Blue bottles

Career or Children?

So, this got me thinking.

What would be the first thing I would do if I were a guy?

Hmmm..

16 hours later…

I can’t think of anything that doesn’t have to do with the pp.

Damn, does that mean I’m thinking like a man?

Already?

In a recent update…

still nothing.

Tagged.

That is.

6 of my favorite things to do in this city:

1.Strolling down KP, my arm around Megs’ shoulders, looking at Oshos and silver.

2.Chai in rainy, sleepy Aundh in a tapri. Cheap Chinese at atapri. Basically tapris.

3.Squatting painfully at the raddi store in DBC, sifting through literary rubbish to find obscure and priceless books at 20 bucks.

4.Either Or. Shopping. Breathing. Living. Wanting. Wishing.

5.In Barista, Law College Road, talking about Es- E- Ex.

6. Surviving (and liking it) pazhe hostel and pudu hostel.

I, in turn tag Suhasini, Arjun, Arun and Jayanth. And Saurabh if he’s around.

Yenjoy!

I hate feeling fat.

I look no further.

I can see his beautiful body slice through the clear water. Can smell the water on him- clean and sharp. Can almost taste the power in his muscles, sliding beneath that glorious alabaster skin.

Can see the light hair plastered to his skull.

Something jumps in my head, bashing its way through tradition and immorality. It looms and lunges into a secret part of me.

I see no further.

I’m blinded. Terribly in love. Irrevocably in lust. Captured in spirit.

He sees me. Seeing him. Watching him. Wanting him.

He looks away.

But a second before he does, I can see.

Disdain. Condescension. Disgust.

Conceit. Tradition.

Prejudice.

Colour. Race.

Follies. Ridicule. Regret.

I dream no further.