The "timing" curse.

Right timing

Wrong timing

Bad Timing

Sad Timing

Is it even for real? 

I think its just an excuse for not accepting the way things turned out. and while it does help when trying to motivate ourselves. it mostly has delusional repercussions. Where we stop being objective and seeing things for what they are. Like the time i chose to be all ignorant while going through the lowest points of my relationship and not addressing the absolute lack of anything in it,  partly cuz i assumed it to be this shitty  phase and partly blamed bad timing for it. 

i mean, even when that low phase hit an all time low and  streched out my feelings like a rubber band and basically made me question my own worth, all i did was be like,*high pitched stern voice* - " Goodness woman, get over yourself, remember the last time a relationship got messed up because you were trying to be over-protective and cautious.. let it be... let things take its own course..gowith the flow.. let the good times come..let the sun stroll in and shine again.. and it will be all roses all over.. And bubbly And happy...blah blah blah..wala walah walah..." 

BULL. CRAP.

Incase you are wondering, The sun did shine. Infact it shone hard and stern and vengeful upon me. 

FOR 4 LONG EXCRUCIATING MONTHS. 

BURNED.

With gory shades of Black.

And blue. 

And sore. In a non-sexual and Creepy way. Where i recieved a blood written threatening letter from the guy and scared the hell out of me.

 Just becuz i was looking for the good times to come along and and make our world pretty again. So much for waiting for GOOD Timing. 

So there might be a million reasons or there might be just one, behind why my relationships did not see the happy ending they initially swept me away with. But bad timing? can never be one of them. 

When you are in love, the basics do not need waiting upon NOR working upon. Its already there, giving us eebie-jeebies every once in while, making their loving presence felt. Making us hold on. Love on.

And, unless that basic feeling is there there ISN'T any point in holding on. there ISN'T  a good timing or bad timing to break up. Just do it. And this is me basically talking to myself and getting this through my thick head full of fairytale mumbo-jumbo. 

When you really love someone, it is simple.

You deserve something amazing. And so does he. And, it might seem a lil scary right now but i am gonna be there and i will totally impersonate Gandalf's booming voice everytime i say "shut up"  to each of your faar-fetched fairytale notions. I promise. Pinky Swear. By the power of sisterhood. Honest.

So fuck timing and just DO it karishma. Do it and the hit the shopping stores already before the sale runs out!

FairyTales

 A Beautiful Princess.An enigmatic Prince,
An Enchanted Palace. A majestic King
Whimsical Subjects. A viciously seductive Villian and of-course the Knight in shining Armour
Delicate. Flowers. Vintage. Magical. Sparkle. Dainty. Lovely. Colorful. Natural. Candles. Love. 

There is a part in all of us — a sliver of innocence left from our childhood, lying dormant — that comes alive when we read a good story, watch a movie, or experience art.

That  part that still believes in fairy tales.

I adored fairy tales as a child. 

I still do, actually. 

Mysterious dark forests, wishing wells, enchanted princes and poised apples and glass slippers not to mention, adorable animals who speak – what’s not to love? I think I always felt, curled around a volume of Hans Christian Andersen or the Grimm’s collected stories, that there was a little bit of magic hidden away at the heart of every story.

Of course, they come with thier share of darkness too. I remember sobbing over the fate of the Little Mermaid, who for all her efforts couldn’t make the man she’d fallen for, love her back. And then there’s the gruesomeness – the evil king/queen ravaged by jealousy/greed with heads rolling, feet cut off, eyes put out. In some ways, these are probably the original horror stories which have survived the decades of editing and euphemising in order to make it more child-friendly. As a child, though, I don’t remember ever being troubled by the physical violence in the tales. It all happened, after all, in a land far, far away .

I love the older darker cruel-ler gruesome tales as much as I love the cheesy ones that end with happily ever after (but I loathe that I do, but as I was weaned on Grimm and Disney, it’s ingrained). 

What I love is that fairy tales are that they are living and evolving.  They are survivors. They change to suit society’s needs. Originally they were cautionary tales warning both adults and children alike of the dangers in the world. Each tale would change with each reciting as the storyteller would embellish and adapt the tales to suit the audience and keep them enthralled.

The thing that has remained with me the most from my childhood love of these stories, though, is that sense that there is a little bit of magic hidden somewhere within them. Fairy tales, once unleashed, take on a life of their own ..  There are still some paths that, once started down, you never know where they might lead . . .

Science and Silliness!

When blue sparkly nail varnish sits pretty under the microscope! taken as an undergrad student :)

Magnification --- x100

During the maddening 3 month long internship i underwent, the only way i got through it all was by amusing myself with experiments (including the kind that could blow up half the lab) of my own. here,I used nail varnish in the lab when making slides to stop the glass coverslip from moving and ruining my precious dissections. I have been using it ever since for sealing the edges of slides to stop them drying out. Although it’s not as good as some of the resins scientists used to cook up themselves., but so far good. How pretty it looks :)
In exhibitions one can  see slides made  100 years ago with samples that are still perfectly preserved – not sure mine will last that long!

LIQUID COURAGE

Memories......among other things, they can induce chuckles of laughter, tears of pain and reflection of lessons taught and learnt. Either way, where-in small doses, they drive us to be happier and wiser, in large doses, reliving those very same memories has the power to consume. The past month of my life has been exemplified by the latter. Memories of my family, my friends,and Mr. You have been a constant background presence among the blur of everyday. The past one week especially, has seen me think about Mr. You more that ever before.

The following is about him. The thing is,unlike before, this past week has seen me allow myself to miss him. Not too much, and not for too long, but sure as hell miss him.Miss "US". More than once,in ways more than one, I have found myself thinking of our devil-may-care friendship days. Barely friends and rarely in touch now, I sometimes wonder how we landed up here. Which is basically nowhere.

After 4-5 days of this quagmire of why;s, why not’s and what if’s doing random rounds in my head, i need distraction.One which preferably would bring an end to this. So i turned to the two things that have unfailingly been my aids-in-distress and distraction since time immemorial.

Girlfriends.

And

LIQUID COURAGE.

Considering my fucked-luck, finding myself  looking forward to heading towards the  simultaneous mix of both of the above later that evening, wasn’t surprising. Shoving aside my lazy pant’s, I partied with friends, jived to the throbbing shrieking-down-my ears music with crazy dance moves and a glass of chilled beer. As it warped my perception, I could feel his thoughts dissipating with my every  twist and every turn to the thudding music emanating from the boom-box. I laughed with friends and posed and laughed again till I felt totally silly and inappropriate and random.

I felt like myself again. It was amazing. Liberating.

The action for distraction seemed to be working, and would have,  through its entirety,

Only, 

the party ended, like all parties in Bangalore do, by 11-freaking-30. End to the fun dancing, and being silly for the night.  Heading back home, I went whatsapp happy, and “hey you-ed” Mr. You.Somewhere between my jumbling words and fumbling spellings I did the ONE thing that the evening was supposed to PREVENT me from doing.

Cardiac-Outpour-Arrest   

“I wish yu all the awesomeness this world has to offer

I really do. 

Take care you"

The irony?

Well,what should have been a moment of “dafaq, what am I doing”  was more of a …”hey-why haven’t I done this before’ moment. I felt at ease. I felt at peace. The lifted weight, albeit a tiny part, of the chunkload of unsaid words I had piled up, had a cooling effect on my warm cheeks in the cold night. All this peace, when I hadn’t even begun with the ‘things-i-want-to-say-but-wont’ thing properly.

Yeah, sure, next morning upon reading my transcript of shame, my last-nights-besotted face was replaced with a disgusted one. Reading his coolly detached replies to my whatsapp-word-vomit kicked the “ Dafaq!! What, was I thinking" jazz right in. Through my gut.

 Sure I mumbled a curse or two. TWO freaking months of whatsapp abstinence this is how I tear it down. Drunk texts! knowing that it worse than drunk dialing. Drunk texting is evidence. Incriminating evidence of embarassment!

#KILLMENOW

But deep down, the lingering feeling of peace stayed. Evidently, last night’s liquid courage had won over my embedded inhibitions. And ,clearly, my lowered inhibitions had whooped my elevated ego’s ass. Like MAJORLY.  But somehow the only resulting collateral damage was the feeling of relief. And it seemed, this time around, it wasnt a sign of damage after all. It was a sign of salvage.

MY salvage.

#FeelingZen

Cant keep you in

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet. -- William Shakespeare

Written for a dear friend

I breathe you in

a whiff of life

Feel you diffuse

and fill my mind

Induced rush of blood

Renewed surge through my head

Your whiff soaks through my heart

As life imparted  to the dead

Head thrown back

I gently close my eyes

Let it work its magic

As you save my life

Locking and unblocking

Throughout length and breadth

Teasing and releasing

Spanning width and depth

Sinking deeper in,

It’s hypnotism grows

Exhilarating every cell of my being

 I seek you more

Alas, deceptive air,

Your ringing elation

Metamophoses to throbbing

Pricking, a  stinging sensation

Second by second,

In pieces and bits,

It corrodes and devours

Your toxicity hits

Sudden panicked heartbeat

It begins  to clog the mind

Constricted breathing

Its viscosity slowly blinds

air to mist,

Mist to smoke

Smoke to poison

Poison to choke

What filled and thrilled

Suddenly burned and blocked

Sucking life and blood

and osmotic shock

Once exhilarated smile vanishes

As life slowly drains

Once a face of serenity

Now contorted in pain

Hands; struggling and spilling

Eyes blurry: under the shadow of death

Self preservation kicks in

I cease to  hold my breath

Tears running down my cheeks,

Body struggling about,

Gasping for a breather

I choke you out