Another four days to go for this year to end. I am not really sad to see it go, but it taught me a few things about life, people around me and about myself. I confronted some of my darkest thoughts, disappointments, failures and fears this year and yet, I have learnt to live with them. I saw life come full circle this year and it made me realize that we all sail through life pursuing just materialistic and traditional pleasures only to realize that fate can cruelly ensure that you never get to experience them. I saw one upmanship in its worst form, threatening to destroy fabrics of relationship that have been around for years. I saw at one end people climbing up the social ladder, both online and offline and kicking out people who do not matter to them. I saw at the other end people fighting for their lives, dodging death and defeat and surviving. I saw pain and pleasure as my bed fellows, taking turns to occupy my mind. I saw the dirty face of insecurity when its mask slipped away from the faces of people . I saw the smirk of ego, causing chaos everywhere. And yet, I was at a strange phase, learning to accept and trying hard let go. I tried to remove the negativity around me - in my head, in my area, in the family, in the social circle. I was learning the art of silence, the ability to float through various phases of emotions and the roles they played in our lives. I was learning to be a recluse in a crowd.
I was sometimes the participant, sometimes the observer.
Showing posts with label I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I. Show all posts
Friday, December 27, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Hello darkness, my old friend
"Hello Darkness, my old friend, I have come to talk with you again.. "
Listen to S&G, I realize I was in that phase again. The laughter, the sunshine, the burst of energy, the monkeying around, the lively trips - suddenly they all seem to be locked inside a kaleidoscope which is visible only if I look at it. And then when I shut it, its just the Sound of Silence.'
No wonder my mind resonates with that song.
I am not depressed or exhausted . But just in a withdrawal phase. Silent. Inactive. Words cannot express my state of mind. Its when you feel everything stands still and yet you move along with the phase of life, doing the things you have to do, saying the things you want to say..yet there is a part that is cocooned and silent and still. The word is stillness not even silence, because even in silence there is music, but in this phase, it just stands still.
Listen to S&G, I realize I was in that phase again. The laughter, the sunshine, the burst of energy, the monkeying around, the lively trips - suddenly they all seem to be locked inside a kaleidoscope which is visible only if I look at it. And then when I shut it, its just the Sound of Silence.'
No wonder my mind resonates with that song.
I am not depressed or exhausted . But just in a withdrawal phase. Silent. Inactive. Words cannot express my state of mind. Its when you feel everything stands still and yet you move along with the phase of life, doing the things you have to do, saying the things you want to say..yet there is a part that is cocooned and silent and still. The word is stillness not even silence, because even in silence there is music, but in this phase, it just stands still.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Disappointment
I can hear my heart crack into pieces silently , a tear trickle downs, the eyes are misty. The mind lies in a cloud of confusion, moving between cold, hard moments and soft, vulnerable feelings. The silence weighs upon me, as I lie cradled in my fragile thoughts, tearing upon my insides. I let out a silent cry to the universe. Is this what disappointment feels like ?
Friday, January 4, 2013
Grow old with me in a cynical cruel world
I am a year older now. Living my last year of the 30s. I often wonder if growing old is just about grey hair and sleeping early or is it just the way one looks at and reacts to life .
I do not attach much importance to brands . In a way, I look at people in the same vein. I have no space or time for people who are just badge value and are hollow beyond that.
I live in a cloistered world. It scares me to think of the women who fight for their lives everyday. While the entire country is still shocked, confused, angry over the brutal rape of a woman last year, I read today on twitter about a lady who does not have money to even drink a glass of milk as the mother in law controls her drinking habits. In other words, she controls the household budget and therefore the amount of milk every member of the family is entitled to
In another family, in laws want their daughter in law to quit her job, while some want their daughters in law to work and contribute to family income. Why is it that we women have no decision making power in our own homes ? We are controlled by family and society at every phase of our lives. We are told how to dress, when to step out of the house, whether to work or not and what to do with our lives.And worse, we let them do it, because that is what becomes a "good " girl.
Our abilities are scrutinized , our looks are criticized, our careers are shortened, our lives are compromised. We are judged all the time - by what we say and do and by what we dont say and do. If we question , we are rebels and are identified as elements not to be emulated. And a lot of women are conditioned to accept this as it is written so in their code of conduct to be a good daughter and a good daughter in law.
My father taught me years ago to not suffer fools. I fight my own battles. But today, I am very scared as I think about the battle the girl fought and lost inside a bus. She paid not just with her life, but died in agony and humiliation. And it is a pity that one of her murderers will walk free because of a statistic..he is underage. Does that give him a right to kill someone ? To violate and inflict violence on someone ?
I have lost faith in our country to some extent - in our leaders and protectors. Above all, in people who gossiped and refused to help those young battered people who lay naked and bleeding in the bush after being assaulted. It could have been me. Is it a crime that I choose public transport over private transport ? Or should I just abide by these codes of conduct and say a grateful prayer everyday , thanking God for keeping me safe ?
I enter this year very insecure . I am very very afraid not just for me, but for a whole lot of us women who wake up and walk into the world confident, ready to face the day and hope to return home safely.. A routine habit that we take so much for granted..ironically may not be so anymore..
Or maybe there is hope somewhere..or did I hear that Hope is a dangerous thing ?
I do not attach much importance to brands . In a way, I look at people in the same vein. I have no space or time for people who are just badge value and are hollow beyond that.
I live in a cloistered world. It scares me to think of the women who fight for their lives everyday. While the entire country is still shocked, confused, angry over the brutal rape of a woman last year, I read today on twitter about a lady who does not have money to even drink a glass of milk as the mother in law controls her drinking habits. In other words, she controls the household budget and therefore the amount of milk every member of the family is entitled to
In another family, in laws want their daughter in law to quit her job, while some want their daughters in law to work and contribute to family income. Why is it that we women have no decision making power in our own homes ? We are controlled by family and society at every phase of our lives. We are told how to dress, when to step out of the house, whether to work or not and what to do with our lives.And worse, we let them do it, because that is what becomes a "good " girl.
Our abilities are scrutinized , our looks are criticized, our careers are shortened, our lives are compromised. We are judged all the time - by what we say and do and by what we dont say and do. If we question , we are rebels and are identified as elements not to be emulated. And a lot of women are conditioned to accept this as it is written so in their code of conduct to be a good daughter and a good daughter in law.
My father taught me years ago to not suffer fools. I fight my own battles. But today, I am very scared as I think about the battle the girl fought and lost inside a bus. She paid not just with her life, but died in agony and humiliation. And it is a pity that one of her murderers will walk free because of a statistic..he is underage. Does that give him a right to kill someone ? To violate and inflict violence on someone ?
I have lost faith in our country to some extent - in our leaders and protectors. Above all, in people who gossiped and refused to help those young battered people who lay naked and bleeding in the bush after being assaulted. It could have been me. Is it a crime that I choose public transport over private transport ? Or should I just abide by these codes of conduct and say a grateful prayer everyday , thanking God for keeping me safe ?
I enter this year very insecure . I am very very afraid not just for me, but for a whole lot of us women who wake up and walk into the world confident, ready to face the day and hope to return home safely.. A routine habit that we take so much for granted..ironically may not be so anymore..
Or maybe there is hope somewhere..or did I hear that Hope is a dangerous thing ?
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
A new year yet again
Of late I seem to lack the urge to write ; some thoughts however force themselves out in the form of words. As I write this post however, it is about 24 minutes to go for the clock to announce that we have a new year on us. And does that really matter ? Well, yes and no. As humans, we need to live on hope and hope we shall that the coming year will undo the ills of the last year.
2012 has been a terrible year in terms of health. And I have fought a barrage of emotions in my head - from anger, cynicism, fear, lack of faith, insecurity. Sometimes I would prefer to just shut myself from the outside world and just maintain pretenses for the sake of it. However, as the year moved on, I learnt to fight my own battles. I learnt to let go of most of the negativity and accepted the bit that still floated around. I am/was no saint, but today there is a sense of quiet as I write this post.
This phase interestingly has made me more of an observer than a participant. I have been quiet and pensive and listening, reading and watching more than screaming my lungs out . I did speak about my ill health to some people, but some of these well meaning folks were rather bored to hear about it and advised me to think "positive" . Well, that was a week after my second surgery and my third hospitalisation, with the doctor announcing that I had at least another aurgery to go. So, I decided to shut up; however am grateful to a few friends and family who have been with me .
The problem has not gone away ; it wont - its a chronic issue but I am pretty much as normal as I can be; except when the pain strikes every month. Travel gave me back my strength and confidence and also a realistic sense of how much I can push myself.
But something has snapped inside me. I do not know what it is but I have no space , emotionally or otherwise inside me to fight any other battle, but my my own. Thankfully, I just have to deal with the pain and the uncertainty of when it would strike and I need to understand my body and go with the flow.
I am absolutely blank when it comes to any plans, mantras , resolutions or aspirations this year. Frankly I have none. I am just taking each day as it comes and hoping it will keep me busy and chirpy.
The gang rape of the Delhi girl has shaken the entire country and the nation is finally seeing a war cry from its citizens. I have lent a silent voice to the protest but I do hope 2013 will see us women being secure and stronger with a responsible government at the helm. I have very strong views on this subject, but that is for a different post.
Its six minutes into 2013 already and I wish you all health, strength and power. Above all, a clarity in thought and purpose, which is what I am wishing for myself.
2012 has been a terrible year in terms of health. And I have fought a barrage of emotions in my head - from anger, cynicism, fear, lack of faith, insecurity. Sometimes I would prefer to just shut myself from the outside world and just maintain pretenses for the sake of it. However, as the year moved on, I learnt to fight my own battles. I learnt to let go of most of the negativity and accepted the bit that still floated around. I am/was no saint, but today there is a sense of quiet as I write this post.
This phase interestingly has made me more of an observer than a participant. I have been quiet and pensive and listening, reading and watching more than screaming my lungs out . I did speak about my ill health to some people, but some of these well meaning folks were rather bored to hear about it and advised me to think "positive" . Well, that was a week after my second surgery and my third hospitalisation, with the doctor announcing that I had at least another aurgery to go. So, I decided to shut up; however am grateful to a few friends and family who have been with me .
The problem has not gone away ; it wont - its a chronic issue but I am pretty much as normal as I can be; except when the pain strikes every month. Travel gave me back my strength and confidence and also a realistic sense of how much I can push myself.
But something has snapped inside me. I do not know what it is but I have no space , emotionally or otherwise inside me to fight any other battle, but my my own. Thankfully, I just have to deal with the pain and the uncertainty of when it would strike and I need to understand my body and go with the flow.
I am absolutely blank when it comes to any plans, mantras , resolutions or aspirations this year. Frankly I have none. I am just taking each day as it comes and hoping it will keep me busy and chirpy.
The gang rape of the Delhi girl has shaken the entire country and the nation is finally seeing a war cry from its citizens. I have lent a silent voice to the protest but I do hope 2013 will see us women being secure and stronger with a responsible government at the helm. I have very strong views on this subject, but that is for a different post.
Its six minutes into 2013 already and I wish you all health, strength and power. Above all, a clarity in thought and purpose, which is what I am wishing for myself.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Acceptance...
Some say its better to be positive, some say its easier to forget, some suggest to hang in there, some advice that it will soon pass. The last three months have been really trying and it doesnt seem to end. I alternate between phases of positive and negative moments and trying to cope with it by going on with the normal things that one does in life. However Ive realized that the only way to deal with any bad phase is to just deal with it..coming to terms with it, accepting it and being clinical about it. And believe me, it is the most difficult thing to do. You dont resign yourself to fate but just let the moment come and go, most importantly to go.
I often read poetry when I am down and out. And this is one that keeps me going
"Be still sad heart cease repining
Behind the clouds the sun is shining
Thy fate is the common fate of all
Into some life some rain must fall
Some days must be dark and dreary."
- The Rainy Day, Longfellow
I often read poetry when I am down and out. And this is one that keeps me going
"Be still sad heart cease repining
Behind the clouds the sun is shining
Thy fate is the common fate of all
Into some life some rain must fall
Some days must be dark and dreary."
- The Rainy Day, Longfellow
Thursday, May 10, 2012
100th post - Can I be her ?
I started Monologues around the same time I started Backpacker. But while the traveller in me was quick to share, the persona living inside me was not always in a mood to write. Despite that, 99 posts have been written and I feel compelled now to write my 100th , although I have no thoughts or topics in my mind .
Monologues is not really a monologue...it is actually a conversation . It is between her and me and we share a bond. We wrote whenever we felt an impulse to say something. It has always been impulsive and personal to a large extent, except that it is often not me , who is speaking .
I created a persona inside me , a " She" who said a whole lot of things and somewhere within her was a bit of me as well. My first post on the blog started with her and initially it was always her, pushing her voice through my fingers, eager to be heard until she vanished inside me. She observed, she dictated, she ranted, she cried . Then one fine day she disappeared, leaving me to deal with my own emptiness .
I continued trying to express my thoughts and feelings, but could never find her..And the thoughts seemed rather forced and deliberate.
I look for her in vain. She is silent, dormant and will not raise a voice. Cold, and indifferent to the world around her now, I wonder if I can possibly recreate her. Until then, I am left with neither monologues nor conversations.
Monologues is not really a monologue...it is actually a conversation . It is between her and me and we share a bond. We wrote whenever we felt an impulse to say something. It has always been impulsive and personal to a large extent, except that it is often not me , who is speaking .
I created a persona inside me , a " She" who said a whole lot of things and somewhere within her was a bit of me as well. My first post on the blog started with her and initially it was always her, pushing her voice through my fingers, eager to be heard until she vanished inside me. She observed, she dictated, she ranted, she cried . Then one fine day she disappeared, leaving me to deal with my own emptiness .
I continued trying to express my thoughts and feelings, but could never find her..And the thoughts seemed rather forced and deliberate.
I look for her in vain. She is silent, dormant and will not raise a voice. Cold, and indifferent to the world around her now, I wonder if I can possibly recreate her. Until then, I am left with neither monologues nor conversations.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Lemonaid or lemonade ?
I have been travelling non stop since last August and while I was enjoying my journeys, my body , mind and soul craved for a detox. But I didnt expect it to come this way - it became a self imposed exile of sorts courtesy Murphy.
So what do you do when life gives you lemons ? Would you prefer tequilla or lemonade or lime tea ? Or would you use the lime as a medicine to prevent you from throwing up ? However , the post is not so much about whining and cribbing about Murphy's ways , but more to do with the way I have reacted when life gave me some lemons .
I panicked a bit, but then I was preoccupied. I woke up thinking nd slept thinking about the problems. My conversations were limited, my thought process frozen and my social life nil. However I did not react in any other fashion. I was silent, passive, working mechanically, finishing every day mundane chores, taking each day as it comes and waiting for the phase to pass. I removed as much as possible negative influences and influencers from around me. If I did not find anything positive to hold on to, I tried to remain indifferent pretending I am stoic.
One by one, things straightened themselves and some issues fizzled out, while others hung around, in an inactive state .I learnt patience, discovered fear, rediscovered spirituality, found support and learnt to disconnect more than to connect. However the energy inside me is dormant, probably a wee bit dead now as I am drained dealing with them..Although I turned inward, I did not introspect .I just went blank or empty. Today, when someone called me and asked me, " Whats up " I realized I had nothing really to say..The slowing down may have cleansed me a bit of my worries and tensions, but I suddenly feel the emptiness inside me. Its like the danger has passed or is passing, but I lie wasted...probably I need more time for myself to find my mojo back
So what do you do when life gives you lemons ? Would you prefer tequilla or lemonade or lime tea ? Or would you use the lime as a medicine to prevent you from throwing up ? However , the post is not so much about whining and cribbing about Murphy's ways , but more to do with the way I have reacted when life gave me some lemons .
I panicked a bit, but then I was preoccupied. I woke up thinking nd slept thinking about the problems. My conversations were limited, my thought process frozen and my social life nil. However I did not react in any other fashion. I was silent, passive, working mechanically, finishing every day mundane chores, taking each day as it comes and waiting for the phase to pass. I removed as much as possible negative influences and influencers from around me. If I did not find anything positive to hold on to, I tried to remain indifferent pretending I am stoic.
One by one, things straightened themselves and some issues fizzled out, while others hung around, in an inactive state .I learnt patience, discovered fear, rediscovered spirituality, found support and learnt to disconnect more than to connect. However the energy inside me is dormant, probably a wee bit dead now as I am drained dealing with them..Although I turned inward, I did not introspect .I just went blank or empty. Today, when someone called me and asked me, " Whats up " I realized I had nothing really to say..The slowing down may have cleansed me a bit of my worries and tensions, but I suddenly feel the emptiness inside me. Its like the danger has passed or is passing, but I lie wasted...probably I need more time for myself to find my mojo back
Sunday, January 1, 2012
2012 is here
Another year and another birthday in a few days..This has almost been my refrain at the dawn of every year.The day has indeed been warm and pleasant and my fingers are typing to the rhythm of the Irish song, Star of the County Down. I promised myself for the nth time that I will write more often in this blog and so, here is my half hearted attempt to put pen to paper.
2012 just looks like a mass of statistics, an ascending order of numbers that make up for a calender. As I wonder what is in store for me, I am reminded of my professor P Sainath who used to say that as students, it is left to us to make the most of his class. In a similar vein, it is very much up to us to make the most of 2012, irrespective of what the Mayans thought.
I have no clear goals or resolutions this year and as always, I prefer to go with the flow, but this year Ive decided to set a broad list of guidelines for me. In other words, I am trying to get a bit disciplined , bring in a balance, a method to the madness in my life. .
I would like to bring down the negative influence in my life - that begins with my own negativity inside me - my thoughts and my actions, my temper and my impatience . And I am going to avoid all negative people like the plague. People who throw their insecurities, their inadequacies, their anger and jealousy on me are out of my life.
I need a bit of discipline around me, be it fitness or my approach to work . Less is more - that will be my mantra for everything, including travel . It is not applicable to reading and writing.
And finally good health, good cheer , fitness and loads of energy. ..If I can achieve these even to a bare mimimum, 2012 will be just the year for me
2012 just looks like a mass of statistics, an ascending order of numbers that make up for a calender. As I wonder what is in store for me, I am reminded of my professor P Sainath who used to say that as students, it is left to us to make the most of his class. In a similar vein, it is very much up to us to make the most of 2012, irrespective of what the Mayans thought.
I have no clear goals or resolutions this year and as always, I prefer to go with the flow, but this year Ive decided to set a broad list of guidelines for me. In other words, I am trying to get a bit disciplined , bring in a balance, a method to the madness in my life. .
I would like to bring down the negative influence in my life - that begins with my own negativity inside me - my thoughts and my actions, my temper and my impatience . And I am going to avoid all negative people like the plague. People who throw their insecurities, their inadequacies, their anger and jealousy on me are out of my life.
I need a bit of discipline around me, be it fitness or my approach to work . Less is more - that will be my mantra for everything, including travel . It is not applicable to reading and writing.
And finally good health, good cheer , fitness and loads of energy. ..If I can achieve these even to a bare mimimum, 2012 will be just the year for me
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Conversing to a wall
Have you had those conversations when you cry from the heart and the other argues with the head ? Its the most futile ever conversation. The day just ends with depleted emotions and an empty heart and a tired soul.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
And so a year ends
For the first time in the last four years, ever since I took a sabbatical from corporate life and grappled through some wonderful and truly depressing phases in my life, I am actually looking forward to a whole new year .
2011 in many ways was one of my best years in recent times, 2010 coming a close second and 2009 being particularly a very bad phase. Nevertheless , am looking forward to 2012 , although the buzz doing the rounds is all about recession and a financial melt down.
For starters, Ive never felt so self assured like this in a very long time. Phases of identity crisis, lack of growth, no sense of direction, judgement lapses wrt people, bad health phases and sudden depletion of financials dogged me over the last four years ever since I quit my high paying , seven digit salaried job in media.
My world was my job then and I prided myself on my successes and rubbished my failures. The highs and lows never worried me as I moved from one job to another, from one challenge to another. My days were always busy then .I would have no time to think except on the job.
But soon I was just becoming a zombie , a programmed robot doing the job. But when I quit, I just became a malfunctioned robot who suddenly realized that there was a mind and a brain and I promptly put them to all the wrong use . I thought too much and worked myself into a frenzy. I realized what joblessness would do.
Ive never made friends during my professional life - just colleagues and ex colleagues and as a rule, I believe that they are not synonyms for friends. And so, in my solitary phase of life, I often spoke to myself and to a group of new found friends from the online world whom I believed were friends. But then , I forgot that facebook friends are not the real friends and hence I suffered some serious lapse of judgement wrt quite a few of them.
However amidst all this, a couple of wonderful things happenned. A love for the road, to seek new worlds, to immerse myself into new cultures took over my life and I put my frenzied hyperactive soul from a soul searching mode to a discovery mode. Only this time., I found new worlds through my journeys and shared it with the world through my blog and articles. The journey in my head moved on to the real world and I stopped plaguing myself with questions relating to existentialism and decided to live for the moment . Ironically I realized that throughout my professional life, I was doing just that - living, working for the moment and moving on to the next phase that gave me a sense of high. And I missed that during my sabbatical. But the passion for travelling fitted well into the urge of seeking new challenges .
I still needed to connect and travel writing then helped me reach out to the world at large . I found several like minded people .We discussed stories and travels , but therein I drew the line. The written word stood between me and the people on the other end with whom I shared many conversations ; but bereft of any emotion. Once bitten twice shy, I told myself.
So what brings me to welcome 2012 ?Nothing really has changed. I am still living a solitary world, typing alphabets on to a white screen, having conversations with myself through this laptop and thinking that am probably connecting to people on the other side of this internet world. I still dont have answers to my existential questions and my bank balance has completely depleted . But then I have my road laid out in front of me and I will walk down its path and I will let it lead me wherever it takes me . And I will tell my stories , no matter who reads or reacts.
2011 in many ways was one of my best years in recent times, 2010 coming a close second and 2009 being particularly a very bad phase. Nevertheless , am looking forward to 2012 , although the buzz doing the rounds is all about recession and a financial melt down.
For starters, Ive never felt so self assured like this in a very long time. Phases of identity crisis, lack of growth, no sense of direction, judgement lapses wrt people, bad health phases and sudden depletion of financials dogged me over the last four years ever since I quit my high paying , seven digit salaried job in media.
My world was my job then and I prided myself on my successes and rubbished my failures. The highs and lows never worried me as I moved from one job to another, from one challenge to another. My days were always busy then .I would have no time to think except on the job.
But soon I was just becoming a zombie , a programmed robot doing the job. But when I quit, I just became a malfunctioned robot who suddenly realized that there was a mind and a brain and I promptly put them to all the wrong use . I thought too much and worked myself into a frenzy. I realized what joblessness would do.
Ive never made friends during my professional life - just colleagues and ex colleagues and as a rule, I believe that they are not synonyms for friends. And so, in my solitary phase of life, I often spoke to myself and to a group of new found friends from the online world whom I believed were friends. But then , I forgot that facebook friends are not the real friends and hence I suffered some serious lapse of judgement wrt quite a few of them.
However amidst all this, a couple of wonderful things happenned. A love for the road, to seek new worlds, to immerse myself into new cultures took over my life and I put my frenzied hyperactive soul from a soul searching mode to a discovery mode. Only this time., I found new worlds through my journeys and shared it with the world through my blog and articles. The journey in my head moved on to the real world and I stopped plaguing myself with questions relating to existentialism and decided to live for the moment . Ironically I realized that throughout my professional life, I was doing just that - living, working for the moment and moving on to the next phase that gave me a sense of high. And I missed that during my sabbatical. But the passion for travelling fitted well into the urge of seeking new challenges .
I still needed to connect and travel writing then helped me reach out to the world at large . I found several like minded people .We discussed stories and travels , but therein I drew the line. The written word stood between me and the people on the other end with whom I shared many conversations ; but bereft of any emotion. Once bitten twice shy, I told myself.
So what brings me to welcome 2012 ?Nothing really has changed. I am still living a solitary world, typing alphabets on to a white screen, having conversations with myself through this laptop and thinking that am probably connecting to people on the other side of this internet world. I still dont have answers to my existential questions and my bank balance has completely depleted . But then I have my road laid out in front of me and I will walk down its path and I will let it lead me wherever it takes me . And I will tell my stories , no matter who reads or reacts.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
People
What is it about some people that makes you wish you had never met them?
What is it about some people that makes you want to look into the mirror and take a one good look at yourself ?
What is it about some people that makes you want to forget and forgive and restart all over again ?
What is it about some people that you let go the moment you realize its the best for everyone ?
Whats is it about some people that make you shift from I like to I am indifferent ?
What us it about some people that makes you want to rewind life all over again ?
What is it about some people that the moment you think of them , you wish to do CTRL ALT DEL ?
What is it about some people that makes you realize that you are a stranger to yourself ?
What is it about some people that makes you want to look into the mirror and take a one good look at yourself ?
What is it about some people that makes you want to forget and forgive and restart all over again ?
What is it about some people that you let go the moment you realize its the best for everyone ?
Whats is it about some people that make you shift from I like to I am indifferent ?
What us it about some people that makes you want to rewind life all over again ?
What is it about some people that the moment you think of them , you wish to do CTRL ALT DEL ?
What is it about some people that makes you realize that you are a stranger to yourself ?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
A birthday just went by..
I turned a year older today ..well, it neither made front page news, nor was I thronged with bouquets and brickbats.I was simply overwhelmed by the wishes from various people - virtual and real, ex bosses and ex colleagues, travellers and bloggers, family and friends , classmates I had not seen for many years and people I had known for less than a year..
My maid looked at me at 12 pm and asked me - " Madam, how come you are looking so fresh ? " She is so used to seeing me in my bed clothes that she probably must have wondered if it was a new year resolution to wake up early and have a bath..I muttered something about a birthday and she was all excited demanding for a cake and rushing to the balcony and returning with a small pink flower..I was touched and promptly ordered for cakes for her children..Nevertheless, I wondered about all the good people out there who took time to wish me by phone and the internet.
I also realized that I had reached an age when my mother had my brother . I was a gawky teenager then and was excited at the prospect of a young baby at home.Today I dont have kids, but somehow that thought doesnt affect me. I also thought about my mother who was in a different generation, learning to cope with a teenager like me and a baby boy at home. We were in transition then. We had just moved from a joint family to an individual home, but that hardly made a difference in retrospect. It simply meant that we could eat my mother's cooking instead of the old cook's saltless food . It also meant that my mother did not have to rush and ensure a cup of curds is kept aside for me, much to the chagrin of her inlaws. It also meant that she didnt have to "help" the cook who was my grandmother's buddy as a dutiful daughter in law and we could eat an extra chapathi or a serving of rice without asking for permission.
We were still living in individual houses in Madras , in a large compound - under the watchful eye of my late grandfather, the family patriarch who controlled among many things our freedom. My mother was gently balancing the politics of a joint family and her own disappointments at not being able to fulfil her music career . Her life was not just ruled by us and her inlaws, but my grand aunts and uncles and their many many children . She managed us- my father's slowly failing health and my brother , who was just a baby and me, a growing rebel. We were so preoccupied by our lives that I hardly remember her falling sick or talking about her insecurities.
Somewhere in her life was me, a growing rebel, whom she had groomed to be a first ranker in academics , but who was learning to look at life beyond books. I was learning to discover my own emotions and form opinions of people. I was vulnerable, but a rebel alright. I rejected everything and refused to conform. I wanted independence and loads of it. We had no phones then and needed our grandfather's permission to use the main line at home. My mother used to take me on long bus rides to see her parents, very often being denied the car at home which would have gone to pick up one of my uncles or drop my cousin at school. If she complained, I didnt pay attention then.
Initially there were just two houses in a compound. Then two became three and later four. I grew up with cousins and I enjoyed my childhood a lot, but I somehow could not deal with the barrage of second cousins and their parents and grandparents who constantly landed in our lives.We were always thronged by relatives who came to see my grandparents. If a relative died or a baby was born to some distant cousin, our grandparent's house was the nucleus of activity. Probably today, we are starved of relatives and festivities, but then those days, I was waiting to throw a bomb at them. They literally invaded our lives. We had no concept of privacy or freedom. Even worse, such concepts didnt exist. My mother hardly complained.
Today I dont have the mental strength or the patience of my mother. I dont have the ability to balance and juggle life. I constantly have emotional upheavals , work tensions and health issues. I dont have the health or the ability to even pick up my health like the way she did. I have all the independence in the world. I dont have people invading my life and I can choose to bathe at 12 or at 3 or not bathe at all - I still remember being told then when to wash our hair and how many times a day as well.Today, she has got the freedom that i craved for, but she is at an age when she needs a support system. The relatives have all walked away into oblivion and she still manages her life, my dad's ill health, my brother's and mine highs and lows. Today she complains a bit. I hear, but I can do nothing much ..
My maid looked at me at 12 pm and asked me - " Madam, how come you are looking so fresh ? " She is so used to seeing me in my bed clothes that she probably must have wondered if it was a new year resolution to wake up early and have a bath..I muttered something about a birthday and she was all excited demanding for a cake and rushing to the balcony and returning with a small pink flower..I was touched and promptly ordered for cakes for her children..Nevertheless, I wondered about all the good people out there who took time to wish me by phone and the internet.
I also realized that I had reached an age when my mother had my brother . I was a gawky teenager then and was excited at the prospect of a young baby at home.Today I dont have kids, but somehow that thought doesnt affect me. I also thought about my mother who was in a different generation, learning to cope with a teenager like me and a baby boy at home. We were in transition then. We had just moved from a joint family to an individual home, but that hardly made a difference in retrospect. It simply meant that we could eat my mother's cooking instead of the old cook's saltless food . It also meant that my mother did not have to rush and ensure a cup of curds is kept aside for me, much to the chagrin of her inlaws. It also meant that she didnt have to "help" the cook who was my grandmother's buddy as a dutiful daughter in law and we could eat an extra chapathi or a serving of rice without asking for permission.
We were still living in individual houses in Madras , in a large compound - under the watchful eye of my late grandfather, the family patriarch who controlled among many things our freedom. My mother was gently balancing the politics of a joint family and her own disappointments at not being able to fulfil her music career . Her life was not just ruled by us and her inlaws, but my grand aunts and uncles and their many many children . She managed us- my father's slowly failing health and my brother , who was just a baby and me, a growing rebel. We were so preoccupied by our lives that I hardly remember her falling sick or talking about her insecurities.
Somewhere in her life was me, a growing rebel, whom she had groomed to be a first ranker in academics , but who was learning to look at life beyond books. I was learning to discover my own emotions and form opinions of people. I was vulnerable, but a rebel alright. I rejected everything and refused to conform. I wanted independence and loads of it. We had no phones then and needed our grandfather's permission to use the main line at home. My mother used to take me on long bus rides to see her parents, very often being denied the car at home which would have gone to pick up one of my uncles or drop my cousin at school. If she complained, I didnt pay attention then.
Initially there were just two houses in a compound. Then two became three and later four. I grew up with cousins and I enjoyed my childhood a lot, but I somehow could not deal with the barrage of second cousins and their parents and grandparents who constantly landed in our lives.We were always thronged by relatives who came to see my grandparents. If a relative died or a baby was born to some distant cousin, our grandparent's house was the nucleus of activity. Probably today, we are starved of relatives and festivities, but then those days, I was waiting to throw a bomb at them. They literally invaded our lives. We had no concept of privacy or freedom. Even worse, such concepts didnt exist. My mother hardly complained.
Today I dont have the mental strength or the patience of my mother. I dont have the ability to balance and juggle life. I constantly have emotional upheavals , work tensions and health issues. I dont have the health or the ability to even pick up my health like the way she did. I have all the independence in the world. I dont have people invading my life and I can choose to bathe at 12 or at 3 or not bathe at all - I still remember being told then when to wash our hair and how many times a day as well.Today, she has got the freedom that i craved for, but she is at an age when she needs a support system. The relatives have all walked away into oblivion and she still manages her life, my dad's ill health, my brother's and mine highs and lows. Today she complains a bit. I hear, but I can do nothing much ..
Thursday, December 23, 2010
And my dustbin overflows..
Dear Diary
You cant imagine the amount of clutter that swims around in my head just now in the form of thoughts and emotions. I have been waiting to blurt them all out to you, but the moment I landed here, they have all evaporated out of the little window in my head.
But dear diary, I want to talk to you about this little wastepaper basket, lying below me that is overflowing literally with a lot of unwanted paper . I wonder how many trees have been cut to make all this paper.And those pieces of paper - they may have been useful to me at some point of time - a cheque intimation, a proposal , an e ticket, a policy reminder, a wedding invitation, a medical bill, a list of things to do - all lie crushed and torn today in that little basket out there.
Funny , I realize that life is a bit like that . People - friends, family, colleagues - we all lie in some waste paper basket after the need is fulfilled. I think of the many dustbins I may probably be lying in - discarded ..wonder if I was used in the first place to be thrown,if I was of any use to anyone...and I think of the people who have used me ; who probably cried on my shoulders, climbed on them and then flew away..Anyways, we are all pieces of paper ..lifeless, torn and crushed, lying in some wastepaper basket or the other
I look at the pile and wonder about the amount of paper that I have collected over the last year..or was it the last four years ? Yes, dear diary, its been four years since I bought this waste paper basket and the house that it is housed in. Four years since I have moved to Bangalore and all that I have accumulated is a lot of paper . Clutter. And I want them out of my system today. Thoughts and feelings. People. Its time for them to also find a place out of my life into the dustbin. Used or otherwise, they are of no use today. They have outlived their need. Its time for them to be lifeless, torn and discarded.
So, I know what you are thinking - another year ends and I have lost my sanity and gained a lot of weight..But another new year dawns and believe me , there is more paper to be collected .
You cant imagine the amount of clutter that swims around in my head just now in the form of thoughts and emotions. I have been waiting to blurt them all out to you, but the moment I landed here, they have all evaporated out of the little window in my head.
But dear diary, I want to talk to you about this little wastepaper basket, lying below me that is overflowing literally with a lot of unwanted paper . I wonder how many trees have been cut to make all this paper.And those pieces of paper - they may have been useful to me at some point of time - a cheque intimation, a proposal , an e ticket, a policy reminder, a wedding invitation, a medical bill, a list of things to do - all lie crushed and torn today in that little basket out there.
Funny , I realize that life is a bit like that . People - friends, family, colleagues - we all lie in some waste paper basket after the need is fulfilled. I think of the many dustbins I may probably be lying in - discarded ..wonder if I was used in the first place to be thrown,if I was of any use to anyone...and I think of the people who have used me ; who probably cried on my shoulders, climbed on them and then flew away..Anyways, we are all pieces of paper ..lifeless, torn and crushed, lying in some wastepaper basket or the other
I look at the pile and wonder about the amount of paper that I have collected over the last year..or was it the last four years ? Yes, dear diary, its been four years since I bought this waste paper basket and the house that it is housed in. Four years since I have moved to Bangalore and all that I have accumulated is a lot of paper . Clutter. And I want them out of my system today. Thoughts and feelings. People. Its time for them to also find a place out of my life into the dustbin. Used or otherwise, they are of no use today. They have outlived their need. Its time for them to be lifeless, torn and discarded.
So, I know what you are thinking - another year ends and I have lost my sanity and gained a lot of weight..But another new year dawns and believe me , there is more paper to be collected .
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
Its been a regular week . Just a bit of rains, some work and yes, Ive been eating a lot of chocolates and chaats. And I havent been walking or hitting the gym and have been putting on weight. But you know what , Ive been meeting people. So, I met this guy, very smart and successful. I dont really knows what he does, but he seems like he knows what he is doing, which I guess is more important today.
But I found two things interesting. One, he was always tucking in his stomach when he speaks and was trying very hard to have this faraway , dreamy look in his eyes and you could see he was actually uncomfortable with himself and was probably worried about the way he was being perceived. But then, he was the centre of attraction. He carefully chose what he wanted to say. His topics could range from the Tundra to the local gossip in the film industry. Yet, he was trying very hard not to sound intellectual or trashy. He knew how to modulate his voice, wait for the right pauses and make the right noises. You know what I was thinking , dear diary..that was here was a man who made trivia , a knowledge .
Later over a drink, I stopped him when he was trying to tell me about a rare quality of gene in man that could make them fly. Ok,I just made that up. But his trivia was always like that, something which could be interesting,(ahem!) rare and unusual and often generated oohs and wows from people..but then at the end of day, he acknowledged that it was just useless trivia. It didnt really open anybody's horizon and would be either drowned in the drinks in the party or at the most be shared in another party. But then, I asked him what motivated him to collect these trivia..after all, no quizzer will ask him such questions .
He humoured me for a moment and asked , " Havent you heard of conversation currency ? " he went on to explain how diligently he read and combed the net to find such information that was not in circulation and the rarer and the less credible it is , it worked for him. " You need to shock people, not just interest him, it opens doors , you know. " I just heard a door close on me, when a phone rang. It was R on the line..I was surprised dear diary that he called me after 6 months . And then he went on to say " Hey listen, how are you doing ? I need a help. Am off to a party tonight and I need some gossip, anythg..filmy, media, fashion..meeting some people you know..no time to prepare ..." Since when did people start preparing to go for parties , I wondered as I hung up the call on this newspaper editor.
Well, there were more interesting people that I met but I will tell you later. A friend is coming over for dinner now and I actually have to prepare - food !
Its been a regular week . Just a bit of rains, some work and yes, Ive been eating a lot of chocolates and chaats. And I havent been walking or hitting the gym and have been putting on weight. But you know what , Ive been meeting people. So, I met this guy, very smart and successful. I dont really knows what he does, but he seems like he knows what he is doing, which I guess is more important today.
But I found two things interesting. One, he was always tucking in his stomach when he speaks and was trying very hard to have this faraway , dreamy look in his eyes and you could see he was actually uncomfortable with himself and was probably worried about the way he was being perceived. But then, he was the centre of attraction. He carefully chose what he wanted to say. His topics could range from the Tundra to the local gossip in the film industry. Yet, he was trying very hard not to sound intellectual or trashy. He knew how to modulate his voice, wait for the right pauses and make the right noises. You know what I was thinking , dear diary..that was here was a man who made trivia , a knowledge .
Later over a drink, I stopped him when he was trying to tell me about a rare quality of gene in man that could make them fly. Ok,I just made that up. But his trivia was always like that, something which could be interesting,(ahem!) rare and unusual and often generated oohs and wows from people..but then at the end of day, he acknowledged that it was just useless trivia. It didnt really open anybody's horizon and would be either drowned in the drinks in the party or at the most be shared in another party. But then, I asked him what motivated him to collect these trivia..after all, no quizzer will ask him such questions .
He humoured me for a moment and asked , " Havent you heard of conversation currency ? " he went on to explain how diligently he read and combed the net to find such information that was not in circulation and the rarer and the less credible it is , it worked for him. " You need to shock people, not just interest him, it opens doors , you know. " I just heard a door close on me, when a phone rang. It was R on the line..I was surprised dear diary that he called me after 6 months . And then he went on to say " Hey listen, how are you doing ? I need a help. Am off to a party tonight and I need some gossip, anythg..filmy, media, fashion..meeting some people you know..no time to prepare ..." Since when did people start preparing to go for parties , I wondered as I hung up the call on this newspaper editor.
Well, there were more interesting people that I met but I will tell you later. A friend is coming over for dinner now and I actually have to prepare - food !
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Who are these faces ?
Dear diary,
Everyday I wade through life meeting countless faces ,rubbing many a shoulder and shaking several hands, before walking home to enjoy my own private space . While some of these social meets are pure networking opportunities, many times, I have met people with whom I share similar wavelengths or can enjoy a laugh or even share a personal moment. Sometimes these moments become intimate - not necessarily physical, but also emotional and then I do not know what to call these relationships. For want of a better word, I call them friends .
And then there are people who are around me all the time. People who are related to me, is married to me, who has nurtured and managed me, people with whom I share a bond, And I call them family.
Sometimes there is a blur between the two, when friends become family and family become friends. But then to me, that doesnt matter. I remember when I was 17 and I was still in high school. I made a promise to myself - that I will try and be independent - financially, mentally or intellectually and even emotionally. While I have managed the same to a large extent, the emotional bit has always been a bit challenging. And that is when I learnt not to have too many expectations, except to people with whom one Ive been extremely close to. And these are people, Ive learnt to trust and believe in over the years and very few friends , besides family belong here, And even then, my dear diary, I have maintained a certain discretion - as they are individuals first and then my parent ,sibling or spouse.
But this is not to say that friends are secondary. There are times when I have leaned on them and they on me , but then neither can be a permanent crutch for the other. I have gotten up and moved on several times and have been grateful to my friend for being there and I have also offered myself as a crutch when the need arises. But then, dear diary, there is a difference between being there and being used na.and very often the lines are blurred as we are dealing with feelings here . Yes, I have been used and thrown and there are times that I have used, but I believe that I havent thrown anyone as yet..but then I am also human . I do not believe in formulae, my dear diary..
But then I refuse to believe that anyone unconditionally offers themselves to the other - be it friends or family. There is always a need that one is satisfying - be it loneliness or a feel good factor or just a selfish need to feel special and cared for, or show off to the world that you are loved and cared for . I think its also a hidden urge to prove to oneself that one is not really alone and hence the success of so many social media sites that seek to satisfy this gratification. You know, as Im writing this , there is probably a desire inside me that someone out there is reading me and nodding their heads ..
I have always been a private person and even though many people think that I am quite social and an extrovert, I draw a line when it comes to me and people. Be it family or friends, I realize that 9 out 10 people I meet and have met in my life are mere acquaintances. I am happy to share a conversation with them, laugh with them, crib to them, spend some time with them, even let them touch my life to a certain extent , listen to them, offer myself as a crutch to them, but then I draw a boundary . Call it a safety net, but it has worked for me.I go that far and no further. And I avoid favours for that brings in emotional dependency, because it weakens me further and creates a false sense of obligation. In rare cases I have opened my doors to strangers and very few have actually become part of my life . Most of the time, the relationship has either drifted away, in some cases, it has failed . But what I often realize is that when i have had have zero or little expectations of people, especially friends, then the relationship survives .
Expectations I realise only sets the field for disappointments , which in turn result in failure. Sometimes when my emotions for someone are not too deep, then the disappointment does not really affect me and that I believe comes with emotional maturity. I have faltered many a time here , but then I realize that my emotional investments on people have also been very low. This is probably one of the reasons that I do not go out for parties, or prefer big groups of friends or care for attending marriages and social dos. If I feel like connecting to the people I want to connect, I just pick up the phone or drop them a line or meet them over for lunch. And then I am done, until the next time the need arises.
And believe me, everything is a need - emotional, intellectual or physical. As we evolve, our needs change and with it , our circle of friends and family. Ive often seen the pattern in which people seek out each other. While many are out of sheer attraction,lonely people look for their types and intellectuals find their own group.But who are these faces ? What do they actually mean to us ? Do they just gratify our immediate need or give us a sense of belonging or a sense of security that we are not alone..Do we really need them ? And if we do, where and how do we draw the line..
Everyday I wade through life meeting countless faces ,rubbing many a shoulder and shaking several hands, before walking home to enjoy my own private space . While some of these social meets are pure networking opportunities, many times, I have met people with whom I share similar wavelengths or can enjoy a laugh or even share a personal moment. Sometimes these moments become intimate - not necessarily physical, but also emotional and then I do not know what to call these relationships. For want of a better word, I call them friends .
And then there are people who are around me all the time. People who are related to me, is married to me, who has nurtured and managed me, people with whom I share a bond, And I call them family.
Sometimes there is a blur between the two, when friends become family and family become friends. But then to me, that doesnt matter. I remember when I was 17 and I was still in high school. I made a promise to myself - that I will try and be independent - financially, mentally or intellectually and even emotionally. While I have managed the same to a large extent, the emotional bit has always been a bit challenging. And that is when I learnt not to have too many expectations, except to people with whom one Ive been extremely close to. And these are people, Ive learnt to trust and believe in over the years and very few friends , besides family belong here, And even then, my dear diary, I have maintained a certain discretion - as they are individuals first and then my parent ,sibling or spouse.
But this is not to say that friends are secondary. There are times when I have leaned on them and they on me , but then neither can be a permanent crutch for the other. I have gotten up and moved on several times and have been grateful to my friend for being there and I have also offered myself as a crutch when the need arises. But then, dear diary, there is a difference between being there and being used na.and very often the lines are blurred as we are dealing with feelings here . Yes, I have been used and thrown and there are times that I have used, but I believe that I havent thrown anyone as yet..but then I am also human . I do not believe in formulae, my dear diary..
But then I refuse to believe that anyone unconditionally offers themselves to the other - be it friends or family. There is always a need that one is satisfying - be it loneliness or a feel good factor or just a selfish need to feel special and cared for, or show off to the world that you are loved and cared for . I think its also a hidden urge to prove to oneself that one is not really alone and hence the success of so many social media sites that seek to satisfy this gratification. You know, as Im writing this , there is probably a desire inside me that someone out there is reading me and nodding their heads ..
I have always been a private person and even though many people think that I am quite social and an extrovert, I draw a line when it comes to me and people. Be it family or friends, I realize that 9 out 10 people I meet and have met in my life are mere acquaintances. I am happy to share a conversation with them, laugh with them, crib to them, spend some time with them, even let them touch my life to a certain extent , listen to them, offer myself as a crutch to them, but then I draw a boundary . Call it a safety net, but it has worked for me.I go that far and no further. And I avoid favours for that brings in emotional dependency, because it weakens me further and creates a false sense of obligation. In rare cases I have opened my doors to strangers and very few have actually become part of my life . Most of the time, the relationship has either drifted away, in some cases, it has failed . But what I often realize is that when i have had have zero or little expectations of people, especially friends, then the relationship survives .
Expectations I realise only sets the field for disappointments , which in turn result in failure. Sometimes when my emotions for someone are not too deep, then the disappointment does not really affect me and that I believe comes with emotional maturity. I have faltered many a time here , but then I realize that my emotional investments on people have also been very low. This is probably one of the reasons that I do not go out for parties, or prefer big groups of friends or care for attending marriages and social dos. If I feel like connecting to the people I want to connect, I just pick up the phone or drop them a line or meet them over for lunch. And then I am done, until the next time the need arises.
And believe me, everything is a need - emotional, intellectual or physical. As we evolve, our needs change and with it , our circle of friends and family. Ive often seen the pattern in which people seek out each other. While many are out of sheer attraction,lonely people look for their types and intellectuals find their own group.But who are these faces ? What do they actually mean to us ? Do they just gratify our immediate need or give us a sense of belonging or a sense of security that we are not alone..Do we really need them ? And if we do, where and how do we draw the line..
Monday, April 12, 2010
Rolling stones gather moss
In my profile, Ive stated that I believe that a rolling stone gathers moss. One of my followers had asked me to explain and I had left that comment hanging then..However it didn't escape my thoughts and so I decided to explain my take on it.
I believe that we are all like stones rolling through life. As we pass by various stages,we rub shoulders against various people, collect dust through different jobs and polish our edges with learnings and finally come in contact with moss . Sometimes the moss sticks to us and adds to what I call an experience.
Sometimes we pause our journey of life, when we think we settle down in a job or a relationship, but the unsettled mind continues to roll adding more layers of moss within us. Sometimes the moss stays behind when we leave our temporary footprints behind, only to be replaced by new moss as we move along..we do renew the layer from time to time, shedding the old experiences and adding new learnings as we pass by one stage of life to another.
I believe that we are all like stones rolling through life. As we pass by various stages,we rub shoulders against various people, collect dust through different jobs and polish our edges with learnings and finally come in contact with moss . Sometimes the moss sticks to us and adds to what I call an experience.
Sometimes we pause our journey of life, when we think we settle down in a job or a relationship, but the unsettled mind continues to roll adding more layers of moss within us. Sometimes the moss stays behind when we leave our temporary footprints behind, only to be replaced by new moss as we move along..we do renew the layer from time to time, shedding the old experiences and adding new learnings as we pass by one stage of life to another.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Bombay ki Hawa 6
I remember the first time I experienced a sense of high. It was on my 22nd birthday and I had just had my first drink .And my companions were two new found friends I had met in a flight three months ago.
I remember that evening so well. I left hostel around 5 pm , walked up to Mahalakshmi temple and watched the waves for a long time. Long after the Aarti was over, I let the wave of loneliness overpower me. I wanted to spend some moments with people I could call friends.
I had been in Bombay for over 6 months and yet in that large metropolis barring a few classmates, I had no close friends. The only ones I could relate to were two men I had met a couple of months ago.
I had met A&S on the flight from Madras, hitched a ride with them and then lost touch with them . But a month later, the blackboard near the hostel phone announced that I had missed a call from A . I was excited and irritated - I hadnt taken his number and he has called back after a month and not left a number either. But common sense told me that if he had called once, he will call again. So I waited and the call came.
We three became good friends later on - well, if friendship meant enjoying each other's company, having a comfort factor, cracking up a bit here and there and not getting into personal lives ,then we were all friends then . And so, on my 22nd birthday, I reached out to the pay phone and asked my only friends to come over for a coffee to Marine Drive.
It didnt take them long to figure out and we realized that we were all January born and were Capricornians, except for A who was a cusp. And it was his brilliant idea that we celebrate and lo we were in Marine Drive having a beer each. The conversations poured in and so did the beer. I started protesting but A& S would have none of it. The Cindrella hour for the hostel was getting closer, and A poured more beer into my mug. Soon the tensions eased as I let my loneliness be lost amidst the laughter.
It was a new high. My first drink and I was out in a new city celebrating my birthday being treated by two men who were virtually strangers .The taste of beer mingled with the new found freedom, as I was enjoying the company of two people who until a couple of months ago I had not even met. And yet, in that strange bond that we were building without our own knowledge, a 22 year old was born . I felt light, my head began to swim and the reflexes relaxed. It was probably amidst all the dizzying effect of the spirit, I experienced a momentary moment of loneliness being quelled by unknown love and yet , at that moment all that I was probably thinking of was Sister Rosa and the witching hour.
A's wicked grin at seeing me high and talking gibberish still remains with me as I write this piece today. They told me later they were amused at my panic for I was apparently very high . A kept recounting later that I tripped, but I dont believe him. S was always the nice guy . He kept reassuring me as he flagged a cab and helped me into it. A deliberately took his time, munching the sandwiches, enjoying the last sip while I was half mad at him, almost in the midst of throwing the cutlery at him .I felt giddy as the cab left and drifted off to sleep for some brief moments while cursing them for getting me high . But somewhere in that sleep, I found a sense of what one would describe as happiness.
I did return late to the hostel all flushed and high as the taxi raced from marine drive to breach candy . My friends later say that when sister Rosa opened the door, I looked at her and said "The bus crashed." A cake was cut later at midnight , but all I remembered were the cheers from the evening !
Many birthdays have come and gone and I have been high on life as always, but A & S - I wonder where they are ! Well, I did manage to trace S, but A ...
I remember that evening so well. I left hostel around 5 pm , walked up to Mahalakshmi temple and watched the waves for a long time. Long after the Aarti was over, I let the wave of loneliness overpower me. I wanted to spend some moments with people I could call friends.
I had been in Bombay for over 6 months and yet in that large metropolis barring a few classmates, I had no close friends. The only ones I could relate to were two men I had met a couple of months ago.
I had met A&S on the flight from Madras, hitched a ride with them and then lost touch with them . But a month later, the blackboard near the hostel phone announced that I had missed a call from A . I was excited and irritated - I hadnt taken his number and he has called back after a month and not left a number either. But common sense told me that if he had called once, he will call again. So I waited and the call came.
We three became good friends later on - well, if friendship meant enjoying each other's company, having a comfort factor, cracking up a bit here and there and not getting into personal lives ,then we were all friends then . And so, on my 22nd birthday, I reached out to the pay phone and asked my only friends to come over for a coffee to Marine Drive.
It didnt take them long to figure out and we realized that we were all January born and were Capricornians, except for A who was a cusp. And it was his brilliant idea that we celebrate and lo we were in Marine Drive having a beer each. The conversations poured in and so did the beer. I started protesting but A& S would have none of it. The Cindrella hour for the hostel was getting closer, and A poured more beer into my mug. Soon the tensions eased as I let my loneliness be lost amidst the laughter.
It was a new high. My first drink and I was out in a new city celebrating my birthday being treated by two men who were virtually strangers .The taste of beer mingled with the new found freedom, as I was enjoying the company of two people who until a couple of months ago I had not even met. And yet, in that strange bond that we were building without our own knowledge, a 22 year old was born . I felt light, my head began to swim and the reflexes relaxed. It was probably amidst all the dizzying effect of the spirit, I experienced a momentary moment of loneliness being quelled by unknown love and yet , at that moment all that I was probably thinking of was Sister Rosa and the witching hour.
A's wicked grin at seeing me high and talking gibberish still remains with me as I write this piece today. They told me later they were amused at my panic for I was apparently very high . A kept recounting later that I tripped, but I dont believe him. S was always the nice guy . He kept reassuring me as he flagged a cab and helped me into it. A deliberately took his time, munching the sandwiches, enjoying the last sip while I was half mad at him, almost in the midst of throwing the cutlery at him .I felt giddy as the cab left and drifted off to sleep for some brief moments while cursing them for getting me high . But somewhere in that sleep, I found a sense of what one would describe as happiness.
I did return late to the hostel all flushed and high as the taxi raced from marine drive to breach candy . My friends later say that when sister Rosa opened the door, I looked at her and said "The bus crashed." A cake was cut later at midnight , but all I remembered were the cheers from the evening !
Many birthdays have come and gone and I have been high on life as always, but A & S - I wonder where they are ! Well, I did manage to trace S, but A ...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Bombay ki hawa..5
Recently in a conversation with a friend on people, I found myself saying the following without comprehending the full meaning of it. I said there were two kinds of people in the world - those who are with you and those who are not. My friend didnt react and I found myself brooding over it for a while.
Very often we meet people at different points of our life . They don several roles like classmates,friends, lovers, mentors, colleagues, bosses,partners, acquaintances, neighbours..While some choose to stay with us, some drift away into the oblivion. I am not referring to the broken relationships or the failed marriages here . Im talking about those people who have held our hands and lifted our hearts , laughed and cried with us and yet,they become faceless memories and the emotions that we shared at one time become fossils nestled in our hearts .
I remember my classmate in my nursery who told me not to cry as she felt like crying. I dont know where she is now. In my 8th std, I befriended a srilankan tamil and we used to spend hours chatting. I have no clue if she is in india or in srilanka.
But this post however is dedicated to those two men who I met in Bombay and are today lost to obscurity . No amount of combing through facebook, orkut, linked in have brought them back to me. I wonder where A & S are .
A&S. I cant help smiling thinking about them. I met them first in a flight from Madras to Bombay in September 1995 when I was returning to college after a brief holiday. I was just 3 months old in Bombay and I was already feeling like a veteran . We made eye contact quite frequently during the flight, but something held us back. I was 21, single and footloose, trying to grapple with my independent spirit and they were probably trying to get over a boring flight . But the body language was unmistakable. We finally spoke and when we did, it was about directions. They had to get to Worli and my destination was Breach Candy and we impulsively decided to share a cab after a five minute conversation.
A, I learnt was from Bangalore. Dressed casually in jeans and T shirt, he seemed to be indifferent to the conversation that S and I were having. When he did speak, he spoke in a quiet tone and always asked pointed questions. A seemed impatient with S who was giving me his entire story. S was a Syrian Christian from Trichur and was very friendly. He rolled his sleeves as he spoke and his wavy hair kept falling on his face. He was slightly darker than A, but his big eyes were warm and his thick mustache stood out in that very soft face . Both of them were IT professionals who had just returned from US and were on their first trip to Bombay. As South Indians in a big cosmopolitan city, we connected instantly in the cab. S had by then told me all about his family in Kerala ,while A kept looking out of the windown.We reached Worli and S said a quick good bye and rushed out while A took his time . He stretched his tall frame and reached out and paid me Rs 500/- It was agreed that we all three shared the money, but A would have none of it. And for the first time, he smiled as I looked up into his eyes and at his weather beaten face. Take care, he smiled again and the cab left . We didnt share numbers .
Very often we meet people at different points of our life . They don several roles like classmates,friends, lovers, mentors, colleagues, bosses,partners, acquaintances, neighbours..While some choose to stay with us, some drift away into the oblivion. I am not referring to the broken relationships or the failed marriages here . Im talking about those people who have held our hands and lifted our hearts , laughed and cried with us and yet,they become faceless memories and the emotions that we shared at one time become fossils nestled in our hearts .
I remember my classmate in my nursery who told me not to cry as she felt like crying. I dont know where she is now. In my 8th std, I befriended a srilankan tamil and we used to spend hours chatting. I have no clue if she is in india or in srilanka.
But this post however is dedicated to those two men who I met in Bombay and are today lost to obscurity . No amount of combing through facebook, orkut, linked in have brought them back to me. I wonder where A & S are .
A&S. I cant help smiling thinking about them. I met them first in a flight from Madras to Bombay in September 1995 when I was returning to college after a brief holiday. I was just 3 months old in Bombay and I was already feeling like a veteran . We made eye contact quite frequently during the flight, but something held us back. I was 21, single and footloose, trying to grapple with my independent spirit and they were probably trying to get over a boring flight . But the body language was unmistakable. We finally spoke and when we did, it was about directions. They had to get to Worli and my destination was Breach Candy and we impulsively decided to share a cab after a five minute conversation.
A, I learnt was from Bangalore. Dressed casually in jeans and T shirt, he seemed to be indifferent to the conversation that S and I were having. When he did speak, he spoke in a quiet tone and always asked pointed questions. A seemed impatient with S who was giving me his entire story. S was a Syrian Christian from Trichur and was very friendly. He rolled his sleeves as he spoke and his wavy hair kept falling on his face. He was slightly darker than A, but his big eyes were warm and his thick mustache stood out in that very soft face . Both of them were IT professionals who had just returned from US and were on their first trip to Bombay. As South Indians in a big cosmopolitan city, we connected instantly in the cab. S had by then told me all about his family in Kerala ,while A kept looking out of the windown.We reached Worli and S said a quick good bye and rushed out while A took his time . He stretched his tall frame and reached out and paid me Rs 500/- It was agreed that we all three shared the money, but A would have none of it. And for the first time, he smiled as I looked up into his eyes and at his weather beaten face. Take care, he smiled again and the cab left . We didnt share numbers .
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Bombay ki hawa..4
Am I really independent ? It is a question that has been in my mind over the last few months. Independence, according to me rests in your own mind and the ability to express your thoughts without a sense of being curtailed or controlled. But independence is also about how one copes in today’s world- at the workplace, with inlaws, among friends , for that matter in any society where control seems to be the buzzword. People like to control you not just by power, but even with emotions. There is always someone telling you how to live , always with well intentions, but they eventually rob you of your will to live life the way you want, to commit mistakes and sometimes make the mistakes again..Independence is also about acceptance – its about accepting the moment and your own state of mind . If you are weak and vulnerable, so be it. If you are consumed with ambition to reach a certain goal, its about being non apologetic about it. Sometimes your mind becomes overbearing or weak and that is when it starts controlling you..is that a sign of being independent too ? And often how independent are we to control destiny ?
Many years ago, when I was a naïve 21 year old, I recollect asking myself the same question . Sitting on the last step of the Mount Mary’s church and looking out into the sea, I often thought over the meaning of independence. Did it fit the life of someone who was staying alone for the first time with no one to keep tabs and live your life without anyone out there to control you ? I could come home or whatever I called home whenever I wanted, go wherever my mind wishes, probably try alcohol or attempt grass or even find boyfriend(S) according to my wishes. And yet, I had no such desire then .Smoking and drugs has always been a no no to me, non veg is against my principles and boyfriends..well, where were the men ? (That’s probably a subject for a different post) .
I did wander aimlessly through the roads of Bombay, getting in and out of local trains and learning a lesson or two about friendships and relationships and enjoying many a beer by Carter road with new found colleagues and classmates – but that I realized was not the real essence of independence. The paradox of independence is that it is often coupled with the word responsibility, and it is when you are alone, you learn to be responsible and not necessarily independent. You are not just responsible for your physical being, but you also learn to be responsible for your decisions and your thoughts and actions and the way you portray yourself to others. Why am I rambling along these clichés ? Let me tell you the story of K ..
I finished my course in March 1996 and my internship in TV 18 started in April. At the end of the month, I walked into my boss’ cabin and asked her if I could get a job there. I was startled by my own boldness and later by my naïve nature when she did say yes and I took her word for it without a letter. I went home to Madras and told my parents that I am not coming back as I had a job and I would need to find a place immediately after my exams. My parents weren’t too happy but they let me be and I returned to Bombay in June for my exams. The hostel was very clear. I had to vacate on the 16th day, the day after my exams and instead of studying, I went looking for a roof over my head. I called up friends, read local tabloids and even asked my canteen guy, but finally I got hold of a broker in Bandra. I told her I had 3 days to vacate and I needed a PG. I also told her I had just 5000/- with me and I could afford her brokerage, deposit and the rent with that amount . She found a shabby pad for me near Bandra reclamation where two Goan sisters lived in a 2 BHK , a common toilet and bathroom and the entire flat was not more than 500 sq feet. I had to share my room with another girl while the other bigger room was shared by K with the two older women. My terms was simple. I paid Rs 1500/- a month for a bed and half a table, 2 shelves in a wardrobe . I could buy milk and keep food in the fridge and cook , but need to pay extra for gas and for telephone and I need to inform them if I was not coming back in the night. The room was very tiny, being in the ground floor and the kitchen was extremely dirty with fish and bones lying all over the table. Being a vegetarian, I had no problem with friends eating non veg or even storing meat in fridge, but I cannot take the smell of fish, especially when it is being fried. Nor can I take the sight of meat and bones lying all over the kitchen table after being cooked. Nevertheless I agreed, telling myself I will be out by 7 am and return only at late nights and all I need was a bed to crash.
I remember then setting eyes on one of the most scary looking men Ive ever seen . I was shocked . He was huge, massive like a giant from a fairy tale. His face was dark with large haggard looking eyes and his hair and unshaven beard almost merged into one. He looked a bully and spoke like one. I was silent for a moment as he enquired for K and left a message for her with the landlady . I was told he was P, K’s friend and he did odd jobs for the Goan sisters.
That is when they told me about K. My landlady almost considered her as a daughter and told me to look at her as a rolemodel. She was successful, beautiful, intelligent, articulate, confident and street smart according to the two women. And they were in awe of her. I was warned about her likes and dislikes and was told not to cross her path. She also got priority over kitchen, TV, bathroom etc..I finally did meet K after 3 days of moving in.
She was a petite girl, who looked street smart dressed in tight blue jeans and a tighter pink jersey sweater. She seemed like a no nonsense person who looked me over for a few minutes and then moved on to go to the church. Later on, I used to meet K once or twice in a week. She was silent, stuck to her work and often had the last word in arguments with the landlady. I never met her friend P for an entire month.Finally, K decided to be friendly. She started by once in a while announcing that she has cooked aallu paratha or bhajji for me and has kept in the fridge..sometimes she used to throw a couple of expensive perfumes or bawdy earrings at me and say keep it, keep it..she often came to my room to put on her make up and asked my opinion on how she looked everytime she tried a tiny weeny skirt or a tube top. She was always proud of her skin and complexion and said people called her a dusky beauty.I smiled indulgently hoping I will get free dinner and then K started telling me her story.
She said she was a third daughter of a rich man in Rajasthan who had plotted to marry her off to an older man for money. K had a knack for story telling and for drawing emotions. Occassionally the Goan women used to come and listen to every word she said. She spoke about her sister in Bangalore and a brother in Rajasthan. She also said how she had always wanted to be a model and that is why she ran away to Bombay without telling her parents.” Do you remember the Frooti ad – I was supposed to be the model, but the photographer asked me to sleep with him and I refused !” she said. K said she changed her name and became a Christian and now does some modeling whenever she has the time , but works as a secretary . She wouldn’t say where. She cried talking about her parents and about how P helped her in Bombay and that is why she still is friendly with him..” Did he scare you ?” she asked and laughed..Later when K went to sleep, my landlady took me outside and said, “ Don’t believe her, she just tells stories..she told me that P is her brother in law, who was once married to her sister, but is in love with her..and you, stay away from P and all her chelas....you understand ..”
I nodded disinterested in K’s life then. It was just a distraction. I was learning to cope with my own emotions and work pressures and K was like a stress buster. She was always cheerful, her entire petite frame used to shake when she laughed and her eyes were full of mischief. On nights when I got home early , she used to drag me to Carter road and buy me dinner and we used to laugh aloud and sing songs together. We went to Mount Marys on Sundays and she used to tell me about the men in her life. Her boss, a married man was in love with her..what should she do ? She says he showers her with expensive perfumes. Another man keeps calling her on the phone..she used to just call him JI and said he lived in Andheri..she seemed to hold him in high regard, but said he is married too..She didn’t want to settle down, but did want to make it big in life. Her confidence, her charm, cheerfulness, her playful nature used to draw me out on days I was bored and lonely.
About four months later, my landlady told me that I had to move out as her daughter was coming home with her second husband in Dubai. I had just 15 days to move out. I asked K and she offered me after much deliberation, her friend JI’s flat in Andheri. But I wasn’t comfortable and I said NO, athough I had initially considered it. I moved on and found aunty’s place in Mahim-Matunga Road (West) and then never saw K or heard from her again until..
On a new year’s eve, I was out with friends in Jogeswari and we had decided to go to Fantasy land before partying at a friend’s place . And there I saw her, in shimmering gold, with loud make up, with gaudy earrings and an older man, not P at her side tightly clasping on her while she stood there, a disinterested arm candy. She looked startled on seeing me and then suddenly turned her face , uncomfortable, not just with me being there, but with probably herself..She suddenly got lost in the crowd and I searched for her in the crowd. I did find her later, but as our eyes locked, I realized this was not the K I knew….her mask had just fallen by the wayside.
Many years ago, when I was a naïve 21 year old, I recollect asking myself the same question . Sitting on the last step of the Mount Mary’s church and looking out into the sea, I often thought over the meaning of independence. Did it fit the life of someone who was staying alone for the first time with no one to keep tabs and live your life without anyone out there to control you ? I could come home or whatever I called home whenever I wanted, go wherever my mind wishes, probably try alcohol or attempt grass or even find boyfriend(S) according to my wishes. And yet, I had no such desire then .Smoking and drugs has always been a no no to me, non veg is against my principles and boyfriends..well, where were the men ? (That’s probably a subject for a different post) .
I did wander aimlessly through the roads of Bombay, getting in and out of local trains and learning a lesson or two about friendships and relationships and enjoying many a beer by Carter road with new found colleagues and classmates – but that I realized was not the real essence of independence. The paradox of independence is that it is often coupled with the word responsibility, and it is when you are alone, you learn to be responsible and not necessarily independent. You are not just responsible for your physical being, but you also learn to be responsible for your decisions and your thoughts and actions and the way you portray yourself to others. Why am I rambling along these clichés ? Let me tell you the story of K ..
I finished my course in March 1996 and my internship in TV 18 started in April. At the end of the month, I walked into my boss’ cabin and asked her if I could get a job there. I was startled by my own boldness and later by my naïve nature when she did say yes and I took her word for it without a letter. I went home to Madras and told my parents that I am not coming back as I had a job and I would need to find a place immediately after my exams. My parents weren’t too happy but they let me be and I returned to Bombay in June for my exams. The hostel was very clear. I had to vacate on the 16th day, the day after my exams and instead of studying, I went looking for a roof over my head. I called up friends, read local tabloids and even asked my canteen guy, but finally I got hold of a broker in Bandra. I told her I had 3 days to vacate and I needed a PG. I also told her I had just 5000/- with me and I could afford her brokerage, deposit and the rent with that amount . She found a shabby pad for me near Bandra reclamation where two Goan sisters lived in a 2 BHK , a common toilet and bathroom and the entire flat was not more than 500 sq feet. I had to share my room with another girl while the other bigger room was shared by K with the two older women. My terms was simple. I paid Rs 1500/- a month for a bed and half a table, 2 shelves in a wardrobe . I could buy milk and keep food in the fridge and cook , but need to pay extra for gas and for telephone and I need to inform them if I was not coming back in the night. The room was very tiny, being in the ground floor and the kitchen was extremely dirty with fish and bones lying all over the table. Being a vegetarian, I had no problem with friends eating non veg or even storing meat in fridge, but I cannot take the smell of fish, especially when it is being fried. Nor can I take the sight of meat and bones lying all over the kitchen table after being cooked. Nevertheless I agreed, telling myself I will be out by 7 am and return only at late nights and all I need was a bed to crash.
I remember then setting eyes on one of the most scary looking men Ive ever seen . I was shocked . He was huge, massive like a giant from a fairy tale. His face was dark with large haggard looking eyes and his hair and unshaven beard almost merged into one. He looked a bully and spoke like one. I was silent for a moment as he enquired for K and left a message for her with the landlady . I was told he was P, K’s friend and he did odd jobs for the Goan sisters.
That is when they told me about K. My landlady almost considered her as a daughter and told me to look at her as a rolemodel. She was successful, beautiful, intelligent, articulate, confident and street smart according to the two women. And they were in awe of her. I was warned about her likes and dislikes and was told not to cross her path. She also got priority over kitchen, TV, bathroom etc..I finally did meet K after 3 days of moving in.
She was a petite girl, who looked street smart dressed in tight blue jeans and a tighter pink jersey sweater. She seemed like a no nonsense person who looked me over for a few minutes and then moved on to go to the church. Later on, I used to meet K once or twice in a week. She was silent, stuck to her work and often had the last word in arguments with the landlady. I never met her friend P for an entire month.Finally, K decided to be friendly. She started by once in a while announcing that she has cooked aallu paratha or bhajji for me and has kept in the fridge..sometimes she used to throw a couple of expensive perfumes or bawdy earrings at me and say keep it, keep it..she often came to my room to put on her make up and asked my opinion on how she looked everytime she tried a tiny weeny skirt or a tube top. She was always proud of her skin and complexion and said people called her a dusky beauty.I smiled indulgently hoping I will get free dinner and then K started telling me her story.
She said she was a third daughter of a rich man in Rajasthan who had plotted to marry her off to an older man for money. K had a knack for story telling and for drawing emotions. Occassionally the Goan women used to come and listen to every word she said. She spoke about her sister in Bangalore and a brother in Rajasthan. She also said how she had always wanted to be a model and that is why she ran away to Bombay without telling her parents.” Do you remember the Frooti ad – I was supposed to be the model, but the photographer asked me to sleep with him and I refused !” she said. K said she changed her name and became a Christian and now does some modeling whenever she has the time , but works as a secretary . She wouldn’t say where. She cried talking about her parents and about how P helped her in Bombay and that is why she still is friendly with him..” Did he scare you ?” she asked and laughed..Later when K went to sleep, my landlady took me outside and said, “ Don’t believe her, she just tells stories..she told me that P is her brother in law, who was once married to her sister, but is in love with her..and you, stay away from P and all her chelas....you understand ..”
I nodded disinterested in K’s life then. It was just a distraction. I was learning to cope with my own emotions and work pressures and K was like a stress buster. She was always cheerful, her entire petite frame used to shake when she laughed and her eyes were full of mischief. On nights when I got home early , she used to drag me to Carter road and buy me dinner and we used to laugh aloud and sing songs together. We went to Mount Marys on Sundays and she used to tell me about the men in her life. Her boss, a married man was in love with her..what should she do ? She says he showers her with expensive perfumes. Another man keeps calling her on the phone..she used to just call him JI and said he lived in Andheri..she seemed to hold him in high regard, but said he is married too..She didn’t want to settle down, but did want to make it big in life. Her confidence, her charm, cheerfulness, her playful nature used to draw me out on days I was bored and lonely.
About four months later, my landlady told me that I had to move out as her daughter was coming home with her second husband in Dubai. I had just 15 days to move out. I asked K and she offered me after much deliberation, her friend JI’s flat in Andheri. But I wasn’t comfortable and I said NO, athough I had initially considered it. I moved on and found aunty’s place in Mahim-Matunga Road (West) and then never saw K or heard from her again until..
On a new year’s eve, I was out with friends in Jogeswari and we had decided to go to Fantasy land before partying at a friend’s place . And there I saw her, in shimmering gold, with loud make up, with gaudy earrings and an older man, not P at her side tightly clasping on her while she stood there, a disinterested arm candy. She looked startled on seeing me and then suddenly turned her face , uncomfortable, not just with me being there, but with probably herself..She suddenly got lost in the crowd and I searched for her in the crowd. I did find her later, but as our eyes locked, I realized this was not the K I knew….her mask had just fallen by the wayside.
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