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a good day to scribble on glass.
a tempting cup to posca up
sneaking in these little cards and chocolates to all those who were part of my story through these few months in Bombay.
with gratitude, the universe is eternally abundant. - happythankyoumoreplease
share with me the
Appetising and delightful - the hundred foot journey is a treat for the soul. Funny, inspiring and heart warming - One of those movies to stock in my collection of sunday morning dream movies.
i just wish they packaged the movie differently - the posters and titles and general promotional graphics were very passe. With the kind of lovely camera work and cinematography there was a lot more scope and so this.
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Ellora apartments. 
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system of arches and the rhythm of drops
born out of day dreams & doodles in my new checkered notebook- with t.
I’ve used my 7 years in prison excuse to rationalise a lot of my behaviour. It’s become so entangled in my thoughts and words that I’ve almost begun to believe it. Prisoner number 236 is a tag that has left it’s mark on many things I own even today, after three years of release; Either in the form of indelible ink on my mug or stitched shabbily on the inside of my clothes and bras. The prison I talk of here is none other than my boarding school  -  an institution tucked away in the valley of the himalayas, not too quaint but not too proud either; well known by it’s extensive alumni network, who’ve probably at some point, lovingly called it their beautiful prison home.
A couple of months ago, a friend of mine recommended ‘Orange is the New Black’ to me, adding that I’d particularly enjoy it because of my prison training. I laughed then, but two season through, I’m shocked each day at how eerily accurate he was -
I see both the places as temporary grooming grounds of sorts, filled with crazy hormonal women (who are not yet safe for the real world), surrounded by correctional officers (teachers and matrons) who also feel trapped and prisoned in several ways. 
Intense clique rivalries, power politics and bathroom colonisation, letters and five minute phone calls (once a week) serving as the only real communique with the outside world, frequent surprise checks in dormitories and infrequent movie nights, lesbian affairs (despite strict authority objection) and round-the-clock uniforms — all of this was as much a part of my reality as for the Lichfield inmates. Whether it was exchanging my wednesday jam tart for a favour or sneaking in the occasional cigarette or gum, it seems all too familiar. 
There is an exaggeration of fiction that doesn’t compare of course (violence, gore etc) but in essence, the similarities are too many to ignore. Replace the ’shoe’ with being publicly ‘black listed’, and the ‘furlough’ with ‘sunday outings’ and you’ve got quite a comparison sheet to analyse.

Also, I don’t mean to dilute the complex reality of prisoners and all of this is only meant in good humour; But harsh restrictions, unquestionable authority and forced proximity, over time, does bring out a kind of ugly raw side in all of us - that we ignore in the ‘real world’ where vegetables crunch and coffee smells like well, coffee beans not stale milk. I for one, was another person in there - like surviving in high school often demands.
But what’s really funny, and the point where the parallels diverge, is that while we went about it with a pretentious apathy, like everything was alright and nothing was wrong, the Lichfield inmates are allowed to be their shameless animalistic selfs and they do so, with great vengeance.
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