September 29, 2010
September 28, 2010
A Lily Pond...
It's amazing how things can seem simpler once the maelstrom of emotions within you has calmed down. It's true, the only thing worse than people not understanding you, is when you yourself don't understand you.
A little clarity will go a long long way.
*****
There's so much baggage we carry all through life, that over the course of time it becomes a part of your daily existence. It becomes such an intrinsic part, that you don't even realise you're so many stones heavier, all thanks to the past you're carrying along with you.
Sometimes you do need to get lost so that you can find the way back to yourself.
*****
And I do know that I'll get dirty again. Like a friend pointed out, with good-intentions. It's a cycle. I know I'll come back to this junction again where I'll find myself without a map and without a friend to help me along, but for now, let me enjoy being in my own skin. I can worry about being lost, when I come to it.
*****
"Why did it happen?"
I have asked this question many many times. I don't have the answers, or rather, I don't know if they are the right answers. It doesn't matter. What matters in the end is that you loved.
A little clarity will go a long long way.
*****
There's so much baggage we carry all through life, that over the course of time it becomes a part of your daily existence. It becomes such an intrinsic part, that you don't even realise you're so many stones heavier, all thanks to the past you're carrying along with you.
Sometimes you do need to get lost so that you can find the way back to yourself.
*****
And I do know that I'll get dirty again. Like a friend pointed out, with good-intentions. It's a cycle. I know I'll come back to this junction again where I'll find myself without a map and without a friend to help me along, but for now, let me enjoy being in my own skin. I can worry about being lost, when I come to it.
*****
"Why did it happen?"
I have asked this question many many times. I don't have the answers, or rather, I don't know if they are the right answers. It doesn't matter. What matters in the end is that you loved.
September 27, 2010
Knotty Issues...
This song is pure unadulterated mush.
I think this is one of those perfect honeymoon songs. So perfect infact that it makes me want to get married just so I could wear those awesome sarees, braid my hair, fill maang with sindoor and all that. Nice? Indian women are hot I say. Hotter than any Jolies or Foxes.
And why don't women wear gajra these days? It's one of those Indian womanly things that makes you all...beautiful. Flowers in hair. Lovely, no?
And I don't understand why people go to places like Switzerland and Mauritius, book a nice plush hotel and order champagne and strawberries. I think that's pretty boring. My idea of a perfect honeymoon would be Egypt, or Morocco, Israel or Turkey or Cambodia or Mexico**. Or even a backpacking trip to the interiors and less travelled places in India. I always wonder if couples get bored during a honeymoon***, I mean, really, there's only *that* much sex you're going to have. What then? Honeymoon is supposed to bring you closer, and a big four poster bed is not going to that. How about a tent on the Tibetan Plateau? That should be fun! Or travelling through Sikkim in a rickety bus or even walking through the jungles of South Africa (Okay, maybe you can wear high rubber boots?). Now that's a good business idea there. Someone needs to market these destinations as honeymoon places.
And I need more crazy people around me so that I can say, "Are you crazy?". I can even say that in 7 different ways, really. Maybe you can ask me out for coffee and I could do a little demo for you. But I don't promise.
I think I have started appreciating Indian men. What was I doing all these years? Dreaming about Italians and Brits. You know, only if Indian men weren't such mumma's boys, they'd be perfect! I mean at 64, my Dad still raves about his mother's cooking!
And how beautiful is a relationship between a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law where both love and appreciate each other? It's difficult, this relationship, but when you get it right, it's one of those rare beautiful friendships that has the power to brighten even the dullest moments.
I know what you're thinking, but it's the song. I swear. God promise!
Alright I'll go read some man-hating book now. That should cure!
**Someone please gift me a couple of million dollars!
***I could ask Anoop, but I doubt he'll answer.
I think this is one of those perfect honeymoon songs. So perfect infact that it makes me want to get married just so I could wear those awesome sarees, braid my hair, fill maang with sindoor and all that. Nice? Indian women are hot I say. Hotter than any Jolies or Foxes.
And why don't women wear gajra these days? It's one of those Indian womanly things that makes you all...beautiful. Flowers in hair. Lovely, no?
And I don't understand why people go to places like Switzerland and Mauritius, book a nice plush hotel and order champagne and strawberries. I think that's pretty boring. My idea of a perfect honeymoon would be Egypt, or Morocco, Israel or Turkey or Cambodia or Mexico**. Or even a backpacking trip to the interiors and less travelled places in India. I always wonder if couples get bored during a honeymoon***, I mean, really, there's only *that* much sex you're going to have. What then? Honeymoon is supposed to bring you closer, and a big four poster bed is not going to that. How about a tent on the Tibetan Plateau? That should be fun! Or travelling through Sikkim in a rickety bus or even walking through the jungles of South Africa (Okay, maybe you can wear high rubber boots?). Now that's a good business idea there. Someone needs to market these destinations as honeymoon places.
And I need more crazy people around me so that I can say, "Are you crazy?". I can even say that in 7 different ways, really. Maybe you can ask me out for coffee and I could do a little demo for you. But I don't promise.
I think I have started appreciating Indian men. What was I doing all these years? Dreaming about Italians and Brits. You know, only if Indian men weren't such mumma's boys, they'd be perfect! I mean at 64, my Dad still raves about his mother's cooking!
And how beautiful is a relationship between a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law where both love and appreciate each other? It's difficult, this relationship, but when you get it right, it's one of those rare beautiful friendships that has the power to brighten even the dullest moments.
I know what you're thinking, but it's the song. I swear. God promise!
Alright I'll go read some man-hating book now. That should cure!
**Someone please gift me a couple of million dollars!
***I could ask Anoop, but I doubt he'll answer.
September 25, 2010
Than Sorry...
GK is a good friend. She's what you might say, "truly golden at heart". She's funny, sweet and smart but not "chaloo" or clever. She could fool you, but she would never, her conscience would never allow her. She has a fair complexion, green eyes, is pretty. But unlike the rest of her Punjabi family, even remote aunts and uncles, she's short. At 5 feet, she's the oddest member in her entire family--where girls are slender and tall, men broad and tall. She's different.
When GK was conceived, accidentally, her parents decided they did not want a baby so soon. And so they, her parents, decided to opt for abortion. Only later did they realise that the abortion pills had not 'killed' GK, but just stopped her growth. So while GK was born, she was born unhealthy, frail, tiny and many inches short of her family height average.
She's a positive person, but at times, just sometimes, she does lament about her height. If only she could be a few, just a few inches taller.
The moral of the story is pretty obvious. There's the question of someone's, some child's, your child's life, and you're putting it at risk.
When GK was conceived, accidentally, her parents decided they did not want a baby so soon. And so they, her parents, decided to opt for abortion. Only later did they realise that the abortion pills had not 'killed' GK, but just stopped her growth. So while GK was born, she was born unhealthy, frail, tiny and many inches short of her family height average.
She's a positive person, but at times, just sometimes, she does lament about her height. If only she could be a few, just a few inches taller.
The moral of the story is pretty obvious. There's the question of someone's, some child's, your child's life, and you're putting it at risk.
September 23, 2010
Account...
The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.
Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle’s flame.
Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.
I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.
But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own—but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.
The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it’s late. And the truth is laborious.
--Czesław Miłosz
Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle’s flame.
Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.
I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.
But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own—but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.
The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it’s late. And the truth is laborious.
--Czesław Miłosz
And Yet The Books...
And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
“We are, ” they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
--Czesław Miłosz
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
“We are, ” they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
--Czesław Miłosz
September 22, 2010
Ashes and Snow-Feather to Fire
The animal world is so alien to me. Sometimes it feels like they don't exist at all. Only when I see a video like this, I realize...what and how much I am missing. Stunning.
September 21, 2010
At Last...
This is an end of an era.
*****
Time to close the chapter, turn the page
*****
The seas have calmed down, the mist has lifted
*****
So Goodbye to the nightmare that was last year, and hello to the dream that awaits me.
September 20, 2010
The Book...
"The Book"
I want to be the book you take out from the shelf every time you feel lonely,
The one, whose pages you so lovingly turn.
I want to be the book in whose arms you willingly surrender,
Whose musty smell is more precious to you than the scent of a woman.
I want to be the book you hold close to your heart when you fall asleep,
the book that touches your soul.
I want to be the book that lives inside you
&
The one that makes you fall in love.
*****
September 19, 2010
Days with Frog and Toad...
Toad woke up.
"Drat!" he said.
"This house is a mess. I have so much work to do"
Frog looked through the window.
"Toad, you are right," said Frog, "It is a mess."
Toad pulled the covers over his head.
"I will do it tomorrow," said Toad.
"Today I will take life easy."
Frog came into the house.
"Toad," said Frog, "your pants and jacket are lying on the floor."
"Tomorrow," said Toad from under the covers.
"Your kitchen sink is filled with dirty dishes," said Frog.
"Tomorrow," said Toad.
"There is dust on your chairs."
"Tomorrow," said Toad.
"Your windows need scrubbing," said Frog.
"Your plants need watering."
"Tomorrow!" cried Toad.
"I will do it all tomorrow!"
Toad sat on the edge of his bed.
"Blah," said Toad.
"I feel down in the dumps."
"Why?" asked Frog.
"I am thinking about tomorrow," said Toad.
"I am thinking about all of the many things that I will have to do."
"Yes," said Frog, "tomorrow will be a very hard day for you."
"But Frog," said Toad, "if I pick up my pants and jacket right now, then I will not have to pick them up tomorrow, will I?"
"No," said Frog "You will not have to."
Toad picked up his clothes. He put them in the closet.
"Frog," said Toad, "if I wash my dishes right now, then I will not have to wash them tomorrow, will I?"
"No," said Frog. "You will not have to."
Toad washed and dried his dishes. He put them in the cupboard.
"Frog," said Toad, "if I dust my chairs and scrub my windows and water my plants right now, then I will not have to do it tomorrow, will I?"
"No," said Frog. "You will not have to do any of it."
Toad dusted his chairs. He scuibbed his windows. He watered his plants.
"There," said Toad, "Now I feel better. I am not in the dumps anymore."
"Why?" asked Frog.
"Because I have done all that work," said Toad.
"Now I can save tomorrow for something that I really want to do."
"What is that?" asked Frog.
"Tomorrow," said Toad, "I can just take life easy."
Toad went back to bed. He pulled the covers over his head and fell asleep.
From, Days with Frog and Toad. I think we all should go back to reading children's stories.
September 16, 2010
KA 51...
The weirdest thing I heard today was that my Chanel perfume smells like mehendi made specially for brides in North India (Punjab/Delhi). Huh?
*****
Okay, no, this is not fair god. This is not a good joke! How can this guy be such a copy of P? I can't stop staring at him. He's same height as P, same body type, same colour, same freaking hair, similar dressing style, even the way he'll look at you! Same walking style and same cockiness! :| And he codes! The first time I saw him on my floor, I banged into a door, the similarity is so freaking amazing! And then the other day he asks me for names of good restaurants in the city and what do I do? I stutter! Arghhh...why god why?
*****
And I might finally get to be with him. We've been having these on-off torrid affairs for these few past years. Oh, they've been good, I'll tell you that, but they've always left me wanting for more. I lusted after him for years, dreamed of how life would be with him. Dreamed of how it would feel to wake up with him by my side, go about my work with his smell on my clothes, eat food with him (he loves rice), party with him, sleep with his arms around me. And now, maybe we'll have a chance to have a full-blown thing. This city called Bangalore and I. We just might.
I should buy new lingerie. Do you think he'll like white?
*****
Okay, no, this is not fair god. This is not a good joke! How can this guy be such a copy of P? I can't stop staring at him. He's same height as P, same body type, same colour, same freaking hair, similar dressing style, even the way he'll look at you! Same walking style and same cockiness! :| And he codes! The first time I saw him on my floor, I banged into a door, the similarity is so freaking amazing! And then the other day he asks me for names of good restaurants in the city and what do I do? I stutter! Arghhh...why god why?
*****
And I might finally get to be with him. We've been having these on-off torrid affairs for these few past years. Oh, they've been good, I'll tell you that, but they've always left me wanting for more. I lusted after him for years, dreamed of how life would be with him. Dreamed of how it would feel to wake up with him by my side, go about my work with his smell on my clothes, eat food with him (he loves rice), party with him, sleep with his arms around me. And now, maybe we'll have a chance to have a full-blown thing. This city called Bangalore and I. We just might.
I should buy new lingerie. Do you think he'll like white?
Not Running Away...But Coming Closer
I want to go on a road-trip. Badly, badly, very badly. And this time I want it for a longer duration. I want to just roam around places, sights, drink in the local culture, observe daily life in a new place, talk to new people, people I don't normally interact with, listen to new sounds, breathe different air, walk new grounds and learn new lessons. And like last time, I won't be stupid enough to lug a heavy bag around (or make nice boys do it for me :( I feel quite terrible now), just a backpack. Lip-balm, a good suncreen, a pair of shorts/loose pajamas, two t-shirts and ofcourse good shades. And wind in my hair.
Bhagwan, please suno lo!
Bhagwan, please suno lo!
September 15, 2010
An Impassioned Fool...
Oh, this is so simple and beautiful. How many minutes wasted in arguing, fighting, staying mad, in ignoring, in all that awful negativity...and now words are piled up like newspapers in a corner.
Longing
If there could just be a way of getting there
I wouldn’t hesitate to get on the first plane
If there were words to say all that I want to
I would shout at the top of my lungs
If there were tears that I could shed
I would fill an ocean full of them
I wish I could just make you stay
To give you all that I have
To be with you
It’s hard to see you going away
But there is no way to stop you
My heart wrenches at the thought
That it was all my mistake
Oh why couldn’t I understand
How important all of it was
I just pray that someday
We could talk about it all
I can say what I want
Without using any words at all
And you would hear it with your heart
My hands would be in yours
And we would stay like this forever
From Luv Is All You Need.
September 13, 2010
Letter From An Old Man...
My ass hurts from all this sitting. Really, why is there no syndrome for the ass, like the carpal tunnel syndrome? Ass tunnel syndrome? Or is there? And if there is, why do I not know of it?!
Sigh. I need to exercise!
*****
I feel really weird when I see women my age, and more so, younger women who have kids. I remember when I was in Bhutan, almost all girls were 22 and mothers!
And more than weird, I just feel, funny thing, incompetent. Like the universe is taunting me. Or maybe it's just my hormones fucking with me?
But you have to give it to the Big Blue, since the day I stepped into it, I see only and only pregnant females around me! Sometimes I wonder if the big blue actually gives away freebies to women for having babies just to prove that it's "women-friendly". It's scary. And if I wasn't unmarried, I would have considered this a sign from God. But good thing, I am not!
*****
Okay and so what's with male cows having udders? For Christ sake just draw a penis there! Everyone knows they have one, so why be all coy? Or wait a minute, are you telling me cows with udders can't be subversive? Sexism? :O
Sigh. I need to exercise!
*****
I feel really weird when I see women my age, and more so, younger women who have kids. I remember when I was in Bhutan, almost all girls were 22 and mothers!
And more than weird, I just feel, funny thing, incompetent. Like the universe is taunting me. Or maybe it's just my hormones fucking with me?
But you have to give it to the Big Blue, since the day I stepped into it, I see only and only pregnant females around me! Sometimes I wonder if the big blue actually gives away freebies to women for having babies just to prove that it's "women-friendly". It's scary. And if I wasn't unmarried, I would have considered this a sign from God. But good thing, I am not!
*****
Okay and so what's with male cows having udders? For Christ sake just draw a penis there! Everyone knows they have one, so why be all coy? Or wait a minute, are you telling me cows with udders can't be subversive? Sexism? :O
September 12, 2010
A Food Fly...
A morbid thought, but ever wondered how many "need" you in their lives? The success of your living can be measured by not how many people love you, how many will miss you, but how many lives you have impacted, and how many will feel a void when you're gone from theirs. It's a very humbling thought.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri2p2x5cVG8
And it's not too late.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri2p2x5cVG8
And it's not too late.
September 09, 2010
Feathers...
Alright, let's see what happens when I don't give a damn.
*****
I so badly*** want to do that! Take the car and just drive away to unknown places. And for company, I don't even want a Ranbir lookalike. Just smart and funny.
***I'll even cut my hair short. That bad!
*****
I so badly*** want to do that! Take the car and just drive away to unknown places. And for company, I don't even want a Ranbir lookalike. Just smart and funny.
***I'll even cut my hair short. That bad!
September 05, 2010
A Morning...
An uncle in my building passed away today. He was not that old, maybe 50, but had suffered a bypass and had been keeping ill for sometime now. I never talked to uncle, I don't even really remember his face. I am not the social kinds, much to mum's chagrin. All mum's society friends think I am snobbish, but really, I just don't know what to say to them, and smiles don't come easy these days. It's sad, but that's how things stand.
So here I was dreaming away, sitting by my window, and I realized, downstairs they were taking away his body. It felt cruel to be dreaming, when a soul had passed away, when someone's daughter was crying, when someone's wife was desolate, a family was mourning.
You know, how you're always so sure you are going to have the people you have in our life all your life? Like you never think about it. Your family, your friends, you think they are there for you...forever. But what happens when they leave you? What happens when they leave when they are not supposed to leave? When their time is not done...not according to you atleast?
People have come and gone like breeze in my life. Always leaving me behind, they have gone after their dreams, their destinations, to their people. I am used to being left alone. I am used being left behind. There is shock and there's hurt and there's immense anger when they leave. Specially when they were not supposed to leave. Specially when you're not ready to let them go. Specially when you need them. But you are never given a choice.
I have learnt to spend every minute I have with them keeping in mind that they could go any time, with a notice or without one. That the time I have with them will never come back and that I might not get any more in the future too. They might give you enough time to reconcile with the fact that they will no longer be a part of your life, like an ill parent, you'll have enough time to prepare for the eventuality, or like a friend who decides he/she doesn't want to be a part of your life any more, just like that, they might go without a notice. But one day they all have to go. I have made peace with it.
It's a funny thing. Praveen used to say to me that I am a girl with many emotional needs. I have a rainbow of emotions. Which is why I always needed these people around me. Each one different from the other, each one special. Each one in my life had a purpose and a meaning. Each one meant something to me, each one provided in some way. But slowly they all left. And I am learning to fend for myself. My emotions. I am learning to take care of my own emotional needs all by myself. It's not easy, you'll feel lonely more often than you'd like to feel, even for an introvert, but that's how life is. It teaches you things you rather not learn.
*****
The first thing M says these days is "get married". That's how he starts his conversations with me. Maybe he can read what I refuse to acknowledge. And what he says makes sense. Then P and H and a whole bunch of friends have started counselling too. Before going on Caribbean holiday sister gave gyaan on how I should marry now and have kids before it's all too late. And look, ups and downs will be there, she says, but one must do what one must do. And then she said something very cruel, and I hated hearing it. But it's true. Like a wanderer, how long will I go from one guy to another? When will I make a home for myself?
The other day I was making breakfast and mum was sipping her chai, and then in a very unsure voice she says, "Do you like anyone? If you do, why don't you introduce him?" And I went all "huh? what hit you?" Mum has talked about marriage before, and every time she did, I cried like a 3 year old who did not want to be sent away to hostel. Yes, I cried, I bawled and I told her not to talk about such stuff to me. But this time I realised I needed to talk. So I told her I used to like someone and had thought I wanted to spend my whole life with him. But he did not. And so we had a big discussion, she sympathized, showed concern, advised and told me to think about marriage. And I told her I needed time but that I'll give it a thought. She seemed to be okay with it. I guess she was just happy I did not cry this time.
Was speaking to G yesterday. And what she said, much to my dread, made sense. Yes, compromises will have to be made. You have to make peace with things you do not like. He smokes? Too bad, you have to "accept" it. He does not take you out on romantic dinners, too bad, but atleast he offers to help you in the kitchen. Yes, no one is perfect. Like someone said on twitter,
They are people like you and me, all same, with just different shades. And it all comes down to, how much more longer are you willing to walk alone?
So here I was dreaming away, sitting by my window, and I realized, downstairs they were taking away his body. It felt cruel to be dreaming, when a soul had passed away, when someone's daughter was crying, when someone's wife was desolate, a family was mourning.
You know, how you're always so sure you are going to have the people you have in our life all your life? Like you never think about it. Your family, your friends, you think they are there for you...forever. But what happens when they leave you? What happens when they leave when they are not supposed to leave? When their time is not done...not according to you atleast?
People have come and gone like breeze in my life. Always leaving me behind, they have gone after their dreams, their destinations, to their people. I am used to being left alone. I am used being left behind. There is shock and there's hurt and there's immense anger when they leave. Specially when they were not supposed to leave. Specially when you're not ready to let them go. Specially when you need them. But you are never given a choice.
I have learnt to spend every minute I have with them keeping in mind that they could go any time, with a notice or without one. That the time I have with them will never come back and that I might not get any more in the future too. They might give you enough time to reconcile with the fact that they will no longer be a part of your life, like an ill parent, you'll have enough time to prepare for the eventuality, or like a friend who decides he/she doesn't want to be a part of your life any more, just like that, they might go without a notice. But one day they all have to go. I have made peace with it.
It's a funny thing. Praveen used to say to me that I am a girl with many emotional needs. I have a rainbow of emotions. Which is why I always needed these people around me. Each one different from the other, each one special. Each one in my life had a purpose and a meaning. Each one meant something to me, each one provided in some way. But slowly they all left. And I am learning to fend for myself. My emotions. I am learning to take care of my own emotional needs all by myself. It's not easy, you'll feel lonely more often than you'd like to feel, even for an introvert, but that's how life is. It teaches you things you rather not learn.
*****
The first thing M says these days is "get married". That's how he starts his conversations with me. Maybe he can read what I refuse to acknowledge. And what he says makes sense. Then P and H and a whole bunch of friends have started counselling too. Before going on Caribbean holiday sister gave gyaan on how I should marry now and have kids before it's all too late. And look, ups and downs will be there, she says, but one must do what one must do. And then she said something very cruel, and I hated hearing it. But it's true. Like a wanderer, how long will I go from one guy to another? When will I make a home for myself?
The other day I was making breakfast and mum was sipping her chai, and then in a very unsure voice she says, "Do you like anyone? If you do, why don't you introduce him?" And I went all "huh? what hit you?" Mum has talked about marriage before, and every time she did, I cried like a 3 year old who did not want to be sent away to hostel. Yes, I cried, I bawled and I told her not to talk about such stuff to me. But this time I realised I needed to talk. So I told her I used to like someone and had thought I wanted to spend my whole life with him. But he did not. And so we had a big discussion, she sympathized, showed concern, advised and told me to think about marriage. And I told her I needed time but that I'll give it a thought. She seemed to be okay with it. I guess she was just happy I did not cry this time.
Was speaking to G yesterday. And what she said, much to my dread, made sense. Yes, compromises will have to be made. You have to make peace with things you do not like. He smokes? Too bad, you have to "accept" it. He does not take you out on romantic dinners, too bad, but atleast he offers to help you in the kitchen. Yes, no one is perfect. Like someone said on twitter,
There is no one soulmate. No one true love. No one perfect someone. Its all about you getting tired of chasing the perfection. And so any two people are perfect for each other given the right compromises, or disastrous together given the right circumstances.
They are people like you and me, all same, with just different shades. And it all comes down to, how much more longer are you willing to walk alone?
The Magic Carpet...
(If the embedding does not work, go here for the song-->Happy by Sidd Coutto)
Look outside the window. Close your eyes. Let the sunlight fall on your face. You're on a beautiful beach. You're wearing your favourite dress or shirt. You're having a good hair day too. There's breeze, the sea looks happy, the waves say a warm hello. The sky's blue with white fluffy clouds. You are surrounded by all your friends...friends you haven't seen in ages...friends you had forgotten...friends that have drifted apart. Everyone's in a playful mood. Everyone's happy and dancing and singing happy. There's no worry only smiles. Someone pulls you out from the cane chair and you do a little happy jig. There's laughter. There's white sand under your feet, sea shells, your favorite drink in your hand and your sunglasses to make you feel glamorous (though you don't really need those, you feel on top of the world anyway). The air is fragrant...with freedom and laughter and smiles (and tiger prawns).
You look around and you feel...life, as it should be. Happy.
September 04, 2010
Hodophile...
Word for the day: Hodophilia. Someone who gets sexually aroused from travelling.
I totally love this word. And by that definition, I am totally a hodophile! I hope I marry someone who loves travelling. Please god, please please. I'll even learn to pack a lighter bag and carry it myself! I promise.
*****
I loved this article about woman's brain. And I am glad that my reaction to the "silent treatment" is not because I am crazy but it's actually scientifically proven that women hate conflict but lack of response even more. Thank you Live Science!
I totally love this word. And by that definition, I am totally a hodophile! I hope I marry someone who loves travelling. Please god, please please. I'll even learn to pack a lighter bag and carry it myself! I promise.
*****
I loved this article about woman's brain. And I am glad that my reaction to the "silent treatment" is not because I am crazy but it's actually scientifically proven that women hate conflict but lack of response even more. Thank you Live Science!
Once Upon A Time In A Wardrobe...
For the first time in my life, I feel overwhelmed by all the clothes I have. Cleaning wardrobe has always been a therapeutic experience, but for the first time I want to cry. Piles and piles of unused, unnecessary clothes. What am I doing with my life?***
My teenage self would have orgasmed looking at all these shirts, skirts, dresses, scarves, bags, shoes...but at this point in life, I just feel burdened and guilty.
***I never thought clothes would ever elicit such a philosophical question. And it would have been funny, but right now, while I am sittting among mountains of clothes, wondering, what am I going to do now, yes, it's not funny.
My teenage self would have orgasmed looking at all these shirts, skirts, dresses, scarves, bags, shoes...but at this point in life, I just feel burdened and guilty.
***I never thought clothes would ever elicit such a philosophical question. And it would have been funny, but right now, while I am sittting among mountains of clothes, wondering, what am I going to do now, yes, it's not funny.
September 03, 2010
The Sun and Moon Are Best Friends...
I had a difficult time accepting the fact that being sorry also means being okay with not being forgiven.
Just because you're sorry does not mean forgiveness becomes your right. No one owes you forgiveness. It's not something you can demand of the other person. And it's just plain arrogance to think otherwise.
*****
The lyrics of this song never fail to make me smile :)
Just because you're sorry does not mean forgiveness becomes your right. No one owes you forgiveness. It's not something you can demand of the other person. And it's just plain arrogance to think otherwise.
*****
The lyrics of this song never fail to make me smile :)
September 02, 2010
Masochist...
The best way is not to fight it, just go. Don't be trying all the time to fix things. What you run from only stays with you longer. When you fight something, you only make it stronger.
--Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters, 1999
September 01, 2010
The Praying Hands...
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood.
Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, the two elder children, Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines, and with his earnings, support his brother, while he attended the academy. Then, when the brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork, or if necessary, also by labouring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the dangerous mines, and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honoured position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfil his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side, while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No...no...no...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother... for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply 'Hands', but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love 'The Praying Hands'.
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one—no one—ever makes it alone!
Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, the two elder children, Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines, and with his earnings, support his brother, while he attended the academy. Then, when the brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork, or if necessary, also by labouring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the dangerous mines, and for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honoured position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfil his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side, while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No...no...no...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother... for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply 'Hands', but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love 'The Praying Hands'.
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one—no one—ever makes it alone!
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