The voice in my head...

... is that of Abida's. Many a time I don't understand what she says. But its music which touches a chord, time and again, without fail. The barriers of conventional language no longer exist when you find yourself singing, urging, praying with her. Isn't that the cruz of sufism regardless, to transcend boundaries of social constructs, to find your inner self?
This is what I have been singing silently all this week:
तू जो ऐ जुल्फ परेशान रहा करती है
किसके उजड़े हुए दिल मे है ठिकाना तेरा
ले चला जान मेरी रूठ के जाना तेरा
ऐसे आने से तो बेहतर था न आना तेरा

Nesting

Lately, we have had several discussions on this issue. A believes that I have entered the 'nesting' phase of life. I want to knit, crochet, bake, embroider and learn how to make quilts. Plus the urge to get teapots. All of this, according to A = zeroing in on the home = nesting.

So, what a pleasant coincidence it was when we came across a beautiful couple in the thick of setting up their nest. And we stopped and stared, and watched, and smiled and continued to look and be amazed. It is one of the most wonderful sights ever, the perfect partnership. You had better see for yourself and decide. I dare you not to melt just a little bit, and re-think your priorities.

News from the week gone by

It has been a week of unexpected discoveries. On my way back from work Thursday evening, I ran into an animated, giggly crowd. On looking about for a possible source of such excitement, I saw the Armani Exchange showroom display stripped of all the mannequins and instead inhabited by young men in nothing but their briefs. I must admit, I smiled, and walked on. But went back immediately to take these pictures solely for your benefit ;-)

And then there was that eureka moment yesterday when I realised why I like research so much. I love the feeling when amidst darkness, that tiny spark helps you throw light on the area that you are looking to understand. Its that 'Yeah I found what I was looking for!' feeling that makes me go back to work every single day. Its the job of a treasure hunter and I love it.

Plus I went book shopping and helped myself to My name is Red from Pamuk. And discovered fantastic crochet guides on You Tube. Brilliant stuff. Also knit one foot of a pair of booties for a friend's new born baby. The next foot is planned for tomorrow.

As things have shaped up, it is likely that I shall be able to write more frequently than has been the norm lately. Looking forward to some quality time with my computer in the evenings.

of insignificantly small things that make me smile

On my way back home yesterday, I decidedly put the book in my hand back in the bag. With a slight rush of nervousness preceding a new or long since unpracticed activity, I gazed out of the train window. It was just the day for such an exercise - 6:45 in the evening yet the right amount of light from the setting sun.

Friday evening, a week well spent behind you, the prospect of a good dinner with friends ahead - is there really anything more that one can ask for from life? As I contentedly planned the weekend ahead, the train screeched into Wimbledon. On the platform, there was a young girl sporting blue jeans and a black jacket, not interested in the 7:02 train to Shepperton, buried in the yellow book in her hand with a slight sweet smile on her face. I strained to see what she was reading. She looked so understandingly absorbed in and mesmerised by what she was reading, I wanted to know what it was. I bent forward in an attempt to catch the name, much to the wonder of my fellow travellers. The train's doors closed and I knew I had only seconds if I were to find out... I panicked slightly at the thought of living with the mystery. I had to find out - please God help me just this once and I shall never ask for anything else ever, promise!

The wheels turned slowly and my heart started sinking. It is not to be, I thought, I will just have to go to Waterstones and look at all the yellow books and see which one matches that particular shade of yellow... despair... dismay...please please please... and she lifted the book just that tiny bit to change the page... and I caught the unmistakable words as the chug chug of the wheels picked up speed and she went out of sight - A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini!

I smiled my way back home. Its one of my favorite books, a present from a distant friend, and I have loved every moment spent reading it. Good choice, girl in blue jeans and black jacket!

squeaky clean

shiny taps

singing mirror

new car smell

champagne flute

blue sky

citrus perfume

floor boards

spring cleaning

flared skirts

fruity soap

fresh wipes

green tea

silverware

new book

Diary of a Nobody

Brilliantly hilarious, a surprise winner I must say! Never thought I would laugh out loud on the underground thanks to typically dry english wit. And sometimes it was the sheer eccentricity of it, the obviously funny in the dead serious.

Loved every bit of it. Highly recommended for endless train or bus journeys - they are a breeze with this one!

Race

Sometimes I ask myself why I waste time on things I know are not going to be worth it, especially given my ongoing and endless complaints about the lack of time. I have no excuse, and shall endeavour to cook up none. It was plain boredom that took A and me to the cinema to see this movie. And it was boredom plus a sense of foolishness that accompanied us back home.

Untrue to its name, this one is an absolutely non-racey movie. The first half almost put me to sleep and had it not been for the tasteless popcorn I wouldn't have bothered to stay awake for the second half, which was better than the first half. Better than crap, that is, nowhere near tolerable, or dare I say, good.

As an aside, what is wrong with Akshaye Khanna? Why is he wasting his life doing the same thing over and over again in less than mediocre films? And Anil... why doesn't anyone tell him that one has had enough of his particular brand of middle-of-the-road comedy and that he is much better applying his immense abilities to more meaty roles? Making Anil hold a banana in one hand and have him say a corny line does serious injustice to his talent and to the intelligence of the audience.