Sunday, April 4, 2010

A Home away from Home?

Written on a late, breezy Spring-evening, on a wooden desk by the little fountains. This is not a blog-post. This is not an article. These are my thoughts.
I want to put myself in the shoes of these undergraduate brown girls, putting on a show here. Decked up in bright, colourful, traditional Indian dresses, loaded with sequins, glitters and rustic mirror-work; the South Indian representatives additionally wearing flowers in their hair tied in a bun; and all of them talking excitedly about random things from Wendy’s to the talent show they just participated in, in an easy-flowing, naturally-occurring thin American accent. How’s life like for them right now? 
An entire club of individuals representing India, while they are miles away from the country actually; while some of them (most of them I guess) may not have visited India at all or even if they had, they remember hardly anything or mostly nothing about the visit; most of them not really gaga about how their Indian-culture-inspired mom and dad keep instructing them and supervising their lives here in America; a lot of them, who I am guessing, are not sure of whether they should be proud of being identified as Indians at all; lot of them feeling divided between two countries absolutely contrasting in socio-economic arenas…and so on. How must it feel like being them?
To me and you and I don’t know who else, they are representing India, its various states and cultures. I would like to know what these pretty star-studded girls are really doing it for? Is it really that belongingness or is it just another dance competition and a way of enjoyment (which I’m not projecting as negative anyway)? This is because I try to imagine how it’d be like if I were born in America and if my parents always said to me, “You are also Indian, don’t forget that” or “Talk in Gujarati, girl, can’t you converse in Gujarati?”  (I hear my uncle say that to his kids all the time) and so forth;.. and if I had to relate myself to a country, in spite of never really having belonged there, but still having been associated with it, thanks to the brown skin and South-Asian facial features;…if singing the national anthem always brought the Star-Spangled Banner to lips and not the Jana Gana Mana…
…or wait; I could be totally incorrect. Maybe they feel fortunate to be belonging to two different countries simultaneously, each rich in it’s own unique way; maybe this sense of association derived through truly representing the culture in as much as they can (which refers to so much that they do beyond the talent shows), brings sweet joy and extreme contentment to them; maybe they long for living this life of walking in Kolhapuri chappals and donning flowing salwar-kurtis to feel Indian; maybe they want to run to the country that ‘made’ them, that gave them their parents, that has been nourishing them quietly ever since; the country that has been working effing hard damn right so that Her citizens can vacation in Scotland and study in America; maybe they want to just see and feel and hence experience their motherland (??) which, in spite of catering to over a billion lives, has held Her arms wide open, for all those who want to run into her anytime, no matter where they are born!!

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Carnivals

Thinking of carnivals...


The city comes gushing;
The world spins round and round;
In pink frock and cotton-candy,
The girl lost cannot be found;
Such silence thunderous in the noise,
Not so happy naked breasts,
While the ponies leap pretending to find her,
Behind a purple mask she rests.


When the carousels conspire,
Sealing the fate of the carnival,
Bulbs go off and on,
Lovers hold hands;
Cotton candies and lollipops,
Revolving ponies and scurrying rabbits;
The masquerade held like two frames of a movie,
Stepping back now and stepping ahead now,
Fake smiles, fake eyes, fake joys all,
Revealing the goodness of everything fake,
And the joys derived from magical make-believes,
The carousels conspire,
Tossing the riders up, up, up, in the air!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Of Fancies and Whims and Much More




Little ones you,

Flitting butterflies, 
Purple and pink.
Nibbling away in glory you.
What is it that you dance?
And smile and mock;
Elvish demons you;
Little stars.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

German Bakery, Pune

14th February, 2010

Hole in the wall. What about the hole in the life of those who still live? What about those who left?

It is a student's city for God's sake. It's Pune today; it can be very well your city tomorrow. It's German Bakery today; it can be your regular cafeteria tomorrow. 

The question is 'who'. The question is no more 'why'.

I can't complain against the terrorists. I have a complaint against nature and destiny. Anindyee and Ankik. Who is nature trying to teach a lesson? Why don't fate and life and nature change their ways? We all know the black from white and the grays. Why can't there just be justice? Why do we still need to figure out and live with the warped ways of destiny?

And I don't freaking care about the Indo-Pak talks and whatever such crap there is. The pigs won't stop. I know. And I don't mean Pakistan completely or any nation for that matter. Pigs are everywhere. What can we really do? I wish we could build an invisible barbed-wire wall around every city or something...will that help? How do we protect the Anindyees and Ankiks? Build a bomb-proof enclosure around them...around every Anindyee and Ankik residing in India? Or should we locate all the terrorists and kill them? I don't mind that, but will it stop terror yet?

How can terror stop? Will talks stop terror? Or will terror stop terror? Will love...oh what the hell! What, just what will stop terror? Money? What? how? When?


I hate reading about what happened. I hate writing about it, too. I hate the news. I hate the post-mortems. Should we make noise about it or not? Every-time anything like this happens, I feel shackled. What can I really do? 

What pleases terrorists? The fact that they killed innocent people or the provocation stirred up post such killings? What pleases them? The deaths really, or the commotion? The destruction of furnitures and flesh or the destruction of people's routines? What if we never wrote or published the post-effects of such events, such that they never reached the terrorists? What if they never happened to know about the impact of what they did? Would that help? But that would be unfair, right? Ohhh! Just what can I do? What can we do?

There's one bakery today that won't bake red velvet cupcakes for Valentine's Day today.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Inflorescence


It is born. This is Inflorescence. No, this isn't my new blog. This is still my very first blog but with new clothes. It's revamped.


I had completely relinquished posting on this blog and actually, even looking into it, until today when I visited my own blog after ages and discovered that in spite of my absence, my blog had been active! How? My loveliest followers of course! My friends , old and new, had been commenting on my posts!! Did that make me smile!! :)

Some words of appreciation in there were so motivating, like Tammy's and Crystal's, to name a couple, that I instantly felt I shouldn't let this blog wither. Another motivation was the visits from fashionistas and style-lovers. After realizing that my blog was being visited by such awesome people, I felt it was my duty (you're free to smile if you find it corny like I do! :P)to groom it! So, thanks to all the love and support of friends, followers and visitors, here is my old blog in a new look! :)

The blog background is from thecutestblogontheblock.com. The colour scheme is edited and personalized.



The title "Inflorescence" is one of those favourite words of mine. I had learnt about the word in my Botany class in eleventh grade. I was never and am not a huge Botany lover but all these chapters dealing with the arrangement of leaves and petals in a particular fashion kind of enticed me every-time! The depth of the meaning had captivated me right back then and I decided to put it to use today.

The blog description line "That none should mow the grass there; While so confused with flowers", is a verse from a poetry titled "Rose Pogonias", by my favourite Robert Frost. There is something fresh and invigorating and life-filled about this verse, which I felt was apt for the re-birth of my blog!!

And finally, for those who did not notice, the web address of the blog has been changed too, to inblackandwhiteandfuchsia.blogspot.com. "In black and white" means 'to write/writing'. I added fuchsia for the personal touch! :)



So here it is, this old-new blog of mine, which is going to be a literary playground for me and you! I shall try and deck it with my poems and thoughts and some serious articles, every once in a while, when I'm taking one of those French-leaves and would absolutely love it if you pay a visit and comment!

And a little Anne Taintor motivation should be good for maintenance!







Thank you all for the love, support and time!

xoxo


---Tamanna





All pictures from weheartit.com. Anne Taintor picture from Anne Taintor.

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