantics and countless other poets around the world get inspired all the time? Because they searched for it. Stopped in their tracks. Listened. Heard. Saw. Observed. Thought. Reflected. And then wrote.

I have been so busy making my pocket money writing articles for so many sites that I forgot to do all of the above. What relief when I sat down to write and this was result-

THE SONGS UNSUNG

Sitting here by myself,

On the edge of this cliff,

I can feel my thoughts wander,

And my heart adrift.

I want to flashback,

To escape into my past,

Drown in my emotions,

Let the hangover last.

I long to hunt out my muse,

Who ran away long ago,

I keep hallucinating,

That she is outside my door.

I want to remember the pain,

I felt when I wrote every line,

The tears that stung and the sorrow,

That felt divine.

The poet has wandered off,

Lost in a forest wild,

Leaving me with nothing more,

Than memories mild.

Where is the God,

Who supposedly gave me my voice,

He chooses to hide as well,

And makes not a noise.

I am not done yet,

I have my songs unsung to sing,

More tales of horror to tell,

Share the sorrows they bring.

My songs unsung may be,

Mere fragments in my head,

Bits that haunt me as I lie,

In my narrow bed.

But someday I tell you,

My songs that lie unsung,

Will take form like,

Honey from my toungue.

Halleliujah!! I still had it in me..