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Showing posts from February, 2007


*Whoa, amber is the color of your energy
whoa, shades of gold displayed naturally
you ought to know what brings me here
you glide through my head blind to fear
and I know why
whoa, amber is the color of your energy
whoa, shades of gold displayed naturally*


Those are just words of a song that someone that I loved, used to like a lot. And every morning, before I go to work, and I'm spending a frantic ten mins, getting dressed up (read: iron clothes, put them on, iron hair, vaseline lips, kajal eyes, perfume self n run), it's the song that runs through my head.

AMBER..................... red, hot, hot, red........................ ready to go, smoultering (not sleepy), (not tired), live wire, energyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Then i get to the waiting cab, soft cushions n gentle Kannada music (a language I can barely understand).. or sometimes, disco Kannada (dhoosh dhoosh nanu sherinjeevi, neenu sheridhevi)... n the mind begins to wander

And then get to work, …


There are a lot of small things that are starting to bug me.. just little things, like bugs under ur skin, that u can feel crawling... and u wanna get rid of them, but u can't reach out and grab them and chuck them aside.. sorta like that

- A friend says he spent the whole day today replacing the light bulbs in his appartment, cz some of them were out and he's got some time to spare these days, so he thought why not?

And I realized that were I to be him, I wouldn't know how to do that.

- which reminds me of the time DD n I got stuck with a flat tyre in Subang, and while we figured the tools in the trunk of the car had something to do with fixing the tyre, and tried our hand at using them.. two minutes in the hot sun, in front of Ming Tien, we thought a phone call should fix it. And two of DD's frens from Uni came over and fixed it in a jiffy.. meaning they changed the tyre with a spare tyre, and drove us back to the hostel..

And i decided that I ought to know how to do th…

About Charlie's Chocolate Factory

Charlie was a poor boy in a city in big city, not tall and handsome like all the other boys around him, but small and stout. He walked like a duck, feet spread horizontal pointing east and west, while every one's feet pointed north.

He had a stutter, he could not talk in lines, instead splattering words into people's faces, his sense of nervousness exciting his salival glands. Soon, with no friends as such to speak off, Charlie took a fascination to birds. All around him, he noted crows, and pigeons and chickens..

The way the crows were ruthless when swooping in for a kill: he noted tht while hard work might pay off, carefully choosing ones prey was even more vital, and knowing when to pick off another' s hard earned efforts earned him a free meal.

From pigeons he noted that while within a group it was essential for harmony to exist, but when it came to flying, there could only be one at the front. And often he who knew the way led the birds to a safe nest, and he who didn…


Another loong week has come to an end... Each week gets longer than the one before, and each day becomes shorter.. and they diffuse past definitions, swallowing time and spitting out messy concotion of memories, emotions n facts.

As water to a patch of dry caked mud, thirsty yet unwilling to absorb: time tinkers with the little signposts, loosing meanings so hard fought to be kept, yet too easily lost. If change were to be the only constant in life, then the lack of movement thereof implies stagnation.

Yet we hold on to all those things that we have already lost, imitating a snapshots from lives past. Substituting happiness with the memory of happiness: But need everything in the past be buried..

As even the dead breed life, as we say goodbye merely in the anticipation of saying hello soon, and while life moves on, it's tied to you and the people around you by a thread so thin, it's hard to notice, yet as time tugs at ur body, the thread keeps u whole.

If when together, time move…