Excuses

Being dumped by the love of your life is a terrible experience to go through. Unfortunately, I've been through it twice. But the difference between the first one and second one was the way I dealt with it.

The first unceremonious dumping made me wander around the city aimlessly with my notebook and camera by bus and on two feet. During the second (equally unceremonious, if not less)- I had my bike and would go riding away on a drizzly afternoons on the outer roads of Pune alone, listening to music which I stopped listening to soon after that phase. One fine drizzly afternoon, after having partially recovered from flu, I decided to push my luck and try to somehow be at Senapati Bapat road near Chaturshrungi at 6.15 PM. I left home quite early, thus giving me about an hour to kill. So my plan was this:

To call up my unsuspecting friend staying at Baner asking if I could visit him for some time. This way I could go around the longer route from (Pune's) Chandni Chowk to Baner, visit my friend, kill time and then be at Chaturshrungi at the above mentioned time.

As I left, it started raining. I took shelter under a tree and it stopped raining. Then it started raining again as I started and I took shelter under a tree twenty meters from the first one. The i wore my rain jacket and rode off regardless of the rain. Climbing up chandni chowk was taxing considering i was still weak from three days of flu. As I rode down the hill towards baner, I felt calm. Like I had a plan in my mind and I knew what I was doing whereas in reality, I had no plan. I was just taking a chance and timing myself.

I met my friend at his house but not before crossing gigantic slush patches before his society entrance. I had to walk the cycle here. Oh the horror!

My friend made coffee for me. We spoke and I transferred some of my flu virus to him and he fell sick after that, but that is another story.

And then soon enough, my mind told me it was time to go. After all, I had to reach Chaturshrungi by 6.15 PM. I rode out towards senapati bapat road with a sudden rush and a sense of something just about to happen... 6:15 PM and I had just reached the University signal. I was late. What if I missed it? What if something happened which I didn't take into consideration?

But I persisted.

I rode up to Chaturshrungi.

I rode beyond Chaturshrungi

And sure enough, I saw him.

Mission accomplished? Well, not really. I said hi, we walked home, ate burgers on the way and went home. But things just went downhill from there. In a fit of sweet hysteria, I admitted that I had feelings for him, but you see- he saw through me better than i saw through myself. I was a fool. Things were better later as the situation between us grew into an initially awkward, but later comfortable friendship.

But keeping stuff at the back of your mind is not the best thing to do. And the human mind is made up of all kinds of memories. And it went further downhill as memories kept creeping up at the wrong time and wrong place.

I don't know whom to blame for this, and I don't want to. But my only hope is that years from now, if we ever remember this, we can laugh at it.

How will he ever die?

At the age of 14, I got the opportunity to meet this great old man. Someone who i'd just read of in the papers and seen on the news. Someone who i knew was the most famous painter and liked to paint women from the movies.

I saw him walk barefoot on the grass of the little hillock at Surajkund. Apparently, I heard - he was always barefoot. He was to paint on a wall. A small crowd had gathered to watch him at work. What I saw was a bony old man with a white beard, white hair and a beret covering it walking slowly with a smile on his face. As if he was about to play a prank on his unsuspecting audience.

With one look at the wall, he picked up a huge brush which was kept near the bottles of paint neatly arranged on a table, ready for him to use. With one stroke he drew a semi circle on the wall and a stick figure within it which resembled a veiled woman. Or so I thought.

The man with him enthusiastically started clapping signifying the end of the process of painting that wall. He egged us on to applaud for him and we happily obliged.

Another youngish man came forward to clean the paint off the old man's trousers who then sat with a few other important looking people sipping tea.

He seemed unfazed by them and was quite happy to oblige the crowd with autographs and handshakes. I still have his autograph. And somewhere stashed away, a photograph with him. His smile never lessened. He didn't talk much, but was happy to be there, I think.

He had played his prank.

One of the most visionary artists from our land, whose work needs no introduction, played the prank that his genius mind conjured up. We might take years to understand and decipher his complex thoughts and visuals.

But that fine February day MF Hussain influence me to try to understand visual arts. I am just one amongst many whose lives he touched. So how will he ever die?

Have you ever seen... Epicfail

A couple of years ago, I posted this particular post. For me, the words were carved in stone. No one would ever see these spectacular sights!

But just recently, exactly two years later, John Abraham appeared in an advertisement riding a bicycle through a forest looking all happy.

I was impressed! But just as I was about to applaud his efforts, he stopped and lifted the edge of his t shirt sleeves (muscles ripping and all...), looked right in the camera (gaze meant to melt the heart of all the Ladies and a few men, and make them go 'awwwww...') and showed how tanned he gets and how he needs a fairness cream made specifically for men to keep their tough skin fair all the time.

A few months ago, I read these terms used on twitter and I loved them. Just describes perfectly what I felt at that time: Epicfail and Facepalm.

Mr. Abraham... please cover yourself in all the leather jackets and protective pads and helmets, and go ride a Motorbike instead.

Midnight adventures

The delectable five minute Mulberry cake in a cup!, a photo by DraconianRain on Flickr.

Presenting: The delectable five minute Mulberry cake in a cup!

Many years ago... (fifteen, to be precise) I lived in srinagar for a couple of years. Beautiful place, weather and flowers and fruits. Then there was spring... the season of mulberries. I would carry a bag to collect mulberries growing on trees. Those trees seemed to be just randomly sprinkled all over the place.

Mulberries are nice little things to eat. Especially the dark sweet ones. I had just learned how to bake cakes, and I decided to try making a mulberry cake. It turned out delicious and grey in colour.

I never made another mulberry cake till yesterday when I baked the 5 minute cake in a cup version of the same. It was delicious and blue-grey in colour!

DR

DR, a photo by shutterbugpooja on Flickr.

Yes, it looks quite cute. That was before I cut off my braid. I don't have it anymore. Clicked by Pooja. Don't know when and where, but it's cute, nonetheless.

In other news...

A few things happened in the last few days. I bought a new bike, India won the cricket world cup 2011, and I got featured in a this nice online Independent magazine called Start.

Anna Hazare begun his fast unto death demanding greater public role in the Anti-Corruption Bill and Dhoni Shaved his hair. Well lots more, but this much is enough for now.

hula hooping

how do you get inspiration to hula hoop?

It might be because you are visiting your cousin who is an avid hula hooper and has a nice bright hula hoop at her house. On one empty lazy afternoon, you decide to try to learn how to hula hoop.

Or it might be because you want to impress someone.

To lose weight.

Just for fun.

Whatever your reason might be, I took up the challenge to learn how to hula hoop. My cousin is an avid hula hooper and has a nice bright hula hoop, I want to impress someone, lose weight and I happen to think its pure fun. Many years ago, I had a dismantle-able hula hoop which was rather small for my height. I could hula hoop around my legs for many minutes. Though I'm not completely out of touch, I cannot manage hula hooping at waist level yet.

Being homeless.

I turned eighteen years old, having never lived in one place for more than two years. Even less, in one house. Those were barracks, small rooms, apartments or bungalows but never homes I could call my own. Even though I lived there, I was in a perpetual state of preparedness to leave. My parents had their rightful homes to go back to at Mumbai and Pune. I never got a chance to stay there for more than three weeks at a stretch. Those were still houses to visit during vacations. Not homes. After school, I stated studying architecture in Pune staying with my grandparents, where I knew that although that was rightfully my own house, it was never my home. I lived in Surya and Vasanti's house for a few months in Auroville. It was called House sitting, not home sitting. And for a good reason – Its supposed to be a house for me, not a home.

As I left Pondicherry, when everyone was going back to their respective hometowns, I was not. I was just returning to Pune. Everyone has a home they call their own. A home to go back to after a hard days work. A town they grew up in. A town they call their own. I never had that. Probably never will. Wherever I go from here, will not be my home either.

Last night at my uncle's place, I stayed up for a long time, thinking about this. And when I finally did... I slept rather well.

I am truly- a homeless woman.

Time flies.

And loss becomes easier to cope up with. Lately, I have come to realise That time does heal if you let it.

That fateful St. Valentines day five years back changed my life forever. But its only after he passed away could I understand what my father really meant to me. He left me with a sound mind, a strong will and a spirit I never knew I had. He was instilling it in me gradually while I was blissfully unaware of his ways.

I was a daddy's girl. And men who have that kind of a relationship with their daughters raise them up to become Independent, strong and spirited women. I cannot say the same for Mammas and their boys, but that is another subject.

When I saw him alive for the last time, the thought that we might never see each again did cross my mind. But it was not supposed to be him, it was me. Even as I bid him farewell forever, I knew he had had no regrets ever and he lived fully the kind of life would always have liked to.

And now five years later, I can write about it without feeling bitter or despondent. Maybe just slightly nostalgic.

And after two long years of not using my watch, I got it fixed today. I instinctively wore it on my right wrist as I always had. I smiled and realised that all the pain and betrayal had gone. I was back to being what I was instead of being what I was becoming for my erstwhile flame.

Time heals.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time...
Originally uploaded by DraconianRain

When I was seven years old, my father took me with him to test ride a premier padmini. A breezy light greenish blue. It was a unique colour.
But we bought a white one eventually. It was our first car, and then came the first road trip - Jabalpur to Suratgarh in 4 days. Through the dry, dusty landscapes of Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan.
We sold it off in Srinagar five years later.

The 5 minute banana cake in a cup!

Not my birthday yet! - Ttv
Originally uploaded by DraconianRain

Ingredients:

1 mashed banana

1/2 cup maida

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1 nicely whisked egg

1/3rd cup butter

1/4th cup milk (might need less, its just for the right consistency )

Mix all the ingredients together in one direction only!!!

pour the milk slowly till you get the right consistency of the cake batter.

Pour it in the cup making sure its only half filled.

Set your microwave on approx 700 W, and bake the cake in the cup for 2 minutes and 30 seconds only. Anything more than that will make it rock hard :P

The cake will rise after a minute. it might seem to spill out of the cup, but that will not happen. it'll settle well.

Let it cool in the cup. You can remove it later, or eat it out of the cup itself. Ideally, you can eat it with ice cream for a quick dessert.

If you don't like bananas, make it a chocolate or vanilla cake by adding 1/4th cup cocoa powder or some vanilla essence. Or make a carrot cake by adding grated carrots in it :P