One of my neighborhood pups died yesterday.

He was born not more than a month ago. I first saw the whole lot of them, brothers and sisters and all, at the wall around the corner of my house. They were just newborns then I guess, and were lying one on top of the other, warming themselves against the cold. They were each about as large as my palm. :)

We would periodically feed the m, so she would come around our street once in a while. It's adorable to watch all of the little buggers following her every move, short paws scampering around, jumping up at her and fighting for milk. She's tired most of the time and it probably takes all of her patience to deal with every single one of them clamoring for food and attention.

Yesterday had been a good day. Perfect, in fact. I got home feeling happy and generally at peace with life.

A car ran over one of the pups. The tires went over both his hind legs and he was hurt so badly that he couldn't even get himself to the safe side of the road without help. We calmed him down a little, but only after we managed to convince him - with slow movements and lots of petting - that we didn't mean any of the harm he had just become victim to. He settled down into the ground, exhausted and horribly injured.

My siblings and I put him into a little bag, fearful of holding him ourselves and worsening his injury. My sister drove like a maniac trying to get to the nearest Cupa as quickly as possible.

In the 15 minutes or so that the little guy was on my lap, snuggling into my hand, I grew more attached to him than I thought possible. Black with white patches but with an all-black tail, droopy ears and a quick pulse. He was so small and so vulnerable, and heartbreakingly adorable. Even in the midst of all the bleeding, he played with my hand and brushed up against the fibers of the bag he was in, playfully growling and blinking big brown eyes at me. I decided that when all of this was over, I would make him a little shelter and feed him every day. Call him TP, for TriPod. He would need the humor to help him survive the tough stray life.

When we finally got to the clinic, they told us that his entire back was shattered. And this included both legs, the bones of which had literally broken apart into pieces. His tail was crushed and wouldn't move. They didn't think he would be able to recover at such a young age, that trying to endure those injuries would kill him. So the more humane option, they said, would be to put him to sleep.

What choice did we have? My sister signed the papers, and I cried the entire way home.

How do those people live with themselves? This street is never busy. Couldn't they have waited for him to cross over to the other side and then drove on? Was it a genuine accident or some sadistic thrill? When they ran him over, everyone in every house on the street heard his cries. How could they not stop? Did they not have the hearts? Consciences? Souls?

Why do they get away and why does such an innocent creature die? How does that make any sense?

#....?

Writing on this blog is like exercise. If I don't keep at it, I forget that it's necessary and healthy and must be a regular part of my life.

It's been a while since I wrote. Or exercised, for that matter.

Life has been pleasant. There have been problems, glitches, speed-breakers, etc., but overall, it has been pleasant enough for me to feel grateful. I love that I have these friends and this family, and that I live in this city. It's more than I could ask for.

I don't know how I would survive without my loved ones. I don't mean to say that I have this tragic life and they're the only ones keeping me afloat. It's just that they give me so much joy and love and happiness and color - such bright color! - that I cannot imagine my life without them. I refuse to imagine my life without them.

I think I live too much in the moment, though. I don't seem to ever think ahead. And I don't mean 'let's plot out the weekend' kind of planning. I mean, 'Do I want to do this for the rest of my life' kind of planning. I've been thinking of the effects of my actions (my inaction, rather), and how I need to get out of comfort zones and soft corners where things seem just so dandy.....not.

Time to shake off the cobwebs. It's never too late.

Don't be surprised if I ask for help. I know I'll get it from you guys. :)

Forgiveness

I've realized that it's not anger, or bitterness, or hatred or frustration in me. It's just regret, and guilt. And the lack of a will to forgive.

To forgive every circumstance that lead me to this, forgive every little contribution to this state of being. To forgive the universe for getting me into this despite all of the faith I put into it.

To forgive myself for getting into this.

To forgive all the bad and remember only the good, because otherwise this little heart will turn black.

Catching up

Did I say I have no life? I'm sorry, I obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Just 8 months and it's been a roller coaster.

If you're reading this, you better come take stock of things and chill with me next weekend. :)

:-(

My favorite cousins just left after a mad four day weekend visit.

I'm too sad to write some emotional, poignant post.

Tabula Rasa

I'm done with moping. With agonizing and backtracking. With consolation prizes that aren't even desirable. With repeating mistakes.

Wipe the slate clean and hand it back to me, please.

Imogen Heap

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QES4nLT4_gM

I'm liking her very much right now.

Untitled

Flashes of tongue and teeth. Of crimson reminders that I secretly wish wouldn't fade. Of ceiling above and white below. Of shadow. Of confusion and desire and relief. Of wanting to put all of it on loop. Of the thrill of love.

Of hands and lips everywhere. Everywhere.

Happy Birthday, Hunny!

I spent a little time yesterday with Hunny and her family.

Wait, let me set this up first.

She'd called us home for a little birthday get together around 5:30. I'd been stuck at work till some 8pm (of course). I work in Domlur and she lives in Malleswaram. So I was outrageously late already, and was going to be even more so by the time I got there. On top of that, I didn't have a gift. I didn't even have flowers. I searched, but obviously there weren't going to be decent flowers around that late in the evening.

So there I am, walking in around 9pm, the last person to arrive. There was just one guest remaining. And all I get is such a warm welcome that I can't help but stand there a little flabbergasted. Aunty thanks me for coming home "from so far away at this time" and Uncle and Brother, while trying to watch the match (which I had interrupted), try to make me feel at home by offering me food and drink. And taking pictures of me wearing this purple wig that was quite popular at that moment (hehe..). Anyway.

It was while I was trying to not to feel guilty for blatantly interrupting family time on Saturday night that I realized this family might be the loveliest I've ever met. I've known them for a few years, going to Hunny's house a few times since we became friends in college. They just have to be the nicest, sweetest, most loving family I know. Uncle is this quietly strong man, and Aunty is just the sweetest thing. It's from her that Hunny gets the obsessive compulsive smiling. From what she's said and written about, they have a loving and caring relationship that makes me believe a marriage actually can stay happy over the years. It makes me knock on wood every time I think about how perfect their world seems.

Brother is this cool dude who I don't know very well, but seems to be the adorable gentle bear type. And Hunny, of course, is just this cheery, happy-go-lucky girl who only has good things to say about most people.

I wish the little bubble of joy they've created for themselves lasts forever. I honestly hope it lasts forever. They deserve only all the joy life can offer them, and I hope it showers down like nobody's business.

And Hunny, if you ever need anything taken care of (you know what I'm talking about, girl), just let your friends know. We're all here, ready to make sure that you stay happy. The universe will take care of you. :)

Escape

I'm going through a silly song phase. I've been getting hooked to one nonsensical (but so much fun!) track after another.

1. Cascada - Evacuate the dance floor
2. Pretty much every Lady Gaga song
4. Cobra Starship - Hot mess
5. Kesha - Tick tock
6. Sexy bitch (yes, I'm still hooked to this one)
7. Timbaland and JT - Carry you out
8. 50 Cent and Ne-Yo - Baby by me

If you haven't heard any of these songs, please do listen. You'll get what I mean by silly. Each of those songs is perfect for letting your hair down and dancing and just having some good ol' fun.

Although, "Baby by me" is more repetitive than silly. Fiddy raps yet again about wanting a good woman who will have a baby by him. The point is oh-so-smooth Ne-Yo's chorus. That one is growing on me.

I've come to realize though, that my song - and I mean my song - is 'Soul to Squeeze' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. There's something extra special about RHCP when they go mellow; they have a very soothing quality. Every line in "Soul to Squeeze" is me at this point in my life. And when I listen to that song everything miraculously makes sense. All my little worries and tiny anxieties evaporate. And all I care about is that song in that moment and how I don't need to go crazy thinking about everything all at once.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOGBIxuc0y8

Enjoy. :)

Me and My Fat Soul

My burnt out mind is screaming for a break. Some sort of outlet for all the repressed energy... No, all the forgotten energy. Everything I've forgotten I was capable of. Everything I've forgotten I wanted to achieve, accomplish, tick off my list of Things To Do.

Life's a bitch. Well, sometimes. You set out with hope and excitement and enthusiasm. Don't get me wrong, I still have all those things. But now, it's punctuated more often than I like to admit with healthy doses of frustration, helplessness and, frequently, just plain old exhaustion.

I'm a little tired of working 14 hour days. I wish I was paid more. Actually, I wish I could use my own hard-earned money on myself more.

As I typed that out I heard how selfish I sounded. But, hey, I think I've earned the right to be a little self-centered.

Oh, don't worry. The guilt will follow. Inevitably. Heh.

I'm a little tired of wishing I could do this and wishing I could do that. I want a holiday. The last one I had was the weekend in Coorg. So much fun! When was that? I don't remember.

I'm a little tired of wishing I had plans, activities, something besides work to keep myself occupied. But that's my own fault. I should make more of an effort to have a life outside work. I think I'm just too lazy to try harder.

Maybe that's why I'm going at this again. Just trying to give my thoughts a voice. I silence them frequently these days, almost unconsciously. Why do I do that? Is it because it's more convenient, because it's easier to not have to deal with them?

My soul is now officially fat. And I'm not comfortable with that. So I'm going to try and do something about it, try and stretch it out and loosen the hinges a little. Now, before I go back to status quo.

Let's see if this works.