My experiments with blog writing.

12:03 am by the clock

<< Back from a successful midnight snack hunt, satiated and still wide awake, ready to write. Whoever said artists need to starve to create great stuff, sure din have my fridge to savour on. Or maybe he just meant those Paris painter artists. Because almost every writer I have known seems well fed, and some what of a gourmand! Makes mental note: read more into the dietary habits of well known writers. >>


I have decided to demarcate my blogs into the funnier ones on Meggs.. and the more sentimental ones, and of course the more in numbers also on Something… avid reader (yes reader not readers) of my blog have certainly appreciated this. maybe the melancholy got to them. Of course there are other readers who just don’t care… but hey, Kotler never said that your target group can’t be just one individual.

<< Another of those sleepless nights it is, thanks to the training MBA has given me. I still don’t know what the heck a HR person is supposed to do, but sure can give chaukidar bhaiya 101 tips on how to pass the night without nodding off!!

Movement outside bedroom door. Bhaiaya’s room opens, and he treads towards the loo. One of the many trips the brother sister duo makes through the night. And if we were to ever cross each others path in the pursuit of this, we would pass each other unacknowledged. This wasn’t my idea, m sure. I am the more hello-er and hugger kind of a person. He is the unhappy leprechaun! Also, being the older one, his word is the rule here. Must have been his idea when we were kids to play agents-operating-on-the-enemy-soil-don’t-recognise-each-other strategy. God knows, maybe he is one of those people who cant pee if he knows someone knows he is peeing. GAWD, talk about being self consumed. Anywhoo…
Pursuit for words to write.. think think thi…
Corner of my eye notices movement… Lizard alert, lizard alert!!
Head spins into action.
Brain cell no. A 4359, “This is dispatch, we have a code 0889”
Brain cell no. M 188, “aha, lizard alert. Follow protocol.”
A 4359,”Yes sir”. Types in the big head central computer thingie. “All senses alert, code 0889, follow protocol”.
So, now that my head has acknowledged the thread and sanctioned me to follow protocol I will. Oh and if you were wondering what Protocol is for code 0889: “Commence staring the lizard, follow every move, no sudden moments except those of the eye. See where it is going, and make a mental note of its habitat. Also, keep throat salivated, in case you need to scream”
So, the staring game begins. Wait, the lizard is staring too. Brain cells feverously type, and retype strategies. We will continue staring in hope to win the staring competition and force the enemy to back down.
Staring, hard, harder, harder….
10 seconds up… almost 15 up… eyes watering. The lizard, still cool as a cucumber, still staring.
Don’t blink Meghna, don’t blink…make the lizard blink first. Wait a minute, does the lizard even have eyelids?
This strange conclusion makes me raise and eyebrow, seeing which the lizard retreats!!
Ah, the sweet taste of victory. I smile, as I picture my brain cells hi-five-ing each other, and opening little champagne bottles! Well done my friends!
Now what, oh yes, the writing. >>

For the first time in years, I don’t think I am in love. And hence the lovey-dovey part of my writing has taken a break. And so I am struggling. With words, with inspiration, with searching a topic to write of.

<< Bored already, tunes into the radio. Hears some lady saying most happening music over and over again. Oh yes, its Saturday night. All the radio stations play good foot tapping number off some “99 back to back party hits” album. It is their attempt to make those of us young and unlucky enough not to be out partying like the rest of the town feel worse. Imagine this: all of the people you know are at some brilliant little pub or lounge, having cocktails and partying, while you are at home rummaging through leftovers to make a decent midnight snack in your “daddy’s little girl” jammies. Then as the sadness of your existence dawns upon you, you tune into the radio, trying to zone yourself out. Only to hear those stupid tracks go on and on making sure the fact gets resonated that you in fact have no life! worse, you have a zindagi. Yes my dear pals, that’s the dainik jagran reading, himmesh reshamiya listening, ZINDAGI!!! Lets out a silent sigh>>

20 minutes later…

<< Nothing, not a word!! Why god why? I struggle to find where the screen of the laptop is, because my vision has been temporarily blocked by what I call ‘medusa’s little wormy snakes’ (!!) better known as my hair. Its that time of the year again. Its hot, the fan is at its highest, makes me want to go bald because of the hair flying everywhere. And if you let it rest somewhere, like make a braid or something, that part of the head just heats up. And then we start losing brain cells. That’s how A 4359 lost his wife. May her .. err… do brain cells have souls? If they get one, I want one too!!
Anywhoo, and the worst part is when people (read Ronald and its kind) meet me and say “wow such lovely hair, why do you curse them all this while? They are so good! And look so manageable.”

Well Ma’am looks are deceptive! They are like pairs and pairs of twins, like octapulates. I know how you feel octa-mom! They seem all cute and cuddly when they are all well fed, and bathed and dressed and out in the park. But try keeping them for a day. The combing and the washing and the cleaning and the straightening of these babies!! I could spend half a day just combing through them.
Now what… brain zones out… muscle memory settles in and takes charge, and begins to systematically crackle every of them 206 bones in my body. I once did count how many of my bones I make chatkao. There was the phalanges, the spine, the neck, the knees, the shoulder… you get the idea!>>

The dearth of words and the inability to find them has made me ask a very important question to myself: was this all there was? Was I like the one-hit wonders, or that scent-making master in the movie ‘perfume’ who made a famous scent when he was young and that’s all there was to his genius? Am I over, am I all written out, all consumed nothing else left in me? If so, am I right in writing myself off? Maybe I was the one hit wonder, the one-love wonder. Makes me wonder more, and more of his importance in my life, was he the only one capable to inspire me to write so?

<< Smiles at self, intelligent piece that, writing myself off! Now what, more procrastination? No, or Ronald would call me the queen of melancholy and melodrama once again. And I don’t want everyone reading that AGAIN.
Also, wonders if I have been mentioning Ronald too much here? Well, no one else seems to care. :-|
GENIUS I am, with the discovery of the holy grail of emo-cons |
Movinggg on…. Almost 2 it is. Need sleep! >>

Dozes off. And oh, if you are thinking whether I finised the blog for something-so-anything, well you will have to go and see it there!! :D Good moro!