To cut a long story short...

Baby no more.
"Delete all delivery reports?"
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Tried to call you.
"The person you are trying to call is unavailable."
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Papyrus Trolls

Hi,
A couple of friends and I have started a new page where we write our experiences with the books we read.

Papyrus Trolls
We read...therefore we are

Welcome to our journal of books.We will be writing about our experiences with the books we loved. And those we didn't.The books we possess. And the books that possessed us.The books that became part of our lives.We hope you enjoy this page.

Contributors
Nandita Mundle
Gautam Begde
GT

Check it out. We are going to try to update this as frequently as possible.
Do write in your reviews/ comments/ curses, etc.
Enjoi.

Inventory of Memories-III (Home)

So we shifted house yesterday. It was a crazy nerve racking day. Loads of arguments and nerve stepping. But in the end, the house looks great. So it was all worth it.
Spent Saturday, packing up the whole old house. Another very "fun-filled" day.
But as we picked up the last paper pins and packed away the last showpieces, a funny thing happened. I found myself asking, what now is "home".

Is home the place where you can roam around in the dark without bumping into a single thing. Where you remember stubbing your toe and banging your knee on the corner on every bed. Where you can find shapes in patterns of the Mosaic tiles. The place where you remember which year exactly the crack in the plaster appeared. Where you find forgotten birthday cards made for dad on chart paper with wax crayons.

Is home where you know exactly how much push every door needs to be given, with your hip,to close it. Where closing the kitchen drawers with your knee or foot and the fridge door with you butt, is second nature.
Where you know the arrangement of all the bottles in the bathroom cabinet and all the linen in the linen cupboard. Where every time you go home for the weekend, you know instinctively at what point in the hall, you can drop your bag and take that flying leap onto the sofa, and you'd land perfectly.

Or is home the place where aai and baba are a shout away. Where you can hear your parents murmuring suspiciously in the other room, discussing your life, in what they think are secretive ways. Where aai will still insist on telling people how many marks you scored in your engineering. Where you share tea on Sunday evenings and groan about going back to work on Monday - invariably, unfailingly every Sunday! :-) Where you sit and talk about aaji-dada and your aunts and uncles and cousins come calling. Where you laugh and cry, and scream and fight. Is that what home is?

I found the answer too. As I sat with baba in the new house, sharing a packet of chips and Mirinda Shorbet, and laughing about the "Ambrosia" bakery being right around the corner, discussing packing and unpacking, I realized with a twinge of something resembling relief, that home is where your family is, no matter what colour the bathroom tiles or the number of electrical switch points.

Memories are not stored in walls and windows, they are stored in the hearts and minds of the people who inhabit them.

I miss you

I turn on my side, as I go to sleep, and I see that empty space beside me. I place my hand on the mattress where you used to be. I feel your absent touch on my skin. I finger the bedsheet and think of you lying there. Like a safety blanket. As I fall asleep. With a tip of one finger touching you. Re-assuring myself that you were there. But no more.

When I get up in the morning, I look over expecting to see you. In my sleep with my eyes closed, I reach out to you. And then in a flash I remember. You are gone.

I remember how you looked. How you were there in the light and in the dark. In good times and bad. Now when I walk, I feel like a part of me is missing. My hand searches the air for your touch.

I miss your sound. Your voice.
I miss your touch on my cheek. In my hair. On my skin.

Dearest Cellphone, I miss you.

Person at the Window (1925) - Salvador Dali

Person at the Window (1925) - Salvador Dali

The Fox (1913) - Franz Marc

The Fox (1913) - Franz Marc

I just bought an Alpenliebe Strawberry Lollipop. Am damn excited about it. Not everybody stocks them. So its a rare find. Too bad I can't have it in office. You think I'll be the blacklisted in office if I have the lollipop right here at my desk while working. It would be fun to see the reactions.

I dunno why people think its childish to enjoy a lollipop. So fine, its associated with children. So are chocolates and bike rides. But that didnt stop the oldies from doing it did it. So I say, there aint anything wrong with enjoying a classy lick of a lollipop. Especially one with pink and one stripes. I think its very becoming.

Inventory of Memories- II

I went and cleared out my room this weekend. And found loads of stuff to list in my inventory of memories. So heres my list of the memories on my shelves:

1. Lucky Stone: This was given to me by a dear friend of mine from engineering college (TK). She said she always considered that stone very lucky for her. And she wanted me to have it...for luck. It a perfectly spherical stone with engravings on it. And i was given to me nestled in cotton in a intricately painted wooden box. It went with me to Goa for 2 years and back. And I still have it. It's treasured and very very special. Thank you TK.



2. Wind Chimes: I got a set of wind chimes from a very dear friend of mine, AK. They are really beautiful. They are red and silver and when they tinkle, its like sheer music. And they a great reminder of a wonderful friend.



3. Blessings: An envelope from my grandparents. With my grand-dad's characteristic handwriting. Conveying blessings. For me. It brought back visions of my aaji's very typical way of giving an aashirwad. "Balwant ho, gunwant ho, sukhwant ho...." (Be strong, be talented, be happy...) and it had this musical lilt to it. And she'd always end up giggling after she gave her aashirwaad, setting everyone laughing.



4. Cards: Birthday cards from school friends with invariable reference to whichever gawky teenage chappie they were teasing me with then, friendship day cards, cheer up cards and a perfect card from TK that said: " How did you get so good...at making people happy"...It still made me smile. Also I found these chocolate/ rose/ eclair day cards with little messages from engineering college friends. And a lovely card from one my closest friends which said..." The only thing more beautiful that your smile, is our friendship". I think this was in one of his mellower moods :-D Thanks AG.



5. Swimming pool membership card: Now, this I had always kept carefully in my cupboard. This was a membership card to a swimming pool...when i was 6 years old. It has me at 6 in a very serious passport size snap. But still what kills me everytime is the line: Age - 6 years. For some reason i find this adorably cute.

So thats my current list. I'll add more if I think of something that should be here. A lifetime in cupboards and shelves. :-)

Dylan Thomas

"I know we're not saints or virgins or lunatics; we know all the lust and lavatory jokes, and most of the dirty people; we can catch buses and count our change and cross the roads and talk real sentences. But our innocence goes awfully deep, and our discreditable secret is that we don't know anything at all, and our horrid inner secret is that we don't care that we don't. "
...DYLAN THOMAS

Obituary

Passion died today. In the same incident, hopes and dreams were severely injured. No one came forward, as Passion died a slow painful death.
Passion had lived a long colorful life. Passion found successes and committed errors and . And often Passion created magic.
But today, beaten down by people in the rat race, she died. She will be remembered dearly for bringing that sparkle in the eye, and that spring in the feet.
After passions passing away, hopes and dreams are struggling for their survival. Our good wishes are with them. We hope they will get back on their feet and through their actions keep Passion alive.
Passion will be missed. She is survived by a cold, scared, boring world.
R.I.P.

Stop all the clocks

I heard this in "Four Weddings and a Funeral" last night.
Its fantastic. Very Moving.

Stop All The Clocks
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week, my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-- W.H. Auden

Inventory of Memories- I

My folks are moving house next weekend. After 23 years. Almost my whole life. I'm going home this weekend to clear out my room...so that a girl all of 10-11 years of age can move in, with her school books and skipping ropes.

I have never thrown stuff away. I am a pack rat. So I still have greeting cards from school. My "Life" and "Battleship" games. The rose and eclair cards from junior college. Gifts from old friends. I have them all tucked away in boxes. In cupboards. In desk drawers.
Packed away. But not forgotten. Its who I am. I don't let go. I move on, I keep the memories tucked away, but never thrown away. Everything I ever had, or received has been in that house. I was a wee little thing when we moved there, so I don't remember any place else.

I remember just some of the stuff that lies in my room. I know there are going to be a lot of surprises when I start clearing up. They say, when you move, you can look at all you're stuff and see your life in them. So I'm going to do just that. And list them here. I am going to take an Inventory of Memories.

The stuff that makes me smile, the gifts that bring a catch in my throat, and ones that make me remember. And I'm going to remember all those people, the incidents, and the stuff that has been a part of growing up in that house. And I'm going to pack away some of the stuff again. And throw away the rest. Some memories are past their shelf life. Its time to take them off the shelves and wipe the dust away.