noNexistent nothiNg

of fairies and freedom

2012-02-12T15:41:00.002+05:30

via www

he has taken to watchin 'tinker bell' on loop now

and suddenly, all i wish to do is chase sunbeams

and talk to the mice in tea-cups,

do you think, the faeries are all ready now?

will spring really be on time, this year?

a study of woman as a buddha

2012-02-10T16:52:00.001+05:30

Rightwhen, it seems, things have begun to take shape and grow beyond the organiclevel; the flux takes over and the chaos rules.

I amnot surprised by the pattern anymore, just a wee bit weary. Enough, already!Universe! Or, is it that subconsciously, I chose such things long time back, atthe advent. Right, when everything began? Very Bourne, Ms. Yadav! I wish Eric Van Lustbader or perhaps LionelShriver would take over and clean the script! Maybe a bit! Or not! Ishall command my own destiny, like always. Follow the proverbial White Rabbitof my own Wonderland.

Amdeciding to just roll with it! No rhyme, no reason. At least, not right now,not what it seems. Oh yeah, a very good thing is, am NOT confused! Like someoneclose said, “You are pretty sorted!” That I am! I guess! Is this is a stresstest, Mr.God? It certainly looks like it! And, yes, you ARE NOT WINNING, thisround, buddy!

BeforeI detonate into smithereens and try the teleportation, after all! Am just aboutto ramble and find that one guiding needle in the needle stack!

Ikeep wishing that I’ll wake up one morning and smile with a smug senseof 'a place for everything and everything in its place'! Nada! Not to be!

And yes, at times like this, the radar just zonesin on the existential epiphany: What truly is my calling? Something thatutilizes all the parts of my brain: strategic, creative, emotional, tangentialand practical.

Something that challenges me in all the right ways! And, notjust roadblocks!

No Sir, THAT ONE hasn’t yet been sorted.

I watch the light move across the sky make a listof things that I should do. Making use of this time.

The list of things, which makes me feel satiatedas a mother, creator, home maker, professional, writer, dreamer and all thingsin between and beyond.

It’s amazing, with the kind of clarity I remembermy high school days, the way the red pleated skirts n white blouse looked andfelt, the smell of summer grass, the quiet of the convent after school hours,the bee-colony like hub bub of the morning assembly, the lunch breaks andinsane giggle of inane gossips.

I refill my ‘annoy me at your own risk’ coffee mugand let the nostalgia flood over, brought on more sharply by this one here. This I think,is sort of my secret replenish-me reservoir, when exotic vacations and day-offsare just luxury!

When I return, I am calm. A bit! And, try andfocus!

I think, I will try and set a new tempo to thingsand maybe try running every day and write every day. A bit more! And, here I stepaway from being very Bourne on my way to being umm… Buddha?

A writing Buddha!

feedin my flame

2012-01-31T19:42:00.004+05:30

Hello3:00 AM, we meet again!

via

When theworld takes on either the inky blue hue or sepia toned slow motion variety.Night time is deeply magical. Even the ordinary wok hanging in the kitchen,takes on a witchy look! Shadows hiding in the closet drawers. Phantasm sittingon the couch. Fairies smiling from that lamp you love!

Whenit seems like you are the only one on the planet. What happens when you ARE theonly one on the planet and there is no audience??

Nighttime is for internet diving; to go treasure hunting. Make it your own. Become amaster on hackers anonymous to the underground indie rock scene to dolphins inJapanese coastal areas.

Or, you could become a straight-upweirdo; you could go one better on Picasso or write reams of poetry. In fact,3:00 Am plus IS the best time to do that! Write poetry. The darkness can getpretty inspiring.

Imean, what better, than, doing that thing with eyes closed, counting sheep orwine bottles under your bed or the un-read books occupying every availablesurface or number of lists you’ve made or folks you would want to sleep with, ifthat’s the way you roll. AND, IT STILL DOESN’T WORK!!

Because,sleep, just doesn’t wish to do you, this night or maybe all the subsequentnights. Not alluring enough, eh? Are we?

Trydoing something just for Self. Because you feel like it! Just don’t go kill or harmanyone, EVEN IF it makes you happy! That’s just not allowed. Rest is fine! Ithink. Umm, also, no tap dancing or kitchen appliances or death metal on loud… headphoneswere invented for purpose

All night coffee shops! That’s agood idea! Yes, there ARE others like you. And, all of them are in the-only-person-on-the-planet!

Driving!Not doped or drunk, ones. Even just plain night driving gets into surreal-ethereallevels. And, conversations! Ahh! How spooky, layered and intimate, the tiniestof night-time conversations become! Psych!

Post-classes,post-seminar-prep, the random riding in the middle of no-where, sharingone-each-earpiece-of-iPods; held on tightly; watching dawn together… used tobe, as soppy and pretentious as it sounds! And, great! Day time can actuallyruin the romance of this! Because getting serious with someone you shared thatride with; through the night, not such a great idea. You are a cockamamie inthose hours, even without a drop of alcohol in you.

Solitudeis best served at Night! The world is strange and so are the rest ofthe-only-person-on-the-planet, people! Thewhole thing is suicidal-beautiful, forgotten-ruins-Goth vibe to, it!

Thewoods and the tarot, the myth and the magic, all make sense!

It’sabsurd and beautiful!

delight

2012-01-23T17:24:00.002+05:30

"Have a great number of threads been interwoven in this lecture? Which thread should I pull on to find the end in my hand? There is the thread that connects the moon, Leopardi, Newton, gravitation and levitation. There is the thread of Lucretius, atomism, Cavalcanti's philosophy of love, Renaissance magic, Cyrano. Then there is the thread of writing as a metaphor of the powder-fine substance of the world. For Lucretius, letters were atoms in contiual motion, creating the most diverse words and sounds by means of their permutations." (Six Memos for the Next Millenium, Italo Calvino)

wanted : a seraphim

2012-01-19T18:41:00.002+05:30

via Lady Night Stalker

The house hums with moonshine.

Grief abounds, like a slate grey smoke it rises, seepsout from multiple corners of the heart and in a slow motion take, settles oneverything.

Long forgotten strain filters through, almostaudible, mixes with the moonshine and in no time, a complete symphony is readyto bleed you dry. You are drowning in it. The elusive, unexplained variety ofheartache, inexplicably embraces you. The only hug, you would perhaps get, in along long time.

Please, let’s discount the hugs; YOU have beengiving yourself…

it was hard, but i did let go

2012-01-16T10:56:00.000+05:30

In a grim grey of a hotel room, you lie crouchedin the much used bed, fighting the cold with the much manhandled quilt,thankful for them both! Small mercies! Not for long, the glands get into frenzyand you miss your baby, physical ache, that!

Reality makes strange room-mates and this time,yours is, a drunken cynical, venom spewing 32 year old. You chew on your lowerlip to keep the bile at bay. You are screaming in your head. You smash a glass.

Sleep mutates into desert village tap, in spurtsand bursts followed by long dry spell.

A dog barks irreverently somewhere, the cold nightechoing it off.

And, then it begins. In the cold dark huddle of a2:57 AM, the full blown panic attack, clammy hands, jet-like heartbeats, the stinginghot tears! From here to eternity, all you see is a chasm of loneliness! The claustrophobiaof repression!

A loneliness attack for a loner, a confirmedsolitude lover is ten times over!

Maybe tomorrow, you’ll feel different. Maybe itwill be better.

You will an image, an idea, a phrase, a string ofnotes… anything to make the mist diffuse.

You will an image of all that has been gorgeous,you make it persist; you make it fight the insane night, but you know thefights almost out of you.

And then, just like that, the night folds away,the sunshine take shy ginger steps gathering her hem laces. Tiptoes a smile! “You’ll be fine, sweetie!”

My personal equinox of soul! The light moving justenough that you know it has a vibration of life.

In the face of a laughable mess of smithereens,that you can become! You will your willpower to just stay with you some moreuntil it becomes a force of it’s own.

Enough of escape routes and worst case scenarios, whenit feels utterly impossible to finish. But you can, and you will…

The tightrope walk over the valley of failure andugliness, of devastation and loneliness, slowly becomes your forte’. This isthe time to intend and focus on happiness. There’s work to do, and it needs tobegin now.

The day brings a promise! A promise of love after the closure!

misery likes company #neersRehashedplayList

flourish

2012-01-09T17:01:00.003+05:30

“Everything that truly makes us happy is quite simple: love,sex, and food! Everything else – power, influence, strength – all those thingscan overpower what’s important in life. But as long as you have food andshelter over your head, if the necessities are taken care of, what makes ushappy on top of that is very simple” – says Meryl Streep

Isn’t it amazing, how a simplestorytelling and conversation becomes a slow-key turn into the room offantastic, quite anti-climatic and yet the flourish.

This year, Affluence, the word forthe life and soul! For all things practical and magical. Somewhere betweendream and miracle, there this essence, which now craves and wills Affluence!

It’s been so intense and full velocity and transformative inways I still can’t put my finger on. And, am happy with the tentative and theblur that surrounds the whole things, like a misted halo! It’s recalibrated me,reframed my desires.

Some connects are simple doorways. Doorways and not justrabbit holes to wonderland.

We always have a choice however; we tend to string thingsinto schisms. Either Or. And, that is not what is living full, living full velocity!

One can always manifest what one truly desires. Like aprayer. The tempo, the rhythm, the notes just need to be right! Soon enough,you become, you do, and you get what you always desired.

You might not get it right in fact there would be more thanone, days when we are reminded of burden of being a human mind, that one almostalways till the end remains a rookie, new to the passion, new to thecurveballs; and yet the brightness of brilliance on those days are novae enoughto light the others.

Be a golden light around your heart and bounce your aurawith health!

Here’s to love. Unadulterated. Simple. Just That.

And here’s to life and all that it brings with it.

Am a novice, yes, but am discovering, learning – the uberchic and the uber ugly, too; and having fun!

Making my Self, affluent!

i think its time i listened to myself

2012-01-05T00:00:00.000+05:30

// And here's what i am saying to me:

Find the balance, enough see-saw already!
Get more sleep. Forgive yourself and people you love

Let exercise be a part of every day. And eat healthy
Soak up time with Nirvaan more...
Focus. Focus. Focus

Stop being scared, don't let the monster devour you.

It's okay to be depressive, better to recognize it, look it into the eyes...

Be gentle but firm.
It's okay to slip... you are human, it's allowed.

Accept self and others.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

Breathe!!

end of dec

2012-01-04T10:51:00.000+05:30

".. She was so happy that herhappiness terrified her. But, despite the delights before her --she knew perfectly well that no spot or place or home in theworld could ever possess the sorcery of her...."

(The Blue Castle - Lucy Maud Montgomery)

Day II

2012-01-03T00:31:00.000+05:30

I know how, still do not know why??

Day I

2012-01-01T03:30:00.000+05:30

why? and how?

of equations and constant variables - of being high on life

2011-12-29T22:34:00.000+05:30

The sky turns to gray, then lavender, then black. Thedistant concrete jungle becomes a silhouette.

Curled inside a love-made blanket with my feettucked in and the kick-ass 2 year old for a companion, I can feel my breathcatch in my ribs. I’m always close to tears, this week and happy! Go figure!

The time is both luxury and limitation. I want allof it, this glorious mess called life and love. Drinking hungrily on the syruplike a humming bird!

Being a full time mom while doing a full timeschool and working full time, catches my breath… the fatigue has now becomesecond nature. Here and now, am in love, like never before!

Some days it’s fire, some days it the hose! It’s messyand it’s magic.

It’s brutal and brilliant.

The night arrives softly, filled with thetrilling of cicadas and the soundless fluttering of moths wings. I have beenexceptionally thin skinned lately...

But, then, am becoming adept at being a bad-assmommy! This almost-balance, thisin-motion, this push-pull, this abundance of giggles, even the melt-downtantrums, makes me what I am!

A list of little boy awesomeness:

* Mud and dirt is meant to be played in. Let him.Let the laundry pile up. No one will remember clean laundry; mud monsters onthe other hand: totally epic.

* Extra bubbles in the bathtub. So what if hishair doesn’t ever get perfectly clean? There’s always next time.

* Make soup. A 2 yr. old can do a number on lettucewith a butter knife. Also: they’re more careful than you’d think, and growingboys who turn into men who can cook = lovely.

* New couches are overrated. Keep the one youhave. Buy throw pillows. Let him throw. Up and down. Science happens here!

* Chocolates called by their shapes. Let him makea mess, click pictures! Extra tissue papers + a little water works wonder.

* Match box cars, pint sized super heroes, boardbooks. Classic!

* Say yes. Keep videos on loop and let him mouththe dialogues and songs. Cheer with him if he likes something.

A gleeful 2 year olds laugh ringing through yourapartment is worth anything under the sun!

This Christmas...

2011-12-26T17:49:00.000+05:30

BoxingDay is quiet here! Like all morning afters... quiet and tentative!

Nirvaansasleep, after a tiring whirlwind drive yesterday and day before, he is sleeping off the hangover!
The house hums and screamsin turns, with the silence.

Therewas something about this year, with the extremes coming in place, just likethat. Simply. The year began with ‘Hope’, a throwback of lastyear and then slowly 'Serendipity' took over… slowly and surely!

Therewas something about pre-Christmas days, the 180 degree from full-steam-work tofull-on-friends/family time…. and, I miss a lot of the family! But hey…

Weall converge on the kitchen or the terrace, crowding, too many elbows, enoughlaughter and then some… and then not.

Wecheck our phones, and we check each other doing the same, I made a pact and hidmine!

Nirvaan,all glee and then tired! Little elfish snores.

Holidaysare like this… bittersweet! Needing. Wanting. Desiring. Nostalgic. And. New.

Butthen, the air is just enough to make the magic. The house gets warm and toasty.And, half of me is in the bedroom, making sure the noise doesn’t wake him up.But, girls never, not talk and giggle!

Wehave fun. Play. Eat. Drink. Laugh out loud. He wakes up and refuses to come sayhello! I don’t insist, knowing fully well, he wouldn’t … yep, I am not really adisciplinarian parent. And, then he is surrounded by girls… all pampered andbasking!

Wekiss, we rub noses, we love, we argue, we laugh. It is all inevitable: thismess, this frantic loving! We lean intothe chaos. And, enjoy!

Theeasy sparks of joy that come from the simplest things: warm sun, touch, coffee,quiet.

PEACE… all of you, and yes…. LOVE, lots of it! Tothe planet!

Copyright © NeerjaYadav

treehouse times

2011-12-21T21:30:00.003+05:30

Days spin by, leaving an afterimage, wet with winter

shut the world out

soak in the banter

sprinkled upon by elfdust

faerie mischief... perhaps, I say

Like some far forgotten dream

like the love that was

like the unexpected serendipity

like the moth to the fire

Secrets are the only magic

what we know, and they don't

what we see, which the rest blink out

the pause in the song

the crack in the pavement

the sun caught, high up in the trees

I am a thread too slender, To suspend all this reality.

Phillip Pulfrey

i perhaps have a song somewhere

one day, i shall breathe it

onto the sky

some day..

Sun-Down

2011-12-12T11:23:00.001+05:30

The road begins to double back, like a paperback Iread my story, am the heroine and the villain, ‘am the heart and the mind, ‘amthe plot and the prologue… the end comes a little too soon

HERSTORY

Every sun-down, without fail, she would stand ather bedroom window; looking out into the woods.

She didn’t know why, she didn’t remember,how it began… just that she stood there one day and she stands there every day...

Braiding love-knots in her wild raven hair, playing with the lacecurtains… dark eyes, waiting… for what?

HISSTORY

The sun-down dark is slow spreading ink. It growstill it hugs me and everything else … tight, a velvet embrace!

I sit with my back to a tree. The blurred shadowy edges spill on the forestfloor; the woods have become lovely… tangled in the darkness.

I have been sitting here for centuries. Waiting…For what?

And then, there was light in one of the windows. Theonly house that stands there.

Someone was standing at the window…

a day in december

2011-12-10T12:51:00.001+05:30

I wake up to the huge beige moon hanging low in the pre-dawn sky and Venus twinkling her name. the 3:30 - 4:00 am world is pure magic. The witch hour!

Am always in awe, always! And I am here, at the beginning, at the end, right here in the heart of a beginning of a winter.And, I take that leap of pure impulse ... a planned impulse.None of the 'am-very-busy-important-than-thou' stance of jet-sets!

I want to tell you about driving at 100kmph in the inky-morning air and of sleepy security check-ins and 20 mins early landing and about the 'no-rush-to-be-anywhere' arrival

It's chilly and foggy! I brought rain-showers and the final arrival of the cold. And, the drive is pure nostalgia of myriad old and new landmarks.

Morning hot chocolate with this friend, who perhaps is privvy to more of my thoughts than some of those I grew up with!

A loner and a charmer, a ranter and a thinker, straddling the world of finding personal voice and world's cacophony. Am glad for the internet and am glad to have made some wonderful people and am really really glad we finally met!

Another cup of coffee with school-friend I grew up with! Still the same! Cute and 'confused' (so she claims!) ... still the same intensity (i love this) and still very much a friend, you just totally can continue the thread with.... years don't matter!

Another 45 mins of navigating the oppressive traffic and right in the arms of a brand new friend.... a stunner!! A bombshell with a penchant of 'cooking and feeding'.... go beat that!! She is immediately a frenzy of activity of lunch and anecdote, regaling me with stories. A lunch, a cup of fantastic tea and zillion laughs later... am tucked in!! I told ya... a looker with motherly instincts! Lovely, lovely to have made this friend! Thank the Providence!

The finale'.... the purpose of the day! And, was it worth it?? YOU BET!!
The look on her face, while handling a very smart M&S boots.....! The stifled squeal... (yep, she is nothing, if not decorum maintainer!) The total flummoxed surprise!! (YES!!!) and the glee (accessorized with a mouthful of unmentionables!) Storm of snippets of catching-up, treated to home-made meringue and tarts! The beautiful witch CAN bake!!

It was glorious, it was intense bubble-wrapped in flippant! Spiced up with a pinch of pathetic headache and 'missing-my-baby' intensely!!

The day filled me!

I want to tell you all this and about 'on-loop' playlist of A R Rehman's Rockstar ---
have you realised that the chemistry of night-sky and those twinkling cities on the ground is immensely heightened with the stream music? Something surreal happens!

And, I want to tell you about reaching home in the black skied 2:00 am to the sleeping baby! Even in sleep he reaches out to the warmth and the smell and snuggles up!

A 24 hours of friends and 'family' DAY! I drift off to sleep, folding into the snuggled warmth!

Copyright©Neerja Yadav

lewis carollesque

2011-12-06T03:30:00.000+05:30

I dig myself up in a hole. Stories - in any form, take grip of me.

One would think, this is some form of residual psycho-babble nonsense form toddler/adolescence years... and all my 20s, i kept telling myself this!

I finished watching Evening and Martha Marcy May Marlene in a marathon.
Movies in general have a way of getting under my skin; I soak them up in the same way I soak up the emotions of strangers during commute; or at work, in college, or a party where I know only just a few acquaintances by name.

I tend to get into such vortex, every now and then... and should i seek medical help?
Or, should i let the reasoning part of me, take care of it... like always. Brain is YOUR tool and not the other way round.

30s are a bit better place to be, you sort of begin to understand and accept yourself the way you are... the different angluar turns of your dna, with grace!

The house is quiet. The air smells cold.

From the terrace, I see the distant car headlights making circles in the night.
It's lonely, driving, 3:30 in the night to your destination. Or is it? At the edge of the night, such thoughts... huddle around, with the cold they come closer now to the warmth of the foreground, some of them as faded as the pink paper tickets from the fete

I walk to the bedroom and find him sleeping like the baby he is... foetal, snuggled up with my pillow.

And, without knowing, unwittingly... there i see myself go... crumbling, falling apart... a total melt down... and all i can do is... watch!

Let my falling self be, let her sob .... and sooner than later, i pick her up, give her a hug... and, we are good! For the time being, at least...

It's frustrating and humbling to discover yourself at every turn, every corner... playin a peek-a-boo! Finding the limits and the core.

I am by nature an overachiever. An illusion - that i could do all and do it all beautifully.... another residual of teenage, high-school years... when my thoughts were too fractured and too refracted to stick to the routine.

Friends and acquaintances ask me, “How do you do it?”

The answer would be I am still finding my way around.... getting the hang of it!

There's this understanding of... everything cannot rather should not be picture perfect all the time, there would be missed doc appointments and missed classes and missed laundry and missed meetings

The idea is to complement... the silly with the vital... the playful with the responsible... the reflective musings with the assembly lines!

week-END

2011-12-05T19:33:00.001+05:30

my week, this week, ended today.
on a monday!

there was a time, when semester exams,
especially the after-exams shenanigans were a big deal

the weather is still mild, the wind yet not biting...
i like the way late afternoon sun feels warm, syrupy, sunny...
and the way wind sweeps my hair into tangles, all over

i like the way, how the moon looks, a waxing crescent
stars twinkling, if look, long enough, millions of them

the quiet nights of winter prologue

i have re-discovered poetry -
the neruda and the liz bennett, the robert frost and the wendy copes of the world
are delighting me....
and loads and loads of, stories... the way my baby mixes up his stories... some old, some on-the-spur
are delightful...

moments full of grace, prayer like, even

life slips right by.

The slow spreading twilights merge into daylights which in turn spill into evening indiogos to starry skies and it's morning again

Live. NOW!

If not now, when?

Timing is not eveything and then maybe it is.
For every step, every leap of faith... timing is what you make of it, when you feel right... into your bones.
Always right, if you choose it to be, if you let the universe align.

This time last year, i was still tossing the idea of whether or not, I should begin school again? In general scheme of things, an undergrad, grad and a post-grad degrees would perhaps be enough... Perhaps. Perhaps not.

So, if not now, when?
And, i began...
And then, i got in... sort of hilarously anti-climatically

bllink and am through with first semesters!

a day, a week, a month... merging into each other... blink and it's already christmas countdown!

the everyday

2011-11-26T22:28:00.001+05:30

Everything collides and converges, projects,deadlines, semester exams, Nirvaan’s school works, end of year round the corner…everything!

And, I never feel, I can just stop, pause, put myhead down and take that deep breath… I am always running out of time.

When, I could just use, maybe a day, a mere 24hours; perhaps a few moments to just slip through that hole in ‘the fabric’; myown rabbit-hole… a handful of moments.

Am building a collection of random moments,knick-knacks, while I wait for something to string them together!

I keepmisplacing my stuff, me … and finding in places and moments, unexpectedly.

'stealing tomorrow'

2011-11-22T05:30:00.000+05:30

From the hidden caves of sleepless nights and fingertips fumbling with the bed sheets

on the cusp of passion N prudence -

comes this:

via web

She had known him before, a few stolen quicksilvermoments, and each time it whipped out a new craving in her, a needcombustible enough to make all night bonfires. But, all that was ever done, allthat she could ever do, is douse the fire, pocket the ashes.

Yet for all that, it was love, wasn’t it? Or lust? Loveof mayfly for the dying sun, love of one-day insects for the candle-wick. End indeedIS more beautiful, thefinale truer than the prologue.

Lingeringfor a moment on the very edge, and like all lovers she parted with a whisper;

“Not just yet. Soon, but not yet”

my beliefs basket

2011-11-21T11:08:00.001+05:30

“I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines, and sing out loud in the car with the windows open, and wear pink shoes, and stay up all night laughing, and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets, and throw parties, and eat ripe tomatoes, and read books so good they make me jump up and down.” -Shauna Niequist

"I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love, i can live with" - Sylvia Plath

Let go of yourself, Let Love In,

Take a Deep Breath

Dive!

{2 years One month and 9 days}

2011-11-18T18:05:00.001+05:30

On this day, on the eighteenth of November, withthe world sunny and wind dry, amid everything else; its 4 years and nothing!

And just like that, things change, anothermilestone just slipped by, that time of motherhood where just being there and a kiss could most likely solve the rest.

Now things begin to become complex. There isgetting to know this person he is becoming, beaming-faced, hilarious, stubborn.

At the dinner table and other times, he’s like “wantmummaaa”, wanting to be close to me, wrecking havoc with my dinner plate andanything else I do. Some nights I’m all patience and games: “Here comes the hyena, the lion, the hippo.” Other times, I’m worn thin by the way hesquirms, his strong little body knocking me off kilter. But when I set himfirmly back in his chair he begins to pout and then cry. “Mummmma pleesse don’tget angry, Mummmaa pleesse kissie”

And I know the years to come will pass just like hecounts now: “One, two, three, four, nine, ten, fourteen, nineteen.”

desire? devotion?

2011-11-04T11:50:00.000+05:30

you sink in the oversized, cold leather couch,
the wine warming your insides
your eyes change colors with the sky
you pluck a part of your self
and toss it out
shivering, it rises...
you knew it was cold, you knew it was freezing

you sit with Dylan Thomas Volume - the words caressing you, more than any lover
and, your thoughts move... heart fluttering on the bridge of time

quietly, you see him leave
quietly, you let go

quietly, you exit
from the stained-glass
age-old library

infused with musty smell
thawing self
warm insides
shivering heart
numb senses
... all of you

a mosaic made of,
fragments of telephone conversations, love notes,

inane observations, shared nonsense
pregnant silences, fulfilling quiets ...

a stolen tragedy,
a sneaked lovestory

you hang the art - like a dream catcher, on your bedstand
to kiss it good night - every night!

nirvaan times two!

2011-10-09T00:00:00.003+05:30

The rest of my life began with you! You arrived, white and wideeyed with a mix of calm and at-will tantrum that has stayed with you. Youare an old soul, that much was certain, even at four months old, you would havethis far away knowing look in your eyes. And blink, you are all mischief! Youcame to this world loving and head strong. It’s your thing, it’s what makesyou, you. It’s awesome!

You snuggle with me; your soft hand gently stroking my face. Noone taught you this. You just knew it: how to be tender; how to make someonefeel the warmth of your big heart. I adore you. I haven’t spent nearly as manysentences describing our lives with you as I did before you!

You have an understanding, which I have hardly seen in kids yourage. An understanding of conversations and under currents too! And, you bask inbeing the centre of attention, I can see the pride with which you manage newthings every day.

You are an athlete already. You love to throw and catch balls;you love to jump; you love to run. You’re at home in your little sturdy body:coordinated, agile, content.

You are talking a lot now: long articulated sentences saying“thank you so much” every single time you receive something, saying “shonubaby” often. You can count to ten, and alphabets and animals name, in yoursweet little voice, each word sounding like something uttered with marbles inyour mouth: soft on the consonants. You love to dance and be a guy's guy ...jumping, falling, getting up with "mein gii gaya"

I want the present to last forever. I want you to be the way youare for as long as long. I want this sweetness to last. The way you give droolykisses; the way you put your own boots on; the way you drink out of a glass allby yourself, casually with one hand, spilling when you feel like it. I want allof it to be indelible in my mind, but even as I write you grow, and I know thatone day I’ll push back the hair from my face, look up from my keyboard andyou’ll be 10.

Happy birthday, my heart! I love you. I love you.

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

crave you

2011-09-22T13:44:00.004+05:30

Counting stars till I fall asleep.

We used cigarette filters to sift through our conversations and find Truth.
There was Philosophy and Nonsense and Unsaid;
but apart from that, the lines on our palms stayed hollow.

Soft spoken words, melancholy everywhere!

Much later, all I could think of was his smell; the scent of his washing powder, his ironed white shirts, suffocating me so I can't breathe or talk or taste or feel.

It's confusing. It’s crazy!

You think you've gone past the invisible line and moved onto another long and distant road. But one two-minute conversation is all it takes, really.

It's all just a twisted puzzle that doesn’t look right, just feels right; even when it's still in pieces.

And I thought I'd made such a progress!

Sailed away in my ship (just a boat really) and then suddenly in the middle of the ocean, that laps up invitingly… i just know, that even the watery graves couldn’t drown me.

The me that, has him!


via web

in love with the devil and his double

2011-08-24T16:07:00.002+05:30

I make my pact with the devil and purposefully stride in to … wait a min, an empty theatre! Yes, absolutely empty save for my own self!

The irony or the lack of it couldn’t have been more underlined. Here I was on a Monday noon, all by myself (have been doing this a lot lately) to catch the flick I have been waiting for, ever since caught its whiff! The background score of the promos kept looping themselves on in my mind’s ear.

Congratulations to Christian Henson, by the way! Excellent, excellent score!

Presently, I am in no mood to pay attention to the crowding empty seats, I settle down and Bam!

Nick Hornet gives almost the review I meant to!

Yet, I needed to do this. Because? DOMINIC COOPER! LOVE!

He is a treat to watch! This is his film!
Not for a second you see Mama Mia's Sky - a total cad! Not for a second!

As Uday he captures the frame like none, you are almost at the edge of your seat, not knowing what is next!

As Latif, it’s easy to fall for him and you can see why Sarrab (the love interest) does what she does.

Aside, Ludivine Sagnier as Sarrab is a classic beauty but a waste here.

The film has its fault, in fact, I would say many… and if it hadn’t been for Dominic, the OST and editing (except the very first mirror scene, where you just know that two characters are digitally together), this would have fallen flat!

The plot is sketchy (in a name of documentary-festivals’ film, I would probably forgive this) but the pace is not set! It rushes into certain things which should have taken their own time and strolls with inconsequential.

Also, as a so-called-biopic of a sociopath – Uday Saddam Hussein, violence is quite understated! Which is good, for someone like me, but then, even understated violence can be chilling. Here, we are just waiting for something gross, downright violent to happen, which I am sure is all in the two books this is inspired from.

One can see that perhaps Tamahori in attempt to keep the documentorial tone, kept the socio-path’s behavior on the sides.

I do not really believe in stars and ratings, I would say WATCH IT FOR COOPER!

ma realite'

2011-08-23T15:46:00.000+05:30

born out of the wind and the water,

my soul is warped, wrapped in wanderlust.

like fairy-dust, am unreal

and, i couldn’t have loved you more or less …

lost words whisper slowly
on moon beams they travel

broken stars in the hair

keepin check on unruly curls

handful of shadows...
hunting you, haunting you..

via www

analysing appetite

2011-08-14T21:34:00.001+05:30

Walking back from the memory’s garden, the wild random moments will shout your name. You will pause somewhere on the pavement of an inconsequential summer afternoon and stare at yourself-then, the naiveté of that girl, the dreams that tried to reach up and up on slender spirits to the stars, and you will wonder what happened to that 20something woman.

You will stand there in the summer heat and wonder how she survived the scorching sweat drenched days and nights, hungry AND thirsty with a six months kicking inside her guts.

It will be past nine. The August sky is now on the cusp of warm and cold. And, you will wonder, how unwittingly you continue to make choices and doodle on the time-sand. And, before long these doodling becomes the topography your story.

Today, somehow you feel the presence! It’s almost like a tangible bouquet.

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

write

2011-08-04T20:48:00.001+05:30

I’ve been bunking from here, off late. Perhaps, it’s just my procrastinating self, which finally has begun procrastinating the self! Or, perhaps, the anti-social me is spilling into cyber me as well. I really don’t know.

For the first time in two or three weeks, today, I felt like I could breathe in again without anxiety fraying the weft of my heart. Packing a caring for a flu-ridden and teething baby; the house chores; the laundry, the work, the conference calls and the professional writing; became like this huge un- scalable hills and everything just about came tumbling down. Falling with a migraine-inducing clatter!

Depression, however fleeting, put me right up against the edges of things: the tattered cuff, the broken branch, mud-spattered roads. It stained my heart ashy, the color a clouded sky turns after dark.

Wide awake at night, each day starting out with tight breath and tears close.

I resent myself for not being the my version of a perfect mother, I resent myself for not being able to give my best to my work (which I like), to the school work (which I again like) and being that superwoman home-maker which is what I pride myself of being. And absolutely inadequate, non-creative as a writer! And resentment for self is the worst you can do for self.

Each of the muscles taut with tension, each joints screaming with pain and then this body housing the near-empty soul!

So, here I am. Nearly mad!

a pair of wings! thank you!

2011-07-18T16:01:00.001+05:30

Morning sneaks in, on my son’s sleepy smile and lilting “mummaaa morning” and spreads like a fragrance around the house. And then rains bring the scent of earth and green add to that my own potpourri of cloves, lemon-grass and gardenia knick-knacks.

It’s raw, it’s earthy and it’s delightful!

We go through the morning routine with music-system playing mixed CDs. Am creating memories for my baby and ‘am hoarding them for myself.

I have been meaning to write and write more, but I lack the discipline and I easily put off these little soul-café moments for later.

But I have them carefully pressed among the dandelions and roses in the notebook.

And every time we make another tickle and cook up another syrupy moment or even when we do a ‘melt-down-cos-mumma-doesn’t-give-me-more-chocolates’; the roses just turn and dandelions dance a bit; filling the old chest with sea mist perfume.

I smile indulgently when the downpour grows tired and all is freshly washed; and the sky goes from cerulean to coral to deep violet and finally inky blue black velvet; speckle with stardust.

Time for dinner and dance!

just generally

2011-07-16T18:07:00.001+05:30

The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it...' Virginia Woolf

Words! Like Rowling's Dumbledore says are the real magic!

This weekend was all about magic.

From Yates' finale to Zoya's celebration!

By the way, as a snippet review - she finally moved towards hollywoodesque-take-any-mundane-subject-it's-the-storytelling-that-matters step! A small for her, a giant one for the waste-of-precious-medium-most-of-the-times-industry!

Magic is in the air! Air around me and my home!

"Of course, it's all in my head but that doesn't make it unreal!" :)

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

cosmic witch

2011-07-13T13:03:00.000+05:30

I curl commas in my hair and make the apostrophe dance…

Candles and potpourri are best friends

Dreams are hung on kitsch chandeliers

And soapsuds and bubble baths are the best “me-times”

The old crinkly-yellow books have become black-holes

And the voice gets tangled in the wicker basket swings

And dew is what slipped from eyelashes…

And morning is just pre-dawn grey rain

Love me and hate me again

color me rainbow

2011-07-05T17:49:00.001+05:30

I dreamt of rains and train stations…

and I dreamt of warmth of an embrace… embrace that said

“ssshhh… everything gonna be fine”; embrace that put a smiley on my heart.

And, I dreamt that I lost you… And I wept!

And then I woke up. You were just a dream. And, I have never known yearning so bad...

via www

I miss the stories that used to flow from me… I guess the clutter needs to be cleared before they can make way. I know, they are in my veins. And, I can feel them warming up ever so slowly but surely.

They will bleed, I know! Maybe I need my own Lion...

"What a stupid lamb...!"

p.s: do you still live in forgotten notes tucked in old classics?

his ever-present absence

2011-07-01T08:42:00.002+05:30

Eric Hu's girl in the field

Am I just imagining the blood dripping off my fingers?
You could just pretend that you don’t see me, my paling face, and my desperate dark eyes.

I stare out the window at the wild landscape.
The wind whips the trees into a frenzied dance. Shutters clap against the house.

I don’t want you to hold my hands, because then you’d know how clammy they are.

I am filled with silence. A throbbing silence that wants to scream…

On my wish-ponies you stroke my hair.

In my unicorn-heart, you are love

Why does it always come back to you?

You’re standing right here looking at me. I can’t look at you. It wouldn’t be… fair?

I close my eyes. Memories come flooding, that melt my heart! But not my resolve! Silence!
Then I hear you leave. Was this the last time?

I can only watch your retreating back through the window’s rain-soaked glass. Through the glass you look blurred; I stand and gaze out the window. Half-wishing you would appear again. After a while, I turn away. Then I notice… a piece of paper on the floor.

Empty sheet!

skywatching

2011-06-27T09:27:00.001+05:30

Evenings glow like burning love letter. The sky burnished with stars peeping through the torn clouds.

I wish this town would host a circus! That one circus, that makes you want to run away with them.

Chocolate-stained cheeks and lost coat buttons, letters half-written, notes passed around and hurriedly stuffed into school satchels. The fallen leaves pressed in notebooks. The cartoons and the phone numbers on the back covers!

Nothing, lasts forever, right?

What if this planet really is flat? But, all of us have been really really lazy to venture out far and wide, so we decided it’s round. For us to comfortably say, what’s the point, right? Maybe, we would never know.

Ursa Major, Monoceros, Draco, Pegasus, Centaurus, Eridanus, Ophiuchus, Hydra, Orion, Scorpius, Perseus, Andromeda... Neighborhood! Can I come back, please? Pretty, please!

"ondine"

2011-06-24T16:00:00.001+05:30

I have always felt that one needs the story sorted out in one’s head before it can be committed to the paper.

The neat figuring out of how it all started and the way it would end. Like cooking, I need to know the end result, the ingredients could be varied, the method could be spiced up, the wok and the oven could be different or not; but the end needs to be clear.

The jumping of characters while the story is being drafted, proof read, edited… is not something that happens, with me. Maybe I am not like those, who have the surreal talk to them. Maybe I am not a story teller.

via Niemamowy

No wonder then, that most of these yarns I spin in my head or on paper; remain the unfinished saga. Almost always! And, those that I do finish sound lame. And, there lies the reason that the book, that one book, which is inside, never comes out. Never gets told. Trapped!

Everything is gunmetal grey and the moonlight goes right through the hollow bones.

Dusted off the old chest, forgotten in the attic! Why, oh why? Now, I would have to take out those jars of broken promises and broken dreams and set it on table. Those are the rules. Also, tucked in a corner pocket was a phial of mermaid tears. Tears of loss and tears of happiness; washed out of the sea.

The sea is cleaning out, you see, and soon the mermaids themselves would be around. Soon!

Le Gémeaux

2011-06-21T00:00:00.002+05:30

A compendium of lies and regrets and yet no looking back. Tousled hair, fighter frame; am trying to take the heart from the soul. I was never any good with lingering sadness; it burdens me.

Have you ever had a chance to hold the entire universe in one gaze? If you stand under a canopy of tall trees and look up, you will see the entire universe. I could lose myself in those starry leaves. The clouds swirl and tempt and shower. I can't help feeling that, somewhere, time has stood still. The air is heavy and my heartbeat is slow. I wonder what it all means: if it means anything at all.

Even the smallest things can be magic, really.

via Niemamowy

rain town

2011-06-16T10:29:00.002+05:30

Attention is the most potent of aphrodisiac of all!

I let the spinning orbit of my day pull in: work, toddler, leaving and arriving; buying grocery and paying off bills. Household stuff. On the swings. “Mumma… shweeminggg {swimming}”

And, you long, once again like zillion times before… to find yourself reflected in his gaze. Find your heart spread.

If Only...

The nights are listless, crowded with the shallow sleep, too much thought, too many tears. Blurry eyes, fogged head, I feel myself half awake, half in dreams.

My dreams … of the shallow sleep are just a fantastical reconstruction of my mundane days. My longing, my wanderlust projected. I wish inception was true! For me! Never a deep sleep and it gets increasingly low as I go!

In the early pre-dawn hours when the first birds have already begun to sing my dreams always {and whenever I do dream} become magical. Of demons and aliens and fairies and beings magic!

Enough of chin-up, practical, getting through the day! Enough of being a warrior!

I want supple-subtle heat and the fierce attraction! Things that would make me feel beautiful, wanted, sexy!

Now I rub my eyes and look about the room. Rain speckles the windows. Nirvaans squealing! And I’m here: reluctant yet certain in my life.

I let my eyelids flutter closed again… only The Memory Remains.

via www