Blue bottles

An abosolutely stunning song, this.

kaNNathil muththamittaal nee kaNNathil muththamittaal

oru dheyivam thandha poovae
kaNNil thedal enna thaayae
vazhvu thodangum idam needhaanae ..
vaanam mudiyumidam needhaanae
kaatrai poala nee vandhayae swasamaga nee nindrayae
maarbil oorum uyirae …

enadhu sondham nee, yenadhu pagaiyum nee
kadhal malarum nee karuvil muLLum nee
chella mazhaiyum nee, chinna idiyum nee
piRandha udalum nee, piriyum uyirum nee
maraNam meenda jananam nee,

enadhu selvam nee, enadhu vaRumai nee
izhaiththa kavidhai nee, ezhuththu pizhaiyum nee
iraval veLicham nee, iravin kaNNir nee
enadhu vaanam nee, izhandha siRagum nee
naan thooki vaLLartha thuyaram nee

I jumped, hugging my knees.

Then midway change my body to an eagle splay-out.
Change my mind and turn on my back into a foetal curl.

Into the water.

Screaming and laughing.

Eyes screwed shut.

Someone’s knee bangs into me. The water filled my open mouth.

Water gushes in. Jostling and fighting deep in my throat.

Maaaals! You okay, baby?

I open my eyes. I can’t see in the water.

I swallow. I turn around. Slowly.

I scissor up slowly, still smiling in my head.

Surface.

I spit and cough. My cut bottom lip stings and tingles.

I’m OK.

Good. Let’s do that again.

Such was Goa.

Fat. Pouty. Angry. Somethings never change. 

*sigh*

Brown colour somedressything. On Ma’s lap. I think I peed on her or something. She looks grim.

Also observe the prefectly spherical head.

Pic is blurry. Beware.

  Lecherous/Bad Brahmin. Courtesy, Flickr.

Is it just me or have a lotta ads taken us (Tams) as leads?

As examples, one might consider the Bingo ad, Rocket Raja (Nan Totheten!) for Zapak mail and the Maggi rice noodles ad.

If not these, then there are Dads with Tam accents or daughters who drink kaapi with wet hair (Priya, you pointed this out to me?).

We’re becoming cool now?

Bloody hell. I wasted ages 13 to 17 trying to be a ‘townie’ in Bombay-speak. If I knew this would happen, I would have cultivated my accent to suit the trend.

 Its OK. Never to late to be what I could have been (citation required)

He said: Hey. How’re you?

I said: I’m gay!

Stupid ‘Great’ and ‘OK’ came out as ‘Gay’. I hate myself. Sometimes.

Somethings I have been thinking about for a while…

1. I once read this in Tehelka. Although it has little to do with the central idea , this thought stuck with me.

We keep quiet when we are called ‘Chinkies’ and ‘Chinese’ who eat boiled frogs, live in tree-houses, roam half-naked and have Ching Ming or Chow Chang as names for people. I’ve kept quiet when I’ve heard Guwahati called the capital of Arunachal Pradesh. We keep quiet but we resent it. Would you blame us?

All my life, I have struggled, even fought,  to make an identity for myself. Even changed career plans to be identified as  ‘me’. And yet, I carelessly call them Chinks (and one day when I was being overly obnoxious, Momos) and laugh sheepishly when I can’t recognise one from the other.  The UN Declaration of Human Rights says every person is entitled a name. A name being a separate identity.

And here I am, champion of rights of children, calling anyone who is almond-eyed, pale skinned a Chink or Bruce Lee.  I am ashamed.

2.  I have a collage in my room that has a paper cutting which says ‘Cool to be Chaste’.

It was the header of  an article about an organisation called Morelove. Which makes kids sign pledge cards to remain virgins till they wed.

I found this idea almost repulsive. A quote that increased my disgust was made by  the utterly ignorant mother of a twenty year old.

I don’t agree with the modern message of safe sex for youngsters. Safety is only within the ambit of marriage.

Another laughable from the same write-up( Dec 4, 2006 issue of India Today)  as quoted by the Principal of a famous College in Bengaluru .

We have to fight against the influence of some of the bad aspects of the Western Culture… We want our children to experience God’s version of love at the right time.  

I understand the worry that a parent has about his/herchildren having sex. In fact, my parents who are paragons of ‘modern thinking’ strongly disapprove of pre-marital sex.

But this worry is misplaced. What one should really worry about is the health of children. Whether it is the issue of having sex at a very young age before either the body or mind is mature or the unsafe sexual habits of a child.

And it is NODB what one decides to do with their virginity. And why is it even such a big deal?  If I choose not to have sex, it is and should be up to me. Not any God, parent, boyfriend, girlfriend, society or a card.

This retarded attitude bugs me. First for the denial of pleasure, second for the lack of awareness that people have about sex. Look at some of these questions, for example.  For the love of God!

And for marriage being the safety net for sex, I have heard of thousands of women in the hands of sexual perverts and/or  novices in whose hands (Ghastly. Please ignore.) they suffer. The idea of pre-marital sex for me would be, as my friend Satpal says, know and be with the person ‘body, heart and soul’. And to discover whether he’s a freak or not. 

But that’s my affair(ugh!)  alone.  As long as one is at a legally and medically correct age and practises safe sex, I don’t think anyone should find this objectionable.

The Amish let their children have a bout of ’spring break, whoo-hoo!’. And these people even don’t use a telephone. 

Moral of the rant: Have sex when you want to. This also includes the right to choose when you don’t want to.

3. I know this is long. Bear with me. I had a cheese Vada Pao yesterday. It was wrapped up in a McD-esque white paper and brown bagged for me. Vada Pao is now attaining burger status. Is this the death of ‘piece if heaven’ as we know it?

4. The End.

I don’t.

Creepy guy in my opis

Stares at my Comp screen

Then at my chest

He digs his nose and wipes

the mucus

on his shirt.

Burps and doesn’t excuse himself.

Breathes loudly,

like he has a furball to expel

gtalk is blinking orange

Of laughing interns and winkies

I sit, uncomfortable

amidst the muffled laughter and the leery stares

I wish

he would dissolve

Poof!

He scratches his head and looks at me

I cringe. I don’t say anything.

I wish I could

Coldly say

Whatchulookin at, buster?

I can’t. So I sit, stewing in my craven discomfort.

He digs his nose

And stares.

Another winkie appears.