gross!

At yam's. again. exchanging lives online - she says get off facebook and get on life. verbose excretion.

talking of excretions, this night yam's had access to the most intimate detail of my existence - an opportunity came her way - an opportunity that hasn't been available to lovers. Only Navs had been subjected to such mishaps. but this night Yam's too was subjected to the same. However, this time the culprit wasn't my forgetfulness.

No water. And even with this realisation, my biology could not control it's processes. So I rushed to the toilet. The rest need not be stated.

I used drinking water but then how much of it can I use to flush down the evidence of my physical reality? Vestiges of my insides remained afloat and Yams saw them to her horror - which would, of course, inspire her to waste another 15 minutes talking.

However, all said and done, all secrets revealed, I guess this was the last step to our fondness for each other. The last step towards our knowing each other - inside out. She now has access to the most embarrassing and most intimate fact about me - that I too crap.

And it's true you know, you can romanticise anything! Perhaps, only because, everything is beautiful! 

Of this one day

I had the privilege of stepping into a dream.

Woke up at Yam's house again. It's comforting to wake up after her - to know that she's walking around the house, stepping into the kitchen and making coffee. It's not just the coffee but the idea of someone being there and being completely at ease with that someone, even when you wake up ugly with swollen eyes and bad breath.

Went to Qahwa after much dillydallying , for Nav's sake and ours. It is a rare pleasure to catch a glimpse of him smile as he watches the petite waitress strutting around, with such pure love.

And then, to capture moments with Yam's camera that doesn't zoom in or out - but it makes it all the more special to capture them in that unchangeable limitation. And even though we pose for each shot with lightning fast reflexes, I think they're still spontaneous. I think that quickness is our nature - to look at life in the eye when it appears. This is not to say that the camera defines us - no. But I don't have to explain what I mean - it would only diminish everything I would want to say. And besides, I don't have the words.

Then we trailed off to Select City to look for earphones, hats and toys! My shoes were killing me but I didn't complain - physical pain didn't compare to the joy my soul experienced.

And then, we stood in front of a toy store for some 10 - 15 minutes to decide on the next activity.

We went to Dilli Haat where Yam's order was the star. Rajasthani thali - understated and homely - sensuously consumed by hands. Then, she wanted some silver and beauty defeated all practicality.

Came back to her place again and chatted with Ayms. It's great - my discovery of skype! I melted into love. And love was the only thing I experienced - for him, for myself, for Yams, for Navin, for the whole universe.

And dinner at a small charming bengali restaurant - fish, rice and mishti doi.

Came back to Yam's - she said it was nice to have me around. What do you say to that? I just did an awww but meant so much more.

It'll be nice to move in here - to spend the evenings together in hope and despair till 3 in the morning. To talk about inane things. To keep plants and a strand of rajnigandha on the table every night. To cook together and to discuss life to endlessness. And most importantly, to feel love everyday.

the politics of standing up!

at my new office, I write about sarees, ornaments, shirts and suits. It's alright, in the sense, that it numbs me. No inspiration required, no thinking. It is most spontaneous - where I am and am not.

today however the first problematic rose in that new space. I was writing about some earring or necklace, free of judgement and describing it blissfully bereft of passion, completely detached from the whole affair. I was so out of it that I was so absorbed. Does it make sense? Anyway I was writing, oblivious to everything else including the projector where they were projecting THE match which would lead to the strengthening of patriotism for most or to distasteful slandering of the players, when suddenly everyone around me started getting up. They were playing the national anthem on the screen. I told myself I don't have to get up, don't get up - don't be a hypocrite. But you know, no matter how much your visceral ideologies deny it, your skin gives in to the pressure. And I got up reluctantly, my insides rebelling against my actions. There was no truce.

But I fit in.