Romance novels are birthday cake and life is often peanut butter and jelly. I think everyone should have lots of delicious novels, romance or otherwise, lying around for those times when the peanut butter of life gets stuck to the roof of your mouth.

This month, you are my cake and my peanut butter- what are the odds?

Here’s to reading to you as the last rays of a late afternoon flit through from under the curtains in your living room; the light gleaming off my fingers like honey- a tablespoon of it mixed in warm water every morning before breakfast and right after kissing you. Lemony lines cast rhomboid bar-codes on your floor, as I rest my head on your shoulders and sound alphabets that somehow string together to make words as beautiful as incandescent, ethereal, as beautiful your name. In the years that you weren’t there with me, I found photography. Sunlight lent such a softening edge to the world. It drenched everything in a warmish glow. With time, I mastered the art of not squinting when the sun shined directly in my eye. The trick is to stare long enough for your pupils to constrict so that you don’t tear up. So when you walked into my life again, against the sunlight and in your silhouetted glory, I knew how special this photograph would be. Time suspends itself when I am with you like dust particles against light. I notice and realise that the alternating light and dark lines of illumination on the floor of your room are only changing shape because the Earth, unlike time, hasn’t stop moving- just like my world; which has been spinning ever since we met for the first time several birthdays ago. You came into my life like the light streaming in through your windows that windy afternoon- a flamboyant guest, not waiting for an invitation- making itself welcome in a house that it is far too comfortable with. Like routine, the light scans for changes around the room and finds your familiar skin. Your chest moving up and down, with a rhythm that was immortalised in its memory. As it traced the edges around your shoulders the light reflected off my hair. Something different- this isn’t how she remembers you- and almost like a jealous lover, she hid behind the curtain for a while gauging my affection and earnestness for you. After a few minutes, a breeze billowed the curtain away from the window and coaxed Light in to your room again. A couple pigeons flew out. The ruffled noise of their wings made you stir as I turned to the next page. The light caressed my body like oil on water- touching but never mixing. It tip toed around you, careful not to let you in on the secret of the warmth that was radiating from within my body, careful to not make you aware of how I was taking her rightful place. You turned around to kiss me on my forehead and in that moment, time was infinite and the light, insignificant. I love you. How I wish that sentence would be a grammatically correct palindrome.

Happy Birthday, my love. I look forward to afternoons which last a lifetime and a life that is filled with lightness, dreams, fruit cream and blueberry discoveries.

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I’m not cool and I like it. I’m not hot either.

I’m awkward where I’m supposed to be cool. I don’t really know my stuff around the most happening pub, neither do I wear the hippest clothes. I don’t gulp down alcohol because it may be free, hell I have enough at home to be a drunk for a week and still be left with surplus. I don’t listen to songs which ask me to first take a selfie. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with instagram. I find twitter boring. I refuse to use hash tags and I would rather watch an art film in my native language than watch a flop Hollywood movie because it has machines in it.

But, I’m one of the first to visit a good website if it uses good words to frame the expressions. I’m the kind with a bookmark in three different books at the same time but read only one at a time. I gauge my men the way I gauge these books. I start several at a time but linger over the one I like and complete it. If I like it a lot, I don’t pick up another book for months, even if that book (chapter; good analogy?) was over. I’m the kind who’d wear high heels for five days a week or sneakers at a party and still be okay with it. I have only recently bought coloured trousers and the colour is teal. Mustard is really not my cuppa, neither is a red. I’m the kind who knows what good coffee tastes like but wouldn’t know jack between a lager and an ale. I like like the occasional nonsensical songs, but my play list has classy numbers. Well, most of them..
I click photographs because I want to. I look at them while sitting huddled under the duvet during the half-time of the world cup going on at Brasil. I don’t want the entire world to know what I ate for lunch and I have repeatedly been reminded to ‘instagram’ the image I took. And, then I oblige, sans any hash tags, of course. I don’t tweet because 140 characters couldn’t possibly be enough! I blog. I scribble. I draw.. I went 12 kilometers away to buy rosemary, thyme and sage leaves for an art work I’m planning!

I’m not cool by a lot of your definitions. I don’t smoke up. I don’t smoke. I can’t accessorise my outfits because I seem to look like a villager when I do, I guess, but people have claimed otherwise. I cut my hair short because I could not bear the heat and, that it was enough with the cliché of long hair on my head.

And you know the best part? Those things really don’t make anyone cool.
You’re cool if you’re cool. If you need beer to make yourself interesting, you have major issues. If you need beer to make me interesting, well, why are we friends again? My snap chat score doesn’t determine how popular I am. Hell, I had a display picture of Ozil and Muller on for three weeks and it got one like, and a slutty picture with my neck showing seductively gets 99? The world has serious issues.
I love my books and shoes and weird out-of-place-ness. I don’t care if I don’t look hot or even if I look ugly to you. If I think I am doing fine, I am freaking pleased and will trot out *toktoktok* in my favourite stilettos.

This is not a shove on those who do these things. I’m just tired of everyone judging themselves by these bars. So many kids feel like they just have to do all these cool things to be cool and hip and accepted and popular.
The world doesn’t really need to know where you are at this moment. Everyone’s seen that heart warming video, shared it too ironically.. bloody well time to practice it?


We all have mass. We all have a field around us, however small, however minuscule, we have a field surrounding us that has a force. That force, however weak, is a force, nonetheless. And through the course of our lives, we come across a lot of ‘forces’, people who influence, affect, effect, change, modify and design the way we think and look at life, itself. And when we meet such a person or meet a group of such people, we assume that they will be there for good. And we are right in doing so, because obviously what they teach us remains with us forever.

Some people teach you what to do, some teach the exact opposite; either by example or by experience. I’ve met both kind of people and I must confess, I miss them in my life once they’re gone. And they all have to go, because they serve a higher purpose. They are never stagnant in one persons life. Editing souls is tough and their job description entails, that they must wander. And that, they do.

You meet this person, minding their business in the corner of a book store, dusting off old travellers’ books, OR maybe (since this is the modern age), surfing through a blog and reading poetry. Then sudenly, you hear a ‘hello‘ or see a comment pop up ‘i just read your blog and it seems nice‘, and thus begins a conversation that lasts for a few seconds to a few lifetimes…
And then their circles, their view, their choices draw you into a new world. Suddenly, you read new things, you improve your diction, you begin working out, you eat better and shop smarter. Your brain feels alive and your body feels fresh and you breathe in oxygen in quantities you’ve never been able to, before. Don’t misunderstand, this isn’t love, oh no! This is simpler. This is adulation. This is a friendship, but a little more than your average run-of-the-mill friendship. You don’t need each other, you don’t meet everyday or talk all the time; no. You don’t bring in the intricacies of your complex life and unimportant details of the same into the equation. You write good stuff, you read even better stuff and indulge in a glass of whiskey while discussing world economics and Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination. You then discuss the profound effects of love and the importance of relationships, as the alcohol hits you. And then, you simply sit quietly, listening to John Mayer and Radiohead while you draw doodles of the comic strip that you dream to start together.

Such is the gravity. Such is the pleasure. Such, is the desire.

And then, the person sees that you’ve grown, that you have imbibed…so, the soul leaves, in search of a new life, to change some more people, and then, you sit back and reminisce. How many lives have you changed.

You smile. : )


The West Wind.

Everyone I know is shifting to the Western world. West of where I live, West of the hemisphere. Everything is going west and I think it all began with the Tatas shifting to Gujarat from West Bengal! Everyone is moving either to the west of the nation, or to the ‘western’ world, and by that I mean The Posh (forgive my sterotyping) Nations; USA, UK, the shizz. I want to move as well, to a land with more work and less talk. Till the time my life moves ahead of the under graduate level, I will not be able to take any personal decisions. Decisions which girls my age take with ease; I like him, let’s date him OR Wow, I want to go out and I will because I don’t have any parental supervision. Haha, kidding. But what I wanted to clarify is that, till life makes a decision for me and shows me the city that I will be in, after the graduation from the current college, my life is staccato.

I have met some wonderful, truly knowledgable and, how should I put it?, magnetic people through my blog. I have even had the pleasure of meeting a few of them and it is beautiful, what similar minds can do when they are put together. I long to find that similarity with a mind, in a place where it is not a hassle to meet him/her, where meeting someone would no longer raise eyebrows, is something I yearn for. They say, ‘two more years, Zeph and then you can meet the people you want to…’, but I have been listening to that ruse ever since I was in school. Get done with school, and then you can live the way you want, of course, there will be supervision but there will be more permission. Ge done with college and then during your Masters, I’m sure you’ll be better off. It is not the sitting and yapping with friends that I like, it is the birth of ideas with like-minded people who drive me towards conversations. And conversations only happen when one can make time.

Right now, I will curl up under a blanket and read Kafka on the Shore, by Murakami and drift into a world of make-belief and feel as if I am inside a cocoon. while I’m inside the book, I feel ensconced and happy, every time I shut the book for the day and glance to my side or look around, I see the city, the beautiful city and beg for it to let me go. I beg for it to let me go West and to not let my mind go to waste. I am academically proficient, but I want to be holistic. And for that, I need time and freedom and space. And I need it to make sure the other, more creative lobes, of the cerebral hemisphere remain active, and hope that they do not atrophy.

Here’s to one more night of reading, one less night in the city, one more dawn and another day.

Being an intellectual creates a lot of questions and no answers.
-Janis Joplin


I do.

I find love in the books I read
I feel it in the wind,
the same wind that blew dust in my eye
the same dust that I bit.

I wished for a falling star
I saw one shooting by,
all I needed was some stardust
all I needed was magic.


Post Break-up Syndrome.

The world seems to be collapsing around you while you desperately try holding onto whatever you can lay your hands on- his favourite band, his favourite poem, the book he last dog-eared or the perfume you never really liked. You look around your room and spot his nail cutter on your dressing table or you look at an advertisement you had both laughed at, together, and then it happens- you feel a rush of tears stinging your eyes, your cheeks go warm and you repent your decision of ending things with him.
He wasn’t that bad after all, was he? All he wanted was for you to cut your hair or grow your nails. All you had complained of was him being an hour late sometimes and surely that can be worked out. All the differences and reasons for the ‘premature’ termination of your relationship begin to seem superfluous and frankly, childish. There is nothing a glass of wine and good conversation cannot sort out, is there? This is the Post Break-up Syndrome.  It is characterised by reckless dating, excessive drinking, excessive shopping, stalking your ex boyfriends, a high sugar diet, self-doubt, prolonged sleeping hours, regret, irritation, reading break-up quotations online, understanding song lyrics and most of all, the need to get back.

So, you call your best friend and ask her if the haste made waste, if the dog pooped early, if…okay, I am out of metaphors. Simply put, you ask her if you were wrong. She will not give you advice but hear you out while you figure out your own mess and while talking to her, and in turn talking to yourself, you hear the reasons out loud and you realise that the decision was in fact right. A difficult choice to live with, but a correct one indeed.

So how does one get over a significant other? You can delete his number, block him on facebook and hide the photographs. You can remove his physical presence from your life, you can pretend that he doesn’t exist and all of this will go on perfectly fine till that one day where you suddenly listen to a song you both danced to, or an old message in you inbox that got ignored while you were on a deleting spree or the news of him dating someone else reaches you. The world will be a perfectly rotating spheroid TILL THAT DAY, after which all his ticks and non-sensical habit will make sense. You will see that you’ve grown and have matured enough to accept the mistakes he had made 7 months back and you will ache to get him back but it is too late. He has moved on, probably as painstakingly as you have (or may be not) and he won the break-up game.

But that’s what popular belief says; that the one who dates first is the winner. I do not agree- I believe that the one who ends up happiest is the winner. Yes, there will be hiccups in getting over him (for god’s sake you loved him once upon a fairytale time ago) and you will question the choices you made. Yes, there might be a chance that ending it was a mistake, you probably should have waited a day or two more, maybe just maybe things would have turned around.

And then you will read something. Something so life-changing that you feel happy and light, like cotton. You’re a reader and he was not. You sing in the shower while he just, showered. You asked philosophical questions and answered them with candy-floss analogies while his dream interview is with Smith and Wesson. You looked at the stars, he saw the dark, dark sky. And then, you call your best friend again, to share your epiphany and she calmly makes you understand that two halves make a whole. That, while you focussed on the stars and he looked at their background, while you read all the time, he read the newspaper (and that’s the point where you make a face and disagree- newspaper is not reading duh!).
Then, once your BFF is done explaining to you why opposites attract, you say just a few sentences to her and she knows that you’ve won the argument-

I need a man who knows what poetry is, how beautifully one sentence flows into another. I need a man who carries a handkerchief with him, not to wipe off my tears but to clean the ketchup that I accidentally dropped on his shirt. I need a man who reads out Beethoven to me, instead of making me listen to his symphonies. I need a man who can make me lose an argument. I need a man who shuts me up by kissing me. I need a man who understands my fascination with House. MD. I need a man whose words seem like a song, whose voice makes me tingle. I don’t get that in him, sweetheart. I get a lot of other things, but not these. I can put in a handkerchief in his pocket and make him watch sitcoms but can I make him feel the beauty of Haiku? Can I make him stir his soul like a good book stirs mine? I am incapable, not him.

Till the time you reach an epiphany, the post break-up syndrome continues.

-All the best, I hope this helped. And if it did not, boo hoo, just start to not care and you’ll soon find another jerk who’ll also leave you 🙂



I’m not a communist, or a capitalist. I’m more of a leave-me-the-hell-alone-ist.

Fanaticism is the opposite of love. A wise man once told me– he’s a Muslim, by the way– that he has more in common with a rational, reasonable-minded Jew than he does with a fanatic from his own religion. He has more in common with a rational, reasonable- minded Christian or Buddhist or Hindu than he does with a fanatic from his own religion. In fact, he has more in common with an atheist than he does with a fanatic from his own religion.

I agree with him, and I feel the same way. I also agree with Winston Churchill, who once defined a fanatic as-
Someone who won’t change his mind and can’t change the subject.

This is an excerpt from Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. The quote struck as something very relevant in the global happenings. If only everyone agreed with it and thought similarly, the world would be a better place.

Been a long time

It’s been a long time since I wrote something..anything. I haven’t been inspired enough to write something that would be worth reading. I had a lot of things in mind but nothing that made me go ‘wow I need to blog this’.
Anyway, I have been reading Shantaram all this while. The book isn’t the regular philosophy kind, yet it is filled with nuances that make you read that page again to grasp the actual meaning. The kind that makes you keep the book down and think. And I fall in love with this books.


An excerpt.

There was one chapter that dealt primarily with the coming together of things. In it, one of the author’s mentors explained to him, the secret of the universe. The universe it seems, is made up of stars and stardust and particles from the galaxy, and every step and everything we do moves towards a more complex system. Human beings began as simple, single celled amoeba and now, we are as complex as we can get. But as time passes we step towards becoming complex. This is known as a universal complexity. There is even a law in Hemistey which states the same. The world never simplifies when two things come together; it always becomes more complex and twisted.

And this got me thinkong about this one person who is coming to meet me all the way from another state. This person, maybe my best friend or maybe my boyfriend..could be my father or my aunt, but the coming together of two individuals and us meeting each other coud only lead to complexity. Is this a venom? Does it make everything more difficult or is the meeting essential? Questions kept swarming my tiny yet over worked brain while I slept and I reached a conclusion. I’ll get to that in a bit but before I do, I need you to understand why I had this dilemma.

Everytime someone prepares to come down to meet me, we both get excited and jump up and down with joy; deciding where to go and what to do. But as the date of arrival gets closer and closer, I panic. So do they. There is actually nothing much to do. And there is only so much we can talk about..and then I feel it is worthless. Them coming here would be a disappointment and I begin feeling pangs of anxiety. With it, I begin doubting the entire decision of their arrival. What I fail to understand is that they’re not coming to DO things but to MEET me. This happens regardless of who is coming over to meet me, but met so for my friends.

The conclusion? Well, the coming together and the coalescing is essential for the world to move forward. The most that could happen after an amalgamation would be a fall out between us and even that is a step forward, in the long run. Everything that does occur takes you towards a final goal or destination- be it love or hate. Love takes a more peaceful, pleasant and flowery road whereas hatred take a road that is longer and full of obstacles.

Take love. Be optimistic. Because being able to coalesce with someone else is in itself a giant leap forward..towards a zenith that is the universal complexity, a goal that we are all headed towards irrespective of the changes we take and the mistakes we make, we have to tet there. So might as well do all that we can, while we can!


-stay tangled.

Living life like a boss. And CAKES!

Whenever I feel lazy to type in a blog entry, I start hyper ventilating. I keep saying to myself (while I procrastinate)- ‘OMG, Sweta, this is it, this is going to be the last time you try to write something and your blog will slowly decay into oblivion and no-one will care’. I start thinking of topics. Every thing, even ants and dust seem to motivate me to write but nothing is ever good enough. I know, some of you do read my blog regularly (have i ever thanked you enough?) and some don’t (why, WHY?) but will it matter if I stop writing?

Now this is not a quest for fishing compliments. I am only just being honest. I would miss a blog if it dies (given that I like it already and it is awesome and its death is untimely). I love the blogs I follow and I read them regularly. I am like this dog that returns to its place of worship but then, there are days where I just don’t feel inspired enough to write something substantial. I mean, hello? I have a standard to keep here! So days go by before I write something for the blog and by that time the stats fall down to a trickle. Shaa, what a waste huh?

Anyway, so what i was saying was that every time I decide that ‘that, that post was IT and my blog will definitely die NOW’, I get a new follower or a new like or a new comment. Something positive always happens and I get all bubbly and bouncy about it. I feel like a little girl on a sugar rush and my fingers automatically type in a new post. 😀

So here’s one for today-
I have been on vacation. post-exams I have nothing to do but laze around, surf the internet, watch TV, watch movies (i recently watched Casablanca, An accidental husband, Autumn in New York, Lost in Translation and Barfi :D), watch House and catch up on Gossip Girl. Oh, and blog. And Read!  It being international book week and all, I decided to buy one of the International best sellers. I am currently reading Shantaram. I am loving it till now and I am only on the 30th page. Shantaram is also my mum’s gift to me on Daughter’s Day! (thank you ma!)

Thats what I did last night- Some old wine, a new book, and chocolates. 😀

My mother’s going on an exchange programme to Germany as a teacher representative and India being a tropical country, we were short on the required woollens so she and I went shopping. She bought her stuff while I looked around the clothes and wandered into Crossword and then, I got stuck. All the books literally stared back at me so I went through some of them (Catcher in the Rye, What Young India Wants, etc) and then decided to buy a book instead of buying clothes. And the moment in which I made that decision, I felt so happy and grown up. I felt like I was buying something that was for life. And so, I am now a proud owner of Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. And then mum and I went to a cake shop and I ate a big slice each, of  Blueberry cheese cake and Chocolate Truffle Cake. And then I was bloated. And then we went out decided against having Puchka. We ate Puchka nonetheless and happily trotted back home.


Double yumm.

I read the first page of the book out loud (because it was that good) while mamma tried on her new acquisitions. Oh, and she recently purchased a saree for herself which I wore as well, yknow, just to try it on and my god did I look awesome or whaaa? 😛

India, Incredible India?

Life has become and endless session of TV-Internet-Shopping and phone calls and I am not complaining. College reopens on 1st and holidays (for Durga puja) begin soon after so yes, I am living life right the way I want to!

-Enjoy and don’t detangle!