Saturday, 3 March 2018
Friday, 2 March 2018
Rogue rouge
A bit of icy sheen on me eyelids, a dark brown transition shade, some peacock green on the outer lid, gleaming champagne shimmer on my inner that comes together with an elaborate black matte liner winging into infinity..thickly wodged mascara to elongate and voluminously lengthen, and when you're done with staring at the eyes, perhaps linger a bit over the glistening dewy highlighter illuminating the highest point on my face that melts ever so lightly into a coral rouge that is difficult to discern from the seamless blending into sunlit bronzer defining cheekbones, and when you're done with trying to learn the secrets of the sun kissed radiance lilting under sunlit skin, read my lips that softly glow a sheen of mauve quietly disappearing into peach glossiness, like a wetly soused need, dripping into eager deeds.
Holiness
Physically I'm in a cold room, sipping tea, looking at my screen, but really I'm at my parent's, cooking up with my mom who's doling out buckets of Thandai laced with Bhang to a bunch of family members and relatives.
The two day follow up to Holi is fraught with activities at home, where my mom, embodying the very essence of domestic goddess prepares snacks, fit to feed a small village because it's exactly that when get together finally happens.
There' a bit of colour, a lot of people, a lot of food, almost a feast and my mom runs about the whole place managing hungry hordes amidst mountains of delicious foods.
Ah, the smell of frying emanating from the kitchen and the big cauldrons' of special lentils and other preparations that mostly happen on Holi time.
I've always hovered around the kitchen during these times, doing odd works because my expertise with some foods was elementary at best and even that was oddly satisfying because being part of a ritual is so involving, and isn't that the most important part of any activity? the involvement, the ceremony attached to any festival, because the festival in itself isn't nearly as significant as the fun rituals attached to it.
It's at these moments that I realize my isolation almost desolate.
Ah, well, I have a cat for company who almost loved me for a second today.
maybe I'll make pizza for dinner tonight.
The two day follow up to Holi is fraught with activities at home, where my mom, embodying the very essence of domestic goddess prepares snacks, fit to feed a small village because it's exactly that when get together finally happens.
There' a bit of colour, a lot of people, a lot of food, almost a feast and my mom runs about the whole place managing hungry hordes amidst mountains of delicious foods.
Ah, the smell of frying emanating from the kitchen and the big cauldrons' of special lentils and other preparations that mostly happen on Holi time.
I've always hovered around the kitchen during these times, doing odd works because my expertise with some foods was elementary at best and even that was oddly satisfying because being part of a ritual is so involving, and isn't that the most important part of any activity? the involvement, the ceremony attached to any festival, because the festival in itself isn't nearly as significant as the fun rituals attached to it.
It's at these moments that I realize my isolation almost desolate.
Ah, well, I have a cat for company who almost loved me for a second today.
maybe I'll make pizza for dinner tonight.
Luncheon sighs
Thursday, 1 March 2018
vampyre post
Loved the drama to this entire affair. I didn't watch this, having traded in an operatic performance proper but this allured me so.
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