divine restlessness

Restlessness is a curse and a gift. I suffer from it. I am so confident most of the time, but when it comes to my writing I falter. I just remembered a lovely note my friend Mark once sent me: Martha Graham’s Letter to Agnes de Mille. That letter did wonders to increase my belief in my work. I had forgotten about it. Today I feel the need to read it again. I have places to go to, miles to travel before I rest said someone. Me feels I have miles to travel, rivers to cross before I begin to see what truly lies inside me. For me there will be no rest, only divine restlessness and undulated joy coupled with bouts of grief.. Me, I am going to have life as it is, in all its glory and with all its shallows.


Martha Graham’s letter to Agnes DeMille

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.

It is not yours to determine how good it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
to the urges that motivate you.

Keep the channel open.
No artist is ever pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes us more alive than the others."

Bombay, Mumbai and me

There were many journeys I took. Most were limited to the geography of the city I grew up in. But I consider them journeys never the less today. I have been so bound by the notion and desire to travel the world (I still do as I write this), but have a sense that whatever the journey maybe, however small the distance maybe, each moment is a journey. Each time I step out of my home, it is on a rendezvous. Life is just so unpredictable isn’t it? There is much I have learnt and experienced in these limited travels within Bombay but somehow I never felt the urge to document all that I experienced. I loved the crowds, always loved writing in the stations, but I never documented those stories. Maybe its time I began telling people about my city of dreams and the city of disillusionment that takes all in its womb.

Shiv Sena wants to stop more people from coming to settle there. There might be some logic to what they say about people living in it from years not having the opportunities and facilities without others compounding to their problem, but I fail to see it. Take the people out of Bombay and what you have is a glittering stone with an empty inside, like the dance bar girls. Full of smiles and sex, dazzlingly all with their make-ups but carrying home with them empty minds and wasted bodies, the woman in them forgotten.

No one owns Mumbai, the city is larger than political might and social ire. Bombay may be Mumbai now, but all mumbaikars are Bombayiets. Everyday the new gets bsorbed into the old and you cannot then differentiate between the two. This city is the epitome of life with the good, bad, ugly and beautiful all woven into its social fiber. Everything co-exists here, the slums and the high-rises, the multiplexes and the sleazy theaters that survive on the moaning C –Grade Indian porn, 5 star hotels and roadside pani-puri stalls, the chic convents and street schools, the fashion streets and shopper stops. True-blue Bombayites don’t differentiate between the two and are equally comfortable everywhere.

Me, I was a middle-class gal, who loved shopping at Lifestyle but had to actually buy my stuff in fashion Street, who loved eating at Bombay Blue but went bersek at Flora Fountain’s vada pav’s and who traveled to amchi matheran on vacations sitting in the floor of the train with friends sipping coke and laughing at the latest episode of friends, sharing the biscuit with the kids who came to sweep the train. Something tells me thats the way I’ll remain till I die, true blue bombayite. Marriage took me away from Bombay but you surely cant take Bombay out of me.

Musical musings

Do you let music make love to you ? Go away from your brain slowly by slowly and let the music course through each part of your body. Tease you, touch you, move you, make you laugh, make you cry, make you feel alive, make you dance, make you feel sexy, make you feel special and loved? I do!!

Now it is difficult to define good music and I guess I consider what appeals to me as good music. But I can’t imagine my life without music. Spent the afternoon working and listening to romantic songs which I hadn’t listened to in long. Managed to discover some good songs that I hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. Sometimes these songs just grow on you. I have even devised my very own way of listening to them repeatedly.

At first something appeals, the music, lyrics, something. The next time I pay close attention to what captivated me in the first place. I close my eyes and often just let it flow through me. Gifts are the songs which manage to capture me both in terms of lyrics as well as words. I can sense each word slowly enter my brain and slowly seep into my heart with each beat, till I subconsciously stop whatever I am doing and sit in one place, eyes closed, mouth silenced, my ears listening, my brain absorbing and my heart feeling. My husband has told me that sometimes I rock to the music unknowingly, sometimes I smile and change my expressions with varying levels of intensity and passion. Honestly I believe its quite natural. you cannot help but let music capture you. Want a tip? To enjoy music best try and always sit between two speakers ( or don on a good headphone) and let the music be louder than other noises in the room. You cannot help but succumb to its will. I have often found myself associating moods to certain songs and that is the power and strength of a good musician. They can wonderfully tap into your emotions.

I have always appreciated creativity. Am addicted to dance but never gave music too much thought or the credit it deserved directly. And so today to all you music directors and lyricists out there, I just want to say you rock!

you n me

My heart is a swing
You ride it freely
Soaring to great heights
Higher than the treetops
Above the people below
Touch the clouds, tickle them.
You are beyond me too

My heart is an ocean wave
You surf along my edges
Teasing, twirling, balancing
Moving with me but always
Above, me and my arms
That crash empty on the sand.
You revel in your antics

My heart is an ice cream stick
You wrap your fingers around
Warm moist your lips
Refreshed at last on a hot sunny day
Melting me, relishing me
Taking all I have.
You leave no trace of me