Thursday, July 31, 2008

i just remembered an incident.

One day, Mrs. Velloz, the woman at our canteen at SJC was very high and giggly.. (she's an old silver-haired woman who INSISTS you greet her before you ask for anything. She's all about please and thankyou and good morning)
Anyway, meha's little brother went to the canteen and asked for Mamamia (the red ice-lolly)

Saud: Can i please have a Mamamia?

Mrs. V: *giggles* Mamamiaaaaaaaaaa....papapiaaaaaaaaaaaaa...what you want han? papapiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Saud: *scared* umm.. and.. a fanty..

Mrs.V: Fanty? *giggles* Auntie without a pantieeee!...

Saud: *runs away*

Meha: *in fits of laughter*


i swear this happened. And she's 70 i think =/

a real small word which describes real big trouble..

I once read this poem in Young Times long ago called "Ego"
Its was about how a guy was going and the girl didnt stop him even though she wanted to, with all her heart.. the last two lines were

"Because the fear of rejection was
more than
the fear of losing you.."

You see?

Two people who love each other very much, argue, but none of them back down.
Two people who love each other very much, truly want to patch up after a fight but none of them want to be the first to break the ice OR the one to compromise and accept their fault..

Ego sours love. But, sometimes its a little necessary..

"The best thing about Egotists is that thye only think about themselves"
They are not like weird memon aunties at weddings who whisper and point at young innocent (ok maybe not THAT innocent) girls and make up far-fetched stories about why this girl is always frowning or how this other pretty girl is always stuck to the male species (WHICH, BTW ARE ALL HER COUSINS, DAMNIT!)

What really amazes me is how blissfully unaware they are of their own sons' weaknesses and ugliness. They'll notice how a poor girls feet were a lil dirty (YES, FEET! they even stare at those) at a wedding and so she cannot possibly be a good housewife (YES. its a weird theory whihc i'll explain later) BUt will not realize that their sons are crotch-scratchers/armpit scratchers/nose-pickers.. (that too, in public)

They'll notice barely-there strecth marks on a girl's arm (hence no rishta.. cuz she's obviously JUST lost weight and so must have atendency to get fat.. and their chand sa bacha wont like that at all , now would he?) BUT will not notice a big wart on their son's nose.. or if they notice they dont think it counts as ugliness

Now, i do not have anythign against warts or spots or marks or whatever but if they are so concerned about a girl's appearance thne they should look at the boys the same way!

the dirty feet theory:

Okay so... many people believe in this. I personally hate hate hate dirty feet but in NO way judge people because they happen to ahev stepped into a lil mud or something!

so yea. If a girl doesnt care about her feet, her soles, basically and dosnt keep them clean then it means that she is in no way competent anough to keep her house/room clean. So clean, moisturized soles mean that a girl is probably finicky about cleanlines.

Theory proved wrong when Aesha was born
clean feet, yes.
finicky about it? Yes.
room clean.. um noo =/
Finicky about keeping house/room clean? no.

there you go
In your face, AUNTIE!

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

My heart lights up everytime you call upon my door. But its usually dark and gloomy.

And I see Love move, breathe, yawn, smile..

Why. Why can't everyone?

Love is awake..:D

Rain washes
Rain nourishes
Rain freshens
Rain pleases
Rain evokes smiles

but sometimes, just sometimes, rain soils.. things, souls, people..

the honour :D

he named it Stray Vibes..
omg :D

i love you, O.B.. <3

he named it Stray Vibes..
omg :D

i love you, O.B.. <3

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Thick. creamy. steaming. aromatic. a lil tangy. a hint of spice. a rich undertone. My perfect bowl of soup. Thank you amma.

I'm married and im expecting a baby soon :P

haha =/

erm.. sorry.. i know the joke isnt even funny:P

A five-star hotel, complete with cold floors, and an indifferent atmosphere. Not relaxing, but un-nerving. A ballroom. Elaborate curtains, all maroon velvet and gold tassles.. Marble reflecting shiny people with shiny shoes. Designer sorrow.

Music.. Slow dancing. Supposedly romantic. A figure in black, hiding in shadowy silence. Watching. Watching. Watching. His girl laughs demurely. His girl twirls. His girl, winks and giggles. His girl has danced with another man..the whole beautiful, moonlit night..

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

i wish love could be measured...

If you only knew.. the buds in my heart were always red not white..

twisting a loose tooth

Sometimes you do things which can bruise the sunshine in your life. Your life floods with blue-black light which illuminates scars you thought were birth-marks.. Life kicks you in the abdomen and you yelp.. but you don't surrender because sometimes, the pain is delicious..

Monday, July 14, 2008

Smiles can mean so much, its overwhelming..

Love sours under a cold leaf at times and you wonder what you did wrong. Pickled attraction. A nice tangy pleasure..

The world revolves around a few words, a few actions and we all spend our lives roaming about circumstances which, if exploited, could have led to so much more than a smile..

The life-long search for something satisfying can be ended at your doorstep if you just try to step out. Break your shell.

The sun shines brighter today.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

Papery clouds of hope, tear with frustration.


Wont you?

Friday, July 04, 2008

screwed up

You know what i know?
You do what the world does.
And it sucks.
Cuz you could have been so much more...

A pink sky means i won. Yes. It does.


When the sun you believed in as a child, clouds over and the murky clouds take over, a delicate shudder runs through your body. When you are standing at the edge - right where the vegetation and life and sounds and love, thins and becomes pale- you can hear the screams of the childhood you thought was dead. There. Right there you realize that death is only a new beginning. A new start, so fresh, it brings tears to your eyes. It is all a cycle of death.

You gaze at a squirming, red, newborn child and you blink away unexpected tears, which are heavy with so much reasoning and realization, they can choke you. You want to strangle this fragile creature because life only gets worse ahead. Why would you want such an innocent soul to go through the pains of growing up only to kill themselves one day?

When the loud, very loud voices of the Muezzen break your thoughts, you smile. Because interruption saves you from getting yourself depressed any furthur.

You stick you face into your steaming mug of coffee and sigh, because yes, the pleasure of life does exist in small, hidden places..