tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-182276942012-01-21T02:59:51.427+05:30Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.comBlogger6241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-76329787933705619762011-09-18T23:50:00.005+05:302011-09-20T09:22:32.434+05:30

click to enlarge imageThere is something about facing the pushing curtain of wind at the face of the sea. The same wind that causes ripples in the sea causes creases on your clothes, causes your hair to flutter and causes a hurricane in your ears and an earthquake for your eye lashes. There is something therapeutic about being thrashed with the waves of the sea. Perhaps it is in these places that

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-91414738503551008922011-09-18T12:23:00.003+05:302011-09-18T12:31:52.263+05:30

What about the dance inside my bodyThat which never stops or rests; only changes.From manic to frantic to excited tofatigue to buzzing with life and bursting with smilesto coiled up and shiveringtossing in restlessnessas a boat on wavesloud as a featherfloating as a cloudas lazy as an ant.What about that dance inside my bodydance, dance or we are lost - Pina Bausch.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-30857682168083686352011-08-05T19:17:00.010+05:302011-08-05T19:55:10.831+05:30

Friday, Aug 5th, 2011 -- You are tempted to throw all caution to the wind and risk your current security for the possibility of greater pleasure. Unfortunately, your eagerness to experience something wonderful can lead to an awkward situation when you realize that the fulfillment of your desires won't necessarily bring you long-term satisfaction. Instead of taking a chance for a fleeting

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-70420469645641953272011-08-03T12:24:00.004+05:302011-08-03T12:43:21.442+05:30

One summer afternoon a boy called Akshay Bhoan walked into my house and handed me a Diana F + which is a tiny little super light camera. These are pictures from my very first role. I have been super excited and wanting to draw it out, because it's the cutest, most curious little thing you'll see. But with finishing page layouts and the usual roller-coaster that my life is, that has been a bit

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-48773200606897163692011-08-01T00:44:00.003+05:302011-08-01T01:19:27.964+05:30

Bombay has been a strange city. I watched another play tonight in what they have begun to call Sobo (South Bombay). We used to call it Town.We took a drive on the Worli Sea Link, and I saw it for the first time.At the theatre, I met a lovely couple. The audience was much younger than it used to be, or well, I've grown up. The chutney sandwiches were still the same. I said some awkward things. The

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-50430443224101587662011-07-26T15:30:00.004+05:302011-07-26T15:52:36.574+05:30

You know sometimes you are just thinking about somebody. Ok, not just anybody it would have to be somehow a special somebody. You could just go on and on. You could have an imaginary conversation, in the dark reflective surface of your laptop, in the bathroom, in broad daylight with no one around, which leads to my point - then you pick up your phone and as an extension to your silliness you text

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-539663078061657732011-07-25T11:03:00.010+05:302011-07-31T12:37:03.055+05:30

Bandra is where my life meets its end- that places that blurs and becomes the beginning. Not a day is spent here without bumping into somebody I knew about 6 years ago. School friends,people from college, people who wouldn't know me anymore, people who wish they didn't know me. Perhaps, this is just that time of the year, folding over, creasing into the pages I was turning 6 years ago. The last 3

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-7305675649280132582011-07-25T11:00:00.000+05:302011-07-25T15:08:58.084+05:30

26th June 2011.Don't laugh. But I believe I'm on the path to enlightenment. While, if you think like me do- enlightenment is inevitable. Just like water flowing down a slope.All through our individual lives, we are busy knowing - one way or another through mistakes or safety. Why, I can bring myself to say that I am on the path to enlightenment is because each day something marvellouw

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-82920783691509035642011-07-22T00:37:00.002+05:302011-07-22T01:03:16.074+05:30

Writing fresh from an embrace,I feel, had this happened a few years ago,I would have still reached the realization-There is nothing but love.The rest is all that stuff, the stuff that keeps usfrom seeing it, from feeling itand from being it.6 years ago, when I began writing this blogit was to grieve the lack of love,the love that was torn away from me,that which was incubating me taken awayand I

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-58559253482590145832011-07-14T21:37:00.002+05:302011-07-29T16:02:43.534+05:30

Dear James,The man who hears the story of them all.poetic, tragic, comic and brawl.I bring you another recall,in a rhyme as lost and floatingas the soul truly is when searching.Although we disillusioned, believe it is fixed.On a voyage to the inners,a long lost lover returned into the light and life of the Chamki.A story found its turn again, a bend and a loop.A heart once kindled, is twice

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-82940115216715078682011-06-28T19:49:00.004+05:302011-07-12T22:59:14.924+05:30

So we moved to Delhi. Chamko of the Rani variety and the many things of baggage and love.Delhi gave us more than a warm welcome, (45 degrees and above to be precise) and we've been moving in Delhi as well. Now finally settled, its been 2 weeks in the house now.In the meanwhile danced at this years Gati Summer Dance residency again! ye! The rains have come and the plants have been potted. 2 cute

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-44416663834086529022011-06-23T17:58:00.002+05:302011-06-23T18:03:18.303+05:30

Since the personal is the public,what is on the inside of your shirtis my heart on my sleeve.That which is in your diaryin the last drawer of your office deskis on my mirror in red lipstick.And you've got dark blue curtainswhile I have the sun peeping in from three sides.I had a dream of you this morning.To dream that you are kissing your ex suggests that there are certain attributes about your

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-11649820454798210002011-05-30T00:02:00.003+05:302011-05-30T00:29:31.723+05:30

With eyes closedlook inside your body.Run along the coiling veins and muscleslike the roots of an ancient treetwisting and reaching.Sense the weight of our skinthick and thin, a dense coat of rubber.Shifting organs, bag of fluidstossing like a ship in a stormfull of lifeor like machines pumping blood.Hear death in our jointsa heavy bag of bonesand a house of cards.Nothing is straight about us.Or

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-31438388368984246582011-05-11T19:34:00.000+05:302011-05-14T02:27:11.600+05:30

At times when I feel most uncontrollably moved and strangely uncomfortable yet unable to locate the source of the uncomfort.. I find myself missing something. As if a part of myself. If I must be clear, it usually occurs while watching a film. (Sim's school work.)When I hear a foreign language, feel the displaced emotions of those in the film and see places that connect to my past. An

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-86046342684646711482011-05-08T22:10:00.008+05:302011-05-25T08:34:47.808+05:30

As you may all very well know, Chamko Rani has been travelling in between the lines of the universe along with The Travelling Studio. At times The Travelling Studio is a pen and book, an ink pot, dip pen and sheets of paper or at fortunate times, a scanner, editing software on a functional laptop, a camera and the whole army of watercolours and brushes. An extremely important member of The

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-36260513481338382582011-04-28T13:55:00.005+05:302011-04-28T14:28:23.835+05:30

Following Vasu's task of putting random words into stories I've decided to make my posts similar. These drawings are assorted precipitants of The Everyday everyday. The arrangement is random and when I upload them there isn't much that ties them together but the fact that they are on the same page and that this stuff has somehow passed through me. Vasu is a member of the House of the Cult.24th

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-17830395653592355942011-04-25T11:41:00.005+05:302011-04-25T11:47:33.883+05:30

You can be my dearest diamond or a nameless chair,You can be a peice of my heart, or ruffled paper, of which I don't care.Sometimes I could smile and blow smoke or sometimes I couldn't be botheredto give you a stare.Such is the life, if life is life, and everything else is also there.Sting Operation images from the House of the Cult

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-15124522802956130402011-04-23T17:00:00.007+05:302011-04-23T18:30:21.762+05:30

"What is your next step?" is a question I am most asked by my parents and friends. It is also the question I least ask myself, because usually I look at what is passing by and hear my gut decide to follow it or not. The latest decision in the making is "Where to take the next steps you want to take?" Surely it's not at par with decisions about the Maoists, approaching monsoons-potholes and

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-79369743668723967362011-04-20T19:57:00.005+05:302011-04-22T17:14:18.360+05:30

Anything you don't want to do, but have to do now is called WORK.People often take breaks from these tasks called WORK and blog about. At least in my days of the blog they used to. Now, facebook has taken over much of that.Although what I do , I think is fun. But deadlines coming in and I want an assistant making scans while I sing and paint :PHere's a rough draft for a book on witches I've been

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-82740440522721858392011-04-11T18:19:00.004+05:302011-04-11T18:45:07.708+05:30

I had a dream this afternoon that I was hugging a version of myself that was clearly clinging onto me for dear life. A size smaller, slightly wrinkled wearing the same clothes I was (white muslin) wrapped to my chest with her arms wrapped around my neck and shoulders.I tried to push her away when the grip got too intense and all she said was, "me" repeatedly in a whisper.In my head I heard the

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-68307184563697281402011-04-11T17:27:00.003+05:302011-04-11T18:16:49.001+05:30

Hello again. Perhaps, I was being overly critical or I meditated so much that I reached stages where I didn't need to talk anymore. The latter being highly unlikely, I was prevented from writing about what I felt, what I thought and what I did.I don't really think I've ever written on this space for others as much as myself. What I've shared has been extremely beneficial only and mostly for

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-70762003709897281962011-03-20T12:05:00.004+05:302011-03-20T12:30:42.318+05:30

Another season of Goa wrapped up. Tai Chi, contact improvisation, dances on the beach, dances in video projections, massages given, raw food, reading Mohammad and a whole lot of meditation and listening to the body.Somehow, the whole experience is too vast for words. The truth sounds corny. Perhaps the drawing does justice.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-69793356914960443392011-02-26T10:08:00.002+05:302011-02-26T10:14:39.570+05:30

I request the mighty universe to manifest a laptop with a stylus friendly monitor, a scanner on the flip-side of the keyboard and a printer on the top of the screen. Or a screen that scans and is stylus friendly, with a printer at the base of the machine..JUST SO I CAN DRAW, SCRIBBLE, WRITE, SCAN and print, whenever I want, wherever I want.print less yes. print less, but more fun!

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-22675520169762091432010-12-19T13:35:00.010+05:302010-12-19T19:32:35.339+05:30

You tube, I pod.Agreed, our love at first website,is a little odd.From the day I saw your Facebookand your poodle named Google,under that billboard, round the cornerthat said "Bill is Bored".A gigantic Yahoo! Linked (you) in to my being.By God! You flipped my kart!Asklaila if you are not seeing.You occupy a very soft blogspot in my heart.Crystal Chanda Leir,when your eyes flickr ,my heart beats

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-58754865103849230462010-12-01T16:23:00.003+05:302010-12-01T16:51:33.003+05:30

It is extremely upsetting to watch my diabetic father who has just had his blood sugar level tested this morning to walk to the kitchen and unearth that very plastic packet which contains the sweetest thing in the whole house. Why are most popular forms of socializing over alcohol and drugs? Knowing what is the worst for us, why do we walk willingly towards it?What transformed pleasure and health

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-1843275777533640532010-11-29T00:12:00.000+05:302010-11-29T00:13:12.407+05:30

i had a dream in which i had a dog named Bach.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-27080158518718268432010-11-22T09:58:00.005+05:302010-11-22T10:18:50.045+05:30

No. Just writing great words is not enough. Making art is not enough. I'll even say even being a doctor is not good enough. Great! you could inspire people that way, you could perhaps take care of them, but that consequence I think not much for. To live in a body that doesn't just serve as a machine carrying the mind from one place to another. The brain would just be pulp if the whole of you

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-86642766404591809582010-11-21T22:36:00.004+05:302010-11-21T22:51:40.132+05:30

This is what we started 30 days ago. Look deep into yourself with eyes closed. Into the right brain and find nearby truths catching dust while you continue to believe the critics in the left brain.Test: you either think you're no good or on some special days your self image meets the sky. Perfect, you're the candidate for this project.List Talents, Qualities, Empowering values and Dis-empowering

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-386249176193285172010-11-21T21:14:00.002+05:302010-11-21T21:16:34.727+05:30

you know that the world is going to be a better place when you get spam that says:Be a LONG - man. Enhance your penis with this Herbal Formula.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-81017155689025850212010-11-19T16:15:00.004+05:302010-11-19T17:07:19.863+05:30

for best results: read aloud in sweet and sour sauce.don't forget to relish and garnish.bon appetite, bon profitAn afternoon tripto the wholesale vegetable marketin North Delhi,could be more adventurousthan looking down at the earth andfinding uncharted plastic islands.On the carved wooden floor of the local busstand many more doers of anatomical grafitti,than all of the sufis everborn

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-38571925702930568482010-11-18T12:21:00.004+05:302010-11-21T22:34:48.000+05:30

Somebody asked me to list 20 things that make me feel good..when I think about them, talk about them or do them.Just as a resource. And I began.But what is 'feeling good' to me? What is the feeling of feeling good.Perhaps, it has many colours.Feeling good doesn't feel alone any one of the following:Feeling good isn't just feeling happy or feeling pleasured.feeling desired or inspired. feeling

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-4245826608374988082010-11-14T13:11:00.005+05:302010-11-15T12:49:41.408+05:30

1. Unlearn.Unlearn images and identitiesbenevolently gifted as education, as culture, as cuisine, as entertainment.even love.See with eyes shut. With eyes own.No newspaper, no television and no google.What is it that we know without any learningHow is the baby taught to breathe and cryunlearn.2. There are no pegs, no dots.You are floating about aimlessly.resting at unmarked spots.momentary

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-29605239823180348632010-11-09T18:08:00.004+05:302010-11-09T18:17:27.773+05:30

Ibiza was devastating and miraculous at the same time.One of the good things, I began to make some intuitive drawings. Not guiding the pen.No idea what I will bring onto the paper. Just following the line till it said something to me.Sometimes it said, "Look I'm a face" and well.. I added the mustache and sometimes it didnt.Made first thing in the morning, inviting a person's presence onto the

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-41150337099319667922010-10-26T21:12:00.002+05:302010-10-26T21:34:36.537+05:30

Today,I'm coming back to that part of me in the spiral that began writing this blog. But this isn't a circle, so it isn't exactly the same space. The universe is always expanding and so has my horizon of understanding, my collection of clothes for myself. Just like understanding can collect and direct you to knowledge or cause conflict by bringing together two conflicting opinions, I've battled

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-3156896754112417332010-06-05T01:12:00.000+05:302010-06-05T01:14:43.446+05:30

Love. Courage. Little courage.Little moments of courage. Little tiny moments of courage and truth.Those we live everyday. Thats what makes love.Not great poetry, or inspiration,not a menagerie of muses orpaintings of crushed desires folded as flowers.love is a kiss,a soft cloud on lips,a fleeting feeling so real,so temporarythat it isn't real today.just a rich memory.Just as much as i wishmy

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-26273040335968686002010-05-29T15:31:00.004+05:302010-05-29T15:46:15.715+05:30

A lazy moon hangs over the city.Grey on grey.We play hide and seek in the storm.The kids and me.A chronic stomach ache.A fuzz in the sluggish head.A tremor with every step.The bag is open and waiting.Clothes creased from being packed and unpackedseveral times over.Time spent in a roomlocked,hushed voicesexpressing desire..how I remember your body,your breathe on my shoulders,your smell.Yes, aunt,

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-41913633642431421432010-05-15T10:40:00.005+05:302010-05-15T10:59:17.237+05:30

Slowly shedding layers of lycra track suits and stage make up after leaving the performance based dance company I realise dance is somewhere I find myself. One mind-body. The energy I use is my own. The floor could be the sand of the beach, the promenade next to the sea, the bathroom floor.In this non- dependency there is less ego or pride and more joy, of being a candle that burns to give its

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-18835329005764949882010-05-14T20:39:00.003+05:302010-05-14T21:15:23.096+05:30

3 years ago I spent a summer in Delhi, deliberating my next move in life and roasting in the heat.Many battles with family and fate made quick concrete roads leading to Bangalore under the pretext of Aerosmith's live concert. A tiny suitcase and air ticket later I was in his arms listening to "Dream on".Time passed. In a few months we parted ways because my tooth brush seemed to be sprouting like

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-37111408936141435882010-05-14T18:19:00.004+05:302010-05-14T18:42:29.077+05:30

How many voodoo dolls would I need to make to kill civilisation?I'm exhausted. Just tired of all the round about ways of living we have created to call ourselves progressed. The amount of barriers to our essence, to simplicity and love frustrate me. I find myself uncontrollable hot in the stomach as soon as someone pushes me to get ahead in the metro, visa office made me cry and phone calls

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-69292173340170691652010-05-11T23:21:00.004+05:302010-05-11T23:37:27.585+05:30

Today is a giant Thank youscribbled in the sandof my heart's beach.A thank you to the angelssitting at anglesof the universe, waitingto help those who ask for it.Thank you for friends, for hugs,for the new people I've met.Thank you for the freedom to bend daysand meet departing friends before they head home.Thank you for sudden connections and possibilitiesin a big city of dust storms and

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-48882166538507720902010-05-06T23:35:00.002+05:302010-05-07T00:56:04.846+05:30

Today,was filled with long talks aboutlove and marriage and visa,sleepy metro rides on seats reserved for women,and odd-houred naps with the light on.The tarot card said receptivity,listen to whatever life bringswithout a busy and aggressive mind to hinderthe pure receptivity.fill, overflow and empty yourself.reality is what dreams are made of.Today,was many small volcanic eruptions of emotion,

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-18639082938374107192010-05-04T13:21:00.002+05:302010-05-04T13:24:00.367+05:30

the body is a message from the universe.a quiet message waiting to open up and share its fingers.a naked voice of smile and cry.your face is not your body.your body is your face.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-48936031861056737042010-05-04T11:26:00.005+05:302010-05-04T15:31:11.071+05:30

5 years ago an astrologer predicted everything about my life.Pretty much everything, accurately. Not things about the future but about the past. She said I had been betrayed in love and tried to kill myself.. things you couldn't say to everyone. She told me the dates when I would be influenced to do this. She suggested me to avoid all meat, non vegetatarian food and contact with men, no kind of

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-58547512139051283192010-04-28T16:46:00.004+05:302010-04-28T16:51:13.377+05:30

a few days ago, James Healy, the famous Irish poet and me got into a heavy email battle sort of discussion about the ultimate. Not that discussing it would make it change or anything, but this is something that has been in my immediate environment, surrounding me and on my mind.No resolve or conclusion, just a healthy long process and meditation. I'm not looking for any answers. there is just one

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-60767660748738738062010-04-28T16:38:00.003+05:302010-04-29T15:28:55.133+05:30

found somewhere on the internet

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-35279985882050153792010-04-28T12:42:00.005+05:302010-04-28T16:11:44.404+05:30

the harmony of the heart is hiddenbeneath these layers of table manners,polite excuse mes at every sneezeand every not required apologetic email.let go of people who are your life's motifsand look clearly at the space you're in.the room, the doors, the corners, the beams,the chair, the rickshaw.see the tiny life of your present momentlike an earthworm crawling,against the mammoth that is your

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-38487845343941411902010-04-27T13:07:00.002+05:302010-04-27T13:24:27.497+05:30

I notice in your silent stare a question and a blame.For surely, if i feel truly everyday my changing feelings,you can call me flaky and fickle.I notice in my changing feeling a quivering shy need to be true.And this truth is not in any alignment with any idea, a mental vision of what should be, what must be.. or a judgement.Not an idea of truth, but the feeling itself, a physical feeling of

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-68366000148088621352010-04-23T20:01:00.004+05:302010-04-25T20:55:27.508+05:30

I didn't blog for a long time now.. simply because words didn't seem to be my way of communicating anymore. Specially the written word. I much preferred to spend my days in Goa meeting faces and hands, touching and dancing. Conversations charged with presence, instead of this internet absence. But I decide to return to this blog, just as suddenly as I left it.Perhaps its a place for me to digest

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-14452660267580850872009-11-14T12:44:00.003+05:302009-11-14T13:30:08.024+05:30

this love for you I have isgreek love. Becausethere isn't one wordto say what this lovefor you means,so I thought better to give awaya few more than one.this love I have for you isgreek love. Becauseyou dubbed me Aphroditeand I wished we wereplatonic.this love for you is greek, definitely.Agape, a gaping hole thatthat consumes us in dark whenwe are closeand shines the light on the distance.Eros,

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-74530958036888375602009-11-07T12:56:00.001+05:302009-11-07T12:56:52.759+05:30

due to excessive spamming, comment moderation has been activated.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-60978890660988244642009-11-05T21:07:00.001+05:302009-11-05T21:09:48.367+05:30

I think I meet great people, even intelligent and talented. The problem is that they meet me

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-54932669224922854552009-11-05T00:32:00.002+05:302009-11-05T00:39:17.123+05:30

To "gift for him",sorry if i have been bothering you with random emails.perhaps it was my unconsious that has been throwing things at me.but in a conversation I realised may be what began 2 weeks ago.You remember i wrote you an email about you and your boy.well, ive been talking about myself,ive been having more dreams,even visions while watching TV and things..and it was talking about me as much

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-6058430531727308342009-11-04T23:52:00.002+05:302009-11-05T00:14:10.148+05:30

I want to say a lot of things that may not sound best when written as they are. But this is what my mind wants said so I shall say them . I wonder how important attraction is in our interactions with people. Why it shapes our love and why hormones play such an important role. Why is it that somebody I think extremely precious and close I am not attracted to, as if there is a purity of the love I

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-84214254313172746882009-11-04T23:17:00.002+05:302009-11-04T23:29:46.453+05:30

I think always,of the power that made mesay the last no i said to you.of the courage sudden and born in meto push those words out.I think always,of how it would be,if we stayed close enough to touchbut not kiss,to discover what we lovedand hated before we separated.I wish in the whiteness of your room,I found a space next to you, just by your sideto see the worldthe way you saw it.I wish we could

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-8277709689835015152009-11-03T09:10:00.001+05:302009-11-03T09:12:47.767+05:30

some decisions are betterif made a day later..like stale pizza tastes better reheatedthe next morning.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-6431698998574987742009-10-28T07:06:00.000+05:302009-10-28T07:07:02.708+05:30

you know how hard it is for you everyday to find a matching pair of socks in your cupboard in a city you have lived onlyfor six months. now think about the worldand the billion people and love again.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-35592995609195562792009-10-28T06:09:00.002+05:302009-10-28T06:20:30.385+05:30

what if you collected everything that makes love,that you love, that feels love, would it be love? and then if someone found it rotting years later in the box in your bed,would they find love?and if you forgot about it and thought you lost it and then suddenly rememberedwhere its been, would it belost and found love?is life like this?like language?where a word here or theremakes a huge

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-67243720195807219302009-10-28T05:07:00.002+05:302009-10-28T05:29:48.369+05:30

Awake early with dreams like the empty of an eaten watermelon.. I want to write about the silence of not knowing what to say, when you want to say a lot and quickly. I want to write today about the many confusions of knowing many and more and more good people and having to arrange them in an order and love them in that order. I want to write about how it is impossible to put a patten onto your

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-4156200879528093612009-10-21T21:29:00.003+05:302009-10-21T21:52:43.645+05:30

I said a little while back, that you can be an activist, fighter pilot, doctor saving million lives and I could be an insignificant, often injured performer, offering only a few moments of intrigue or beauty.. but we are all here to learn our lessons and there is nothing more real than that.So I just want to say my very fresh thoughts about the stage and me. I felt, today, sitting in the theatre

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-20934632567856633592009-10-15T20:45:00.002+05:302009-10-15T20:48:38.919+05:30

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.-

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-33736871249542166432009-10-13T14:24:00.003+05:302009-10-13T14:28:28.564+05:30

Mahima and me seem to be on something here. sending across words to each other. just a word a day and what we think about it, and what it thinks about us..when life's a bitch, bitches are friends :PIn Korea a dog barks mung mung, in India it barks bhoa bhao, in the rest of the world i think its woof woof.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-61600234683379580652009-10-10T07:28:00.003+05:302009-10-10T07:40:02.329+05:30

You can be a fighter. I can be a dancer. you can be a writer. I can be a singer. you can be a poet and I can be a cook.you can be a gamer and i can be a sports star.we're here to learn our lessons and we'll learn them anyway. together or away. What you learn as a CEO might be the same as the security guard.and thats all that matters - the learning.in the process, you may create beauty, you may

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-54712498095300051392009-10-04T11:56:00.003+05:302009-10-04T12:02:04.973+05:30

I think blogs are dying. Blogger is no longer a place you can walk into somebody's life's worth of poems, angst or drawings. Its been ages since I found someone who didn't blog about their day at school.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-56933443592320149332009-10-02T21:15:00.003+05:302009-10-02T21:33:25.674+05:30

We, brilliant human beings are simply a bad plumbing job. What we carry with us as bodies is pretty much a portable, displaceable pipe that begins at the mouth and ends you know where..Felt like a sink or wash basin as you hear liquid gurgling down your throat or get acidic after eating a citrus fruit?Everything is a pipe, connected to another pipe. Major pipe to minor pipe, like big river and

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-18525080608312764262009-09-18T07:05:00.003+05:302009-09-18T07:10:28.401+05:30

Stage fright can only happen when you are presenting yourself to be liked by the audience. But when you really just want to say something all you have to do it say it, through your medium.. I guess there is no space for fear in this situation.At the Delphic Competition of Dance, it was the first and only time I've been on a stage with dance all alone. I haven't performed often and even when I do

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-43795359603346499542009-09-16T21:32:00.004+05:302009-09-16T21:45:12.294+05:30

there will be some people who refuse the half apple you offer them, because they want the whole thing. let them be. eat your half.may be someday they will notice that you offered. happy belated birthday. re-reading letters to the police is not probably the best way to remember someone who doesn't wish to be remembered, but I'm no someone who can hush into the night what i wish to say. I say it,

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-33541416298599393012009-09-16T06:29:00.002+05:302009-09-16T06:55:24.094+05:30

The address to send your postcards has changed. I haven't done anything about it. All my belongings (hopefully all!) have been moved in neatly packed cardboard boxes to my new house that I haven't seen. I might be one of those people who moved house across the street in a city while living in another country. seeing with eyes shut is trusting. When I come back to the space that surrounds me

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-49067222186586242452009-08-23T08:11:00.003+05:302009-08-23T08:22:52.290+05:30

Since the time I've come to Seoul my mother has learnt to use gmail chat and type faster. Next thing I know she will have a facebook account and upload naked baby pictures of me! hehe:DBut staying apart has made us talk about so many things we wouldn't have spoken about. Even simply exchanging information is part of our conversation, gossiping about my sister's wedding or what the neighbour's new

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-42022459346420221912009-08-22T22:57:00.003+05:302009-08-22T23:10:21.331+05:30

I guess there must be birthdays you sleep through. I fell asleep for the lack of anything better on the evening before my birthday at 8:30pm. Anything was better than spending midnight watching korean TV by yourself. Akshay called at 11:43 and said the words. Happy Birthday!I heard the words. I knew they were coming, but they felt nothing. Just empty like a lame "take care". His intention wasn't

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-65909471094922768792009-07-12T07:29:00.007+05:302009-07-12T08:25:59.609+05:30

Its a Sunday morning and it looks like it will rain the whole day. I've made a random playlist and planned to spend the day drifting through a room filled with my aura undisturbed by other people's influences. Except my mother. I may call her.Thoughts I've been thinking...1. How did I get here? Not here as in Seoul, South Korea but in life. I know its quiet a pointless question to be exploring..

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-31036378898730685812009-06-29T21:13:00.003+05:302009-06-29T22:07:25.535+05:30

strangely enough I was asked today if I believe in love at first sight.Now, we can never think of that statement without all the valentine-red-heart-shaped-balloons-baggage. Only through the matrimonial websites with grammatical errors... through high school movies and boy band lyrics. May be it came from that world of phrases we don't touch anymore.But I was asked in all innocence, within

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-36895246681395300522009-06-27T06:37:00.003+05:302009-06-27T06:51:26.193+05:30

We are all babies. Frail infants waking up each day to learn from what we see around us. Even people we hold responsible because of the name we give them, are just babies. The mother who told you what wasn't OK to touch and what wasn't ok to put in your mouth, the father who tells you what time you should be home, the policemen on the road, the landlord, the boss, the chief of blah, the head of

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-15824899207221722052009-06-03T01:50:00.002+05:302009-06-03T02:05:49.658+05:30

sometimesi feel weighed down by my organs as if the life in me is killing me and my body is holding me down from flying, from floating. a haze envelopes my fingers and i touch through a mist. nothing really. then i move, run, swim, cycle and feel myself again. i am, perhaps a rush of blood.well, i've lived the not-knowing-when-are-going-to-be-home life and its time to get back home. So I begin to

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-39723651891860030102009-05-27T10:22:00.005+05:302009-05-27T10:37:05.836+05:30

After a fairly long sabbatical from the process of floating words in cyber space I have found again a purpose, a reason to come back to it. Inspired by the book I'm reading, there comes about a new project of sorts, call it an act of divination or moral obligation or simply the usual madness one has to do for oneself.I'm compiling a book of dreams. You send your dreams- day dreams dreamt at night

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-79936888072754709882009-03-09T14:04:00.000+05:302009-03-09T14:21:16.120+05:30

this is a city of romanceWith couples holding hands.Where the lonelyCry their love into the seaStir waves of love in heart of fishThat is a cityEncroaching its parksWhere weary soulsBurst red heart shaped balloons andStare nights into the moon.On yellow fizzy water seasThey graze their cattleOf work and easeand that fresh green leaf insidedies before it uncurls to life.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com83tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-22378444021884202552009-03-07T22:47:00.004+05:302009-03-07T22:58:09.963+05:30

i stand at the edgeand enjoy the viewyou jump in quickand jump outbecause i standat the edge toenjoy the viewjust touching the watersand hearing the seasmelling the airfeeling the sand underneathand the caress of the breeze.you dive peasant child likehead first heart full.i stand at the edge.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-33528425866746545702009-02-22T13:01:00.004+05:302009-02-22T15:32:54.878+05:30

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-41163987061311407192009-01-26T13:03:00.002+05:302009-02-03T09:34:44.951+05:30

i really don't know what to do with sex. i can't find a place for it in my brain...whether it goes in the right hemisphere or wrong and i don't know if i believe myself when i say it is affection, an exchange of energy like touch like reiki.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-71696856985385903862009-01-20T09:47:00.001+05:302009-01-20T09:55:18.224+05:30

To TinkerBell,thoughts arise not from deep dark places or the hole in the headbut by looking with eyes shut at the world instead.dreaming,feeling,touching,imaginingand talkingbring thoughts to youeven when you're in bed.lotsa love,the chamki said.Natasha Nargolkar and Mridula Divakar sent inspiration in emails to my Inbox

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-46436196634699015192009-01-07T18:40:00.004+05:302009-01-20T09:10:02.998+05:30

We've all thought about it. Every time we leave our homing devices behind or lose the damn things. I'm talking about cellphones. To me it sounds pretty cool, you know, life without a cell phone. The unreachable is rare and exclusive at a time when everyone is trying to make themselves more googleable. But I don't think its possible to live without a cellphone once you've got one. Its your

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-2211321464099834912009-01-06T07:50:00.005+05:302009-01-06T08:06:48.670+05:30

In trying to do as many things as I can I often overlook the stuff that I've just finished.So,I've been to Hampi, Gokarna, Goa, Haasan, Masinagudi and Nepal in the last year.Begun reading again.Picked up a percussion instrument.Made myself books for drawing.Bought Nutella to make chocolate pancakes.I found a book at the river in Hampi and left my hat there.I cook regularly and easily.I've watched

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-58082935211628611112008-12-20T14:24:00.003+05:302008-12-20T16:40:55.288+05:30

“Art is not about thinking something up. It is the opposite -- getting something down.” – Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way”You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” -- Rabindranath Tagore.We lose our thoughts in our head. Our heads, they seem like big places where loads of memories, songs, pictures, smells, feelings can hide. Sometimes they pile on top of each

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-55879189594260383252008-12-19T08:54:00.005+05:302008-12-19T09:25:44.432+05:30

so here is my list.1. I want some studio space, to paint big, and to dance big.2. I want a longer christmas vacation and 45 days long January before the big international dance festival the institute is organising.3. to be able to sleep less and work more.4. to see with eyes shut.5. cerelac6. a xiao7. and all the things that remain from last years list.(Vats, my attempt at getting back to

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-42506184009319937052008-09-29T09:41:00.002+05:302008-09-29T09:52:34.667+05:30

the effects of Wong Kar Wai on single women

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-81496515898771672312008-09-20T00:20:00.004+05:302008-09-22T23:33:02.990+05:30

Scumble Rae Armantrout Listen (to Armantrout read) What if I were turned on by seemingly innocent words such as“scumble,” “pinky,” or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation in the hope that others wouldpronounce these words? Perhaps the excitement would come from the way the other persontouched them lightly and carelessly with his tongue. What if “of” were such a hot button? “Scumble

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-40110977529290028972008-09-15T21:31:00.002+05:302008-09-15T21:32:57.897+05:30

I want to say many things about all that is happening right now, I just can't figure a way to begin. Tomorrow I will put it all out, the stuff that makes my stomach hurt because I must not contain it.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-71127749766575198002008-08-29T02:11:00.001+05:302008-08-29T02:19:21.047+05:30

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-4927489114576361792008-08-14T20:27:00.003+05:302008-08-14T20:36:28.372+05:30

the hiss of the rainis the frail green veinsof your feetan elusive sense of beautythan lingers about in bed.The tip of your fingers isthe smell of coffeegently coaxing me out instead.a kiss on my foreheadis mellow like sunshine.you,are cookies in milkspelling good morninglike honey oats.You know,I'd love you for breakfast.as mushy as it gets guys,as mushy as it gets.inspired and induced by

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-63519654350850485082008-07-28T21:55:00.003+05:302008-07-28T22:08:26.069+05:30

The yellow flowered treeswaying in the windmakes delicate soundlike a piano piece,its leaves plucking tender notes.The palm tree isthe sound of the seacello and gloomy.A small soft sheepshapedcloud floating aboutin the vast dark emptyis comforting unlikethe all-encompassing whitesheet of bright that slithersacross thick and chockingoutlining limit of sight.helpless you wait till it passesat the

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-77844425538386316182008-06-19T18:54:00.002+05:302008-06-19T20:28:46.806+05:30

17/11/0710:21 AMI've been getting more and more pissed with people and the good side sends me away from them. I've been to Hampi the weekend before Diwali and to Channarayapattna at Diwali.Hampi was just bliss for the first couple of days. We were 3 of us soaking it all in. The first time you go there you can't talk. Nothing is good enough, or necessary to be said. You just stare around and stuff

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-46504037194916662482008-06-09T19:53:00.005+05:302008-06-19T18:06:09.211+05:30

click image to view largeMysore is a city where all colours bleed into rain. Armed with a moleskine one can find plenty to draw, paint and ponder about. There are churches, temples, mosques, men, cows and history (the usual indian things that attract firangs- foreigners) not to forget Yoganistas (copyright Akshay) and Indian wrestlers. Dogs are called Tipu after the Sultan and men know their

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-41878101928270522132008-05-29T09:12:00.004+05:302008-05-29T09:31:51.705+05:30

I've been dreaming. Awful dreams. Monday it was my father who died in the dream and I wasn't believing anyone. Within my dream I was unbelieving his death by saying I know this time like all the times it is just a dream. It felt horribly insensitive to not believe and worse to believe. Tuesday the family was standing in Surti's balcony, around 6 floors high and looking down at someone's ashes

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-80197485114232882972008-05-28T20:15:00.002+05:302008-05-28T20:41:30.436+05:30

I wish my journal and I had something to say. But we're just looking around.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-66279272102310629162008-05-19T19:17:00.002+05:302008-05-19T23:06:17.378+05:30

Monday, May 19th, 2008 -- You are in an upbeat phase, but anxiety still runs through you like a brush fire in a dry spell. You are on-edge, as if things won't settle down. The best antidote for you is to get out and do something. You could always sneak away from work to go shopping or head out to a ball game. Whatever you do, keep the fire of spontaneity burning.drawings of pictures by lecercle.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-17197765453332363512008-05-16T22:28:00.002+05:302008-05-16T23:09:47.901+05:30

Spending time with myself on a Friday night,looking back at what the day has been.For starters I took my antibiotics without eating anythingand no vitamins and had a really bad trip.Heard of that?I hadn't.Everyone was looking at me, accusing me of being a lazy drowsy weakling. The joy of a Subway sandwich brought some relief but then I was back to facebook at the end of the day. Every time I surf

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-28376734774527334932008-05-13T19:36:00.000+05:302008-05-13T19:39:13.156+05:30

Tuesday, May 13th, 2008 -- Your moods are less stable today and can stir up insecurities or uncertainties if you let them. Although your feelings are based upon real experiences, they don't necessarily tell the whole story. Let your emotions flow without trying to analyze them for now. They have much to teach you that are beyond the limitations of words.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-65626656335974237532008-05-09T16:27:00.002+05:302008-05-09T17:21:19.502+05:30

I got this today.I'm sharing this with everyone because we need to know that people are happy. Real happy. Not facebook happy sending fake hug and all. (although I'll be glad with a hug. I just got infected with facebook and am sick and surfing, I mean suffering) I asked Riddhi how she was, you know the usual whats up? She said very good! How often do we hear someone say that? It makes a

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-36308561237754167952008-05-09T15:15:00.002+05:302008-05-09T15:18:56.776+05:30

I would like to be a nun. I think it would save me from thinking a lot of nonsense. I would think other types of nonsense for sure, but that would be in the next episode of the show.

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-16125611969340093662008-04-13T16:35:00.004+05:302008-04-13T16:54:27.679+05:30

The whole world seemed to melt away when I heard Mahima's voice on the phone this afternoon. I knew not any sorrow, or anything at all. I know now that there are opportunities for people, and people for people who stick to truth or at least try.I don't mean the reality bites, right-here-right-now-TV-news kind of truth but the I-really-don't-need-to-prove-I'm-better-than-I-am kind of truth. I'm

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18227694.post-7774113447802040382008-04-11T22:31:00.004+05:302008-04-11T22:46:13.899+05:30

The only partner through misery just left me alone. My cell phone couldn't take how unfair life has been to me and in turn killed itself adding to my misery. My lovely pink phone with no great features turned blue just while it rested next to my computer screen. I wonder what could have caused this terrible calamity. Since nothing can be explained it must be suicide. The phone still rings with

Chamkihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02040805157518421671noreply@blogger.com5