The Ghost of You

There is a dead rose in my diary, dark red petals curling black, faint fragrance drifting across the yellowing pages. The rose is almost six years old, and it's been dead for almost two. Yet it's ghost still lingers, still haunts me. It's fragrance (odour?) permeates through my room, my books, my bed, my heart, my mind, my life. The breeze scatters the petals, but they always come back here to rest, to haunt me. The rose is dead, but it's ghost still has sharp thorns. I try to hold it sometimes, but all I do is end up bleeding. I try to throw it away sometimes (everyone says I must), but the ghost is tenacious, it doesn't let me go. (Or is it me that doesn't let it go?)

It seems as if my life is tied to that rose, that it is my anchor, that if i let it go, everything I am, all I ever hope to be, everything will crumble, will scatter and drift away. How do I then, let that rose go? How do I throw away what I have always imagined to be my life? How do I let me, go?

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I tried. I tried to hold the rose again. I tried to revive the dead. And for a moment, it seemed it worked. Oh, it was beautiful. The old warmth, the old fragrance, the old feeling, that same cocoon--it was back. And you know the best thing? It wasn't a vague shadowy imprint of what the rose used to be--it was the same. I could almost see it. The blackness of the petals receding, the colour blooming again, the post-rain freshly washed world again. All the same. Rewind. Erase. Play.

But as they say, nothing good ever came out of necromancy. Yes, it all came back--for a time. It all went away too. And I bled. Again. Only, this time. It was worse. SO much worse. NOW the haunting? Much MUCH worse. Coupled with the WHY? And I try to analyze it all. Was it all just in my head? Did I just imagine it? I know I didn't. So. Which was it? Revival? Or the ghost just taking a more solid form for a bit?

And then I realize. It doesn't matter. I tried. With the ghost having haunted me for so long, I HAD to try. The minute it took a vaguely corporeal form, it was inevitable. At some level, I know. That rose. It will always be there. I cannot throw it away. It's a part of me, of who I am. So I don't regret it. Which is good.

BUT. That one last time, one last try--it's over.

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So. Dear Dead Rose,

I'll always treasure you. Yes, I admit it, I miss you. One part of me STILL wants you to revive. But I'm done mourning you. It's time to put the ghost of you to rest. Finally. Rest in peace.

-R

I want to be that girl again. You know, THAT girl. The one in Drops of Jupiter. So, Hello, World. Or should I say, Universe? :)

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

3 a.m. conversations with my dear friends.

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PR to R: If I'm ever stuck on an island, I'd want to be stuck with you.

R: **aww, so sweet**

PR: **shattering aw, so sweet bubble** Such ample amounts of meat you would provide!!

R: HMPH.

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(international call. that costs a TON, btw)

R: ramble ramble ramble (along the lines of describing amazing day and wishing M would have been there)

**pause in conversation, as R takes breath**

M: Kya yaar, tum toh train ho! Rukti hi nahin ho! Kitna nonstop bakbak kar sakti ho!!

R: ** :( No appreciation for my deeply entertaining and engrossing storytelling. HMPH**

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Such love. Who needs enemies? HMPH.

Drops of Jupiter.

A good day. Shagun's back. Brought the rain. And Roy. And Su home early. Two drinks. Mojitos and Screwdrivers. Mutton Roganjosh and Jeera Rice from Saleem's. Bakchodi. Craving for ice-cream. One o'clock drive through pouring rain to 24/7. Head out of car window like a dog. Tasting the raindrops on my tongue. Haagendaas Cookies and Cream. Drenched. Pehli Baar Mohabbat ki hai on the radio on the way back. Gilheri ke jhoote mutter khaaye the... Mohsin's favourite line in the song. Delhi's empty roads. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rivers and rivers of water on the street. Dancing in the rain. In the river. Spinning and spinning. Dashing home from Mohsin and Roy's "parking space" next to the park. Soaked. Hair straggly and bedraggled and drippy. Digging into slightly melted ice-cream. Tussle over last "cookie" with Su. Missing one not here. Pardesi. Ae ajnabi. Nayan Tarse. May it be. Music. Bakchodi. Laughing. Iktara. "The first thought that comes to your mind." The sound of the rain. Maggi. Thunder. Balcony door open. Lights off. Comfort. Warmth.

Rewind. June. Gulmarg. Cold. Martini. "Give me a memory. Any memory. A good one. One that will always stay with you." Here is mine. Today. And I have Drops on Jupiter on my mind. And Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

"Now that she's back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there's time to change, hey, hey
Since the return from her stay on the moon
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey

Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

Now that she's back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo
Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey, hey

Now that she's back in the atmosphere
I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain ol' Jane
Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land

Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind
Was it everything you wanted to find
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know you're wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me

Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back toward the Milky Way.

Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there."

Amendment to 6 a.m. work days

I have talked about how my 6 a.m. work day invariably proceeds--the alarms, Su's indistinct mumblings, and so on, right? Well. Slight amendment to that. Today was not supposed to be a 6 a.m. work day--Had to go for a conference, which was thankfully, in Delhi. Which means, no Sonipat! No 6 a.m.!!! 6 a.m. today, was the time when I, like all other normal people, was happily in dream land. yayayayay. It was an 8 a.m. day. Which began, unlike any other has, so far. With a SLAP. ON MY FACE. FROM SUUUU!!!!!

So it's around 8ish. Alarms have rang and been snoozed. I am happily enconsed in my comfy blanket nest. Burrowed in. Not one sqaure inch of self exposed to extra-cold AC. And phaaatttt!!!! An arm swinging in an arc, and landing on (thankfully) blanket covered cheek. OUCH. Apparently, Su was just checking to see if I was still in bed, or she thought that I wasn't there under the blankets. Or so she says. Some weirdly contradictory things like that. HMPH. Such love. Nice thing to wake up to, na?

Blogroll

Did you know that most Blogs on Blogger's Blogroll (haha. alliteration!!) are about happy families chronicling the lives of their cute kids? With pictures? I didn't. Until I spent two hours clicking the "Next Blog" tab on Blogger. See, I learn something new everyday. Even through mindless mundane monotonous (overdone alliteration) blogrolling :)

mamories

3:52 a.m. Maggi. Oreos. NOT asleep.

S: So we laughed a lot in court today. Opposing counsel referring to maamorandum.

R: Mamories. How are yours.

S: (censored)

R: I meant mAmories. The ones in your head.

S: I think my mamory is very poor

R: Whatever will happen to your children? That's all we have to give them you know. Our culture. Our mamories. Through word of mouth.

S: (hysterical laughter)

S: So what's the final decision? to sleep or not to sleep

R: Sleep, ofcourse

S: Will you wake up in time?

R: Tomorrow is another day.

S: Gone with the wind.

R: yes

S: Just like our day tomorrow