Sunday, February 28, 2010


"After years of practice and mastery over seemingly impossible postures, there is now no doubt that women have an equal type of strength, too. Marianne Williamson says that a true woman's power is magnetic, attractive and visionary. A woman's body receives, nurtures, gives, produces, holds, bears, bends, grows, shrinks and sometimes even breaks, only to rebuild. Rather than an exposed sexual organ, in the heart of every female form rests a womb that is a great, silent and dark potential for life. This darkness that draws its archetype from the lunar cycle pulls energy, tides, change, life force and fertility to it. Where a man's body has muscles to push, thrust and engage, a woman's body beckons, seduces and contains. It is in this crucial difference where women must find their strength in the yoga practice and in life: Not in emulating the deep belly thrust of a man's world, but in tapping into a uniquely feminine way to engage the world will women touch the mystery of true female power."

- Kino MacGregor , 'The Quiet Strength of a Woman's Body'

Digital poetry

I came across this poem online somewhere - simple poem, powerful message, author unknown.

All that glitters is not gold.
This so many times I'm told.

But what is gold?
What is its cost?

Can it be measured
if all is lost?

Is it warm?
Is it cold?

Can it comfort
when we grow old?

Can it buy you love?
Can it bring you joy?

Is gold a commodity
that you heart can enjoy?

Can it say I love you
and dry a sorrows tear.

Will it grow more tender
year after year?

The gold that really glitters
is the gold that I see.

When you have entered a room
and your eyes see me.

Your eyes have the glitter
and oh how they do glow.

The wealth is in
the gold I see.

Found in the love
Between you and me.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010


Dedicated to Hanan Vedis Zarour.

Someone stomped on a flower today
With all their might
They ground their heel
Into the ground
Clockwise and counter-clockwise
Pushed it crushed it twice and thrice four times and more
The spot where it would

Monday, February 22, 2010

Gorgeous person of the day

Sachin Pilot, youngest Indian minister ever. Don't know about his politics yet but I enjoy watching him...a lawt.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Pour homme

The word is out: India has had it with facial hair that carries bits of meals past. A recent survey indicated that Indian women prefer clean-shaven men. So basically, if your facial hair does not make you look like...


...or even...

...but more like...

...then there's a clipper out there with your name on it. Remember, only the guys in the razor-blade/shaving-cream/electric-trimmer/after-shave commercials get the girls. Them and the guys in the Axe and old Denim perfume ads.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Cote d'Anu

Dedicated to Anupama Nambiar

Thank you for sitting here with me
Staring into the black sea not needing to say anything
Or saying too much but I know you won't avoid me next time
For being too talkative hormonal sensitive so weird
The obstacle course of adjectives they throw at you
Out there, a world of eggshells that breaks you
But I can stomp around you in well-worn shoes
Feet firm and kicking raising dust and grass
How I am how I feel how I always was jungle child
I look ugly today bad skin falling hair
Making mistakes don't know what to do
Emotional faulty scared sometimes-cute
Wouldn't dare unmask in front of others
But my friend wants nothing from me
Will still want to watch the black water white froth with me tomorrow

Is Waqt

The world leaves me behind
And I wonder what happened
Wake up one day and think this is it?
But this wasn't supposed to be
Nothing backward
Nothing forward
Just now
This moment
This unbearable existence

Saturday, February 13, 2010

SRK bin ein Berliner!

When I first saw Shahrukh Khan at a concert in Muscat, Oman, in 1994, I never realised that that 20-something not-particularly-good-looking newbie would grow up to become an international sensation. Shahrukh Khan today...

...has crazy White fans!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


Multi-national corporations are trying to bring genetically-modified (GM) foods to India. But what does that mean? Let Mahesh Bhatt fill you in in 30 minutes.

Poison on the Platter from Jeffrey Smith on Vimeo.


Both Sridevi and Juhi Chawla had their noses done, the former many times over the past couple of decades, and the latter only recently. Both were top stars at one time, which wasn't that long ago. Juhi Chawla was a beauty queen once. Either way, makes you wonder.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Aman ki Asha

Junk in my trunk

I have been having a ridiculously down-in-the-dumps week. And then this shows up in my mailbox.

The junk mail made it past my filter to tell me that I'm a winner. No, I didn't win anything. But as I sat there mindlessly clicking through things and glanced at this bit of junk mail, it felt like an affirmation from the universe. It probably makes no sense to anyone except me, but this silly thing made me smile like a gummy baby. *wiping my baby tears*

Yes, I am a winner. And don't you - or I - dare forget it.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Demon on my back

It had been a busy summer. I was so glad. The past few months I had constantly had people to talk to, people who wanted to talk to me. My mother had been staying with me for a couple of months where I lived by myself in Tulsa, OK, USA, and seemed like every month I had a family gathering to fly to with her in some state or the other. It was the summer of sound, and I was so thankful, so grateful to be in it. I was tired but I was so happy to be around people who remembered me. A whirlwind of attention where I fit in.

The last family event, an out-of-state wedding, had wrapped up. My brother and his family had left for the airport with my mother early in the morning while I had been asleep in their hotel room. My flight back to Tulsa was later in the day. I opened my eyes, and I heard silence. It was back.


In this space there are no stars
Just dark
No up no down
Where you realise that you're alone
While brushing your teeth at night
In the middle of the drive to work
After the partiers have gone home
And it's quiet again
Filling your ears with an expanding nothing
In that silent agitation that grows in your belly
Wailing because it is never defeated

Hello, we meet again.