24 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, have a smoke, swipe through all doors, fix up workstation, go get something to drink, sip through it urgently, burning tongue... run in again, do a floor walk, saying hello to all other sleepy dwellers of the office room... get back to station... Nips sets campaign...

"Hello Good Morning.. this is Sabitha from St ______ ____, clln with regds to ur loan........"

9 hrs later... Amber what? *yawn* U knw how fire fizzles n ash settles... ash is the more permanent substance out of the two... but apparently it isn't, cz after lunch.. n some sleep, it's back to the amber song again.... whoah.. amber is the colour of ur energy... whoah............

08 February 2007


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 that. And Nikhil tried to teach me, in theory on his gigantic landie.. and I did learn, honest.. and I surfed the net, found some site with a picture by picture explanation.. and I wanted to try it out, like do a practical but no one wld give their car... so I still technically don't know how to. Which is disturbing.


And the other thing that's buggin me are suspicions stemming from curiousity... like the "I WANT TO KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON THEN!" sort.. but I shall resist.

Another thing that's bugging me.. the too soon approaching VALENTINES DAY. No explanations needed on that front..

Solutions to things that bug me: (and also wish list fr yr 2007):

1. You (u know who you are)
2. Wantan Mee
3. Nasi Lemak
4. A day long massage
5. Eva Longoria's body ( I want mine to be like hers, not I want her body)
6. An electrician n a mechanic n a car..
7. My girlies( u knw who u are)


06 February 2007

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't ended up in vile places like human houses.

And off chickens, he realized that there is no such thing as morality, crime or punishment. Chickens came to this planet, as if to fulfil just one purpose: to be eaten by Man. And in their short course of life, they breed, lay eggs.. live productively and then go to the butcher themselves. He realized that the hand that controls the lives of the productive humans stood to gain more profit, than those who live their lives to be productive.

And so Charlie learnt, through conversations he carried out in secret with his bird friends, the essence of what it meant to be to be human, to be successfull and rich. And eventually, Charlie owned his chocolate factory.

And inside this big Chocolate Factory, there were many things, but more than anything: there were people. The one thing that Charlie never had growing up as a young person, he had at his Chocolate Factory. That's why the Chocolate, only he saw.

Inside the employees were sick of his quacked sense of humour, making them work. Most of them were stuck on small computers, and 45 cm by 60 cm tables. Chairs that refused to bend backwards..all day these people thought of the things they could be doing, if they didn't have to be in the factory.

Some of them dreamed of a life, where they spent time with their loved ones. Others dreamt of dancing the night away, in the company of handsome and beautiful strangers. A few dreamt simple dreams, longing to be in bed an hour longer, or hoped for the electricity to get cut so they could seperate their fingers from the keyboards. Whilst others still, kept going, beleiving they would one day become the Coop Cleaners.

The Coop Cleaners, for those not initiated into the Chocolate Factory Rituals, were those who cleaned the shit from the thousands of birds that chirped above the people who worked in the factory. The ceiling of the factory had a giant horizontal bird cage that housed thousands and thousands of birds. They chirped chirped their way through days and nights. And besides chirping, the other thing they did all day was shit down on the head of all the employees below them.

And that's where the Coop Cleaners came in. They played the middle role, of not only attempting to clean up all the shit thrown down generously on the employees by the birds above them, but also at the same time ensuring the birds stayed fed. All day the Coop Cleaners worked more hours than anyone, hoping that one day, the day would come when they would be like the birds themselves. Closer to the Sky called Charlie... and hence, enjoying a life in the clouds.

They would pacify the new employees, if say a falling piece of shit hit them in the eye the very first day, when they'd tend to look at what the hell made all that noise. And they would ruthlessly send employees home, if say one even so much as dared to throw something at the coop above, yelling for the birds to shut up, or yelling anyways just telling the birds to F*** Off.

And that's the factory that Charlie the little boy from a big city built. He did not understand happiness, and he did not understand that people did not flock towards him because they liked him. They flocked to him because they wanted what he had.

So one day, when Bijen.. an employee of more than six years, finally cracked under the pressure and decided that he wld sooner go knackers than let Charlie continue this horrible factory, brought a can of gasoline and spread it all over the factory, computers, booth tables, birds, bird shit and all.. and the place burnt over night with all the birds crying at their demise...

And Charlie was surprised.

02 February 2007


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 moves fast, when alone it's a blink... cause your eyes remain closed the whole time.