Posted in Finding Inspiration, Midnight musings

I don’t want to be the blooper girl

I introduced an error in a newspaper report that went into print yesterday – which is a sin in print media. An editor is supposed to pick out the error not insert any. We had to issue a corrigendum. I am ashamed. I always take care while editing, even minute things that do not matter anymore. But I do, because like I have said multiple times I love my work. I always try to put in extra effort so that whatever I do is good for the paper and my self and yet it happened. It had to happen, when I was adding the line something went off in my brain but I ignored it, it had to happen because people usually re-read copies but somehow that point was missed. I am ashamed that it is my fault taht something like that has happened. I know, for everyone it’s like a normal day in the life of an editor and yes I agree. It’s not the end of the world. Tomorrow is a new day and people will forget about it might have already. But I cannot, it seems much more bigger to me. It is an indication that no matter how hard I try, I falter. Unknowingly. I get distracted or I miss something or I just don’t know. Why did it happen to me and not the other people at work who do not work as hard as me? Do I think too highly of myself. I have found, proof-read, polished errors in copies edited by other people before – did I think no one will be able to find in mine? I wanted that to be the case.  I have let down the people who thought I could do some work. Why I have come here instead of scribbling in my notebook is beside me. The tap tap of the keypad is a better distraction than the scratch scratch of the pen in the middle of the night. I did not want answers I wanted to vent and find the strength maybe to go to work again tomorrow. I know it’s not a big deal but I don’t want to be scared of making mistakes. If I am then this will be the last mistake I will ever make and most probably the last time I learn anything. But I don’t want to be the blooper girl. I don’t want my life to be riddled with mistakes. I don’t want my career in journalism to become like my life – vague and plain.  I want it to go where I want it to be. More than often I feel that right now I am just flailing my arms in the ocean. I want to stop swimming and I know if I do I will drown but I don’t wanna drown. And I feel like I am just about to drown every week. 

And I don’t wanna drown. But most importantly I don’t want to be ‘the blooper girl’. 

Posted in Midnight musings

Tired but not sleepy

I am tired but not sleepy. I was sleepy few hours ago in office when I wasn’t tired. Work has been busy for the past two three weeks. Busy is good. But, too much good is bad. Hence, every night – tired but not sleepy. Which transalates to awake but not active in the morning. Funny how coffee/tea helps some people, doesn’t help me, momentarily yes. 

My body is a big believer of Newton’s Law of Motion (I know stale joke). If at rest, will be at rest. Workouts these days are so exhausting – every single cell in my body asks me to hide under the blanket and go back to sleep. My 50-year-old mother is more active than me. One day she said she would massage my back because I was stooping like an old lady, felt so ashamed. Her legs pain at times, when she runs around a lot doing all of our work, but her daughter is already 129 years old. 
I have had too much work since last few weeks, she has had too much work since my elder sister was born. How do mother’s have so much of strength. I was thinking about a time when I would be an adult, and live alone in a house. It will be in such a mess, even though I am a very clean person, not neat maybe, but clean. I don’t have that much energy as her.

This time also I must just force myself to sleep, but forcing never helps. The train of thoughts starts running at 1000 km/hr and no one can pull it’s brakes. 

I just told a friend today about how I would have liked to attend the Arundhati Roy event in Delhi, but I was not in the city. And there are many more things that keep on happening that I would like to attend. So I decided that the best way to make it possible would be to buy a helicopter. This year I bought a cycle and a car now I want to buy a copter. With this, my list of things that I would want to buy (if possible/make possible) stands at. 

  1. That abandoned bungalow at Kasturba Gandhi Marg. 
  2. That abandoned bungalow at Number 10 market
  3. Caravan
  4. Helicopter

Only 4 things. 

I realised another thing today. Whenever somebody talks about stakeholders (which happens a lot in journalism) my mind immediately flits to a  steak. And I get beautiful images of hot, steaming food. Weird. 

This is the thousandth time I have used the word. Weird.

Should be improving my vocabulary, but it’s stuck on those few words/phrases that you can’t stop using like – confused, anxious, annoyed, idiotic, stupid, shit, like, you know, as in, I mean, weird. I don’t know. Tired. Not sleepy. Sleepy. Not tired. 

Posted in Midnight musings, Random

There is a lie you partake in


There is a lie you partake in.

It’s beautiful, so much that you do anything to not let it break. It’s so carefully constructed that you can’t see the truth that has been buried behind it.

If at all, the truth tries to find it’s way out, you quickly find that beautiful lie and hide behind it.

I was a part of a lie too — so beautiful that nothing else has ever come close.

It was my seed, but two other people watered it daily, one more than the other.

It grew up big and strong, so big that it consumed me.

The truth came forward many times, trying to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear it because of the two people who kept my beautiful lie safe for me.

I always knew the seed was faulty, something I had scrounged for in the storm.


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Posted in Midnight musings

Letter to a dear friend

Hello my friend,

I know we haven’t talked in a while. Not a while actually — in very very long.

I miss you many times, I think of you often. Sometime I walk past a place that is associated with you, sometimes I see your face in my dream, sometimes an incident reminds me of you, and sometimes there is just no reason.

But everything else just goes on happening, and I do not know what to say to you at that moment. That hello I thought about you? And then what?

I know we don’t talk. Remember, how we said, we won’t drift apart? We will always talk. You are my bfffffff my one and only, you understand me like no one does, but we did in fact stop talking.

Funny, how life happens when you don’t notice it. I miss you many times and I think of dropping a text, but then I stop because I don’t know what to say… I worry because I think I am bothering you and you don’t want to talk to me.

Then there are times when I think I am the silly one who holds on to things and moments unnecessarily when everyone else moves on.

But then I remember how we laughed till our stomachs ached, how we visited new places or settled into the old comfortable ones, how when I was scared and alone you held my hand and I felt that things would be easier, how you made me feel important, how I shared my problems with you, how everything with you was a little more fun. I hope I did the same for you my friend.

I have no complaints. I know what happened, why we don’t speak often, we grew up we got jobs and responsibilities or you know circumstances, you don’t even have to explain because I understand. I just want to say I love you no matter how many years it has been or will be since we talk.

I will always remember you. I will always be your friend.

No matter how many years go by I will still recognise you in a mall. Maybe I won’t run towards you because I am scared because I think you don’t want to see me, or that it is awkward, or not cool or something like that.

But I will be happy at that moment. I will always have with me the tiny details I learned about you over time — like how you love purple but you tell everyone your favourite colour is red, or how you eat chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate sauce, how you like to run after little kids on the street and play with them, how you thought that Australia and new Zealand are the same thing, how you are scared of spiders, how you would watch horror movies and then call me in the middle of the night because you are too scared to sleep, how you would always eat too much chilly even when you cannot handle it, how you were too lazy to complete your homework but never lazy to come to help me, how you shared your food with me when I forgot mine, how you stayed over at my house when I broke my little toe, how you travelled a day just to be there on my birthday, I can write forever if I have to, but I will stop.

All I wish sometimes, is to spend time with you again, go again to those places which we called ours. Only the thought relaxes me, specially now when everything moves so fast and I cannot understand who is my friend or who is my foe. But I understand one thing that maybe we never will be the same again, and it is okay, what can we do about it?

I have learnt from my mistakes, I have tried to be better. I think, if we met today you might see how much I have changed in a good way, and be happy for me. I will still make mistakes, it is sad that I will not have the comfort of your words around me, but then again what else can we do.

You know how scared I am of getting attached, of getting hurt.

I worry you will laugh at me if I ever say these things to you, I worry that you will not remember me so I might never say this to you in person. Because I am scared.

When we first moved to a new school, new city, new college etc, I was scared you’ll get new and better friends and forget me, I still feel sad about that at times when I am feeling low and I look around me and do not find you. Sometimes I think it is my fault, and there are other times when I think that is not the case. You chose to stay away, you chose to not talk. You are happy that we are no longer ‘bffffffsssss’, that we do not have to see each other.

Or maybe you think I have changed too much, or you never really liked me and we were friends because it was convenient at that time. I am as confused, but that is something I always was, don’t you remember friend.

I don’t know whether whatever I have said to you makes sense, even if it doesn’t, I know you will understand, because you always do.

I will end the letter now with a thank you. I miss you a lot. And I will always cherish you. I wish we could go back, but while we can’t, I have made my peace with our memories.

I love you.

Your sappy friend.

Posted in Midnight musings

My mother’s cassette player

We had a tape recorder in our house, so huge that when I was small I could not lift it. It was black in colour with blue markings on it. The time when cassettes were still very much in, CDs and DVDs were unheard of and no one would have ever thought that there could ever exist something called a ‘cloud’ that will hold everything you could ever imagine.

That big cassette player was my mother’s loyal companion, it could even play the FM. Whenever she found a quiet moment to herself she would look through her large collection of cassettes and play one of them filling the air with sweet melody. The sound from the old players was something different, I think it sounded sweeter with the slight, ever so often, crackle. It is from her that I acquired the love for music. Her cassettes collected over a couple of decades were placed carefully on a shelf that was too high for me to reach. I would climb on a chair and skim through her collection trying to find something that was ‘trendy’. I usually settled on pop songs like Alisha Chinoy, Bombay Rockers or the occasional English albums the ‘Nanga boys’.

My mother’s loyal companion survived several seasons and transfers, sometimes requiring minor tweaks.

After some years, in my attempt to reach my favourite song quickly I jammed the rewind key. No matter what you do, it would not go down or up. We tried everything. To go back a song now, you had to fast forward both sides. It was again too small a thing to be bothered about for long. But, over the days we stopped rewinding songs as fast forwarding them would take ages. We got used to listening to the whole album once to reach back to the song again… It’s just a song, right?…

It doesn’t matter if you can’t rewind, the good song will come back. It’s on the other side. You have to wait for the entire loop to play. It will come back. It has to….

Posted in Midnight musings

There is a lie you partake in

There is a lie you partake in.

It’s beautiful, so much that you do anything to not let it break. It’s so carefully constructed that you can’t see the truth that has been buried behind it.

If at all, the truth tries to find it’s way out, you quickly find that beautiful lie and hide behind it.

I was a part of a lie too — so beautiful that nothing else has ever come close.

It was my seed, but two other people watered it daily, one more than the other.

It grew up big and strong, so big that it consumed me.

The truth came forward many times, trying to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear it because of the two people who kept my beautiful lie safe for me.

I always knew the seed was faulty, something I had scrounged for in the storm.

The thick foliage seemed too good to be true, but those two made me believe and I believed because I wanted to.

Then one day they stopped tending to it, leaving it there unattended.

It didn’t grow, but it didn’t die as well.

It’s still in my backyard the beautiful lie — one of the best I have seen.

I go back to it even now, even when no one comes there anymore.

My lie carefully grown by the two who don’t exist anymore.

Their words are still hanging there, their impression still lingers ages after they stopped nurturing the lie.

The truth is poking out, marring the beauty but even now I can only look at the lie.

Alone I visit it again and again to look at the lie.

My beautiful lie, so carefully constructed by two people — one more than the other.

Posted in Midnight musings

I was once a movie star

I sometimes wonder why I stopped writing/imagining. My imagined world is the coolest place to be. I am a budding movie star giving a talk show and all of a sudden I am dancing at a college party all the super cool and difficult steps. The boy I had a crush on is gobsmacked after looking at me. He is wondering how he survived all these years without knowing me and he knows that now the only way he lives is if I am with him. The wind blows and our eyes lock and we are in love, but we don’t tell each other and let the eyes speak and meet each other every day. Next thing I know I am in New York I am really tall and wearing very high pointy heels. My hair is swishing in the wind and I am getting late for a meeting. I am the youngest boss of that place wherever I am going and everyone admires me and is scared of me too. Next thing I know I am in a meadow with the most exquisite scenery in front of me. I am wearing everything prim and proper and I feel so relaxed. Suddenly I am on the stage accepting the best actor award…..

I wonder why I stopped imagining. Maybe because when I was in school there was so much left to see. Now, after experiencing few years of adulthood I don’t want to see anything else. I don’t like growing up. I wasn’t made to grow up. My imagination has given me such high standards that my life is half dead trying to match up to it. I want to imagine again but “logic” tells me to stop being childish and well what else is there? It’s so weird to be stuck in the middle. I can’t live in my dream land because I know better and I don’t want to live in the real world because it isn’t better. I hope I survive. Because I gave up on living a long time back.