*swish…pop…zweeengg*
The sound of sparks flying
*whoooosssh*
The sound of attraction turning to something more
*tling, ding, ding*
The sound of shared thoughts
*TAAAAN-DAAAN-THUMP-BOOOOM*
The sound of recognition
*tralalala-dididi-dumpity-dodo-dum-dodo-mooboo*
The sound of shared silliness
………………………………..
The sound of deep emotion
The hall was full of sound. A stir-fry sputtered and released tiny bubbles, in a shiny pan on television. But the sound was a devotional song, a chant of some sort, flanked by violin and other instruments that were loosely described as ‘classical’. And the fans were whirring. “Ma! Can…
I’m often told I don’t look my age. What is complimentary about that?
Can you fall in love over and over again? Or it is just waking up to the same love every morning, albeit with a different face and name? Who are we really having an affair with? Other people? Or with that one frame that we hold up to the world…
I was burrowing through my closet the other day. Buried beneath the long-forgotten scarves and shawls and tee-shirts, I found an album. Just before he left for his first trip back home to Delhi, he asked me, What shall I get you from there? And I said. Yourself. Lots of yourself….
I buy a bottle of sandalwood scented sunscreen lotion. Yes, yes, I hate the fairness-driven notion of beauty as any self-respecting Indian should. But I don’t particularly want splotchy multi-coloured skin either. Along with my lotion, sits my spray-on foundation. No.5 is closest to my skin tone, according the salesman….
Last week, I was trolled about my looks. Some men friends said they liked how I look. The troll’s attack is based on the idea that a woman’s worth is in her looks and that anyone can boost/undermine it with words. My friends, however well-intentioned, were reinforcing that idea. Strangers…
