my tooth (rather teeth) hurts again. but this time i will wait for my trip to delhi and show it to the dentist there. :)

went to try out this new salon O2 Spa in the new GVK One mall. the mall is awesome, but the new salon isn’t. not only the guy cut my hair pretty dispassionately, he completely ruined my request. < sigh > all i needed was a fringe cut that nicely frames my face. he just took the front hair and nipped them, regardless of how they fall on my brow and so NOT go with my face .. :-/

search for a good hand with a pair of (hair) scissors in Hyderabad is still on .. :)

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

|:
you could stop poking and pushing
prodding my myriad folds
no point rubbing or resuscitating
when a (dead) body goes cold

–:
i have felt your warmth
burnt my skin in your flames
don’t ask me to give it up now
am too far into this game

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

in response to P’s big O 15 catalysts .. :)

1. words, that don’t make any sense, but i know exactly what they mean
2. eyes, that smile and make it so much more easier to make sense of the words that do not make sense
3. smile, that says “of course, i am all yours”
4. hands, that fit perfectly into mine
5. arms, that wrap themselves around me with the warmth of a soft, tender quilt made just for me
6. lips, that come close to mine, and then stop, and shudder, waiting for me to respond
7. tongue, that doesn’t ask, but answers
8. warmth, … of a thousand suns that kills me and then infuses life into me every moment, every other moment
9. hold, so tight, it threatens to crush my innards, but squeezes all pain out of me
10. thrust, that threatens to wreack havoc, but stops to feel my thrust back
11. and then, a moan, that drowns a thousand sorrows, and lets suface a smile
12. also, a (deep) groan, that spreads like a cool balm on my burnt and tortured soul
13. a cry, so loud, and also so deep, it puts the big bang to shame .. oh look, a universe is born
14. a surrender, into me; the sinner, the shamed, the helpless .. the helplessness of the brave
15. and then again, words, soft, sweet, distant murmurs, that don’t make any sense, but i know exactly what they mean

**********************************************************************

P’s big O 15 catalysts:

In no particular order…

1. Water dripping off a fabulous body, wet hair and all
2. Music to get one in the mood (and keep in it)
3. Intelligence – loaded
4. Sense of humor – witty and whacky
5. Intense eyes that can rip resistance off
6. Breathtaking kisser. Literally.
7. Satin/soft cotton lingerie
8. Freshly-bathed smell, with the lingering scent of soap and cologne
9. Great moves - on the dance floor and where it matters
10. Soft lips and glistening skin
11. Smile that reaches eyes, especially when they meet mine
12. Deep dark night with diffused lights (don’t miss the alliteration here :))
13. Huge, soft bed with loads of pillows
14. Taut, chiseled upper back (to nibble and sink in teeth)
15. Dexterity at flipping between gentleness and compelling force of passion

in that moment, in your arms
when i’d wanted to die.
the sky was on fire
and so was i.

those that perch on a higher ground
are not yet ripe, don’t have a full seed
those that pluck away from the branch, and fall
are the ones that have learned, and are ready to breed …

i had my first “relationship” when i was 20. and that was actually the first time that my mind had changed perspectives. till then, guys were always buddies, just like my gal friends. i hadn’t had many sexual feelings towards any guys i had known before that. the only sexual fantasies i’d had were about the same guy i “fell” for when i was 20. i’d had a huge crush on him since a long time, but never really did anything substantial in that direction in my teens; and then i just forgot about it. i did have the regular touch myself all over episodes, but i was never obsessed with it. i was almost always up and about, rushing here, running there, and i used to sketch and paint a lot, so i guess i was never idle enough for my mind to get time to think of something i can’t readily get.

and then i met HIM (again). :) even now thinking about it makes me smile. it was the complete package, all with knees weakening and everything. i remember, the first time we got officially introduced, i caught a glimpse of him appear in the distance. my heart actually did skip a beat .. and believe it or not, my step faltered, i felt my knees are gonna give way and that i’m gonna just fall there on the road.

that one was truly my kinda relationship, the likes of which i have never experienced again. maybe i grew up, and also maybe, it spoiled me. :)

i keep wondering about the speed at which the time is running now, but now i think it ran faster when i was in my teens. i really don’t remember anything much about anything around that time. i mean surely there might’ve been guys, some guy somewhere, but i don’t remember any tiny bit. school was pathetic, no cute guys i can remember there, college, well i was in an all-girls college. and college 2nd year was when i think i had met my “first love” .. hehe .. :) funny, the sound of it.

so i guess that’s how i grew in my relationships too, just like i did in my life. no .. foundation as such, or anything that made an impression that i carried forward, i just … grew. the way any wild weed would .. on its own. the awesome, intense experience of the first-love-found lasted a beautiful year, less i think. it ended with just as much fury with which it had started. though it was beautiful, more beautiful than a clear, pristine, electric blue sky, just after a bountiful rain, i wouldn’t have been able to experience all that i experienced after it. the hurts, the confusions, the redundant desires, the urges, the aches .. so i guess it’s ok. it had to end, and i let go. otherwise, it wouldn’t have been teerathyatra, it would have been home-sweet-home .. hahahahahaha!! :)

very …

hmmm … nothing much to update really. right now .. right now i feel really sleepy. i have been feeling really sleepy since this “buffet” meal i had for lunch. came home early, and to make matters worse, succumbed to the temptation of having khhichri, which i did. and then started these weird copla hours … sleeping, not sleeping, feeling kinda sick, bit pukish, head heavy. went for a walk around 8, that felt good. and now i don’t know if i feel hungry, or the tummy’s still upset …

you died before
for our sins o jesus
now die again
for me

i am feeling very, very sleepy today. wonder why. would love to siiiiiiiiiink into a nice cosy bed, like, right now … mmmmmmm ……

i have picked up a pencil and a sketch pad after .. wow, a good 10-12 yrs now. i wonder if my fingers will be able to recall the .. feelings ..

i think about it sometimes. death - self inflicted. esp when i am PMSing. esp when i think of things i regret, and can’t get over. and i try and push time, with all my might, push it so hard, to move it back, to that moment, that act, that will never let me be at peace again, not wholly. but it doesn’t budge, this time, doesn’t move, not only that, it keeps pushing forward, such sure steps, it has, each second, each moment. and i stand, am pushed, helpless. it is then that i wanna take a sharp, sharp blade, and run it over my blood vessels, vessels that are not at all vessel-like, but more like tubes, they should be called blood tubes, much simpler that way; calling a spade a spade. run it ever so lightly, with just enough pressure, to puncture, like one would the flesh of a mango. and it will open, the skin, a-part, and then the viscous liquid will ooze out, celebrating freedom, gushing with cheery happiness, out it will run. then maybe the empty “vessels” will get an opportunity to fill themselves up with peace.
.
.
maybe once cy is grown up and gone. when i am by myself again. just breathing, and eating, and sleeping, and not really living, just the way i was before she got infused into my womb. my child (this one word so does not sum up the wonder, the miracle, the … beauty of it ALL), my … sole purpose in this world …
.
.
i know you have forgiven me
but how much ever i try
i can’t, myself
and still
all i can say
is, i am sorry.
but sorry
doesn’t say it at all
so someday
my blood will spill
celebrating its freedom
it’ll shout hurray
and while fleeing
these words
it’ll also say
“oh, she’s sorry
she really is”
and then you will truly know
the day when you will truly
forgive, and yes forget.
.
that i regret

_________________________________________________________________________

forgiveness can’t be asked for, saying sorry; like respect, it has to be earned ..

puraney pal sambhal ke rakhey they.
naye waqt ne aa kar phaink diye …

mushkil kitni hoti hai
kuchh logon kee zindagi

wo dur, ice-cream wala
chup-chap chaley ja raha hai
raat 12 bajey
apni gaadi ko dhakeley
kahin ja raha hai
ya, kahin se aa raha hai

na janey kitney ghantey din mein
dhoop mein wo chala hoga
garmi mein khara hoga
akeley khayalon mein pada hoga

aur yoon hee chalti rehti hai
saanso kee ye bandagi
mushkil kitni hoti hai
kuchh logon kee zindagi

aur yahan mein hoon
araam hai
mera ye sunder flat
ye pankhey kee thandi hawa
ye mera bister mulayam
merey takiye dher saarey
merey fridge mein thanda paani
daurdati-bhagti zindgani

shukra hai merey bhagwan
shukriya hai tera
tuney mujhey basaya
ghar diya, kuchh paisey diye
apni deh se mujhey lagaya

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

ah! kya din beeta hai
kitni sunder hai garmi padti
ye garm-garm hawa
ye dhoop jab jab sir pe chadti
ek mein, aur meri ice-cream
sab hein merey paas aatey
ice-cream do, bhaiya ice-cream do
paise dikhatey
paas bulatey

mera chhota sa ghar
mera pyara bister
meri sunder biwi
merey nanhey-munney bachhey
subah jagengey sab
khushi manayengey
pyar karengey mujhey
daurdey bhageingey, khelengey
apney khel mein bulayengey mujhey

shukra hai merey bhagwan
shukriya hai tera
tuney mera dhela chalaya
garmi dee, grahak diye
aaj tuney mera kaam banaya

wo dur, wo ek madam
chup-chap khadi hein wahan
raat 12 bajey
balcony mein
jab so raha hai sara jahan

intzaar kar rahee hai kisi ka?
kab tak intezaar sahegi
na janey kab se khadi hai yahan
kab tak khadi rahegi
kitni akelee, bechari lagti hai
raat anderey, udaasi mein padi rahegi

na jaaney kaun hai uska
koi hai bhi ya nahi hai
shayad yahi kal gum sum ghoom rahi thee
sadak pe, haan ye wahi hai

ram hee janey uski maya
kitney log, unki kitni strife
mushkil kitni hoti hai
kuchh logo kee life

[ .. this content is not appropriate for those under the age of 18 .. ]

Lips

she had been trying for some time now, but wasn’t able to get that image out of her mind. the image of his lips. his thick, luscious, pink lips, that looked so meaty and so juicy at the same time. she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to chew and eat them, or just keep sucking on them, like she would a sweet, juicy mango. they looked more pink than a woman’s cunt, his lips … at least all the women’s cunts that she had seen. she stared at it for long .. his picture, and then when she couldn’t take it anymore, she called and told him that she was coming over, and that she expected to see him at his place. she promised her boss that she will finish the assignment later in the evening and scooted before the boss could protest.

he was sitting and waiting just like she had imagined, when she walked in; on his single bed, leaning back against the pillows, pretending to read. she threw her bag on the chair, unzipped her denims (just to make herself comfortable) and climbed the bed, sitting astride him, over his lap. she took his face in her hands and just looked at it. more pink than a very hot woman’s cunt. the thought made her sizzle. she ran her thumb over his lips, still holding his face. he closed his eyes and sighed, opening his lips just a wee bit, like a small bird would. she brought her hand forward, rubbed the side of his face with the back of her fingers, and then pushed the back of her first finger into his lips, parting them further, past his teeth, close to his tongue. her second finger followed, the first touching the tip of his tongue, her thumb rubbing his lips. he gasped and opened his mouth, taking all her fingers in, salivating all over hand, sucking it, taking it in. ah! if only she had something else to shove in that mouth .. so warm, so moist, flooded with desire.

she bent down and kissed his lips. once, twice, thrice … she could go on forever .. this very spot. she just wanted to suck with her lips first, no tongue. get tired of it, just kissing his lips. but she didn’t even realize when her tongue broke the barrier and reached his mouth, his lips, poking, shoving, licking, making demands. it didn’t take much for him to open. and she shoved it all in, her mouth, her tongue, making love with his tongue, sucking, breathing him in. she loved kissing his recently shaved skin, his chrubic face, and its baby skin. she sucked on his chin, tonguing his cleft, then licked his cheeks like she was ravenous and his cheeks the manna, then kissed his forehead, his nose, and back to his lips. her lips, her cheeks could never tire of that constant, hard kissing and sucking, kissing his face, his lips.

< < lunch break over :) >>

that hug
that infused
that glow
that warmth
that glued
those bodies
that hungered
that want

this now
this time
this moment
this knowledge
this sad tear
this acceptance

that we
that hour
that evening
that was
that, was nothing
but
a moment
one moment
that came
that went
i loved
u loved
we loved
now
it’s dead

No, I don’t know everything. I don’t know it at all rather. But that does not stop me from giving advice to all and sundry now, does it. :)

And here’s my advice for today. Go ahead .. Just Do It!!! Thank you Nike! :)

It’s alright
If your heart wants it truly
Just do it

It’s alright
If that’s all you’ve been thinking of
Just do it

Don’t think
Don’t shy away
Your wish
Is just a sky away
So spread your wings
And take that leap
You might fly high above
Or maybe fall in a heap

It’s alright
If you fall, you will stand up
Just do it

It’s alright
It’ll hurt only if you cry
Just do it

Listen to your heart
Lock your reasoning in a room
Go fly away
Fall, burst, mushroom … < < i know this is not gelling :( >>

It’s alright
It’s alright
Go fly
Just do it …

:-)

this is a generality on most MILs in the general region of the Indian sub-continent only …

mothers-in-law; they are not appreciated around most of the world. why? it’s maybe because the relationship starts with a (huge) lie; calling them ‘mother’ from day 1. i can just say for myself, i couldn’t do it. call someone my mother when she is of course not? mother-like maybe; maybe ‘masi’ is more apt, but mother ..?? hmmm .. i don’t know.

but that’s just one thing. the problem with MILs is that they start getting all bossy and controlling, completely insensitive to the fact that the bride has just entered a new life, a new home, a completely new environment, an unfamiliar territory. the last thing the poor bride needs is someone to come stand over her already burdened head. they forget that it’s important at this stage for the bride that you just shower warmth, understanding, and most of all give her all the space possible. it’s really sad and depressing for women who get married just because they are told to. no thought is given to their choice, their likes/dislikes, what they would’ve wanted to do in life if you’d just .. freed them ** sigh **. they are made to leave everyone and everything they know and love. change even their names (on top of that some women maintain their “husband’s” names even after being abandoned, kicked out of the house, divorced … appalling, is what i feel). and in the “new” home again their wishes are completely side-lined. they are not even supposed to give voice to their wishes, which get drowned under their husband’s wishes anyways. i have seen husbands shut their respective wives up so rudely even in full public view and poor things just simper and quieten down. it’s pretty common in the northern parts of India. wife-beating is fairly common in southern parts of India too, but i think it doesn’t happen here so openly.

and so starts the vicious circle. all those millions of years of suppression, slavery, not being allowed to talk openly, not being allowed to do anything they like, or want to do, forgetting what they like to do if given a choice … and then comes this poor little thing. a new, tiny lamb. someone who will have to listen to her. just imagine, all that suppressed anger, those slapped down desires, strangled wishes. they had never disappeared, or died down. they were just jam packed, somewhere deep down, simmering, brewing, turning into something very thick, dark, and very bitter. and wham!!! … the dam bursts … the cycle continues …

afterall, saas bhi kabhi bahu thee … sad, they just don’t stop, and look back …

love … please God … some love … more love …

is shakti ka sahara
mera shiv kuchh aur hee hoga …

i am so sorry
for i stamp
and i stomp
on your pure thoughts
your pure emotions

i am so sorry
for being what i am
it’s no excuse, that
i am what i am
i wish
i was
more
so much more
maybe something
someone else

so i am sorry
please forgive me
it hurts
and in hurting too
‘i am’ being selfish
not hurting
cos you hurt
but hurting
for being
what i am

i DESPERATELY need a shoulder massage … DESPERATELY … they’re jammin’ :-/

… and i forgot to get my clip, i won’t be able to hold my hair together. though they’re looking nice today, if i have to say so myself. all washed and clean and silky and shiny, falling all over my face so nicely .. :) .. i should wash them more often .. hmmm .. dear, dear, sweet God, do provide the motivation .. :)

*********************************************************************************************************************

diwano se ye mat poochho
diwano pe kya guzri hai …

— for fart-a-lots ;) … hahahahahaha!!! :)