The green in my grass.

So The Elastic Chaddi Chronicles was born on 6th february 2009,at a time I could actually write ( or even feel like it).
I,ofcourse,forgot about the blog's birthday.
Which reminds me of a lot of things this blog was about and is not anymore,for the very simple fact that I have forgotten them.
Like,the shoes.

I thought I'd paint shoes all summer after boards got over.
But then I got so caught up with entrances and meeting up with friends that it didn't happen.
The last shoe painted and forgotten about was my own.



Apart from the shoes what I've forgotten about is photography.
I still take a lot of pictures.
But most of them are with friends.And I'd rather not put them up on my blog.
I haven't been to the slums to click in a long,long time.
I know I should have done that because those people are close to me and I can't leave Bombay without that.
Maybe I'll do that today.



Some recent-not-so-great-taken-in-bangalore pictures clicked were:















Moving on from photography,something that I really didn't forget on purpose was the people.
I mention them once in a while.
I still love them the same,but I don't write about them.
At some point all my blogposts were about them.
Maybe my life was all about them.
Right now,it saddens me to think these people are slowing and silently fading away from the blog.
And from my life.

But even today if someone asks me what is the one thing I really,really like about my life,I'd tell them I like them.

Lying on the grass,with our butts wet from the drizzle and the really ancient bollywood music playing in the background,I think being there,in metro's building park is the nicest thing in my life.
Trust me,that grass in that park,is the greenest thing I've ever seen.

Ofcourse,I can live without it.But its the nicest thing in my life.






And lastly,the thing that's been missing for a very,very long time, is pure,unadulterated writing.
There is so meaning to these string of words.
I can't write anymore.
I don't have thoughts.
I hardly think.
I have forgotten all about my past.It doesn't bother me.
And I have no more dreams to run after.
I no longer wish for anything out of the ordianary.
I'm not out of control.
All I care about now is how I can save money for college.
How auto prices have risen.
How I hate money.
This blog is falling apart.
I look at how lame,shallow and fluffy it has become.
The humour has gone.
The quirk is gone.
Yeah the naked man is still there in the sidebar but where are the chaddies?
Sometimes I think that those 84 people who follow this blog just clicked on follow for the sake of it.
That no one actually reads.
And I don't really blame them,there is no writing.
See,I'm just blabbering.
I thought I'd make my blog different.It wouldn't be like the other rant blogs.
I thought I'd create a blog where I could express without using big words.
Simplicity.
But with a depth.
I have a very limited vocabulary.
But I thought maybe I'd compensate for that lack with an honesty that people can relate to.
I thought I'd write about things that people were too scared to admit in the open.
Or maybe didn't know how to put it into words and say them.
I wasn't writing because I thought maybe someday a writer would find my blog.
It was never for them.
It was for the people who just liked reading.
Now,its for nobody.


Nobody.

Tonight.

A memory.


I was sitting on the wooden cupboard with my back to the felt board.I and Jo.
Jo was in her usual sulky mood and she threw something.I can't remember what that was.
I was unusually happy.
I spoke with a childish twang,the way I do when I am this happy.
I was talking.
There were around eight of us.
I said something and laughed.

RR cracked a sad PJ.
It really was sad.
But I laughed.
Y'know how sometimes a joke is so not funny and you laugh for no reason?
I laughed.
I said something.
I faltered in the middle.

RR turned to me and said,"Learn how to talk faster.Fasterrrrr."
And I laughed again.

Its funny how such a random,vague memory is the only one that strikes me now.

RR died yesterday.
In an accident,on his way from Lonavla.
I wasn't close to him.
And we hardly spoke.
Except when we were with common friends.
He used to tease me for being short and I teased him for his chest hair.

This feeling is so funny.
I'm wondering whether I'm devoid of any empathy.
To think that he is no more.
To think that I'm not weeping madly.
It's creepy when people write 'Rest in peace' on his wall on facebook.
I check his wall every fifteen minutes.
I've backspaced my RIP wallpost around three times.
I freaked out reading his last status message,from Lonavla.
Using facebook mobile.
I'm wondering whether or not to go for his condolence meet.

In all this,I think there is only one think I can be sure of.
People never fade out.
You remember them each time you buy a burger.Each time you see someone with light coloured eyes.
'Cat eyes' as we call them.I and Ness.
RR had cat eyes.
A person becomes immortal by his memories.
What he leaves behind with others.
Even conversations like these.


So even though I haven't been a good friend of your's,RR,from tonight I will try to talk as fast as I can.
And even though it sounds cheesy,rest in peace.
: )





RR.
(August 1992-July 2010)

Damn us.

Weird creatures,us women.

We complicate everything so much and then go and ask for a simple life.
We remember everything.
Every message.
Every smiley.
Every word.
If you think it is impossible,think again.
We talk about feelings,not facts.
We fret over details.
Even the colour of our stockings.
We want everything.
And we take pictures of ourselves all the time.
In the bathroom,dressing room,shopping mall,elevators.
We pout and pose.
We edit our pictures.
We remove that pimple,that tan,that dark circle.
We up the contrast and increase the brightness to make us look smoother,fairer.
And then we tell them that looks don't matter to us.
We keep random things like a paperclip safely,because maybe a memory is attached to it that is too dear to be thrown away.
And then we crib about not getting over our past and how that paperclip always comes back to haunt us.
We want to be more manly.
We wear camo shorts and bermudas all the time.
Its the most comfortable thing in the world.
And then we say we look manly in our photos.
"Damn,I look like hulk."
We dream of dancing in the rain.
And still we run into the shops each time it does because it ruins our hair.
We love coffee.
And still it takes months to agree to go for coffee when someone asks us.
We keep backups but hate being one.
We dream of throwing up or not eating at all.
But then we still order the extra cheese.
We take care of our nails more than our waist.
We can't decide which pasta to order,but we call ourselves desicion makers.
We love and hate the same guys.
We reply back to every message.
And we always expect a reply.

We get nervous when people don't keep in touch for more than a week.
We over-imagine.
We love discounts.
We delete people from our friend list if we have a fallout.
And then add them back.
We stalk people.
Pretty people.
Ugly people.
Friends.
Friend's friends.
Friend's friend's friends.
We can't take secrets.
But we can keep them.
We love our guy friends.
We love it when they pay for our frankie.
And when they call.
When they message.
When we are messed up and we call them and they tell us how we are over reacting.


We dream.
And then brush it off.
We keep saying that true love doesn't exist.
But hope that someday we'd be proved wrong.
We love female executives.
We keep wondering how one day we'll wear those heels and own a big company.
But we're scared that it wont bring us happiness.

And the biggest secret of all.

We don't crave for attention.
We crave for warmth and affection.
And hope that all we do,will bring us that.




p.s- Happy birthday Ray.You are one heck of a woman.

"Damn.Falguni Pathak is the indian version of Ellen."

Someday,I will hug my Dad for holding Mom's purse while we use the loo at the mall even though he looks girly holding it.

Someday.

Someday,I'll get used to the word 'midget'.

Someday will be my day.
And someone will be there to see it all.
That day,my facebook status will be liked by more than just Ness and Aurin and Rudi,who like EVERYTHING on my profile.

Someday I'll get used to not seeing people I know.
Ness.
Rudi.
Ray.
Metro.
More.


Someday I'll buy myself a ball and play with it.Maybe even a skipping rope.



Someday I will use my McDonald's cash coupon again.


Someday I will stretch open my mouth like Nish.



Someday I will add Deeganto back as a friend.


Someday Ben will stop messaging.And I will too.


Someday I will start writing my book.



Someday a stranger will come upto me and tell me how I've inspired him.


Someday I will shake hands with Donald Trump and say something witty.


Someday my life will change in a quarter of a moment and I will not even notice.

These somedays will be my days.
And I will gift myself a brownie and a wet hand towel to celebrate it.






But everything has a time.
And today just does not cut it.
Today,I'll just post this amazingly hollow piece of my writing on cyberspace.
Today I'll just think about why I can't write the way I used to,anymore.
I think its the lack of misery in my life.
Or just my indifference to it.

81 is such a rude,cold number.
It does this to me.

See,I'm hardly THERE.

Yellow,like the stars.
Yellow,like the mountain dew.
Yellow,like pee.
Yellow,like JT's face.
Yellow,like the Chinese.

Yellow,like the South Indian hello.
Yellow,like the pages of old books.
Yellow,like puke.
Yellow.


Yellow,like the sun that shines upon the bricks below our feet.
And hide our secrets.
Yellow,like my moodswings.
Yellow,like my shadow.


I'm moving to Bangalore this July for college.
I don't know anyone there.
I don't know anything about that place except that DBC keeps the bestest ice-creams.
I'm going.
Leaving bombay.
I will hardly see my friends ever again.
I'm halfway through falling out of love,again.
I'm messaging B,because he's easy to talk to.
: )
And I'm yellow tonight.






B.
This is for you.

Letters to A.

Dear Arsh,

A year back I was sitting next to a woman in the BEST on my way back home.She was sobbing,silently.
She was on the phone with her friend and from what I could make out from the snippets I overheard,she had been dumped.
I was expecting a message any moment.
It arrived.
It was from him.
In that moment,I felt luckier of the two women.Happy,loved.

It took me almost a year to realize how wrong I was.
You see,that message meant nothing.
I know I'm just 18 and probably not wise enough to be telling you this but I want you to know.
SHE was the luckier woman.
You see what I realized was,to have loved and lost is way better than not having loved at all.

I don't know the whole Sarv thing.I wont ask.
But I know this for sure,at one point,no matter how far away that seems now,Sarv loved you.
Just remember that you were worth the love of a man.I never got that.
And to have been through all this,you can truly say you have lived.

Arsh,
remember this and smile.
:)

Cheers,
Artemisia.

P.S: YOU know why the title is so :)





Note to readers : This letter was actually a testimonial I had written for Arsh long back after both of us met with our harsh realities.Arsh is the prettiest and one of the most powerful writers you'll ever come across.
People this pretty aren't always humble.
But Arsh is different.
:)
I really like her.

Just like an angel off my page.

New header fellas.


:)