Wednesday, November 03, 2010


Philadelphia blues, sometime in 2009

Cry that tear or smile it away?
Let the words form or say it with profound silence?
Run? Hide? Fly away?
Burn the midnight oil or sleep that extra half hour?

Waist-ful deposits made each day, worthwhile deposits taking a while to make.
New bonds take time to make, old ones so easily break.
The ones in the here and now consume all it takes, and yet, fall short of a pat.

Quixotic ideals in this quizzical world, spinning my mind in a whirl of fate
Change my face and wear a new hat.
Write a new song and dance to a new rhythm.

Armor me with grace
Patience be my artillery

So much irony
In these defenses and instruments of violence
All in the guise of crying out for serenity.

Home/ Away from home

I stumbled upon this one, sitting in my draft box (not so quietly).
And so, here's a not-so-fitting jot about the amazing bunch of women I (had to) live with through my (mostly) academic years away from home.

February 2010, Philadelphia

Living in a dorm is not a domain of new experience for me (frankly, I thought I'd had enough, but was in for another dose). I have had experiences living with every category/kind/specie of hostel mate/ room mate/ housemate and accomodation too- during undergrad in a room for two, room of four, in a hostel, as a paying guest (pg) and much later, when I was working and was at grad school living by myself with all the space to myself.

The pecking intruder- who always wants to know what you are upto, who would tirelessly explore every nook and cranny of evidence to satiate her curiosity.

The leave-me-alone introvert- who just comes in to the room does her own thing, takes her stuff goes out, comes in, slips into bed, wakes up, gets going, knows am around and only replies in monosyllables to every question in my endeavour of atleast knowing the whereabouts of the person I live with.

Queen liberties- the self- anointed queens who take every liberty they want to- from breezing into your room to borrowing everything- from stationery, food, make- up, to clothes and other favours they want you have done for them. Ah! Speak the annoyances.

There was this very dear friend with an obsessive- compulsive disorder for dust. Imagine that.
And then there were the majority of others that were on the other end of the spectrum, that didn't care a fig about layers of accumulating dust.

I had to bear with the early- to bed, early- to rise types and had some amazing late night talks with owls like myself.

The tough cookies, the talking- machines that never listen, boyfriend woers & whiners

And so on and so forth...

And then....

Those good buds that were heaven- sent :) With whom I cherish an everlasting bond and to whom I owe an ode for making those times and years away from home, feel like home, away from home.