I do my best thinking on the train, listening to my iPod and just day dreaming. I think a lot about love and how it makes us feel, behave, live. You can’t control who you love. It just takes over one day and it’s changed your life. You love people who don’t love you, and ignore the ones who do love you. Love makes you happy, but it also makes you really sad. At times, It makes you a wonderful person to know — charming, smiling and spreading that cheer everywhere you go. At times, it makes you a carrier of gloom and despondency, telling everyone you meet to stay away. Love is illogical. It makes you illogical, and selfish, and immune to what we call “good sense”. But it also makes you more hopeful — you suddenly believe in magic and miracles. It makes you see the good in people, and sometimes makes you really selfless, and you live for others. It makes you childlike again, and makes you laugh with abandon. You sleep with a smile on your face and wake up the same way. It makes you the best version of yourself. It also makes you the worst. You forget that a world outside exists when you’re in love. You make it about yourself and what you need. You justify everything, and say, i can’t help it. It’s love. It’s made me this way. But sometimes, it’s worth it. Love makes it all worthwhile. It makes you feel alive and feel things. It makes you creative. It makes you look at this world we live in with rose coloured glasses, which I feel is a good trait. It makes you float and fly. I wish at times, i didn’t believe in love, but then where would I be and What would I do? And most importantly, what would I write? I need love.
I know it’s been really long since a post, but have been living in a dreamworld. But today, a poem i read snapped me back and made me write a poem — which i never do. But it was so lovely, it made me write. It’s called “When You Have Forgotten Sunday: The Love Story” by Gwendolyn Brooks, and this is how it goes
“When You Have Forgotten Sunday: The Love Story
— And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,
And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday —
When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,
Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon
Looking off down the long street
Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation
And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?
When you have forgotten that, I say,
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner,
That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner
To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles
Or chicken and rice
And salad and rye bread and tea
And chocolate chip cookies —
I say, when you have forgotten that,
When you have forgotten my little presentiment
That the war would be over before they got to you;
And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,
And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end
Then gently folded into each other—
When you have, I say, forgotten all that,
Then you may tell,
Then I may believe
You have forgotten me well.”
Isn’t it absolutely lovely. I am following her thought process and i wrote one called “Forgetting” Let me know if you liked? 🙂
Remember you asked me when I first knew
When I first knew you were my world?
It was a warm summer’s night. And as you hugged me, we had lingered.
That’s when I knew. I remember that’s when I knew
Remember when I asked when you first felt like kissing me?
You said it was that day when I slowly kissed your cheek goodbye
you had wanted to pull me back
and fit me in a corner, and kiss me endlessly
You will always remember that, you said
What about the time I wanted to first touch you, and not in a sweet way?
I remember that
I stood next to you leaning over an old car. Our shoulders barely touched.
I stood next to you so I didn’t have to look at you
You had a question in your eyes, and I didn’t know the answer
I had wanted to touch you then, and not in a sweet way
Remember when we fell in love?
It just happened right?
Was there a time when we weren’t in love? I said
Remember when we made love?
I am still trying to forget
All I do is remember.
Somehow this October is making me all romantic. And when i heard this song by St Vincent, i felt weak in the knees. Her voice is haunting and oh so lovely. don’t blame me if you want to kiss somebody as soon as it finishes
also, i have been re-reading all the world famous romances to inspire my writing and it’s been an awesome exercise. You know the feeling you get sometimes when a book calls out to you — well fountainhead has been doing that to me. and i have been reading that along with Thornbirds and good writing can make you feel so much, right? Meggie and Ralph’s romance is the so bittersweet and that’s why so freaking beautiful. sigh! You have to read them again if you have already read them, or just buy now!!! It’s worth it and it will make October much prettier.
I also did a post on my fashion blog where i tried to look at date-like and romantic. Check it out here
will stop being lazy and post everyday now. Have a great day. Ciao 🙂
I have always thought that the best love stories are the ones that are incomplete, unrequited and just dysfunctional. I blame it on pop culture 🙂 But here’s one i wrote on the fly today. Hope you like it..
Ayesha never could understand why men found her attractive. She didn’t see it. She loved what she saw in the mirror, but she didn’t think she was the type of girls men found hot. It often came as a surprise when someone called her pretty. And if someone said she was hot, well, that was just shocking. She still saw herself as the girl she was in school – the cute one, never the desirable one. What could a man see in her? Why would a man want to kiss her? Maybe it was the breasts – she knew that men sometimes couldn’t see beyond them. Yes, maybe men who called sexy meant she had big breasts. She couldn’t understand why else would a man find her sexy.
So when Aman had insisted that she was pretty – prettier than many girls he had met – a kind of pretty that made him smile – she was sure he was lying. She was sure that he had nothing better to do – than amuse himself by flirting with her. After all, he was who he was – charming to the extent it could be considered illegal. And he acted as if he didn’t know that. He was also too good looking to be interested in a girl like her. He was just too good looking – that tall frame always hunched in a amused stance, with that smile that seemed to be mocking you and admiring you at the same time. He used to smile that smile whenever she said he was such a tease – and then would say something so charming that she would forget whatever that she may have hated about him at the time. The last time they had gone out, he had left her at the bar and returned only an hour later after making out with a gorgeous girl in the loo. She had hated him then. But then as they shared the cab back home, he had snuggled his face into her hair and said that he had wished he would kiss her instead and passed out. Ayesha would never believe that – a boy like Aman wouldn’t want to kiss a girl like her. No, there was no way he would find her attractive.
But he had been saying it for a while now. He thought she was beautiful, he thought they would be great together, he thought he could travel the world with her, he thought that they would be the perfect duo to spend their lives sitting under the sun in an Italian country side, he thought that her lips were inviting him to kiss them and that even though she kept saying no, she meant yes. Ayesha didn’t believe it at all. She wanted to give in, but experience had made her cynical – she was sure she was misreading the signs. No one could find her so desirable, especially Aman. Maybe he just called in the middle of the night to say he missed her, all he meant was that he missed the fun they had – not in particularly her. After all, she wasn’t desirable at all. And when he insisted they speak for hours on end, even if she was running around the city, he would hold the phone and then drawl something seductive like, “Ayesha, Come on, let me kiss you or else I swear I will explode”, she would laugh and say back, “Aman, I don’t want you to never speak to me again. Let’s just keep my lips out of it.” He had kissed many lips – he couldn’t care for hers. She kept herself from noticing the signs too much. They just confused her. The Universe was trying to confuse her – it was trying to make her trip. She wasn’t going to fall for that.
She often stopped herself from calling him, or messaging him, or even meeting him. She wasn’t doing it for him; she was doing it for herself. She didn’t like being lied to, or to be made fun of, especially when slowly, she was starting to believe that it was all true. She would make up scenarios in her head as she went to sleep every night and they were all wildly romantic – she would meet Aman once in a Paris, and they would smile ear to ear when they saw each other, then they would walk the city at night, and kiss as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and then they would kiss again as it got really dark, feeling up each others’ bodies as they did. They breathing would get heavy and they would say things to each other they would never repeat in daylight. Then at the end of a lovely week, they would leave each other. Then as Ayesha sat in a plane back home, she would remember Aman and feel beautiful, because a man like him had loved her. It would all be done. Because weren’t the best love stories the ones that were incomplete. You couldn’t be in love forever – you had to long for each other all your life, or it wasn’t really that kind of love. That’s was another reason she only met him in her dreams – if she met him too much in real life she would fall in that forever kind of love with him, and her cold analysis would go out of the window. Because the girl that she was wouldn’t leave him in Paris – she would never leave him. And he possibly couldn’t want that. So she had to bite her tongue when she wanted to say, “Aman, come on over and kiss me.” She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t be that girl. He would come over, kiss her, and then forget her. No, she couldn’t be that girl.
It was like positive affirmation – hers had to be negative. She had to tell herself she wanted nothing to do with Aman, that she wasn’t his type, and neither was he hers. So when he landed up outside her door one night, and asked her if she wanted to play snakes and ladders, she should have said no, but she said yes. That happens right. You try and not pay someone attention, but how do shun them when they pay you attention. After all, deep down, you like them right? You are just pretending to not like them, and they know that, right? Aman seemed like a snake right now – every time she thought she had reached a pinnacle, a new bench mark of not liking him, he bit her, and she came tumbling down. It was a game she wasn’t winning.
She must have been lost in thought because when Aman kissed her, she didn’t stop him. This wasn’t her. This couldn’t be right – why would Aman want to kiss her. He must have heard her thoughts because he stopped kissing her and sighed – “Will you let go off whatever you are holding on to for tonight?” She sighed, “Tonight. Just for tonight.” He kissed her again and this time she didn’t think why.
The next morning, she felt as if she was in the Paris of her dreams. He was leaving and she didn’t want him to. But she wasn’t going to be the girl she really was, and say “Aman stay forever.” She would let him go, and it would be that perfect incomplete love story. That had always been their destiny. It was the stuff dysfunctional short stories were made of. She would make a great heroine – cut such a tragic figure. She was the one everyone would love – like Jennifer Aniston, right? She was the perfect girl who the horrible hottie left — she was the one who would get all the love. After all, she was the one being left.
Aman kissed her softly before he left – his tall frame leaning on the front door in that drunk way that was his signature. “Will I see you soon?” he asked her and she longed to just say, “Now. See me now. See me forever.” But instead she said, “Yup, where am I going? Soon. That’s when I will see you.” She knew it was in their destiny to not be together. They couldn’t be – it wouldn’t be poignant enough. And then Aman would stop saying all the things he said now. To be unforgettable, their love story had to be incomplete. He had to be the guy who never loved her – how could he, she wasn’t his type. Aman was smiling that smile – one that seemed to say she was the stupidest girl he had ever met, but he liked her in spite of that. He said, “So soon then,” and then he shut the door. He knew she was standing on the other side patting herself on the back for letting him go. But he knew she was right. He loved her. But he didn’t want to spoil the illusion. He didn’t want to be ordinary in her eyes. It was in their destiny to be incomplete lovers. It just seemed perfect that way. And he knew that both of them wanted it to be perfect. Perfectly incomplete. It was destiny.
I fell in love today. I had read One Day but when i saw the movie, i completely fell in love with the character of Dex that i even forgot that i didn’t like Anne Hathaway at all, and ended up loving the movie. Brit actor Jim Sturgess plays Dex in such a charming way that it’s hard not to get taken in. I once had a friend who was a lot like him — dreamy, slightly effeminate, but completely male with a roving eye, with a smile on his face that sway in his walk that felt like he was always drunk. He was the kind who would make any girl feel lucky to be with him — he had that Je Ne se quois quality — you couldn’t really put your finger on it. Dex is like that — good looking, slightly sad, totally loserish, but so charming that it melts your heart, so boyish you want to do everything for him. I feel in love, thanks to Jim Sturgess and it was a lovely feeling. The soundtrack to the movie is also brilliant, esp the theme, which sound too familiar to Amit Trivedi’s score for Lootera. It can’t be a coincidence. Do hear it.
ps. I totally loved his styling too — so retro and french and brit at the same time. Lovely.
You have to watch the movie. Now.
When i was younger, i used to shut the door to my room and put on my stereo really loud and dress up to music. It was a habit that i don’t know when and how i lost. It made you feel sexy, and sort of prepared for the world that lay outside that door. My music collection varied according to my mood but was always uplifting. It could be Boyzone serenading me, or Jlo making me move my booty, or Mariah singing Fantasy and getting you all dreamy. It gave me confidence, validation and basically put me in the mood for everything fun — work or pleasure. I am sure there is a study somewhere that says that people who get dressed to music are the ones who are happier. There has to be — wait let me google it — ok, i didn’t find one that exactly fit this, but i found a study that says “A study from the University of Missouri has confirmed that listening to an upbeat song can lift your mood. But this only works if you’re consciously aware you’re trying to make yourself happier by listening to the songs.” I think that’s what we are doing when dress to upbeat music. It’s an easy way to put a pep in our steps. Here are some songs that i think are ideal if you want to feel sexy, confident and happy when you step out every day.
1. My Sharona by The Knack or the Ramones. It’s the best song ever to play if you are feeling low. It will make you happy in an instant.
2. Sunday Morning by No Doubt. Ok, you have to sing along with this one. And scream loudly when she does.
3. And to feel sexy, there is no one better than JLO. I love JenNY from the Block. Strut your stuff now!
Also, do read this piece in the Atlantic about a community of people who are happier and live longer. There are some interesting reasons given for that phenomenon. Read it here