Colours

I love colours.

There's been too much of black and white and even grey in my life lately. It seems that all the reds, oranges, yellows and fuchsia have been swallowed and buried somewhere deep down. I wish life was a canvas on which I could paint anything I want in any colour that I pleased at any time of the day whenever I fancied.
A few brush strokes and it would make everything so colourful for everyone.
It needn't be so pointlessly bland, like chicken curry without garam masala.

Naked on the city street

One comes across a lot of people. One meets a lot of different people every day of their life. If there's one thing I've learned it's the value of real people, of real friends.

Gone are the days when I would categorically speak of my best friend or even for that matter, my bestest friends. (God how atrocious that sounds now!) When one grows up one has a different way of stereotyping. I no longer believe in the concept of 'best friend'. What I do believe in is the importance of some really really close friends. Now the definition of close, for me has also undergone a metamorphosis since the past few years. I have come to realise that one can meet a lot of 'friends' to hang out with or even share a few secrets with. Yet, a true friend would be one who would stand by you through all, who would stand up for you against all odds. A truly close friend would not really worry about himself ('him' used as a general pronoun) getting into trouble if the trouble is for you. I mean, one can call that person a real friend if (s)he is not embarrassed by any of your tantrums, if (s)he does not think about walking away leaving you alone in an argument no matter how petty or unreasonable that is, if (s)he would not blink twice when you let off a bit of steam and even tell you off instead of using some 'fancy pansy' words to avoid a confrontation. A real friend would never be embarrassed by you even if you turn up naked at the busiest intersection of the city (not literally, but you know what I mean, right?).

It seems like too much too ask for, but once you actually find such friends you know that these are really true.

I have found two such friends in school and I am glad 'cause they make my life better. I may have also found another, but then I guess he is different.
These few people make a lot of difference in my life, maybe not in any particular way, but in many small, cumulative steps.

How must it feel to stand before the mirror only to see an ugly face looking back at you. Maybe the ugliness is not particularly in the shape of the nose or the fall of the chin or maybe it is. Maybe it is there in the shadows of the lines or the murky shallows of the pupils.
Peace does not always lie in compromising. Compromising is for people who just want to be blind to the real facts. Sometimes it is just better to let go of burdens than complain how heavy it is and sometimes it is better to walk away when one gets too heavy.

Booze & Bling

A Hairy Tale

Like a fool, and for the first time, I found myself crying after a hair-cut. I mean of all the things, a hair-cut.
I still do not know what made those tears come. Whether it was the bad hair-cut or the obnoxious, overbearing attitude of the 'lady' who was giving me the cut or was it simply because I suddenly felt the weight of losing half a feet of hair. I had felt so helpless sitting there with half my hair in shreds and the other half shrouding my face like rags while 'that lady' was pompously telling me that I should have shampooed my hair with a conditioner to get a good hair-cut. Just imagine that feeling when you think that you may just have lost half your hair without expecting any worthwhile result! For the first time I couldn't even bear to look at myself in the mirror after the ordeal (pardon me if I am melodramatising). No matter how much my mother said that the hair-do was really looking good on me, I couldn't bear it. I simply rushed out of the parlour and back home.
Maybe those tears were because I was expecting some drastically different and 'cool' hairdo after having bravely volunteered to get my hair cut, and I emphasise, half a feet of hair cut actually. I guess these 'make-over' stories aren't really for us. We are just ordinary people, rather I am just an ordinary girl with ordinary hair and an ordinary face. Maybe I am just someone who melts with the crowd instead of sitting like the icing on top.
Maybe I am just an ordinary fool...........

Not 'winter' enough

I have always complained that it isn't cold enough in Kolkata. It never feels like winter really. However the chill seems to have settled early this season with a nipping cold in the air. The bright wintry sun cannot mar that dip in the temperature. Even though it isn't too cold yet, it is still something.
Like the seasonal beacon my mother baked chocolate cake the other day. The rich aroma of freshly baked cake made my mouth water. There's nothing like the taste of hot chocolate cake on a cold, wintry evening.
Maybe winter is here after all and with it all the festivities.