From the Archives

tee hee...

Of farts and belches…

Some time ago I had commented on how I hate the sight male of the species indulging in something which comes most naturally to them …scratching crotch , yesterday I was subjected to another sight which I find very repulsive , a very pleasant looking middle aged man was digging his nose vigorously, with such concentration and singular devotion that one would assume that his life depended on it *puke puke*... have u ever been in a dinner table where u heard the person next to you fart (and if its really not your day you smell it too) and u didnt know where to look because you were embarrassed for that person while he happily went on eating his chicken tikka (filling u with the dread of being subjected to a chicken tikka flavored fart …ewww) and after that you probably never did see the perfectly respectable person in the same light again coz u heard him fart ...or the time when the teller of the bank decides to burp right on your face polluting the air with the smell of his/her lunch… now I m no prude and I confess of indulging in each and every one of these very “biologically justified activities” but then why am I (in particular) so squeamish about the public display of them???

Farting is the spontaneous expulsion of intestinal gas through the anus and is as common and important a biological process as say blinking…then why is there the stigma attached to it …maybe because of the odor it emanates …

Wouldn’t it be nice if we accept these biological functions as normal and stop attaching the stigma to them? A world filled with farters and belchers and crotch scratchers !!!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Latchkey life

How perspectives change when u live alone...

somehow my idea of havin the whole house to myself was a decadent one of sleeping into late afternoons, occasional making out sessions with random strangers in different rooms and peace ....instead i find myslef wakin early ,worrying about the day, leading my usual chaste life and being subjected to the tension of the houshold help arriving late...i rush out of office before 9 pm so that i find the vegetable stalls open and can make throwaway bargains...even on a very very rare day when i am out partyin with friends i spend half the evening wondering if i have really locked the door before rushing out to meet a deadline...

however there is somethin quaint about walking into an empty apartment..., especially when i know this is how rest of my life is going to be...

when u turn the key to a satisfyin click on your door things somehow seem to be right...

Shey je boshe achche...

Alone he sits by the window knitting a scarf of colorful dreams …
His eyes belying his smile…
And old haggard clouds mock him with showers of tears…
A wet crow tries to waggle all hope away...
Yet the dream factory churns out hope of different shapes and sizes…
And the humming sunlight of his heart shines through the rain…

The Hours...

I remember one morning...
getting up at dawn...
there was such a sense of possibility!
You know? That feeling?
And...and I remember thinking to myself:
"So this is the beginning of happiness..."
"This is where it starts!"
"And, of course, there'll always be more."
Never occurred to me
it wasn't the beginning,
It was happiness.
It was the moment...