Yours.

Sheets of blank paper.

Write. Write me a story. Write me a poem. Write our story. Our story inverse, in verse. Write till the words become an extension of your body. Write till each letter feels like a piece of your heart. Write like the poet you are. Write me a play which lasts a lifetime. Write till you feel giddy with excitement. Write our names a million times in invisible ink, so you can write over and over like on a sandy beach. Then write them once with indelible ink, like the picture in your mind of the most beautiful thing you ever saw.

Sheets of empty canvas.

Paint. Paint your love. Paint till the colours ebb and flow, like emotional tidal waves that wash over you and me. That leave me, drained, on the shores, where I can follow your footsteps in the sand to a home in the woods. Paint the tears that run down, like raindrops on windowpanes, like happiness into your soul. Paint me the future. Paint me a fairytale. Fill in the gaping holes in my body with the warm hues of the look in your eyes. Paint me pretty pictures of us in the sun, in the rain, in the cold, in the ocean, through the storm, in starry nights, in wide open fields, trapped in a thought, flying through hidden caves, drowning in words, drowning in silences; so I can hang them on the walls of our little world.

Sheets of unfilled tablature lines.

Sing. Compose the tune my heart sings at the sight of you. Sing like nobody but I can hear you. Sing till your throat burns like my skin at your touch. Sing till you can see us dancing, tiptoeing around the notes. Sing till the dawn finds us wrapped in technicolor dreams and drenched in wine. Sing till we get thrown out of the opera for being unruly. Sing till the melody runs right through you and makes you shiver in summer, like you sometimes do. Sing me a wave of joy so high it crashes like a clap of thunder and leaves us breathless and laughing like mad children. Sing me a song more beautiful than yesterday and call it tomorrow.

These sheets are yours. Fill them, for they are me.

Stop…clicking…dammit!!!

What’s with computer repair technicians and their incessant mouse-clicking?

This guy came home to look at the comp yesterday. And during the course of the repair, I noticed he just could NOT stop clicking. Click, click, click….clickclickclickclickclick! It was driving me nuts! I mean, are you doing that just to show me what a friggin genius you are and that computers are just too slow for you? Why click-and-drag to highlight words you are reading on an instructions page?? Must you look at the ‘Properties’ of EVERYTHING???

He started some application, and even while it was starting up, he just HAD to click! All over the desktop. Why, moron, WHY??? And don’t even get me started on refreshing. It was as if he thought if he doesn’t refresh the desktop, which has not been changed at ALL mind you, every 3.25 seconds, he would become incontinent or the computer would castrate him or something. If he doesn’t click a gazillion times, in quick succession, right NOW, he will have bad luck for the next seven years and never find true love, or catch some genital-specific, extremely morbid but non-fatal disease. In fact, I was half hoping something like that would happen. It was all I could do to stop myself from actually running to the kitchen, bringing out the hatchet we use on irritating guests, and making this guy a leftie for life.

It was like that scene in ‘True Lies’, where Arnie is driving in a car with the guy who’s hitting on his wife, and he imagines punching him and killing him. I was almost smiling at the picture of the now non-clicking guy (because he didn’t have a hand anymore), when I hear ‘Loose connection, saar.’ Whatever, man. Just fix it and get the hell out. He fixed the problem…but kept sitting there…and….aaarrRRRRGGHHH!!!!

In case you are wondering, he still has both hands. At least, for the moment.

If ever you are working on a comp, and I’m around, I’m sure you now know what NOT to do.

Huh?

Saale!! Hum tumhari maa behen ek kar denge!!
(rough translation : Asshole! I/We will make your mother and sister One!)

Huh?

I mean, what IS that? It doesn't even make sense, leave alone being insulting. I've heard my friends, more often than not from the northern parts of the country, scream this at the guys we were warning or fighting with. And I always wondered, just because you said maa AND behen in the same sentence, it becomes an insult? How can you make someone's mother and sister 'one'? I used to have to stop myself from laughing whenever I heard this.

Any northies reading this - care to explain?

A sense of occasion.

This is my 200th post. And I will make it for me. At this significant time in my life, let me write about something closest to my heart - friendship.

At this very moment, I find myself on the verge of a possibly beautiful friendship. After a very long time, I think I found someone capable of giving me what I always give. I have always had this rather romantic view of friendship, quite possibly strengthened by movies and stories. For example, college always seemed to be THE place where such bonds are forged. And I can't say I was disappointed. I did find the kind of friendships I'd been hoping for. Friends through thick and thin, people who understood you more than anyone else. People who shared ideas, even if not always the same. Understanding. Supportive.

The one thing missing was the 'forever' part.

At the time, it did seem very much possible. And the sheer potential was enough to instill a deep happiness. It was one thing always missing in my life. But, like they say, Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.

To me, true friendship means all parties are equally important to one another. At times, the other feels so much like a part of you, an extension of your body and mind. Rather idealistic, but I do know people who have found this. Heck, I've felt it myself. And I envy those who have made these kind of relationships defy time and distance. I guess in some of my friendships, I allowed the other to become more inportant to me than I was to them. Maybe the friendship never ran that deep or was never meant to be forever, and I was the only one who desperately wanted it to be. What we had, or I thought we had, was too good to lose. Time can be a gentle stream or a raging river, moving over a lifetime - I guess I built dams on shaky foundations.

But this is about NOW. It's time to write off non-returning emotional investments. But once you've lost a lot, it's very difficult to find the faith to invest again. So I will cut my losses. It has been very difficult to accept, and maybe I knew it all along but I just could not stop trying to build bridges - some things are just not meant to be.

My problem now is one of faith. My experiences with friendship have been varied, but largely disappointing and emotionally distressing. My world sometimes looks like a bombed, ravaged city - just bits and pieces, inhospitable. Where there were once panes filtering pain and letting in gentle warmth and glow, there are now shards. Where there were once strong walls of security, there is now rubble. Where there were once loving friends I gained most of my strength from, there are now sullen, reticent faces. Dead relationships strewn everywhere.

But cities rise.

I believe we can be great friends, him and I. I can't remember the last time I felt such unbridled glee and joy at another's happiness. Allowances must be made, I know. But I am a fool. A romantic fool. I opened my heart, almost instantly, instinctively, to an emotional friendship. Maybe because I saw in him a possibility...of fulfilment. Of filling a painful void. An almost child-like belief in the same romantic notions of friendship I still entertain in some forgotten, dusty recesses of my heart. But I doubt my world can withstand another bombing.

I was once told that my relationships, including friendships, will be intense, powerful, and very satisfying. But they would be short-lived. Does that mean I trade in 'forever' for cautious optimism? Do I ride a 650cc Kawasaki Ninja at 40 kmph so I don't wear out the engine? But do I burn out something so beautiful, so powerful, by expecting too much and pushing the limits from the beginning?

Who says I can't find a balance.

What do you do when the person you are most disappointed with is yourself?

And what is it whith people and accepting responsibility? Why shy away from it? If you have done something wrong or not as desired, and you know it or have been made to realise it, where's the shame in saying " Yes, I see how I could have done better. It won't happen again."?

Office politics is such a bitch. Shows the true nature and character of people. I find it very difficult to associate myself with people who lack integrity and/or moral courage. Over the past year, I have been listening to various people at different levels in the hierarchy talk about others. Ok, so some grumbles are justified. No problems with that. But why would you go back and kiss the ass of the same person you just put down? How can you smile and share pleasantries and gossip about OTHER people, like you have nothing against this person, and you loooove him / her? It's disgusting.

I can maintain a working professional relationship with people. I find that after hearing stuff about some people, mostly justified, I lose a little respect for them. Let's you and I keep our interaction at a professional level, have a few lighter moments now and then. But don't expect me to grin at you like a moron or kiss up to you. Stop wondering why I don't do that stuff with you anymore - my self-respect is more important to me than your ego.

What's with kissing up to bosses? I just don't get it. Fine, keep them happy, do your job well and stop being in their faces all the time. THAT'S how they will respect you and want you to work for them. Not if you keep going to them all the fucking time for every small thing; or if you keep blaming others for work not done just because you want to maintain a clean sheet. I'd much rather have a sheet with a few inconsistencies here and there and be responsible about it. At least that way, I can face them next time with dignity.

I am disappointed with myself because I didn't meet a deadline. The job had two parts, mine being slightly larger. Ok, so the person doing the other half didn't finish on time either, and the job cannot be submitted without both parts. But that's no excuse for not finishing my part on time. When I realised she wasn't going to finish in time either, I slowed down a bit and took time to go over the stuff again and check if I'd made any mistakes. In between, she sneaked in her half-baked job just so it would look like she finished before I did. What a shame. I just grinned and thought - you are not worth my disgust. You can't even take pride in knowing that though late, you at the very least turned in a good job. Sadly, the fact that will be counted in the final analysis is whether it was in time or not - not quality. So I guess I lose. But that's ok - I don't mind so much.

Some days you lose, other you lose badly. What counts is whether YOU think you won or lost. And make no mistake - winning IS everything.

Over the rhythmic rattle of the train, he heard her quietly say 'Yes.' And they laughed, and trespasses were forgotten like blades of grass along the tracks. Time was strawberry jam on toast, and space, warm butter.