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