A Shoe-String...

Thin (or a few mm more in diameter), usually black or white, ends tightly wound up with tape, thats where i carry my emotions - On a Shoe-String. Not that I have in-depth knowledge of women and their pysche, I'd say, most women do.

I presume that this phrase was created by some egoistic man, who'd probably want to lace a womans emotions into his shoes. Picture this in black & white - A tall, slick, well built, masculine man with a thin moustache {as thin as a Shoe-String, again} and hair Gelled back into a tiny ponytail; a rather thin, sickly woman in a long dress weeping helplessly in a corner. Well, I'm sure the origin does not matter much, but the essence of him wanting to overpower her and her emotions does.

Sometimes, I convince myself that the shoestring is an inappropriate object to place your emotions on. I end up doing it anyway, as hard as i try not to. If you dissect a Shoe-String you'd probably find 5 thinner strings wound and woven together(There is a possibility that there are more, but those are the complex sort and I'm not going there). I presume, that for a woman these stand for - Love, Trust, Envy, Ambition and Warmth (this is MY list, feel free to add on). This is one awesome combination, take my word for it.

It might take some time for a man to actually unravel the Shoe-String. Both ends are so tightly wound up with tape. Ever wondered why, when the tape on the ends come off, you try so hard to tape it back together before lacing your shoes, and its never the same? The tape always comes undone. I gather that this is symbolic in a weird way.

I carry my heart on a Shoe-String,
Baby, I'd give it to you,
If only you'd make my heart Sing,
Would you give me yours too?

(That was an original composition, pretty darn good i think ;) )


Anyway, I hope that my Shoe-string is given to someone who'd love and respect it with all of his heart. In return, I'd gladly accept his football, mp3 player, Ipod, Ipad, iTouch, basketball or whatever he cares to keep it safe on.

Sigh, romantic post. Comes as part of the weather in Bangalore, I think.

You've got to just love those rainy days in this city. Bangalore, my charming little (atleast, used to be one) city where you expect a tormenting cloud to hover about for hours and then not shower down upon you. The point I'm making is, clouds seem to think here. Uncanny as it may sound, the same cloud can give you a burst of rain and silently float away. Come and go without a bang, and the next minute, bright sunshine!

Ask any true Bangalorean (Bengaluru-ean/Benagloorite sounds rather depressing), they'd give you the most heart rendering reaction about Bangalore (again, I'm going to stick to the charming name it had). "Bangalore's got charm", which pretty much seeps into the people living here as well. Charming, quaint, practical and all those adjectives you'd choose to describe a really charming place.

Being away from here, home, was probably the hardest phase for me. They say, once a Bangalorean, always a Bangalorean. No other city can be called home after being here. After being dropped (like hot cake, at that) into a city (owning to my cribbing nature, I'd rather not name this city, just going to call it city), I felt alienated. Entering City was like entering an oven which your mother chose to pre-heat to bake some cake. City was not so kind to me either, since it had a brain of its own (generously lent to it by the residents). It chose to give me the worst summer, worst monsoon I'd ever faced.

Sooner than I expected, i got used to City, with its ways that connected to the roots of the Indian Culture. I saw it all around me, amidst all the hustle and bustle, the big waves, the loud gyrating music and dance, City never failed to impart little lessons. Lessons for me to look back at life, undo somethings, redo some others. The most important lesson, never (and i mean never) discard your old history text books. You'll find the most amazing man-made structures in City and surrounding areas. Artistic temples, big sculptures and references in your old history books that you never thought you'd encounter.

City is certainly going to have many references in this thread and then the story of how Bangalore pulled me back in one line- Bangalore is home (and I came back humming Mama, I'm coming hooooomme) and will always be.