The Chronicles of Miss Shola

The blog's epitaph: Miss Shola came and went as she pleased

Archive for November 2010

Life’s Harmonies

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Let no man pray that he know not sorrow,
Let no soul ask to be free from pain,
For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow,
And the moment’s loss is the lifetime’s gain.

Through want of a thing does its worth redouble,
Through hunger’s pangs does the feast content,
And only the heart that has harbored trouble,
Can fully rejoice when joy is sent.

Let no man shrink from the bitter tonics
Of grief, and yearning, and need, and strife,
For the rarest chords in the soul’s harmonies,
Are found in the minor strains of life.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Written by Miss Shola

November 25, 2010 at 3:25 pm

Posted in Poetry

Frida and Diego

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~ Frida Kahlo was a Mexican artist best known for her self-portraits. Her work has been celebrated in Mexico as emblematic of national and indigenous tradition, and by feminists for its uncompromising depiction of the female experience and form. Kahlo had a stormy but passionate marriage with the prominent Mexican artist Diego Rivera. A few days before she died, she wrote in her diary: “I hope the exit is joyful — and I hope never to return — Frida”.

Some other quotes by Frida:

“I used to drink to drown my sorrow, but it learned to swim and now I am overwhelmed by decency and proper behavior.”

“As always, when I am away from you, I take within me your world and your life. That is how I manage to resist.”

“You might probably expect me to whine about how much I suffer living with a man like Deigo. But I don’t think riverbeds suffer by allowing the river to flow…”

Written by Miss Shola

November 24, 2010 at 2:57 pm

Posted in Art, Quotes

Diwali lights

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An empty bottle of fine scotch, a string of lights and happy memories is all you need to light up a dull room.

Written by Miss Shola

November 21, 2010 at 5:51 pm

Posted in Home Projects

The girl who was too loud

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She finally had to be gagged.

It was the summer of ’95. They had started dating around three months back. Neither was serious about the relationship when it struck – just one of the many things you get into, and then out of when it reaches its peak. With her, he had hit the stage of physical intimacy faster than others. They were canoodling and slurpily kissing in the first month itself. It didn’t take long to get her into bed. It was a hot sweaty night at the far end of May when they made love for the first time. He had enjoyed it immensely; possibly the best he had had in his string of college affairs.  As morning came, he longed for it again. She relented too. It was heady. The next week went by from one night to another. By the end of it, he was consumed. She was desirable, giving, passionate – why wouldn’t he have her forever? A tingling sensation made him all warm inside.

Nothing was amiss until his room-mate pointed out – “Dude, that woman is loud!” Uh?

He finally heard her that night. It had seemed so natural earlier, why hadn’t he noticed it before? He imagined his room-mate on the other side of the wall – covering his ears with a pillow, plugging on his iPod…maybe pleasing himself?! He had to tell her. She dismissed it with a laugh. He couldn’t.

By the time winter set in, they moved in to their own apartment. He was the one who suggested it. She had become better for him with time, like wine in a cellar. Their lovemaking had also caught a whiff of aggression now. She was good, and he delivered as promised. But the intensity waned as her voice rose. At least he didn’t have to worry about people hearing her now – just had to deal with his own quirkiness.

Or did he? Weren’t those his neighbour’s children who were giggling in the lift when they both got in? Did he see that old fart of a watchman touch himself awkwardly when she enquired about the maid? Did they have that notice about curbing noise in the neighborhood earlier? He told her again. She laughed nervously, but didn’t let it pass.

That night she told him to cover her mouth when it got too loud. He did. She bit him so hard it hurt for days and left a mark forever.

Written by Miss Shola

November 3, 2010 at 2:45 pm

Posted in Shorts

Memories of a Diwali

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Breaking down the cobwebs. Freshly washed doors. Discarding the old. New shiny clothes. Pile of mithai boxes. Chakris. Fuljhadis. Colourful rockets. Mom’s old saris. Tucks in blouses. Amateur rangoli. Marigolds. Variety of diyas. Candles on the window sill. Dahi puri. Pani puri. Pakode ki chaat. Family and friends. Whiskey and Vodka. Re-painted hatadis. Laxmi puja. Silver coins in milk. Kheer and puri. Rituals. Festivity. End of evil. New beginnings.

Written by Miss Shola

November 2, 2010 at 12:55 pm

Posted in Ramblings