tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-133268882011-07-12T21:43:41.094-07:00life. love. food. films.ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.comBlogger391100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-65242483915836207942011-07-12T21:42:00.000-07:002011-07-12T21:43:41.104-07:00

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-11714728776353556852011-07-12T20:09:00.000-07:002011-07-12T20:30:53.994-07:00

Hello little Bloggy!It is I.Years have passedHomes have been transitioned through:Delhi house 1Dehi house 2GurgaonSpaces online have been transitioned through too:Facebook got invaded by work 'contacts' and elderly relativesTwitter timeline was more like google reader - read links, but no engagement, too many real world acquaintancesSo closed the twitter account,Now use facebook for birthday

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1724000225631602812007-12-19T20:10:00.000-08:002007-12-19T20:16:17.762-08:00

working again.in the office all day.lunch with co-workers.gossip in the loo. i'm writing for a living. writing full time. but it still startles me to hear myself being introduced as a "writer". it seems pretentious. but it's what i do.it's all i've done for that past 10 years.good god. ten years. i'm a writer. so there.

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-60893260311988125152007-10-16T00:27:00.000-07:002007-10-16T00:35:25.565-07:00

Finally working around adults again. Finally meeting friends regularly again.Finally verbalising a lot of the deep thoughts rattling around in the cranium again.Only to realise they're not so deep (or dark or scary) anymore. When thoughts are out in the open as conversations, the need to sort through them as a post dies away. So perhaps this blog will come to serve another purpose now. I think i

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1152890900279884132006-07-14T08:13:00.000-07:002006-07-14T08:28:20.340-07:00

They say a mother's love is unconditional. It's probably the most conditional of all. When your baby smiles up at you, that sucker punch to the stomach is the very first time you feel unconditional love... and it's coming right at you, not from you. A baby knows no one else; there are no comparisons, no higher expectations. You are completely the MOST beautiful, kindest, bravest and most special

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1152889983073038622006-07-14T07:58:00.000-07:002006-07-14T08:13:03.100-07:00

The sense of alone-ness, of alienation from the world while grappling with roiling emotions....teenage angst, mid-life crisis...If you're lucky, you learn to deal with it the first time around. Or, you go off to college, meet new people. Life distracts, diverts attention. Then it all comes back to bite you in the ass. You get to ignore it again if you're rich enough to buy a red convertible and a

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1152884542275674632006-07-14T06:26:00.000-07:002006-07-14T08:32:01.870-07:00

Being emotionally dependent on a whimsical person is fraught with anxiety because of the possibilty, even likelihood, of malicious whims. The casual phrase that stings, the light allusion to nastiness past... And like all good self-fulfilling prophecies, it's the fear of that chance, that possibilty, that makes it seem more the rule than the exception. Dependence on a whimsical world, now that's

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1140180204029370152006-02-17T04:38:00.000-08:002006-02-17T04:43:24.043-08:00

The new year is for beginnings. For fresh starts. For resolutions.And in my case, it usually involves a new city. (“But not this time...” she crowed rubbing her hands gleefully. “We can’t have that,” frowned the grumbling gods, loathe to have anyone gleeful in their purview. “Let’s see… how can we shake things up a bit,” they said, still collectively, thumbing through their little notebook of

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1133519847357589942005-12-02T02:31:00.000-08:002005-12-02T02:37:27.383-08:00

Funny thing, memory. Your most profound experience, one that you were convinced will always be as vivid when recalled, somehow isn't.This moment, and all its life-changing significance, begins to erode. Before you know it, this definitive moment is clubbed in with the comparatively ho-hum moments of 'back then', or more likely, 'in the beginning'. Because it did change your life. But memory can

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1133420609183676412005-11-30T21:38:00.000-08:002005-11-30T23:03:29.206-08:00

The young lad, yesterday, had a phone conversation with his current favourite person on TV. Without considering it at all unusual to have that kind of access. How different would life have been if I could have casually picked up the phone and chatted with Captain Kirk... suggesting alternate plotlines and inviting him over to visit. (On second thought, scratch idea 2!)The plan, the boy revealed

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1133352572714147932005-11-30T03:48:00.000-08:002005-11-30T04:09:32.726-08:00

i found a photograph.of a young woman.the wind in her haira sparkle in her eyesa challenge in the tilt of her chin.i found a photograph.of a girlwith her jeans rolled up to her kneesthe best of her life ahead of herwhen the world was hers for the askingi found the photographof her moment in timebet she didn't know that thiswas as good as it got.and all there is to show for it is this photograph.

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1132904474261415772005-11-24T22:50:00.000-08:002005-11-24T23:41:14.273-08:00

she finished up the last of her now-cold coffee, folded away the morning paper, and surveyed the scene around her with a critical eye. "... overflowing laundry basket to the washing machine, breakfast debris to the kitchen sink, dinky cars and trucks back into the toy tub..." And with a wry twist to her lips admitted that today too was not the day she discovered her telekinetic powers. Or a Mary

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1132820997284122882005-11-24T00:21:00.000-08:002005-11-30T20:26:53.066-08:00

I emotionally detach long before I physically have to. I lose interest in the place people and issues around me as soon as the packing plans begin. I was impatient having to sit with my Cathedral school best friend when she came home to say bye before I left Bombay. DM, wherever you are, I apologise for the Std IV me.

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1132124804463519052005-11-15T23:01:00.000-08:002005-11-15T23:06:44.476-08:00

We're not moving. Thought I'd be happier. What is it when you are so quick to adapt to a new way of life that reverting to the old way (it's still the current way, mind) seems like being wrenched away from the familiar...

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1131605969042196912005-11-09T22:23:00.000-08:002005-11-09T22:59:29.060-08:00

It's time. Time I brought this blog up-to-date with day to day goings-on. When I'm not revelling in make believe with Shantaram on a Red Carpet pondering a Paheli about A Good Death, the world around me is in a state of flux. Again. M has been travelling the world, stopping in for occassional weekends. And announcing in passing that we're going to be working out of Delhi. Again. It's been 11

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1131435083532442562005-11-07T23:22:00.000-08:002005-11-07T23:31:23.553-08:00

To my mind, one of the most endearing (and enduring, perhaps) qualities of Bangalore and Bangaloreans is our perception of ourselves and our city as being laid back and intellectual. With all the time in the world to get into intense philosophical and political debate at park benches and coffee houses. That the only reason we're not there right now but instead navigating through gridlock and a

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1130932043323388192005-11-02T03:41:00.000-08:002005-11-03T05:12:57.210-08:00

Does everyone have a private theory of how the world works? Not so much how human society networks, but how the universe as a whole functions.Shantaram’s theory is one of a constant movement towards complexity, to a higher level from where it currently stands. Right from the cosmic soup that slowly transforms into a universe, to amoebae evolving eventually into Einstein. So, his theory goes,

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1130749126940692402005-10-31T00:06:00.000-08:002005-10-31T00:58:46.963-08:00

Every year without fail, for the past five or so years anyway, the year end has been a flurry of activity. It starts in September with m's birthday, when I re-establish fading contact with friends. The process leading to the big party is preceded by a flurry of house cleaning where old, lost and given up for bermuda triangle objects resurface, adding to the celebratory mood. The usually good fun

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1130743155168870862005-10-30T22:52:00.000-08:002005-10-30T23:20:31.416-08:00

Long blogging break. Not because of a dearth of things to say, or even a planned hiatus. Just. I guess I haven't been online for long enough at a time for thoughts to flow. My best reflective spells, i find, are often when I'm en route somewhere. The auto rattles along too loudly for any conversation, the journey takes me across town and the thoughts dance around like so much gravel along the

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1127891556657027012005-09-27T23:14:00.000-07:002005-09-28T00:12:36.663-07:00

I dashed off a new description of myself for the blog. Interesting, how the most revealing things are those that are intended to be breezy.My stuff really does mean a lot to me. Perhaps that makes me insensitive to people. And perhaps that's collateral damage when there's such a rapid turnover of persons and places. My things remind me of the places I've been and the people I knew.Ironic, that.

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1127560558358633612005-09-24T04:06:00.000-07:002005-09-24T04:15:58.363-07:00

navigating though your inbox, you find yourself at the address book. and, caught up in the moment, you dash off exploratory messages to ghosts of friends past. people who have been your best friends at different points in your life, only to drift away with promises to keep in touch. months, years have gone by in a whirl of day-to-day, and you find that while the relationship remains, the people

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1127367083652960032005-09-21T22:20:00.000-07:002005-09-24T05:33:05.980-07:00

I saw this recipe on one of my favourite food blogs. It's by Clotilde, a Parisienne, who not only like experimenting with ingredients, she takes the most fabulous pictures of the final creation. "Galettes de Riz" she calls them; doesn't everything sound special in French? They're patties made out of left over rice and pretty much anything else you might want to bung in. I love recipes like this

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1127301965010392492005-09-21T04:08:00.000-07:002005-09-26T00:30:16.066-07:00

I'm a Frasier fan. I like the wit, the word play, the sharp writing. I like the nerdy kids who grew up to a posh life, but secretly knew they were nerdy still. (I relate to the no-social-life-but-the-family-ness of it all, but that's my secret)So imagine my surprise when, after some desultory net-quiz-taking, I'm left with the discovery that I'm more of an American Pie sort. (The fact that I

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1127197912522703292005-09-19T23:20:00.000-07:002005-09-19T23:40:47.333-07:00

Here’s the recipe for Sunday’s stew. Happy cooking d!You’ll need:potatoes- peeled and dicedcarrots- peeled and dicedpeas- shelled!fresh button mushrooms- quartered. onions- peeled and chopped into largish chunksgarlic- peeled and chopped, again large chunks if you like the texture, or smaller if it’s only for flavour. ·a stick of cinnamon·a few cloves, say 5·a couple of large black cardamom,

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1127130505299108422005-09-19T04:05:00.000-07:002005-09-19T04:48:25.320-07:00

woke up feeling hungover after SUCH a long time.stayed up with friends till 3am after SUCH a long time. pulled off a non-stress, happy party after SUCH a long time. cleaned the house and spruced it up to "entertaining" standards after... say it with me now... SUCH a long time. And, i cooked. for more than two people. with no back up plan in case everything turned out wrong. actually, didn't even

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126856380319579282005-09-16T00:00:00.000-07:002005-09-16T03:48:43.226-07:00

there are some tv shows that you think are so good, they'll pretty much never go off air. so much so, you don't feel too badly if you miss an ep, sure to catch the rerun. then, with little to no warning, it's gone. titus was one of those. it was hilarious and not just a little scary. it had style. the narrator sequences shot in black and white like a noire-ish interrogation room. and some

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126852146405439542005-09-15T23:27:00.000-07:002005-09-15T23:29:06.413-07:00

From Bombay Ice by Leslie ForbesPeople appeared out of every doorway and stood in the streets with their arms spread wide. I saw a woman close her eyes and turn her face upward as if in prayer. If she opened her mouth, she might have drowned. As it was, the rain pouring down smeared her lipstick and made the kohl under her eyes run. Her features were washing away, leaving a smooth slate on which

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126848663059028242005-09-15T22:28:00.000-07:002005-09-26T00:13:26.356-07:00

Mister Gallagher I love you. Free spirit. Wild child. Creativity oozing out the ears. And then he writes my song. He is me. I am he? But I don't mindAs long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shineI'll be fineIf you give me a minuteA man's got a limitI can't get a life if my heart's not in itI lost my faith in the summertimeCos it don't stop rainingThe sky all day is as black as nightBut I'm

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126847585008106972005-09-15T22:10:00.000-07:002005-09-15T22:13:05.010-07:00

Here’s the thing. I hate being introduced as the wife of _. As mrs. It’s important to me to meet people on my own terms, and not as part of some family package deal. For this reason, I also hate tagging along for semi-work related parties/dinners. For now that whole point is moot, as we can’t exactly leave the kiddie home alone. But the truth is I wouldn’t want to go anyway. My idealistic stand

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126846879556337802005-09-15T21:56:00.000-07:002005-09-21T05:16:27.613-07:00

You know technology and journalism have really moved over to dark side when powerful telephoto lenses at the Security Council meeting are used to catch “I think I need a bathroom break” note exchanges between Prez Bush and Ms Rice. Secret deals, backroom bargains, none of that makes it to headline news. But this… That’s not to say I didn’t fall off my chair lol-ing.

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126684212898774162005-09-14T00:46:00.000-07:002005-09-14T00:51:01.116-07:00

The man has begun a blog of his own. Posting away, happy as a clam. Perhaps daily even. I feel like the onida devil. A touch of blog-envy perhaps…?

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1126682556236620052005-09-14T00:19:00.000-07:002005-09-14T00:22:36.243-07:00

So much for good intentions. The whole idea was to not second guess or torture myself over these posts. What started out as a resolve to not write day to day rubbish for lack of anything better to say, transmogrified (when I wasn’t looking, of course) into a paralysed feeling of “well, then what is worthy?” Quick answer: nothing, really. Not if one is waiting for an idea of novella level of

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1124610374875051462005-08-21T00:44:00.000-07:002005-08-21T00:46:14.880-07:00

She trailed the tip of her finger lightly along the curve of his earlobe, listening to the even tempo of his breath. She traced the shape of his jaw as her gaze lingered on the pout of his lips, now soft and vulnerable with sleep. She felt her insides squeeze and twist. Almost painfully. Almost fearfully. Like on a too-fast elevator. Or a roller-coaster. Love?Fierce possessiveness. An equally

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1124527036809347682005-08-20T01:09:00.000-07:002005-08-20T01:37:16.846-07:00

potential lives. potential paths. live up to your potential you say. the potential me, your heart whispers. living up to your dreams... more complex than living in your shadow.what do i want? do i even know at this point?makes it easier to work for what you want. the best for me. naturally. run away. clean break. finally my own choices to make. what do i want? what do i do?who am i?is there any

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1122981062488397672005-08-02T04:03:00.000-07:002005-08-02T04:11:02.493-07:00

You write, review, critique, blog. You stretch to extend syntax, expand vocabulary to express the more abstract. Only to find that the other end of the spectrum is even more of a stretch – to simplify. Explaining to a(n almost) three year old the events of the past week without scaring the life out of him. ‘Why is that bus in such a big puddle?’ led straight into ‘why are those people in the

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1122972466836517002005-08-02T01:37:00.000-07:002005-08-02T01:47:46.840-07:00

While I understand news TV’s role to provide regular updates of the goings-on here, would it be too much to ask for fresh visuals to go with it? Or at least clear supers saying that this is in fact footage from last week.Instead we have seemingly understatement-of-the-year remarks of “don’t panic, but this is the scene…” over pictures of submerged buses. So actually, things weren't as bad as last

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1122361646909163892005-07-25T23:36:00.000-07:002005-07-26T00:56:06.496-07:00

Now children, the lesson for today is - take responsibility for your reality. This whole search for identity thing is actually an attempt to escape it. So you're sitting around waiting for your more fun life to begin? Well guess what? This is it. Search no more. This is who you are. And this is what you do. Work with it. There is no inner rock star biding its time waiting to jump out playing air

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1120566782078510262005-07-05T05:30:00.000-07:002005-07-05T05:33:02.083-07:00

the way i start my day usually sets the tone for what's to come. as much as i'd like to believe that i'll eventually shake off the morning's sluggishness, actually the torpor follows me around like a too-heavy jacket.but today... ah today!not grey and slushy; but crisply breezy, with a tangy, about-to-rain whiff of wetness. and a breakfast date at Barista. sparkling, fizzing and totally desultory

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13326888.post-1117612366716385872005-06-01T00:47:00.000-07:002005-06-01T01:12:46.186-07:00

all the corny lines about life ... it's not a dress rehersal; start living now; live in the present...it all comes together here. no practicing, no rehersing, no editing. no sorting into neat little beginnings, middles and ends.it seems life really does begin with episode IV.

ninahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06454711501742720580noreply@blogger.com1