Ok so….her book sounds like someone else’s…At 17 is not everyone trying to imitate someone…
All those sniggering, “I knew it would happen’… “ohhh she copied!!”…. ‘thought she is too great eh” people kindly shut up!
Besides, what I have learnt from random readings in my school's library..ALL american teen lit sounds the same!
All of us, it looks like ,are holier than thou and just waiting for someone to have a downfall so that we can tear them apart bit by bit in all our conversations..
Imagine for a moment what she is going through…this moment..just now…all eyes at her..in her college, in her neighbourhood, the TV the newspaper…imagine the misery, imagine the emotional scarring…and all this at the age of 19…no she does not deserve it.
The blame should go to the publishers for doing no homework, to the parents who pressured her and goodness knows how many other people who raised her to an unrealistic level.
So what about Mistress of Spices…now that sounds exactly like Joanne Harris in Holy Fools and in Chocolat…..how about it eh…shall we begin to rip apart Chirta Divarakuni?......or Paul Mayeda Berges?
And while we are at it let us rip each other apart and those on this planet who are totally original, immune to imitation please be the referees!
Friday, April 28, 2006
Saturday, April 22, 2006
I was a kid then...
I grew up in a huge rambling bungalow….with huge gardens and orchard…my very own outhouse that was my dollhouse, I had my own pond complete with lotus plants and frogs.
Summer evenings meant making mud pies and chasing my dogs. Summer afternoons were for sitting in the guava tree and winters were made delicious my mom’s Swedish fried potatoes and Enid Blyton.
At some point I had a huge stuffed frog. Long legs, big bulging eyes, and greeeennn!. Deep in thought one night with the frogs in the pond singing merrily, I suddenly thought about how lonely my little frog must me and how mean I was for keeping him in my room when he obviously belonged in the pond with his family. So pushing away my fears of going out from the warmth of the house to the long walk down to the bottom of the garden where the pond was, I ran out and very gently put him in the pond, said a small goodbye and told him to be a good boy.
He is still there I hope …..living merrily among his friends.
Summer evenings meant making mud pies and chasing my dogs. Summer afternoons were for sitting in the guava tree and winters were made delicious my mom’s Swedish fried potatoes and Enid Blyton.
At some point I had a huge stuffed frog. Long legs, big bulging eyes, and greeeennn!. Deep in thought one night with the frogs in the pond singing merrily, I suddenly thought about how lonely my little frog must me and how mean I was for keeping him in my room when he obviously belonged in the pond with his family. So pushing away my fears of going out from the warmth of the house to the long walk down to the bottom of the garden where the pond was, I ran out and very gently put him in the pond, said a small goodbye and told him to be a good boy.
He is still there I hope …..living merrily among his friends.
Brandon George
Brandon loves amphibians, reptiles and all that comes under swiggly wiggly….
Brandon wants to live in a rainforest someday in a house made on top of a tree.
Brandon loves the blue poison dart lizard.
Brandon will choose a rubber spider over a remote controlled car.
Brandon reads books like The Amazing Amazon, Book of Reptiles, Snakes of the World.
Brandon told me he was moving from the apartment next to mine. He added that he would write me a letter when I told him I would miss him terribly.He said that whenever I missed him, I must take out that letter and read it and I would not miss him anymore.
……….Brandon…….all of 6 years…….and already a heartbreaker.
Brandon wants to live in a rainforest someday in a house made on top of a tree.
Brandon loves the blue poison dart lizard.
Brandon will choose a rubber spider over a remote controlled car.
Brandon reads books like The Amazing Amazon, Book of Reptiles, Snakes of the World.
Brandon told me he was moving from the apartment next to mine. He added that he would write me a letter when I told him I would miss him terribly.He said that whenever I missed him, I must take out that letter and read it and I would not miss him anymore.
……….Brandon…….all of 6 years…….and already a heartbreaker.
Will the following people please get out of our planet!
Ø People who rip off leaves of a tree/plant/bush they are passing by.
Ø People who chop down trees for no reason (no reason is good enough anyway).
Ø People who are cruel to animals.
Ø People who employ little kids to do work they should well be doing themselves.
Ø People who make a profession of delighting in other peoples sorrow
Ø People who make it their profession to character assassinate.
Ø People who can only yell at their subordinates.
Ø People who hurl away their juice/coffee/pepsi cups, paper napkins etc anywhere they please.
Ø People who tear out pages from books they borrow.
Ø People who try and often succeed in controlling and destroying the lives of others.
Ø ….not done yet……..will add more……
Ø People who chop down trees for no reason (no reason is good enough anyway).
Ø People who are cruel to animals.
Ø People who employ little kids to do work they should well be doing themselves.
Ø People who make a profession of delighting in other peoples sorrow
Ø People who make it their profession to character assassinate.
Ø People who can only yell at their subordinates.
Ø People who hurl away their juice/coffee/pepsi cups, paper napkins etc anywhere they please.
Ø People who tear out pages from books they borrow.
Ø People who try and often succeed in controlling and destroying the lives of others.
Ø ….not done yet……..will add more……
Friday, April 21, 2006
Do I look all right?
Stumbling across something old and forgotten can be a very strange experience…..clearing out a cabinet a few days ago I found pictures from my 20th birthday…..the girl there was not bad looking at all….so why had I at 20 obsessed over the way her hair was unruly curly and not silken straight? Why had I imagined her to be an obese thing? She was slim and trim…..to think of all the stress I went through imagining someone who I was not…
Not that things have changed at 28…..they are very much the same….my hair still could be more like those sunsilk ads..I can be that much more trim…I can never be gorgeous enough…not even gorgeous.. let alone gorgeous enough…
The amount of stress we give ourselves obsessing over the way we look must be the biggest contributing factor to rapid physical degeneration…not to mention emotional.
Then think of those who go great lengths to maintain what the imagine to be an ideal of beauty…perms, bleaching, starving, surgery…..60 going on 20…
Imagine those who do not confirm to the fair and lovely ideal….and now the fair and handsome ideal…(whatever happened to tall dark and handsome man…went away with the knight in shining armour?)
Anorexia, bulimia, bleaches, cuts, tucks, folds,…..
When nothing else works…
Suicide?
Not that things have changed at 28…..they are very much the same….my hair still could be more like those sunsilk ads..I can be that much more trim…I can never be gorgeous enough…not even gorgeous.. let alone gorgeous enough…
The amount of stress we give ourselves obsessing over the way we look must be the biggest contributing factor to rapid physical degeneration…not to mention emotional.
Then think of those who go great lengths to maintain what the imagine to be an ideal of beauty…perms, bleaching, starving, surgery…..60 going on 20…
Imagine those who do not confirm to the fair and lovely ideal….and now the fair and handsome ideal…(whatever happened to tall dark and handsome man…went away with the knight in shining armour?)
Anorexia, bulimia, bleaches, cuts, tucks, folds,…..
When nothing else works…
Suicide?
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Oh Help…
Now I sound like Jeanette Winterson in Lighthousekeeping when I wrote Many Voices..one Soul. Many Voices is an attempt to form a story…..with many people speaking……each trying to understand their story and at the same time trying to tell it..not really knowing what to hide..what to reveal…..
Now I sound like Jeanette Winterson in Lighthousekeeping when I wrote Many Voices..one Soul. Many Voices is an attempt to form a story…..with many people speaking……each trying to understand their story and at the same time trying to tell it..not really knowing what to hide..what to reveal…..
Saturday, April 15, 2006
I Wiccan
If there was anything more my friends needed to prove that I am a witch in disguise, they got it. I succumbed to Taro cards and spell books in a bookstore recently. They say that the Taro deck chooses you as much as you choose your deck. So while I did buy the standard Raider Whaite taro deck I was drawn to the Merlin Taro deck. I ended up buying beautiful Taro guide books as well.
Laying out and interpreting Taro cards is easy as it is difficult. I found that I can completely relate to the Merlin Taro. According to the Merlin Taro, I am the Queen of Serpents. Amazing coz her spiritual animal is the cat and I am a snake according to the Chinese calendar. Her personality also closely matches mine…..
Divination, Wicca , nature worship….all that has been called pagan is beautiful. Witchcraft is not the evil black art we imagine it to be. A witch is a wiccan…witch came about the the middle ages when they burnt any woman who they thought practiced black magic. Magic is magick….pure and white….and beautiful!
Here is an extract………
Contrary to what those who choose to persecute or lie about us wish to believe, Wicca is a very peaceful, harmonious and balanced way of thinking and life which promotes oneness with the divine and all which exists.
Wicca is a deep appreciation and awe in watching the sunrise or sunset, the forest in the light of a glowing moon, a meadow enchanted by the first light of day. It is the morning dew on the petals of a beautiful flower, the gentle caress of a warm summer breeze upon your skin, or the warmth of the summer sun on your face. Wicca is the fall of colorful autumn leaves, and the softness of winter snow. It is light, and shadow and all that lies in between. It is the song of the birds and other creatures of the wild. It is being in the presence of Mother Earths nature and being humbled in reverence.
…………so if that is Wicca…….I am a Wiccan!
Laying out and interpreting Taro cards is easy as it is difficult. I found that I can completely relate to the Merlin Taro. According to the Merlin Taro, I am the Queen of Serpents. Amazing coz her spiritual animal is the cat and I am a snake according to the Chinese calendar. Her personality also closely matches mine…..
Divination, Wicca , nature worship….all that has been called pagan is beautiful. Witchcraft is not the evil black art we imagine it to be. A witch is a wiccan…witch came about the the middle ages when they burnt any woman who they thought practiced black magic. Magic is magick….pure and white….and beautiful!
Here is an extract………
Contrary to what those who choose to persecute or lie about us wish to believe, Wicca is a very peaceful, harmonious and balanced way of thinking and life which promotes oneness with the divine and all which exists.
Wicca is a deep appreciation and awe in watching the sunrise or sunset, the forest in the light of a glowing moon, a meadow enchanted by the first light of day. It is the morning dew on the petals of a beautiful flower, the gentle caress of a warm summer breeze upon your skin, or the warmth of the summer sun on your face. Wicca is the fall of colorful autumn leaves, and the softness of winter snow. It is light, and shadow and all that lies in between. It is the song of the birds and other creatures of the wild. It is being in the presence of Mother Earths nature and being humbled in reverence.
…………so if that is Wicca…….I am a Wiccan!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Esacpe
All our life we try to create ourn own reality....
and so we run from what is real..
.Fear...it is a huge driving force....and that mild unease somewhere between the rib cage and abdomen whispers....and makes us flee...and we run run and run until we are so far away that turning back frightens even more
and so we run from what is real..
.Fear...it is a huge driving force....and that mild unease somewhere between the rib cage and abdomen whispers....and makes us flee...and we run run and run until we are so far away that turning back frightens even more
Betrayal
The eyes were not red with sorrow and pain..Radha cried tears of rage….!
Not once did Krishna turn back and look at her…
He could have atleast done that.
Yes, they would for centuries forever be remembered as the most beautiful of lovers…..the most passionate, but somewhere deep within Radha knew this was not true…
Krishna forgot Radha…..
and that was the truth.
Not once did Krishna turn back and look at her…
He could have atleast done that.
Yes, they would for centuries forever be remembered as the most beautiful of lovers…..the most passionate, but somewhere deep within Radha knew this was not true…
Krishna forgot Radha…..
and that was the truth.
Loony
Like the moon, I am in phases...one day I am all emotions..approach me on that day with your intellectualism and you will get singed
Loss....
Yesterday a monkey died...she was pregnant and her mate sat by her helplesly crying....
We could do nothing...he was sad, confused, kept touching her, lifting her hand...confused he tore at leaves and ate them...
He had lost his hand a long time ago when his band of monkeys were trapped, and only he and his mate escaped...
he lost his hand...
They would eat together, hug each other and sleep...
and now he is alone, lost, sad,...
how do I help him..there is nothing I can do..
I see him sit listlessly on the tumbledown hut..now and then he moans...my apples and oranges sit by him untouched...
Yesterday he did not let us bury her...today she must have been buried by my friend....
He begins life alone....
Dear monkey...if I could hug you and hold you tight I would...I know that it is not going to be all right...I know you will be alone....I will watch you every day...give you all the things monkeys love to eat....and think of you for as long as I can when I pray.
We could do nothing...he was sad, confused, kept touching her, lifting her hand...confused he tore at leaves and ate them...
He had lost his hand a long time ago when his band of monkeys were trapped, and only he and his mate escaped...
he lost his hand...
They would eat together, hug each other and sleep...
and now he is alone, lost, sad,...
how do I help him..there is nothing I can do..
I see him sit listlessly on the tumbledown hut..now and then he moans...my apples and oranges sit by him untouched...
Yesterday he did not let us bury her...today she must have been buried by my friend....
He begins life alone....
Dear monkey...if I could hug you and hold you tight I would...I know that it is not going to be all right...I know you will be alone....I will watch you every day...give you all the things monkeys love to eat....and think of you for as long as I can when I pray.
Many Voices...contd...
This story begins in the hills .The hills of my memory. Mingling with lost hopes and dreams they form a patchwork blanket that like a shroud, wraps around me.
It begins with the feel of rock sprouted stream water flowing over my feet and the feel of smooth cold pebbles under.
My world was different then. I believed that magic could happen in the hills. The mist, the moss, the brown rocks, the old forgotten temples, all whispered messages to me. If, that long time ago, someone had asked me the meaning of happiness, I would for sure have told them. But no one asks a 17 year old the meaning of happiness.
Lying on my back at night, feeling the chill creep up my spine through my sleeping bag, I reached out and held the million stars that filled every inky black apace above me.
……..and so those memories wind themselves around my present , as I flip through albums of photos you have taken of your beloved hills. You go there often and speak to me of the hills as if it is I, not you, who went there.
But I am not 17 anymore and sorrow has replaced happiness. Silent tears fall into the streams you speak to me of. You bring back with you the heady scent of the pine trees but I am unable to take them in. The stars you traced patterns out of have forgotten that I once held them. Only the chill remembers and makes me tremble with an unbearable grief.
It begins with the feel of rock sprouted stream water flowing over my feet and the feel of smooth cold pebbles under.
My world was different then. I believed that magic could happen in the hills. The mist, the moss, the brown rocks, the old forgotten temples, all whispered messages to me. If, that long time ago, someone had asked me the meaning of happiness, I would for sure have told them. But no one asks a 17 year old the meaning of happiness.
Lying on my back at night, feeling the chill creep up my spine through my sleeping bag, I reached out and held the million stars that filled every inky black apace above me.
……..and so those memories wind themselves around my present , as I flip through albums of photos you have taken of your beloved hills. You go there often and speak to me of the hills as if it is I, not you, who went there.
But I am not 17 anymore and sorrow has replaced happiness. Silent tears fall into the streams you speak to me of. You bring back with you the heady scent of the pine trees but I am unable to take them in. The stars you traced patterns out of have forgotten that I once held them. Only the chill remembers and makes me tremble with an unbearable grief.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Many Voices...one Soul....
We all have our stories.You have yours, I have mine. We, with the flare of a soap opera writer write them out and watch them grow, change, evolve and trace out in our evolution our many childhoods , our varied youth and perhaps even our winter.
My story is frozen in limbo.I have refused to let time move on….or so I imagine.Time has long moved past me.I stand, one foot forward, but my head is turned backwards, my arms reaching out, calling out to a past that, like a dry leaf on a windy day,is drifting further and further away.I cannot run after it nor can I move forward.
So where did my story begin?…All stories begin where another ends……..mine….it never really began……
My story is frozen in limbo.I have refused to let time move on….or so I imagine.Time has long moved past me.I stand, one foot forward, but my head is turned backwards, my arms reaching out, calling out to a past that, like a dry leaf on a windy day,is drifting further and further away.I cannot run after it nor can I move forward.
So where did my story begin?…All stories begin where another ends……..mine….it never really began……
The Sacred Feminine
Adore me, I am Shatki, fear me,I am Kali.
The skulls I hold drip with your blood, without me your dance is incomplete. Ash smeared one, your locks do not trap me nor does your eye burn me.You are my slave, the universe resounds with my name (who are you without me).
I am Radha, I need no walk in the fire to prove my love.You dance…..for me…..you play your flute…..for me…..the world knows you because of me…
I am Sita, daughter of the earth, I hold in me more suffering than you can ever bear.
Maha Kali, Bhava Bayankari, I am destruction. I created myself to destroy you.On your destruction I shall dance, on your flesh I shall feed of your vital sap, I shall drink.
The skulls I hold drip with your blood, without me your dance is incomplete. Ash smeared one, your locks do not trap me nor does your eye burn me.You are my slave, the universe resounds with my name (who are you without me).
I am Radha, I need no walk in the fire to prove my love.You dance…..for me…..you play your flute…..for me…..the world knows you because of me…
I am Sita, daughter of the earth, I hold in me more suffering than you can ever bear.
Maha Kali, Bhava Bayankari, I am destruction. I created myself to destroy you.On your destruction I shall dance, on your flesh I shall feed of your vital sap, I shall drink.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Disassociative Identity Disorder
Do you have disassociative feelings? Like you are watching yourself live your life?.....and do you then laugh at yourself or get angry with yourself as you would seeing an actor play her role?.....hear yourself talk and say the things you never would?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
LBD!
Walking in and out of the hundreds of clone like shops in a mall the clone of another mall I stumbled upon a dress shop. I was looking for a simple black top…no fuss..no glitter….no strange cuts…just a short black top…..(I am still to find one)
Instead I found a LBD…..black, small, with a seductive neckline. I pushed it away with a sigh. My friend who’d have none of it and more or less forced me to try it on. There I was in the trial room wondering what would happen if it tore, if it id not fit, if I ended up looking like a sausage…..horror..terror!!
As it slid down my neck I knew I was wrong……what a perfect fit…..I had to make sure the person in the mirror was me….oh! no wonder they go into raptures over a LBD.
With a price tag or 3k I was not going to buy it…..still…for that one moment I was a queen…..!
Instead I found a LBD…..black, small, with a seductive neckline. I pushed it away with a sigh. My friend who’d have none of it and more or less forced me to try it on. There I was in the trial room wondering what would happen if it tore, if it id not fit, if I ended up looking like a sausage…..horror..terror!!
As it slid down my neck I knew I was wrong……what a perfect fit…..I had to make sure the person in the mirror was me….oh! no wonder they go into raptures over a LBD.
With a price tag or 3k I was not going to buy it…..still…for that one moment I was a queen…..!
Monday, April 10, 2006
Friday, April 07, 2006
Scraps
Do you have hidden away..forgotten..that card you got when you were 10? It ..spoke about roses and violets???……
an old tattered doll ……..
the tea set on which you daintily laid out mud pies???
………..Trolls?..hair green, pink and blue?
Enid Blyton?.....
10 minute tales???...........
an old tattered doll ……..
the tea set on which you daintily laid out mud pies???
………..Trolls?..hair green, pink and blue?
Enid Blyton?.....
10 minute tales???...........
Amber
Trapped by that moment of passion…the insect cannot move…resin immortalizes forever the beauty and cruelty of love.
Wish List
Give me old musty dusty books that speak to me of those who turned their pages……
Give me pine scented candles that carry with them tales from the hills….
Give me the shiny pebble, the rivers child…..
Give me pine scented candles that carry with them tales from the hills….
Give me the shiny pebble, the rivers child…..
Midnight
Not a sound on the pavement!Midnight………..(Eliot was right)……..does strange things…..As witches fly in the moonlit sky….my cat awake watches with me…the silence…..I will wait here till the dew comes…..
Hunger
Soon chocolate coated coffee pangs will hit me......melting dripping cheese coated toast would go well with Life at Blandings.
Cats!!
Cat smashed lovely crystal vase….turned around.. surprised at the noise. .hopped…licked paw and went on her way……..oh yes..the tail was in the air....and no.. she had nothing to do with all that scattered glass!!!
...Lady...looks on in quiet horror as the two kittens rip apart a steamed sardine .....how undignified!....these uncouth ruffians dare to share space with me...the beautiful Persian?
Bounce…..fly……..bounce………kittens find the tummy the ideal spring board. Especially at 2 in the morning….of course they love you….after the bounce game is over…they will sit , one on tummy one on chest and begin a duet of the low rumbling kind…..a lick…a sniff….a ‘I love you’ claw dug deep into soft tissue….and… there!! they are sleeping as only a cat can!
...Lady...looks on in quiet horror as the two kittens rip apart a steamed sardine .....how undignified!....these uncouth ruffians dare to share space with me...the beautiful Persian?
Bounce…..fly……..bounce………kittens find the tummy the ideal spring board. Especially at 2 in the morning….of course they love you….after the bounce game is over…they will sit , one on tummy one on chest and begin a duet of the low rumbling kind…..a lick…a sniff….a ‘I love you’ claw dug deep into soft tissue….and… there!! they are sleeping as only a cat can!
I Goddess!
I am the beginning of time, I am the end…I am the cosmic dancer …I dance on the Milky Way…..I swim among the stars…I am in the depths of the ocean….I am the purple in the sunset lit sky…..I am the Goddess you worship….I am the temple bell….I am in the hills….in the dew lined ferns ..that mark your way….I am the tree you leaned against…I am the winged splendor your eye caught…….I was the pebble you picked up in the ankle deep stream….I am that flash that pang you felt….I am the tear, that breaking the dams of your whites, fell…..I am in the book you chanced in the store,…..I sung that song you played again and again……,…I am hidden in the truffles that melted in you,….the dog on the road gave you a message from me, ………..you are the musk deer……..stop searching……..the musk is me…
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