Must be the Money!!!!

The city is drowning in its own water. Choking on filth leaving the gutters. Life in the city of the sultans is crawling on its underbelly. And why? Just because the beauty of a downpour was lost in the maze of unhealthy sanitation in this beautiful city of mine.

I can see the drain on my balcony clogged. No matter how hard I try I cant keep the water running.Its accumulating....slowly...but steadily. If it carries on for another hour, I know it will start seeping into my room. I cant help it! There is no slope in the drain. It just runs under my flat's floor.

Every year its the same old story. Illegal constructions, pitiful sanitation. In a spurt of action, the MCD demolished a few buildings in strategic areas so that their work was noticed. And now- no more. The supreme court has stayed the demolitions for a year. Why?? So that all incomplete, illegal construction can be completed? I don't get it. Why does it come to demolition? Why cant the papers just not be cleared when these illegal buildings are built?

I know. It boils down to one simple thing. Money. That is what drives our country. No matter what we do we cant clear it of people who cant think beyond filling their pockets. Show them the greens and the officials are ready to dance.

So when I wonder what is causing all this destruction all around me, someone in my peripheral vision mutters...." Must be the money!"

Hazzards of Love

Its one O clock in the morning and I am an aspiring writer. Deciding to write is an unusual decision for me. I am not quite sure if I’d like to put me feelings out there in the open for all to see. But this is the first time I am seriously writing and its interesting that I've decided to start with the topic of love.

Love drives us all.  Most would say that I feel that because I am a woman. I don't know. What I do know is that I am exceptionally attached to the idea of it. And since cliches are cliches are cliches, its not surprising that I choose to write about the romantic kind.

So what is so terrible about falling in love? The insecurities? The fear of it love not being returned? What is it about love that keeps us so uncertain yet tangled in it??

I met a friend yesterday. A girl. We got to talking and I just couldn't help wondering… So many years of being with someone and you start doubting your judgment. The giddy, romantic, overtaking haze of love clears and you become aware of YOURSELF suddenly. YOUR needs, YOUR hopes, YOUR desires

The first time you let a man talk you into believing that you love him - you are a goner. From then on he needs no further effort to keep you by his side. A woman’s nature you see!!(she will always think from the heart first). You will close your eyes to the fact that he is human with his set of faults and failings. From that first moment, he is your hero, your price. The one who will pull out jars from the top most shelf for you, carry the heavy boxes, hold you in the night when he talks about HIS dreams and the places HE’D like to take you.

You are his lover, his mate – the love is young. Then years pass – he still loves you, still cares. But now you are his companion, someone who’ll always be there when he wants to talk.
You wish he’d make you melt against him, make you feel like loved passionately - but the years have passed!! You are no longer his lover, his mate - you are his companion, his partner.
You feel betrayed, disappointed, cheated. You question your femininity. Why doesn’t he want me anymore? Why don’t I want to dress up anymore? Why do I have more sneakers than stilettos? When was the last time I wore a dress? When was the last time he said I was breathtaking? Am i still beautiful? I know I am still beautiful. But then why don't I feel beautiful?

The Magnificent One.

For I am the First and the Last,
I am the Venerated and the Despised,
I am the Prostitute and the Saint,
I am the Wife and the Virgin,
I am the Mother and the Daughter,
I am the arms of my Mother,
I am Barren and my Children are amny,
I am the Married Woman and I am the Spinster,
I am the woman who gives birth and
She who never procreated,
I am the Consolation for the Pain of birth,
I am the Wife and the Husband,
And it was my Man who created Me,
I am the Mother of my Father,
I am the Sister of my Husband,
And He is my Rejected Son,
Always Respect Me,
For I am the Shameful and,
The Magnificent One.

Hymn to Isis, 3rd or 4th Century B.C, Discovered in Nag Hammadi

It's raining and my heart yearns for the lost homes and lost innocence. The tender days of yesteryears when rain still was a source of joy - not just a nuisance.
Delhi is my latest home, has been so for the past five years. Even though I had never lived in a city like this before, its wet virgin glimpses on a rainy day in the month of June pulled me into a haze of surreal love. I have been passionate about Delhi and its rainy days ever since.