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Friday, October 31, 2008

i don't understand

you bastard motherfuckr

you cunt faced bitch

you bhenchod haramzaday

you randi kanjri chootia

fuck you fuck the party i'm not going, you fucking asshole

you fucking bitch you think i'd go with you anywhere!?

two very pissed off people sitting in two different rooms, one awake with rage and fatigue for most of the night, and ill with lack of sleep the next day


what the hell are you wearing? i'm not going with you anywhere dressed like that!!

what are you fucking talking about!! i'm wearing SHALWAR KAMEEZ to a WORK DINNER you fucking moron. stop making excuses and get the fuck dressed we're late.

fuck you i'm not going.


she goes alone fuming


she's lying flat on the bed in her shaadi clothes staring at the ceiling.

a cousin walks in: ' z is asking why you're taking so long?'

she says: 'tell z to go to hell'

cousin gapes, mother in law gapes, mother freaks internally but calm outward. warning eyes falling unheedful on stubborn rebellious daughter

daughter goes with friends to wedding, selfish bastard stays at home


10:30 am: ring ring

my heart. my love. you need to be ready by 9:30 today do NOT be late pumpkin


12:30 pm: teet teet

just a reminder. 9:00 today. love!


3:28 pm : ring ring


what time will you be getting home my baby we'll need to be on time

you call me one more time i'm slashing your tyres tonight


you really need to leave my love? its cutting it close

(you *&@"!?,#$) its important baby just 10 minutes

745 pm

you're late! i told you you'll get stuck in traffic! how vould u hurry hurry hurry!

830 pm

they leave, her hair unstraight ironed and social anxiety ignored


1045 pm another day

she's trying on her 8th outfit



is it the pink or the white you annoying man

pink baby

the glass of disgusting scotch in his hand clinks a bit as he appraises the view

she makes an annoyed tsk decides to wear the white and slaps on some make up. aware they had to be there by 1030 pm.

she's just finished her eyes and is holding her lipstick when he come behind her to use the bathroom

she opens her mouth to make a guilty sniping comment before he starts the usual lecturing, when lips meet warm mouth

words muffle into her throat

they back into the cupboard lipstick falls to the floor and hands come up and enmesh into his collar

her consciousness reduces to one puddle of need

'whenever u're ready let me know i'll be in the living room'

And then 4 days later, he says he wants a divorce.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

since no one seems to be writing, i'll just have to do it myself. humph.

the trees forked across the line of sight, a web of criss crossing birds, leaves and oak. she lay listlessly in the heat horizontal on the sofa, watching disinterestedly as two beetles in holy matrimony slowly, painfully crawled their way across the glass. clouds rolled past, beautiful blessed relief, stunning in the weather change they bring.

rain. rain rain rain and the skies weeping, in joy not sorrow as the world rejoiced with it. i would like to think that men, sweaty and tired after back breaking minimum wage labor also looked up from their dusty bread winning and looked up at the sky and smiled as the first drops broke loose and provided amazing coolness in the oppressive waves of heat. I know for a fact that children broke out from their roles as adult street hawkers, as primary household earners, as naan wallas and seven year old fridge repairmen, broke free and ran, ran ran stripping their tiny man sized kameezes and throwing them at the side of the nehr and jumping, canonballing their first world counter parts would call it, shalwars huge and inflated with comical effect as water and air met in places where the sun doesn't shine, and abandoned the vestiges of hard labor that the third world enforces on them, and they became just that - kids in the rain, washed of all responsibilities.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

I’m not the sort of person
Who falls in and quickly out of love
But to you I gave my affection
Right from the start
- The weakness in me, Joan Armatrading

She’s working elbow deep in clay. Sweat drips off her forehead, which she doesn’t notice. She is intent on the impending figure that will emerge from the clay. She’s trying to spend herself, emotionally, physically, so she falls exhausted into dreamless sleep.
So she can’t think.
The electricity goes around 4 times at night. She is woken up by a thunderstorm, beautiful wild rain pounding amid lightning on old brick roofs and 300 year old trees.

She walks the house at night with a flashlight, checking doors and windows. Drenched in sweat, not a drop of breeze in the house, she lies on the sweltering mattress and kicks off the 6 pillows and spread eagles herself so that there is no overlapping flesh to cause puddles of sweat.

Dreams of going back to school, a reunion, but its actually just him. In a room in the beautiful old building that haunted her childhood. Holding her, swearing he loved her, so convincing her foolish stupid heart believes him again.

And again, every time she lies down, she feels the gaping void. She can feel, feel him on the other side of the bed, where she used to reach an arm out to reassure herself he was there, and be unbearably comforted by his solid warmth.

Freezing in a too cold AC, and rolling over to him in the middle of the night so she could be find warmth. Persuading him to open lift an arm, and be enveloped in delicious heat, held safe between hard lines of stomach muscle and bicep while he snored unbearably reassuring in her ear.

Of waking up in the middle of a dream with a smile, because two three pillows hugged back.

Of going to sleep tangled together, of trying to escape to a quieter corner of the bed where snores didn’t crash so close, and have his arms tighten around her, not letting her go. Of lying awake and staying right where she was, because it felt so right.

Of waking up to the perfect breakfast in bed every day, a prayer and time to do pursue every dream she could ever have wanted. Of being back and being so taken care of, so unconditionally loved and supported, that she never wanted to leave to the awful place that broke her wings and her heart.

How can you have everything yet still want something so bad for you?

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

you fucking bastard give me my money and my life back

the police come to the door. she opens it, and blocks their way. they show her a piece of paper. she shakes her head. they don't believe her, and have to firmly come in.

there is the sound of crying, a shout, something breaking. a man yelling, cursing. they come out again, with him sandwiched in the middle. the woman is crying in huge silent gasps, burying her face in the the yellow kitchen duster in her hand.

the neighbours are watching.

"can you believe the broad? he clocks her one, gives her a fresh black eye, and she's crying for him!"

- nora roberts



Wednesday, May 07, 2008

its funny how the end of a marriage can mean nothing, and a lot of it

the view is breathtaking
the 12th floor seems quite dizzingly high in the third world landscape
the white lights dot the edge of the water, spinning out to pin pricks of probably frantic fishing activity miles away

standing in the wind, hair and clothes being whipped into pleasing streams behind her, she stands, watching, inhaling the beautiful city.

far far away tiny people go about their night life - a maid closes a curtain in a window far below, a boy walks like a little action figure on the ground to the car.

a little miniature painting, put on for her benefit.

is this how God feels, so high in the sky?

looking down at us little insignificant specks, hurtling, full of self importance and pompous problems which mean nothing, being ground to ash and dust in cosmic seconds, living out a giant chess board of good against evil while happily oblivious in the matrix waiting to get the next quarterly promotion and the next annual bonus

maybe we're all just as pathetic as the spineless bastard.


Tuesday, April 29, 2008

as you grow older your knowledge becomes inversely proportional to your assurity that you know everything

nothing, i mean nothing is as bad as this. except maybe for the stuff that led to it.

her pony tail jauntily swung in time to her step. in the awful sweltering heat she was an oasis of cool pink and white, sun blocked and lip glossed, shading eyes behind yummily gaudy Dior. Every single man turned and gaped as the vision passed, and, more discreetly, so did the women.

bravely, she sat outside in the wall of humidity that was May heat. under one tiny umbrella for shelter.

alone. finally. and greatful for it.


Sunday, April 13, 2008

to picture # 9

it was all still so new and shiny.
i picked out my new and shiny blue jewelled outfit and wore the giant diamond thing from the shaadi.
we made it to the car  only half an hour late, you mellowing your annoyance at tardiness with a glass of scotch (ew)

we noticed in the car that your tie matched my outfit (revoltingly honeymoonish coincidence)

we went together. no anxiety of being stranded alone without a table, no making desperate chit chat with wondering strangers.

gelling instantly with a table of friends. the best friend and beautiful makeup and outfit a cherry on the evening. T next to us pointed it and said smile, and we both scrunched together - me giggling like a loon and you - my god - you. smouldering semi smiling, hesitant yet so sure. 

of the hole in my heart.


Friday, April 11, 2008

we can be

drifting swirling twirling whirling
like a small stick in a little brook (forests and pebbles and enid B)
running water
flushed down the toilet of life

or rise up
like a turd floating against intuition
and fight

only then can we change destiny

Monday, April 07, 2008

where do i start? where do i begin?
fully sated. clothes hanging in neatly ironed soldier rows in the cupboard. considerate servants, healthy atmosphere of positive well being. four options for each gourment meal, glass walls overlooking breathtaking vistas, pressure pump showers, beautiful 1000 sq yr gardens and fairy benches to sit on in cool grass when the electricity goes. beautiful.
being loved unconditionally.
having people you trust catch you in the safety net of their well wishes.
being cocooned in the womb.
suffocating in the pain and hurt caused to all.

sunday morning i'm waking up / can't even focus on a coffee cup
having time to read all you want. having time to keep up with your friends.
having time to watch all those backlogged movies.
reading, writing, exploring tentative talents.

Don't even know who's bed I'm in
hoping. waiting. gnawing uncertainity. would it? could it?
can someone new be found? is it possible
memories. delicious thrilling warmth snuggling under covers against the outside world
being kicked outside


where do i start? where do i begin?

Monday, March 31, 2008

I was wearing a silver mask I had made myself that evening – it was shiny silver, flamboyant pink swirls (to match my wonderfully fun & scanty shirt), and over the top sides that winged out way beyond my face.
He had grabbed one of the free masks that they passed out at the entrance.

We hadn’t been out in such a long time, I loved every expensive second of it. I came out of the Ladies (very nice, extremely miraculously huge and clean) and he was waiting. We were having some normal discussion about food and where to find it before we entered the noise and darkness, and to make a point, he grabbed my arms and shook me and said something like “I need food dammit!”. We were standing close as we usually do, I automatically leaned my arms on his chest as his hands slid from my arms to my waist. I was saying something like “well baby we’ll get food first then” and as my face leaned up to his, I noticed the slack jawed stares from the corner of my eye from the people at the entrance desk, gaping at the unaccustomed display right behind them.