Gotta have faith, faith, faith-AH!

Imagination is evil. Apparently.

Boggles my mind the way just about everything threatens the Christian way of life. Few that I have had the misfortune of being educated on : laughing Buddha's, people of other faith praying in your home and refusing to sleep in the room they pray in, eating "prasad". And Harry Potter. That skinny kid on the flying broom is evil. Harry Potter books and movies have been banned, with the blessing of the good Pope, in many regions, schools and households.

Why?

Well according to the religious figure who currently "leads" a local prayer group that NiDidi frequents, Potter promotes an unhealthy interest in witchcraft and magic, leading to... ready for this?... imagination in children. Imagination is evil. Children cannot be allowed to imagine cause imagination leads them to believe that fantasy and whimsical meanderings will ultimately bring them to the burning door of hell. Children need to be educated on practicalities of life. Yes. Agreed. But what defines practical? Is flying in a metal tube thousands of miles high up in the sky practical? Wasn't it just a few centuries ago that people believed the world to be flat and sneered upon anyone who wondered otherwise? Is Mickey Mouse practical? Why isn't Alice in Wonderland banned? Are talking dancing animals an acceptable form of imagination? Why the heck hasn't the good Pope banned Disney? Why hasn't he burned the Sistine Chapel to the ground? What practical proof does anyone have that Michael Angelo really did witness the figures in reality that he painted on the ceiling? Are all the painted, sketched depictions of Jesus authentic cause he never looks the same in two pictures together!? Or are they valid ONLY cause they depict Jesus and Genesis and since it deals with *ahem* God, it is A-Ok.

Is Christianity such a flimsy faith that, the mere imagination of one woman who planted a bespectacled kid on a broom and lets him whip out potions and other magical thingies, threatens a belief system spanning centuries? Yet they contest that Santa is a saint albeit commercialised as a fat man in a ridiculous red suit. Eh.

What scares me is that NiDidi apparently swallows this tripe down whole just cause its spewed from the mouth of someone who is religious, attends retreats, is blessed with the Holy Spirit, can see visions, yada yada yada, and oi yeah, is practical in life as well, so dognammit it MUST be true! Why would she be wrong? Let's not try and question it, or rationalise the statement and come to a conclusion ourselves, lets just take it whole and shove it down our throats cause the Pope himself banned it and religious magazines have published it all over the holy world. It has to be true, cause anything else would mean that hey! I can think for myself and since anything that involves thinking independently is evil as well. I am but a lowly sheep. And sheep do not think, sheep do not imagine, sheep bleat and follow wherever the good Shepperd and his border collie lead them.

Meh.

What saddens me is that this ugly tripe is being fed to Haze as well. She is being told that to have a mind that can explore the possibilities of thought, that does not exist in the living world as we know it, is wrong. If the mind cannot be allowed to explore and create a world that defies logic then Christians should not fly planes, let them walk on water and travel instead. Let us burn our brushes and never paint again, let us burn our books and never seek to understand a poem again, let us never watch movies, let us burn the Taj Mahal cause how dare anyone ever build a monument that was but an imagination prior to laying down the first marble. Why can't we try harder to educate our children to understand which parts of magic or witches are evil, the parts namely that are selfish, or teach them what sets reality apart from fantasy, which parts of whimsy should be encouraged and which parts discouraged. But oh no! that would mean discussions, rationalisations and *gasp* parenting! It's easier to kneel down and pray of course.

And then they wonder why this very faith bothers me so much. They get the answers in their visions of course, so they need not ever discuss it with me. To be so insecure and narrow minded, I pass. Cheerfully I imagine myself walking down the brick road, paved brilliantly yellow all the way to the burning gates of hell.

Apologies to Jesus in my boat, don't spank me yet. Bleat.

Stinks

Real men stink. NO matter what, they stink. And it's not really their fault, or ours. It's the books. Books stink. And movies. Movies stink. They fill your head with unrealistic expectations about relationships and men and love that of course when reality checks-in, it stinks. They never live up to this man in your head, this being you have fed and fattened up with fantasies you borrowed and stole from stinking books. They never really know you, even when you explicitly spell it our for them, they just never get you. Cause, they don't read these books and watch these movies that stink, that fills their head with stinking goo, that makes them sigh at odd intervals, that makes them stare off into the distance unfocused on a whimsical thought, that makes them look at you with this small soft half smile. You can practically give them an instructional manual with bulleted steps on how you want to be treated, what you want to hear, when it's time for a comforting back-rub, how you want them to hug you close, why they need to kiss you often and they will still never get any of right. They will huff and puff and blow you away. Men stink.

Howling

Um no, this is not about vampires. This is about a dog who thinks... um no, she doesn't think she's a vampire either. This is about a dog who thinks... ready for this? Thinks she is pregnant. Yikes!

Ok, not the first occurrence for me, Sweetie used to think that too from time to time. But maybe a first occurrence for Cher. If all the whining, scraping and howling is any indication. The howling especially is a bitty funny, cause she howls when:

• The Phone rings
• Any song with whoo-whoos in it
• Snow yowls
• I yawn loudly

I always burst out laughing when she looks up all surprised at the noise and starts howling with gusto. I have to then quickly answer the phone, switch songs, shut Snow up and cut myself in mid-yawn. The better aspects are, a lotta snuggling and a lotta smoochies.

When she gets rather antsy, I always try to soothe her with belly-rubs and I love the way she presses herself close, lays her head down and sighs. At peace.

Since we are on the screaming

Ok, you know how when you are listening to John Mayer sing his speshul songs, where he has this incredible guitar playing, no I don't know the technical terms, in the middle of it and you are just being carried away in a half swoon and half wonder at how beautiful it all sounds and how much you wish to just, to please oh please just LISTEN to it withOUT the mindless, fanatical, hysterical SCREAMING of all the teenage girls in the background? Yeah. Can't stand that one bitty. Why? Why? WHY the screaming? I get it, you are wrought with emotion and perchance arousal as well and by screaming like mindless fucks you think Mayer will spot you orgasming shamelessly in the midst of 1000 other orgasming mindless fucks. Really. Right. The rest of us mindful fucks really just wish to listen minus the screaming, just wish to enjoy if we can the speshulness of his voice, his words, the guitar oh dear sweet lord the strumming fingers and thats it. Thank you very much. Goodnight and Godbless America.

Uff!

If I'd known that GAIL was infested with ill-mannered, ill-tempered, ill-bred kids, I'd have rented a room under the train tracks and bathed every morning with the hobos... or not (since I'm assuming hobos don't have access to water to drink much less bathe!). Well, anyhoo, the blimey kids are pawns of the devil, I kid you not, meant solely to make any moment I wish to spend at home in peace... well not peaceful. They howl, screech, shout, scream, wail, cry, yell at the top of their cursed lungs, making me wish I was deaf. I swear. There is this one particular brat, who relishes his playtime by ONLY calling out the name of another boy, Ishu, in varied tones ranging from hoarse screeches to high-pitched wailing. Then there are the assorted shrieks of all the girls aged under 5, which could mean anything from spotting a bug on a leaf to a random boy who strolled into their midst. I especially cringe when I have to take Cher for a walk, the stinking runts spot her from way off and come running in hoards screaming, CUTE WALA DOGGIE AAGAYA! Why? Why? WHY scream? I get it you are all excited and I understand as kids your brains are not yet developed enough to know that hearing is not subjective to higher decibles and a LOT of adults can hear a normal tone just plain dandy-fine, and the sight of a cute pup, and MY GAWD is Cher a cute-break-your-heart-pup, will send you into a mindless frenzy, but really the screaming, it's unnatural I think and it really should be illegal!! Did I mention all the pubescent boys playing basketball pretending to be THE dudes... ah... sorry kiddos, you plain suck, at basketball and at attaining puberty. And, oh! the language! It's DESPICABLE. They talk worse than adults, their dialogs peppered with abbe, oye, saale, chal na, ja na, maar doonga, chup be... it's shocking! Where in the heck are their parents? Do they even know what pests their kids are? Do they care? Of course not, cause if they did I would not be writing this damned post to begin with.

Doofus

The fridge is on the blink for 2 weeks now. The freezer works fine, or TOO fine as the case is, but the lower segment does not cool. The repair guys came and dismantled the lot of it 2 days back and well now it does nothing except look all exposed and sad.

So.... I bought Ice Cream tonight, my first for Summer and I was all excited that I'll have a leisure slurp session after dinner while watching Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

Hmmm.

No sir. I had to eat ALL FUCKING FOUR of them as soon as I got home cause I realized the damn fridge DOES NOT FUCKING WORK.

Grrrr.

It was NOT fun, cause now I'm OLD and I cannot hog down 4 cones at one go. So fucking mad.

Angel

Why do I run after you like I do I love you
Whatever you are I swear
You'll be my angel
You

When you're gone...

The "when you are gone..." undoes me completely.

John Mayer has the most sexiest voice when he gets all low and heavy...
a tad off-key but just oh! so brutally pretty.

Saturday

Woke up this morning to find Cher snuggled on top of my tummy, over the blankie, snoring. It was just such a silly noise, as if she had laboured the previous day stacking bricks on a wall under the hot sun, instead of sleeping and sleeping and sleeping some more and oh yeah some more sleeping.

Snow doesn't snore as much as he grunts and groans, at times making the most hideous racket in the night forcing me to get up and shush him! The worst is when he needs to go potty at night, he'll completely FLIP, and I do mean F.L.I.P, out. Bouncing and jumping at anything and everything, yowling and howling like a freakzoid, at times scaring the crap outta me. He'll go potty then, stinking up the whole country, and like a deflated balloon afterwards will collapse at the nearest cozy spot and fall asleep.

This morning he discovered the strangest thing he never had encountered before. ANOTHER CAT!!! His eyes practically popped outta his lil skull in amazement when he spotted this gray stray jumping window sills outside our balcony. His expression was "WHA? WHAT? What IS that? Looks a lot like me!" His lil head cocked to an angle, his eyes WIDE open he stared at the cat in pure and utter fascination as if to say, Woo, I never knew there were more of me out there! I was practically rolling on the ground laughing my ass off at his expression. The stray jumped off the ledge and disappeared from our view and Snow flipped completely out, he scrambled off his perch on the chair and went racing this way and that, not really knowing which way to go, making lil mewling guttural sounds, frustrated beyond belief.

Sad and dejected he finally moaned about a bit and settled back on his perch looking out at the spot where the stray had sat, hoping he/she will come back I presume. He looked ever so cute, with his lonely depressed face, blinking slowly at the world outside.

Cher and I went back to bed, me back to my crochet and she back to snoring.

Boom Box!

Listening to my iPod on my NEW Boom Box! YaY!

Been wanting to try it ever since I got it on my last visit to US but I didn't want to fry the thingy by plugging it in without finding out if it will work on our voltage. I finally got the lil puppy out this morning and asked Roomie if I needed to get a converter for it. No siree, all I had to do was plug it in with a flat to round pin plug connector and TA-DA! Muuuuuuzac!

La-dee-da-da-da... So happy!

P.S. It has this tiny sweet lil remote. Which I'm pretty sure I'll lose before the week is out! :P

Vacation

Couldn't sleep on the train to Dharwad. Why? Roaches. Crawling ALL fucking over. I tried to stuff the gaps on the sides of my berth with the bedsheet, still the cretins gaily scampered about, on the curtains, over my eyelids, behind my head, over my toes... Fuckity FUCK hated it!

Actually ate 3 full meals for 2 weeks. So happy. Ate idlis, biryani, interesting variations of paneer, fried rava fish, homemade chicken tikka (yes... me... non-veg... just one piece... couldn't resist!), fresh fruits, chirtsmas goodies, khara puri, poli, mysore vada. So happy. No, didn't gain much weight though.

Trippy to Dandeli was fanfuckingtastic. Moi got in the natural jacuzzi, way up to my knees! My lovely knees loved it. Hot searing sun, icy cold water. An awesome way to feel alive, get all your senses perked up and happy. River Kali interestingly tasted really sweet. Wasn't too smart though, drinking untreated water from a raw source, but it tasted soooo sweet. Food at the resort was delish. Not kidding. It was DELISH!

Chaddi paddi phaddi! TeeHee. I don't know why but I love saying that. Thank you Krys! She has dramatically changed since the last time I visited Dharwad. Happier, better behaved, smiled often, talkitive as heck, inquisitive and curious about every damn thing, wanting to always PLAY. Loved her lil games; Shopkeeper, Office-Office, School, shapes she could make out of her kerchief, objects she imagined the stones to be. And, yes, the khadoos in me did get tired of playing soon enough, so no drastic change there.

Chikoo that tasted sweet as sin, more especially so cause we plucked it straight off the tree in the backyard. Was fun trying to figure out how to pluck the fat buggers high up with just a pole and crude versions of bags and baskets hooked to its end.

GRILLS! The houses there have the most facinating grill work I have ever seen. Except maybe what I saw in Pondicherry. Deers, musical instruments, dancing figurines, hearts, apples, flowers, swans. Art. Lovely.

Bought a sexy red sari with black embriodery. And I mean S.E.X.Y. Cannot wait to wear it.

Late night confessions, dreams and hopes, back-bitting and venting, laughing and whispering. Watching silly movies with headphones on. Scouting for grills on Scooty. Getting dressed up for Christmas. Ragging bro. Thankful that I rediscovered Shar.

Sitting in the courtyard, back towards the sun, wrapped in my fav shawlie, John Mayers in my ear, crocheting. Pure and unadulerated bliss.

Ended all too soon.