January 31, 2011
A New Sky...
I am looking for a mountain and a desert, an elephant and a camel, a hawk and a mouse, a new traffic signal and a new chair, a new lamp and a new parachute, a new smell and a brand new mattress, a new cup for my morning chai and plateful of sunshine, a new book and a new reader, new disco balls and new sweat, a new river and some rain...all new and something old...
Frog Pyjamas Are Exciting...
It seems that everyone is bored. Bored of what? Bored of many things. Bored of same things. Bored of life. Bored of waking up everyday, going through the same routine. Bored of being bored. Bored of being sad. Everyone's sad around. Everyone's looking. Everyone's bored of looking too. Looking for what? Looking for life. Something that'll save them. Some think it's love that'll save them. Some think it's a new job, a new fuck, a new city, a new adventure, new friends, a new kitchen, a new waist, a new identity. It seems like everyone's stuck...in a rut...motherfucking rut. Trapped from all side. Everyone's smoking their own stale frustrated breath. Even if it takes a jump from the 18th floor of the office building that'll bring change...well...there are people ready to even do that. It seems the universe is angry with humankind...humans are never kind, sorry, human being...but they have stopped being too. They are just sleepwalking through life...waking up and sleeping back into darkness that resembles their waking hours. We are being punished for something. I don't know what. But we are being punished. And there's nothing left except this painful wait.
January 30, 2011
The Song...
You're wondering if I'm lonely:
OK then, yes, I'm lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean.
You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely
If I'm lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawns' first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep
If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning
--Adrienne Rich
Evening...
It was just another Sunday evening. I had woken up from a nap, made myself a cup of tea, compulsively checked, first Gmail, and then Facebook. I was to meet a couple of friends in the evening, and I should be hurrying up, dressing up...but just like always, I was staring out of the window instead. Watching sun-rays bounce off the glass windows, listening to some bird chirping, watching the dried yellow-brown leaves fly away in the breeze...it was just like one those Sunday evenings. But it was different. You were missing from my life.
It was a very sudden thought. I wasn't prepared to entertain it too. I have walked so far away from you, that I'd scarcely recognise you if you were to stand in front of me today.
And I realise, this is the life I chose. When I sat in this same place, a few years ago, I chose this day, this day without you. I made those decisions.
This is how the day looks like. And whatever it is I chose, I must take the consequences. I must suffer the penalties of wrong decisions and I must celebrate the successes of the right ones.
But it did feel like a completely different life. I had changed so much too.
It was a very sudden thought. I wasn't prepared to entertain it too. I have walked so far away from you, that I'd scarcely recognise you if you were to stand in front of me today.
And I realise, this is the life I chose. When I sat in this same place, a few years ago, I chose this day, this day without you. I made those decisions.
This is how the day looks like. And whatever it is I chose, I must take the consequences. I must suffer the penalties of wrong decisions and I must celebrate the successes of the right ones.
But it did feel like a completely different life. I had changed so much too.
Sunday Reading...
There was a phase when I used to collect smart retorts or witty insults from all over the web. While it's true, that I can dish it out but can't take it, I'll make a concession if you manage to make the insult a witty one. Call me a bimbo, but say it in such a fashion that I'd be forced to laugh with you (and maybe even quote you). But such wit is ofcourse rare.
Though not entirely related, this article on Hollywood movie critics, The Poison Quill of Hollywood, reminded me of the "Greatest Retort" collection I had saved somewhere in my Gmail.
And isn't it sad that no one in Bollywood has the guts nor wit to write a good funny honest review? Sigh, and so we must suffer movies like Tees Maar Khan (where I literally cried).
Moving on, also found this in my archives:Hard Road To Travel. A brilliant read about Mumbai's autowalla's. Do read. One of the few essays I read without checking my Gmail/Facebook constantly.
I remember I was supposed to write an essay for some job I was applying to, and the essay question was: What Indian business do you think has the potential to go global?or Indian product...or an idea?
And I remember Parth had suggested I write about the TATA Nano.
Well, looks like a failed marketing strategy, a major roadblock (read: the manufacturing plant) and ofcourse not enough damage control (read the burning car incident) has reduced my essay to rubbish (which it anyway was). No Takers: Is the Tata Nano Running Out of Gas? A good read on how the Nano went wrong. Sigh, and so much potential it had too.
*****
(A few of my favourite retorts)
Truman Capote was fond of regaling people with an anecdote about one of his finer moments. At the height of his popularity, he was drinking one evening with friends in a crowded Key West bar. Nearby sat a couple, both inebriated. The woman recognized Capote, walked over to his table, and gushingly asked him to autograph a paper napkin. The woman's husband, angry at his wife's display of interest in another man, staggered over to Capote's table and assumed an intimidating position directly in front of the diminutive writer. He then proceeded to unzip his trousers and, in Capote's own words, "hauled out his equipment." As he did this, he bellowed in a drunken slur, "Since you're autographing things, why don't you autograph this?" It was a tense moment, and a hush fell over the room. The silence was a blessing, for it allowed all those within earshot to hear Capote's soft, high-pitched voice deliver the perfect emasculating reply:
"I don't know if I can autograph it, but perhaps I can initial it."
***
After a long day of shooting a film in Hollywood, John Barrymore and some fellow actors stopped in at Lucey's, a popular watering hole near Paramount Studios. After one-too-many drinks, Barrymore excused himself to go to the bathroom. In his slightly inebriated condition, however, he inadvertently chose the ladies' room. As he was relieving himself, a woman entered and was shocked to see a man urinating into one of the toilets. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, "This is for ladies!" The actor turned toward the woman, organ in hand, and resonantly said in full actor's voice:
"And so, madam, is this."
***
Nancy Astor was an American socialite who married into an English branch of the wealthy Astor family (she holds the distinction of being the first woman to be seated in Parliament). At a 1912 dinner party in Blenheim Palace--the Churchill family estate--Lady Astor became annoyed at an inebriated Winston Churchill, who was pontificating on some topic. Unable to take any more, she finally blurted out, "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." Without missing a beat, Churchill replied:
"Nancy, if you were my wife, I'd drink it."
***
In a profession noted for windbags, the 30th U. S. President Calvin Coolidge was a politician of very few words, well deserving the nickname, "Silent Cal" (he once said, "I've never been hurt by something I didn't say"). Coolidge's taciturn style frustrated the many people around him who felt a man of his stature should be more talkative. At a White House dinner one evening, a female guest sidled up to the President and whispered in his ear, "You must talk to me, Mr. President. I made a bet today that I could get more than two words out of you." Coolidge whispered back:
"You lose."
***
Perhaps the most celebrated retort in the history of wit occurred in a famous exchange between two 18th century political rivals, John Montagu, also known as the Earl of Sandwich, and the reformist politician, John Wilkes. During a heated argument, Montagu scowled at Wilkes and said derisively, "Upon my soul, Wilkes, I don't know whether you'll die upon the gallows, or of syphilis" (some versions of the story say "a vile disease" and others "the pox"). Unfazed, Wilkes came back with what many people regard as the greatest retort of all time:
"That will depend, my Lord, on whether I embrace your principles, or your mistress."
Though not entirely related, this article on Hollywood movie critics, The Poison Quill of Hollywood, reminded me of the "Greatest Retort" collection I had saved somewhere in my Gmail.
And isn't it sad that no one in Bollywood has the guts nor wit to write a good funny honest review? Sigh, and so we must suffer movies like Tees Maar Khan (where I literally cried).
Moving on, also found this in my archives:Hard Road To Travel. A brilliant read about Mumbai's autowalla's. Do read. One of the few essays I read without checking my Gmail/Facebook constantly.
I remember I was supposed to write an essay for some job I was applying to, and the essay question was: What Indian business do you think has the potential to go global?or Indian product...or an idea?
And I remember Parth had suggested I write about the TATA Nano.
Well, looks like a failed marketing strategy, a major roadblock (read: the manufacturing plant) and ofcourse not enough damage control (read the burning car incident) has reduced my essay to rubbish (which it anyway was). No Takers: Is the Tata Nano Running Out of Gas? A good read on how the Nano went wrong. Sigh, and so much potential it had too.
*****
(A few of my favourite retorts)
Truman Capote was fond of regaling people with an anecdote about one of his finer moments. At the height of his popularity, he was drinking one evening with friends in a crowded Key West bar. Nearby sat a couple, both inebriated. The woman recognized Capote, walked over to his table, and gushingly asked him to autograph a paper napkin. The woman's husband, angry at his wife's display of interest in another man, staggered over to Capote's table and assumed an intimidating position directly in front of the diminutive writer. He then proceeded to unzip his trousers and, in Capote's own words, "hauled out his equipment." As he did this, he bellowed in a drunken slur, "Since you're autographing things, why don't you autograph this?" It was a tense moment, and a hush fell over the room. The silence was a blessing, for it allowed all those within earshot to hear Capote's soft, high-pitched voice deliver the perfect emasculating reply:
"I don't know if I can autograph it, but perhaps I can initial it."
***
After a long day of shooting a film in Hollywood, John Barrymore and some fellow actors stopped in at Lucey's, a popular watering hole near Paramount Studios. After one-too-many drinks, Barrymore excused himself to go to the bathroom. In his slightly inebriated condition, however, he inadvertently chose the ladies' room. As he was relieving himself, a woman entered and was shocked to see a man urinating into one of the toilets. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, "This is for ladies!" The actor turned toward the woman, organ in hand, and resonantly said in full actor's voice:
"And so, madam, is this."
***
Nancy Astor was an American socialite who married into an English branch of the wealthy Astor family (she holds the distinction of being the first woman to be seated in Parliament). At a 1912 dinner party in Blenheim Palace--the Churchill family estate--Lady Astor became annoyed at an inebriated Winston Churchill, who was pontificating on some topic. Unable to take any more, she finally blurted out, "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." Without missing a beat, Churchill replied:
"Nancy, if you were my wife, I'd drink it."
***
In a profession noted for windbags, the 30th U. S. President Calvin Coolidge was a politician of very few words, well deserving the nickname, "Silent Cal" (he once said, "I've never been hurt by something I didn't say"). Coolidge's taciturn style frustrated the many people around him who felt a man of his stature should be more talkative. At a White House dinner one evening, a female guest sidled up to the President and whispered in his ear, "You must talk to me, Mr. President. I made a bet today that I could get more than two words out of you." Coolidge whispered back:
"You lose."
***
Perhaps the most celebrated retort in the history of wit occurred in a famous exchange between two 18th century political rivals, John Montagu, also known as the Earl of Sandwich, and the reformist politician, John Wilkes. During a heated argument, Montagu scowled at Wilkes and said derisively, "Upon my soul, Wilkes, I don't know whether you'll die upon the gallows, or of syphilis" (some versions of the story say "a vile disease" and others "the pox"). Unfazed, Wilkes came back with what many people regard as the greatest retort of all time:
"That will depend, my Lord, on whether I embrace your principles, or your mistress."
Another Roadside Attraction...
I am in love with this guy! If I could, I would quote his every word!
*****
"Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not.
Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end.
Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
There is only one serious question. And that is: Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself."
— Tom Robbins
*****
"People tend the take everything too seriously. Especially themselves. Yep. And that's probably what makes 'em scared and hurt so much of the time. Life is too serious to take that seriously."
— Tom Robbins
*****
"Love easily confuses us because it is always in flux between illusion and substance, between memory and wish, between contentment and need."
— Tom Robbins (Even Cowgirls Get the Blues)
*****
Perfume is a disguise. Since the middle ages, we have worn masks of fruit and flowers in order to conceal from ourselves the meaty essence of our humanity. We appreciate the sexual attractant of the rose, the ripeness of the orange, more than we honor our own ripe carnality.
Now today we want to perfume our cities, as well; to replace their stinging fumes of disturbed fossils' sleep with the scent of gardens and orchards. Yet, humans are not bees any more than they are blossoms. If we must pull an olfactory hood over our urban environment, let it be of a different nature.
I want to travel on a train that smells like snowflakes.
I want to sip in cafes that smell like comets.
Under the pressure of my step, I want the streets to emit the precise odor of a diamond necklace.
I want the newspapers I read to smell like the violins left in pawnshops by weeping hobos on Christmas Eve.
I want to carry luggage that reeks of the neurons in Einstein's brain.
I want a city's gases to smell like the golden belly hairs of the gods.
And when I gaze at a televised picture of the moon, I want to detect, from a distance of 239,000 miles, the aroma of fresh mozzarella."
— Tom Robbins (Wild Ducks Flying Backward)
*****
"Three of the four elements are shared by all creatures, but fire was a gift to humans alone. Smoking cigarettes is as intimate as we can become with fire without immediate excruciation. Every smoker is an embodiment of Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and bringing it on back home. We smoke to capture the power of the sun, to pacify Hell, to identify with the primordial spark, to feed on them arrow of the volcano. It's not the tobacco we're after but the fire. When we smoke, we are performing a version of the fire dance, a ritual as ancient as lightning."
— Tom Robbins (Still Life with Woodpecker)
*****
"Our lives are not as limited as we think they are; the world is a wonderfully weird place; consensual reality is significantly flawed; no institution can be trusted, but love does work; all things are possible; and we all could be happy and fulfilled if we only had the guts to be truly free and the wisdom to shrink our egos and quit taking ourselves so damn seriously."
— Tom Robbins
*****
"If you lack the iron and the fuzz to take control of your own life, if you insist on leaving your fate to the gods, then the gods will repay your weakness by having a grin or two at your expense. Should you fail to pilot your own ship, don't be surprised at what inappropriate port you find yourself docked. The dull and prosaic will be granted adventures that will dice their central nervous systems like an onion, romantic dreamers will end up in the rope yard. You may protest that it is too much to ask of an uneducated fifteen-year-old girl that she defy her family, her society, her weighty cultural and religious heritage in order to pursue a dream that she doesn't really understand. Of course it is asking too much. The price of self-destiny is never cheap, and in certain situations it is unthinkable. But to achieve the marvelous, it is precisely the unthinkable that must be thought."
— Tom Robbins (Jitterbug Perfume)
January 29, 2011
Rooted...
Her incapability to deal with more than one relationship at a time was something I never understood. It was like she could entertain only one person at a time, all her energies focussed only on that one person, irrespective of how it affected other relationships in her life. Her Biggest failure was perhaps this.
In the days I spent living with her, I realised, there were many lessons to be learnt. The biggest perhaps was knowing how to deal with others.
Her second failure, which made things much worse for her, was her further inability to prioritize relationships. She was never able to judge which were more important and which not. Should one jeopardize one's close relationships for the inferior ones? Yes, sometimes it was okay to let a distant friend be upset if it meant keeping the important ones happy. Sometimes, it was okay to overlook the important one's mistake, sometimes it was okay to take sides even if the close one was in the wrong.
It was only after studying her that I completely understood the difference between what "one should do" and what "one must do". Right was after all an abstract concept. In relationships, atleast. She taught me, in failing to understand herself, that "appropriate" was right.
It was sad how she went about life with a relationship blindfold, with a rigid view of what was right and wrong, no matter who got hurt in the end. And this was why she was so unhappy.
In the days I spent living with her, I realised, there were many lessons to be learnt. The biggest perhaps was knowing how to deal with others.
Her second failure, which made things much worse for her, was her further inability to prioritize relationships. She was never able to judge which were more important and which not. Should one jeopardize one's close relationships for the inferior ones? Yes, sometimes it was okay to let a distant friend be upset if it meant keeping the important ones happy. Sometimes, it was okay to overlook the important one's mistake, sometimes it was okay to take sides even if the close one was in the wrong.
It was only after studying her that I completely understood the difference between what "one should do" and what "one must do". Right was after all an abstract concept. In relationships, atleast. She taught me, in failing to understand herself, that "appropriate" was right.
It was sad how she went about life with a relationship blindfold, with a rigid view of what was right and wrong, no matter who got hurt in the end. And this was why she was so unhappy.
A Revelation
Dealing With Assange and the Secrets He Spilled
A good read about how Assange contacted news agencies, how the agencies went about the business of publishing the secrets and everything thereafter.
A good read about how Assange contacted news agencies, how the agencies went about the business of publishing the secrets and everything thereafter.
January 28, 2011
I Skipped A Heartbeat...
Listen,
I never dreamed
I would learn to love you so.
You are as flawed
as my vision
As short tempered
as my breath.
Every time you say
you love me
I look for shelter.
But these matters are small.
Lying entranced
by your troubled life
within as without your arms
I am once again
Scholarly.
Studying a way
that is not mine.
Proof of evolution's
variegation.
You would choose
not to come back again,
you say.
Except perhaps
as rock or tree.
But listen, love. Though human,
that is what you are
already
to this student, absorbed.
Human tree and rock already,
to me.
--Alice Walker
Purple...
So there's this friend who insists on paying every time we go out for dinner or movies or whatever, and I have to literally fight with him for him to accept money***. And the other day, some 10 of us were sitting in an expensive cafe for some late night snacks. The bill came to a cool 7k, and like always, we started going through the bill to see who owed what. But this guy just went ahead and paid it all! The first thing that went through my mind was, "Is he mad?" and then second thing, "I would never marry this guy. He's so careless with his money! Who pays 7k just like that?" It's not that one can't spend money on one's friends, but those were all my friends! He didn't know anyone anyway! And paying for strangers?
I just found it funny how your perspectives change as you grow up. At one point, perhaps, I would have thought the gesture sweet. Now I think, stupid.
***I don't mind being pampered, but only if I am dating the guy. Otherwise, I can pay my own bills, thank you.
*****
I also think the few days/months before a guy gets married are the best times for him to openly flirt with other girls without being lynched. The to-be wife is busy preparing for the wedding, so she's not going to be bothered with what the guy does 24/7, and the guy? Well, everyone knows he's getting married in a few days, so well, you see, other girls are "safe" from him. He can flirt and hit on you and end it all with, "Hey I was just kidding, I am getting married to the love of my life in a few days after all!" And add an enthusiastic, "I can't wait for the day!" for extra safety. And also the girl can not complain about his flirtatious ways cause she'll be accused of "thinking too much" if she does. "He's a committed guy now." And so you have to put up with lingerie shopping with these soon-to-be-married guy friends and shop for Valentine's day for their sweet-to-be-wives :| Can anything be more torturous?
I just found it funny how your perspectives change as you grow up. At one point, perhaps, I would have thought the gesture sweet. Now I think, stupid.
***I don't mind being pampered, but only if I am dating the guy. Otherwise, I can pay my own bills, thank you.
*****
I also think the few days/months before a guy gets married are the best times for him to openly flirt with other girls without being lynched. The to-be wife is busy preparing for the wedding, so she's not going to be bothered with what the guy does 24/7, and the guy? Well, everyone knows he's getting married in a few days, so well, you see, other girls are "safe" from him. He can flirt and hit on you and end it all with, "Hey I was just kidding, I am getting married to the love of my life in a few days after all!" And add an enthusiastic, "I can't wait for the day!" for extra safety. And also the girl can not complain about his flirtatious ways cause she'll be accused of "thinking too much" if she does. "He's a committed guy now." And so you have to put up with lingerie shopping with these soon-to-be-married guy friends and shop for Valentine's day for their sweet-to-be-wives :| Can anything be more torturous?
Toothpaste For Breakfast...
She had the potential to be a brilliant actress, but she could never be. For she was way too self-conscious to be somebody else in public. In private though, it was a whole different story. So many, so many wonderful characters stuffed inside one person. A siren today, a saint tomorrow. A selfish, unforgiving woman today, a loving caring mother tomorrow. Unlike an onion, the more you peeled, the more there was to her. Her ability to transform herself into someone totally contrasting, that too with the ease of a chameleon, was truly magical. She could be so much more, Austin thought. He never understood why she had let such talent go to waste.
*****
Never black or white. Never the villain and never quite the hero. Always grey. Always.
****
Her goodness, Ray thought, was her undoing. She cursed herself often, but that's all she could do. Goodness was in her blood and try as she could, her tears would not wash it away.
*****
She was crying today. Again.
"Why can't he see how much I love him? Why can't he see it? Why does he behave in such a fashion! I don't understand Doris! I had just called to tell him about, you know, about this new job. And he yelled at me."
"Why don't you see? He wants someone else. Someone you are not. You're too simple for him."
"What do you mean? What should I be then?"
"See, that's the problem. You don't understand him Nina. He wants a woman, not a child. You have to stop needing him first. Only then will he come to you."
"That's not possible. I can't not need him. I live only for him."
"I know", Doris said.
*****
In the later years he was a different man. So completely different from the one she knew from many many moons ago, that it thoroughly confused her. Was the one she knew once-upon-a-time, the real him? Or the one that stood in front of her now? Maybe she never really knew him. Or perhaps this was his hidden side she thought, now emerged. But why, now?
Time loved a good laugh as much as God did. Perhaps they were buddies, she thought. Each playfully competing with the other to script the next funny tale. God, poor guy, always blamed and cursed, was infact quite predictable. You do good, you get good. You do bad, you get bad. Infact, God was an easy guy. You could bribe him with cows and sweets, and he would do your bidding. Time, impish, loved playing pranks. With Time, anything was possible.
What God couldn't do, Time did with much cleverness.
And what wouldn't Time do? He could turn the King into the court Jester and as easily place the Jester in the king's throne. Only Time could reveal that the shiny crown was nothing but a rusted piece of scrap.
Oh yes, Time was a funny guy. And that man who stood in front of her, he was a bad joke.
January 27, 2011
Morning Dew...
You come to me as the night blossoms into a diamond beauty, and you take my hands in your hands and tell me that the moon looks beautiful in my eyes today, not so forlorn after all. You smile at me and the rhythm of knots in my stomach drowns even the melody the waves create. You brush my shoulders and the night shivers. Your hands sink into my hair and the moon blushes and hides behind the clouds. Wrapped in the folds of the night we sink into the soft cool sand and unlock the secrets the night hides from us. In your arms, I find my world.
But as the night fog lifts, you disappear as mysteriously as you came. And I am left to wonder if you were perhaps just a dream.
But as the night fog lifts, you disappear as mysteriously as you came. And I am left to wonder if you were perhaps just a dream.
She Will Be Loved...
Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I’ve had you so many times but somehow
I want more
I don’t mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get insecure
It doesn’t matter anymore
It’s not always rainbows and butterflies
It’s compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door’s always open
You can come anytime you want
I don’t mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls
January 25, 2011
A Life Called Grace...
"We cannot transform our lives, unless we allow them to be transformed by that stroke of grace. It happens; or it does not happen. And certainly it does not happen if we try to force it upon ourselves, just as it shall not happen so long as we think, in our self-complacency, that we have no need of it.
Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged. It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage.
Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: "You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!" If that happens to us, we experience grace. After such an experience we may not be better than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed. In that moment, grace conquers sin, and reconciliation bridges the gulf of estrangement. And nothing is demanded of this experience, no religious or moral or intellectual presupposition, nothing but acceptance."
From The Shaking of the Foundations by Paul Tillich
Waterbirds...
Still dreaming of the thicketed field
Salty marsh fed by the tidal stream
Look down the flush
Sleeping deep in the brush
The night brings the hush
I can hear the current
Hidden by the knees of the cyprus trees
The insects chirping underneath the leaves
When you kiss me, you really kiss me
Tell me how can you resist me
Did we ever reveal?
This is all that we need
Did we ever reveal?
This is all that we need
Dogfight...
Life, you are cruel. You toss me left and right and you call it my destiny. You take away things I hold dear, and you ask me to lose my fears. You take my loved ones, and you ask me to let go. You shatter my dreams and tell me to start again. You laugh at me and ask me to wipe my tears. You ask me to give in to my destiny, meekly. But you forgot what you made me. You made me a rebel. Have I ever done what you wanted me to do? Have I ever done what they wanted me to do? You take everything from me but you can't take this fight from me. So yea, I'll humour you this time too. I'll fight for what's mine. You take away my dreams and I'll take them back from you.
*****
The hardest thing in life is forgetting what you were, what you once had, how you once felt.
And starting again. With a new you.
After all, a new war requires a new strategy.
*****
The hardest thing in life is forgetting what you were, what you once had, how you once felt.
And starting again. With a new you.
After all, a new war requires a new strategy.
An Ode...
You might not be with me now, but I am not without you. I am always carrying you all with me. I am made up of all those I loved and all those who loved me-friends. The part of me that thinks twice before speaking now, that part belongs to you. The part of me that reminds me to try harder every time I hit a low, that belongs to you. The one that makes me yearn for love, ever-lasting happy love, that belongs to you. The part that makes me feel good about myself, that belongs to you. The part of me that's strong and confident, that belongs to you. The part of me that reminds me to be silly, that belongs to you. The one that makes me want to be my best, that belongs to you. The part of me that loves, that too, belongs to you. The part of me that's fun, that belong to you. The part of me that has learned to compromise, sacrifice, be unselfish, that belongs to you.
I am made up of all these you's, people who have come into my life, loved me and given me something I will always cherish:Friendship.They've become a part of me. And the best parts of me, they belong to them-Friends.
January 24, 2011
A Lost World...
I remember I must have been in the 6th grade and I was visiting my cousin brother, who was practising for that evening's concert. And like always, he sang for me and asked me how I liked it. Ofcourse, back then I never understood classical music (I don't understand it even now). I was more into the English boy-bands like all girls my age. But I liked listening to him, he did sing well. And I remember he paused after a stanza, smiled at me and told me, "When you hear classical Hindustani music, you move your head, you close your eyes and unbeknownst to you, your head sways. When you hear English music, you tap your feet." Do you see the difference? Classical music deserved the crown, while English pop music's place was at your feet.
And it's really sad that, we(today's generation) have neither the appreciation nor respect for our own music. And what music it is! If you see the stats for Pandit Bhimsen Joshi's Bangari Mori, you'll see it's popular with 34-64 year old males. That's bad now, isn't it? No 21 year old boys? No 26 year old girls? I feel it's left to us, our generation, to keep our music alive, to take it forward. To keep it alive by listening to it. But none of us have even heard of these maestros. And worse still, we don't have any inclination to listen to them. We instead listen to Justin Beibers and Lady Gaga( I am guilty of the same, not Beiber though!).
I wonder if our children will ever know of these maestros. I wonder if they'll ever hear Hindustani classical music. I hope they do. And unlike us, I hope, they learn to appreciate it.
And it's really sad that, we(today's generation) have neither the appreciation nor respect for our own music. And what music it is! If you see the stats for Pandit Bhimsen Joshi's Bangari Mori, you'll see it's popular with 34-64 year old males. That's bad now, isn't it? No 21 year old boys? No 26 year old girls? I feel it's left to us, our generation, to keep our music alive, to take it forward. To keep it alive by listening to it. But none of us have even heard of these maestros. And worse still, we don't have any inclination to listen to them. We instead listen to Justin Beibers and Lady Gaga( I am guilty of the same, not Beiber though!).
I wonder if our children will ever know of these maestros. I wonder if they'll ever hear Hindustani classical music. I hope they do. And unlike us, I hope, they learn to appreciate it.
Perpetually Yours...
I remember a friend once asked me if I would ever like a guy who is a perfect and all, speaks excellent Hindi but speaks bad English. And I remember answering in negative.
Now I am no Chaucer's daughter, infact, I more often than not look up grammar rules online and my pronunciations can be terrible at times. So, I shouldn't be ideally pointing finger at other people and I tried liking someone other than Shakespeare. But no, really, I can not. I can not like a guy who says, "I was hurted last night by your comments." Or, "Still fired?". He meant, "Are you still mad at me".
And I can't even be friends, BFF kind of friend, with someone who says, "It's not hare, it's there." Or, "It didn't worked".
My answer remains the same. No.
Now I am no Chaucer's daughter, infact, I more often than not look up grammar rules online and my pronunciations can be terrible at times. So, I shouldn't be ideally pointing finger at other people and I tried liking someone other than Shakespeare. But no, really, I can not. I can not like a guy who says, "I was hurted last night by your comments." Or, "Still fired?". He meant, "Are you still mad at me".
And I can't even be friends, BFF kind of friend, with someone who says, "It's not hare, it's there." Or, "It didn't worked".
My answer remains the same. No.
Truth And Dare...
I have eaten enough grapes to make a barrel full of wine today and so I am going to use that as an excuse to totally write things I shouldn't be writing. But I do stupid things when drunk like drop cabbage in my dress and shout loudly, "There's cab in my tra, someone remove it". Or then refuse any assistance and go fall from the stairs and cry loudly much to the embarrassment of everyone. And nice friends console thinking I am crying over a guy, but in reality I am crying cause I have hurt my ass so bad, it's black-blue the next day, from the fall :|. Now that I have exhibited enough stupidity, let's play a game, shall we? Truth or Dare anyone? Oooooh, lookie! The bottle points at me! Awesome! Let's get started with it then. Without further ado, let me begin.
Are you ready then?
Okay. So it was a dark stormy night...and I was sitting by the window, my poor little window, and I wondered, like I always do. About what? What else do you think? About the only thing this blog has been hearing for the past 20 years or so (promise after this I will write only about football, food, Laetitia Casta and maybe economics)
Anyway, heartbreaks and failed romantic relationships are a part of everyone's lives. And we always want things to work out but they don't and we are left to wonder why. If there's one word that has featured with unfailing regularity in my life, it is the word-Why (From the time I could speak, mum says, I always asked questions. Why this happens, why that happens, why I can't do that, why you can't do that, etc etc. (Yes, I have always been a pain). She had only one answer to my constant whys-I don't know. Smart her. And so, disappointed and angry I would decide to find the whys myself and I would find the answers too! Smart me too :)).
I am sure people spend much thought over why a certain friendship fails. A parent-child relationship? And I am sure many grey cells are used up pondering over why a romantic relationship failed. And I wondered too. And every time I thought, I blamed destiny. Maybe it wasn't meant to be I would say. Since we are playing truth or dare, the truth is that it isn't the truth. And I can't run away from the truth any longer. I need to face the truth and act on it. Trouble of being 26, you need to own upto things you don't want to. It's called growing up :| Anyway, I can't be lying and cheating myself like this- by refusing to accept the truth and blaming destiny, blaming them, blaming my astrologer, blaming friends, blaming anything and everything, except myself-I need to put the blame where it belongs.
The truth is, I am scared of being in a relationship. I crave companionship and love and romance, as much as the next girl, but the minute I get close, I run away from it. I get claustrophobic. I go back and forth in my mind about wanting to be with this guy. Should I? Should I not? (Bloody nonsense!) The minute the guy shows any emotions (even supposed emotions), I freak out. Next course of action? I find flaws in him. I find reasons why things won't work. I find excuses to walk away. I look for anything that will give me a reason to run away. I just need one reason to walk away and I take it and I run with it. I walk away emotionally.
I have liked intelligent strong men. Who knew what they wanted, all along. Who were sure if they wanted to be with me, or not. It was me, who was never sure. It was me being indecisive. It was me, acting out and not wanting things and not appreciating when I had them and then crying when I didn't have them. It was me driving them to a point where they no longer were sure too.
Unnecessary drama and complication, friends will say. I agree, but at the root, it was fear acting out.
I remember heaving a sigh of relief when a certain relationship ended. And later I sat by the window and cried about it for days. Nay, months. I did the same with the next and okay, I am giving away the count now.
Thing about relationships is that it won't ever flourish, unless both people are ready to be honest with each other. Unless there's truth and trust. Unless there's transparency. I am ashamed to say, I have never been honest, in a way, that I have always kept myself aloof, hidden. I have never been vulnerable. I was too scared to be vulnerable. I don't think I ever did justice to any of those guys. Cause while they lay there bare, naked emotions and dreams, heart and mind, I heard and looked, but I hid myself cause I was so afraid.
I am not strong (unlike what friends think) or perfect (no one anyway thinks that) or even close to perfect (not even that). I am flawed, blemished and hurt and weak and sappy, extremely silly, confused, and really really scared. And I am a coward (And you'd never know it). Right now, being vulnerable is the hardest thing for me. But I need to be okay with being vulnerable. I need to be okay with being seen as flawed and imperfect. I need to stop being scared and evasive and, unemotional. Really! For the love of God, am I making this into a very trashy melodrama? Oh, who am I fooling! It's tougher than climbing the everest. Being Vulnerable. Cause I have never done it. Good lord!
But I guess, this is the first step toward me being vulnerable. It begins right here for me. I need to hit that publish button! :|
Alright, look, I don't like hogging all the limelight. Let's hear you talk now, okay starfruit? Humour me.
P.S: I am going to so regret eating grapes tomorrow morning.
P.S.S: Munira, I am so envious of you. You could always so easily be vulnerable.You always stood there fearless with your flaws, joked about them even, and you so easily shared your fears. You could so easily cry about your failures and I wouldn't shed one tear, lest I be seen weak. You could so easily talk about your shortcomings, about your imperfections, and that endeared you to me, to everyone I know. Even when you were so wrong, you never judged yourself. And I always envied you for that quality of yours. Never lose it.
Are you ready then?
Okay. So it was a dark stormy night...and I was sitting by the window, my poor little window, and I wondered, like I always do. About what? What else do you think? About the only thing this blog has been hearing for the past 20 years or so (promise after this I will write only about football, food, Laetitia Casta and maybe economics)
Anyway, heartbreaks and failed romantic relationships are a part of everyone's lives. And we always want things to work out but they don't and we are left to wonder why. If there's one word that has featured with unfailing regularity in my life, it is the word-Why (From the time I could speak, mum says, I always asked questions. Why this happens, why that happens, why I can't do that, why you can't do that, etc etc. (Yes, I have always been a pain). She had only one answer to my constant whys-I don't know. Smart her. And so, disappointed and angry I would decide to find the whys myself and I would find the answers too! Smart me too :)).
I am sure people spend much thought over why a certain friendship fails. A parent-child relationship? And I am sure many grey cells are used up pondering over why a romantic relationship failed. And I wondered too. And every time I thought, I blamed destiny. Maybe it wasn't meant to be I would say. Since we are playing truth or dare, the truth is that it isn't the truth. And I can't run away from the truth any longer. I need to face the truth and act on it. Trouble of being 26, you need to own upto things you don't want to. It's called growing up :| Anyway, I can't be lying and cheating myself like this- by refusing to accept the truth and blaming destiny, blaming them, blaming my astrologer, blaming friends, blaming anything and everything, except myself-I need to put the blame where it belongs.
The truth is, I am scared of being in a relationship. I crave companionship and love and romance, as much as the next girl, but the minute I get close, I run away from it. I get claustrophobic. I go back and forth in my mind about wanting to be with this guy. Should I? Should I not? (Bloody nonsense!) The minute the guy shows any emotions (even supposed emotions), I freak out. Next course of action? I find flaws in him. I find reasons why things won't work. I find excuses to walk away. I look for anything that will give me a reason to run away. I just need one reason to walk away and I take it and I run with it. I walk away emotionally.
I have liked intelligent strong men. Who knew what they wanted, all along. Who were sure if they wanted to be with me, or not. It was me, who was never sure. It was me being indecisive. It was me, acting out and not wanting things and not appreciating when I had them and then crying when I didn't have them. It was me driving them to a point where they no longer were sure too.
Unnecessary drama and complication, friends will say. I agree, but at the root, it was fear acting out.
I remember heaving a sigh of relief when a certain relationship ended. And later I sat by the window and cried about it for days. Nay, months. I did the same with the next and okay, I am giving away the count now.
Thing about relationships is that it won't ever flourish, unless both people are ready to be honest with each other. Unless there's truth and trust. Unless there's transparency. I am ashamed to say, I have never been honest, in a way, that I have always kept myself aloof, hidden. I have never been vulnerable. I was too scared to be vulnerable. I don't think I ever did justice to any of those guys. Cause while they lay there bare, naked emotions and dreams, heart and mind, I heard and looked, but I hid myself cause I was so afraid.
I am not strong (unlike what friends think) or perfect (no one anyway thinks that) or even close to perfect (not even that). I am flawed, blemished and hurt and weak and sappy, extremely silly, confused, and really really scared. And I am a coward (And you'd never know it). Right now, being vulnerable is the hardest thing for me. But I need to be okay with being vulnerable. I need to be okay with being seen as flawed and imperfect. I need to stop being scared and evasive and, unemotional. Really! For the love of God, am I making this into a very trashy melodrama? Oh, who am I fooling! It's tougher than climbing the everest. Being Vulnerable. Cause I have never done it. Good lord!
But I guess, this is the first step toward me being vulnerable. It begins right here for me. I need to hit that publish button! :|
Alright, look, I don't like hogging all the limelight. Let's hear you talk now, okay starfruit? Humour me.
P.S: I am going to so regret eating grapes tomorrow morning.
P.S.S: Munira, I am so envious of you. You could always so easily be vulnerable.You always stood there fearless with your flaws, joked about them even, and you so easily shared your fears. You could so easily cry about your failures and I wouldn't shed one tear, lest I be seen weak. You could so easily talk about your shortcomings, about your imperfections, and that endeared you to me, to everyone I know. Even when you were so wrong, you never judged yourself. And I always envied you for that quality of yours. Never lose it.
Eyes Open...
You could be happy and I won't know
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go
And all the things that I wished I had not said
Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head
Is it too late to remind you how we were
But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur
Most of what I remember makes me sure
I should have stopped you from walking out the door
You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far
Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true
Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do
More than anything I want to see you, girl
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world
*****
What if we forget the past and meet again? Do you think we will be friends again? Will we pass each other like strangers on the subway, never to meet again? Or do you think, we will still feel the connection, even for a second?
January 23, 2011
In These Shoes?
I once met a man with a sense of adventure
He was dressed to thrill wherever he went
He said "Let's make love on a mountain top
Under the stars on a big hard rock"
I said "In these shoes?
I don't think so"
I said "Honey, let's do it here."
So I'm sitting at a bar in Guadalajara
In walks a guy with a faraway look in his eyes
He said "I've got as powerful horse outside
Climb on the back, I'll take you for a ride
I know a little place, we can get there for the break of day."
I said "In these shoes?
No way, Jose"
I said "Honey, let's stay right here."
No le gusta caminar. No puede montar a caballo
(She don't like to walk. She can't ride a horse)
Como se puede bailar? Es un escandalo
(How can she be dancing? It scandalous! )
Then I met an Englishman
"Oh" he said
"What are you afraid of"
"Won't you walk up and down my spine,
It makes me feel strangely alive."
I said "In these shoes?
I doubt you'd survive."
I said "Honey, let's do it.
Let's stay right here."
No le gusta caminar. No puede montar a caballo
(I don't like to walk. He can't ride the horse)
Como se puede bailar? Es un escandalo
(How can one dance? It is a scandal)
January 22, 2011
The Empty Net...
I have been sitting under this darkening sky, by the melody of waves and laughter of the breeze, I have been waiting for you for centuries. Wanting to share my joys and my loneliness, I have been waiting all my life for you. And you still won't come.
And now I am sinking under this heaviness of wait and soon I will be buried under the sand of time. But you still won't come.
And now I wonder if you ever existed.
And now I am sinking under this heaviness of wait and soon I will be buried under the sand of time. But you still won't come.
And now I wonder if you ever existed.
The Indian Memory Project
My grandparents, paternal ones, died when I was just a baby, and so other than an old photo and the stories dad told us a few times when we were kids, I don't know much about them. And not having grandparents was something I always felt bad about. I always wanted to have a big house with lots of cousins and lots of aunts and uncles and grandparents. I wanted to sit by their feet on a summer afternoon, sip aam-panna, and listen to their stories; stories from their younger days and stories about the pre-Independence India.
Though that can never happen now, they are long dead, this wonderful website, managed to give me a precious peek into the lives of many such grandparents and their stories. A treasure trove for history enthusiasts. Do have a look.
January 21, 2011
Bake Not Roast...
I almost want to buy an Aga cooker myself. It seems, literally, something magical.
David Ogilvy's The Theory and Practice of Selling the Aga Cooker.
What a manual!
David Ogilvy's The Theory and Practice of Selling the Aga Cooker.
What a manual!
Whisper Of Sighs...
The physical distance is not what separates us. That, I could journey alone. I would travel oceans and continents to be with you. The distance that upsets me is the one between our hearts. That, I can not walk alone, even if I want to.
January 20, 2011
Living In Sin...
"Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you...it means that you do not treat your body as a commodity with which to purchase superficial intimacy or economic security; for our bodies to be treated as objects, our minds are in mortal danger. It means insisting that those to whom you give your friendship and love are able to respect your mind. It means being able to say, with Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre: "I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all the extraneous delights should be withheld or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.
Responsibility to yourself means that you don't fall for shallow and easy solutions--predigested books and ideas...marrying early as an escape from real decisions, getting pregnant as an evasion of already existing problems. It means that you refuse to sell your talents and aspirations short...
...Once we begin to feel committed to our lives, responsible to ourselves, we can never again be satisfied with the old, passive way."
— Adrienne Rich
Five Regrets Of Dying...
For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those who had gone home to die. Some incredibly special times were shared. I was with them for the last three to twelve weeks of their lives.
(Read the whole article)
When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:
1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.
It is very important to try and honour at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.
2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.
This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.
By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.
We cannot control the reactions of others. However, people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, but in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.
It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.
This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to themselves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.
When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.
Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly.
Choose happiness.
(Read the whole article)
When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:
1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.
It is very important to try and honour at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.
2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.
This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.
By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.
We cannot control the reactions of others. However, people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, but in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.
It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.
This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to themselves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.
When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.
Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly.
Choose happiness.
A Lifetime Of Compromises...
The second thing that came to my mind, maybe "put into my mind" would be more appropriate, when I thought about arranged marriages was: Compromise.
And the more number of people I speak to, the more it appears that people have a really dim view of marriage, cause no matter who, everyone gives you only one suggestion: Compromise. And on a whole, it seems like a very depressing situation.
Compromises have to be made, I understand that. Which relationship does not include compromises? But why do you never hear your parents telling you, "beta, now that you will be going to college and making new friends, remember to compromise". You never hear that, do you? Why do friends never advice you to "compromise" in a relationship? For smallest of shortcomings, your gf's will tell you to leave the guy, but never compromise. Maybe cause in all other relationships, you have an exit. Not so in marriage. You're supposed to make it work, no matter what, compromise and stick around. Marriages are meant to be forever.
What I found really funny was that people enter marriage with a whole lot of pessimism. I can understand why everyone should be so scared. (It's funny we still go ahead and get married, humans I tell you!). There are so many bad examples around, that one can't help but think the worst. I know I am guilty of the same. So I can understand that, but what baffles me is that, even while thinking of a partner you choose to compromise with your wants and dreams.
I told M that I would really like to spend the rest of my life with someone who loves travelling (So we could both travel all the time). He looked at me as if I had gone mad, then laughed, then told me I was being silly. It's a stupid thing to look for in a marriage, said H. A didn't mock outright, she knew I was serious, but she looked at me, her hands gesturing her incredulity, and calmly asked me, "do you think once you get busy in your married life, have kids and all, do you think you'll find time to travel at all? You'll be happy to even find a spare relaxing Sunday to chill at home, but travel?" And I actually wondered if I should look for aspects like a love for travelling and reading, something I feel are essential in my life partner. Were they really a "must-have"? Or was I being really short-sighted?
And then I remembered the times I was happy in 2010. The time when I actually touched clouds in Bhutan, not fog, clouds. When I climbed Tiger's Nest. It was a tiring journey, but one look at the view from the top was enough to melt away all tiredness like snow on a sunny afternoon...the view was just beyond words. And I was so happy to be there. I felt so lucky to be there. And at peace. Like anything was possible. Then how proud I was when I went all the way, alone, to Mysore, made new friends, walked my way to museums and palaces and Udipi Restaurants. How excited I was, travelling through Hyderabad in an auto rickshaw, to be discovering a new city. And how adventurous when I roamed the markets of Amritsar in a cycle auto rickshaw, so much fun eating parathans and lassis and haggling over phulkari dupattas, like generations of Punjabi women must have done -you see, a got to live a slice of someone else's life(and that too the good bits), a life I had only read and heard about -what could be more precious? And how lucky I felt to be sitting on the steps of the sacred pool and watching the Golden Temple transform into a mesmerizing beauty at 5am in the morning, with a gorgeous orange in the background, golden shimmery water everywhere and the sound of early morning bird song...I felt I was in heaven. And I realised, the only time I was happy in 2010 was when I was travelling...discovering new places, new people, new food, new language...a new world.
I remember growing up wanting to travel places. I remember telling myself as a child that if one day I come across a Genie and if I get to make one wish, I should first ask for 100 wishes, but if I am not allowed to, then I should ask for a chance to travel the world.
Do I still think it's a frivolous thing? I turned to books, cause I couldn't travel to Spain myself, and Egypt and England, but I could atleast read about them. I know what they wear and eat and sing in Italy and France and Scotland and Australia, not because I travelled there, but because I read about them, and in my head, atleast, I have seen all those places. Should I then compromise on something that makes me truly happy?
"Agreed", M said. "But then let's say, you get married to a travel writer and you're happy for the first couple of years and one day while rock climbing he falls down and breaks his leg. He's paralyzed forever. What would you do then?" I was just stumped for a moment. It's like saying, don't venture out on the streets cause people are dying! Why should you compromise even before you actually need to compromise?
I don't understand. Shouldn't we be compromising in short term relationships, cuase they anyway won't last a long time and you can always just walk away. And shouldn't we, when looking for a long term relationship, try to seek one where compromises, atleast not a plenty many, will not be needed?
And what will really happen if you compromise? You give up on things you want and settle for something else, something easily obtainable. But then what? Do dreams just die like that? I don't know, I think they might just hide, pull themselves back and hide in some corner and sulk and sulk and sulk. And the day you find a way to fulfil those wants and dreams, they're going to wake up and shake things up and your pretty little house is going to fall apart.
When I go to my local library, there's a whole section for romance novels, and at first I thought many teenage girls would be taking those books home. What I instead observed over the years, was that not teenagers, but married women read romance novels the most. Women, who have immersed themselves in the mundaneness of their lives, settled into domesticity, they seek to live the dreams they gave up through these novels. That aunty who is now married with kids, who settled for a finance guy, she lives the life she wanted, through someone's else story, through someone else's life. Is she truly happy? I think she'll say yes. But deep down, she has squashed her dreams and prepared herself for the kind of life she has. She has learnt to live with compromises, with someone more suitable. But deep down, she wants something else, perhaps someone else, she knows she can never get. Some people don't see anything wrong with it. I do.
It's natural, that when you don't find what you're looking for in one place, you'll try to seek it somewhere else. If you don't find everything that makes you happy in your spouse, it's very probable that you'll seek it in someone else. Unknowingly. Sometimes knowingly. Extra marital affairs anyone?
I have compromised too. And what I have realized is that compromises are tricky. You are happy compromising as long as things are going according to the plan. The minute they go awry, you start complaining how and how much you compromised. The bitterness creeps in, the dislike shows. The name-calling starts. And like help, compromises mean zilch, once you mention it. The minute you point out how many compromises you've made, that sandcastle you so painstakingly erected, gets washed away with the waves your words create.
So yea, maybe an ordinary girl like me can't expect to meet Mr.Perfect, but surely, I can hope to find Mr.Perfect-For-Me? And I promise, I'll compromise if I find him, but only if he promises to take me to ***Egypt first.
***I remember we were watching some travel show featuring Egypt and I sighed and oohed, and fascinated with it all, I said to my sister, "If I ever get to go back in time, I'll want to go back to the time of these Egyptian kings and queens." And my dearest sister said, "Do you think you'd go back to the era as a "queen" huh? You'd probably be one of those common Egyptian citizens, probably even a manual labourer and look, life for them was so hard, building all those pyramids and what not. I wouldn't want to be them!" Sigh, yes, she was always the more practical one. And I was always living in my head! :|
And the more number of people I speak to, the more it appears that people have a really dim view of marriage, cause no matter who, everyone gives you only one suggestion: Compromise. And on a whole, it seems like a very depressing situation.
Compromises have to be made, I understand that. Which relationship does not include compromises? But why do you never hear your parents telling you, "beta, now that you will be going to college and making new friends, remember to compromise". You never hear that, do you? Why do friends never advice you to "compromise" in a relationship? For smallest of shortcomings, your gf's will tell you to leave the guy, but never compromise. Maybe cause in all other relationships, you have an exit. Not so in marriage. You're supposed to make it work, no matter what, compromise and stick around. Marriages are meant to be forever.
What I found really funny was that people enter marriage with a whole lot of pessimism. I can understand why everyone should be so scared. (It's funny we still go ahead and get married, humans I tell you!). There are so many bad examples around, that one can't help but think the worst. I know I am guilty of the same. So I can understand that, but what baffles me is that, even while thinking of a partner you choose to compromise with your wants and dreams.
I told M that I would really like to spend the rest of my life with someone who loves travelling (So we could both travel all the time). He looked at me as if I had gone mad, then laughed, then told me I was being silly. It's a stupid thing to look for in a marriage, said H. A didn't mock outright, she knew I was serious, but she looked at me, her hands gesturing her incredulity, and calmly asked me, "do you think once you get busy in your married life, have kids and all, do you think you'll find time to travel at all? You'll be happy to even find a spare relaxing Sunday to chill at home, but travel?" And I actually wondered if I should look for aspects like a love for travelling and reading, something I feel are essential in my life partner. Were they really a "must-have"? Or was I being really short-sighted?
And then I remembered the times I was happy in 2010. The time when I actually touched clouds in Bhutan, not fog, clouds. When I climbed Tiger's Nest. It was a tiring journey, but one look at the view from the top was enough to melt away all tiredness like snow on a sunny afternoon...the view was just beyond words. And I was so happy to be there. I felt so lucky to be there. And at peace. Like anything was possible. Then how proud I was when I went all the way, alone, to Mysore, made new friends, walked my way to museums and palaces and Udipi Restaurants. How excited I was, travelling through Hyderabad in an auto rickshaw, to be discovering a new city. And how adventurous when I roamed the markets of Amritsar in a cycle auto rickshaw, so much fun eating parathans and lassis and haggling over phulkari dupattas, like generations of Punjabi women must have done -you see, a got to live a slice of someone else's life(and that too the good bits), a life I had only read and heard about -what could be more precious? And how lucky I felt to be sitting on the steps of the sacred pool and watching the Golden Temple transform into a mesmerizing beauty at 5am in the morning, with a gorgeous orange in the background, golden shimmery water everywhere and the sound of early morning bird song...I felt I was in heaven. And I realised, the only time I was happy in 2010 was when I was travelling...discovering new places, new people, new food, new language...a new world.
I remember growing up wanting to travel places. I remember telling myself as a child that if one day I come across a Genie and if I get to make one wish, I should first ask for 100 wishes, but if I am not allowed to, then I should ask for a chance to travel the world.
Do I still think it's a frivolous thing? I turned to books, cause I couldn't travel to Spain myself, and Egypt and England, but I could atleast read about them. I know what they wear and eat and sing in Italy and France and Scotland and Australia, not because I travelled there, but because I read about them, and in my head, atleast, I have seen all those places. Should I then compromise on something that makes me truly happy?
"Agreed", M said. "But then let's say, you get married to a travel writer and you're happy for the first couple of years and one day while rock climbing he falls down and breaks his leg. He's paralyzed forever. What would you do then?" I was just stumped for a moment. It's like saying, don't venture out on the streets cause people are dying! Why should you compromise even before you actually need to compromise?
I don't understand. Shouldn't we be compromising in short term relationships, cuase they anyway won't last a long time and you can always just walk away. And shouldn't we, when looking for a long term relationship, try to seek one where compromises, atleast not a plenty many, will not be needed?
And what will really happen if you compromise? You give up on things you want and settle for something else, something easily obtainable. But then what? Do dreams just die like that? I don't know, I think they might just hide, pull themselves back and hide in some corner and sulk and sulk and sulk. And the day you find a way to fulfil those wants and dreams, they're going to wake up and shake things up and your pretty little house is going to fall apart.
When I go to my local library, there's a whole section for romance novels, and at first I thought many teenage girls would be taking those books home. What I instead observed over the years, was that not teenagers, but married women read romance novels the most. Women, who have immersed themselves in the mundaneness of their lives, settled into domesticity, they seek to live the dreams they gave up through these novels. That aunty who is now married with kids, who settled for a finance guy, she lives the life she wanted, through someone's else story, through someone else's life. Is she truly happy? I think she'll say yes. But deep down, she has squashed her dreams and prepared herself for the kind of life she has. She has learnt to live with compromises, with someone more suitable. But deep down, she wants something else, perhaps someone else, she knows she can never get. Some people don't see anything wrong with it. I do.
It's natural, that when you don't find what you're looking for in one place, you'll try to seek it somewhere else. If you don't find everything that makes you happy in your spouse, it's very probable that you'll seek it in someone else. Unknowingly. Sometimes knowingly. Extra marital affairs anyone?
I have compromised too. And what I have realized is that compromises are tricky. You are happy compromising as long as things are going according to the plan. The minute they go awry, you start complaining how and how much you compromised. The bitterness creeps in, the dislike shows. The name-calling starts. And like help, compromises mean zilch, once you mention it. The minute you point out how many compromises you've made, that sandcastle you so painstakingly erected, gets washed away with the waves your words create.
So yea, maybe an ordinary girl like me can't expect to meet Mr.Perfect, but surely, I can hope to find Mr.Perfect-For-Me? And I promise, I'll compromise if I find him, but only if he promises to take me to ***Egypt first.
***I remember we were watching some travel show featuring Egypt and I sighed and oohed, and fascinated with it all, I said to my sister, "If I ever get to go back in time, I'll want to go back to the time of these Egyptian kings and queens." And my dearest sister said, "Do you think you'd go back to the era as a "queen" huh? You'd probably be one of those common Egyptian citizens, probably even a manual labourer and look, life for them was so hard, building all those pyramids and what not. I wouldn't want to be them!" Sigh, yes, she was always the more practical one. And I was always living in my head! :|
January 19, 2011
Miracles Happen...
"We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox."
— Nicholas Sparks (The Notebook)
And how difficult it is to find someone like that.
*****
"In time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn't ever want to lose that."
— Nicholas Sparks (The Notebook)
Sometimes, that's all you can do. And it doesn't matter much, but you hope, that in writing that letter, somewhere the truth is conveyed. Somewhere, you naively hope, that the wind that dries the ink of your words, will also whisper the message into their ears.
MickyMouse...
I will not be able to wear a hairband when I am 28+, 'cause it wouldn't be age appropriate :( #ThoughtsThatGiveNightmares
January 18, 2011
Clove Pink...
I must learn to love the fool in me- the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.” ~Theodore Isaac Rubin
The Naked Soul...
Everyone wants that love marriage, where you meet "the one", your soul mate and then decide to get married cause you can not stay away from each other, no never, and so you tie the knot that will keep you together always, forever, la-la-la. And having found the love of one's life, one imagines oneself in a red Mercedes convertible driving into a brilliant sunset, with one's hair flying in the wind (and maybe one can surely add a flimsy Audrey Hepburn-esque scarf flying in the wind for added aesthetics.) How romantic and all that one thinks. On the other hand, no one desires an arranged marriage, for it is so cold, for that's how it appears, very cold and very businesslike. Where you meet random people, decide to get to know each other over a cup of chai/coffee and then talk over phone and if you're lucky meet in person to dissect the other's character and coldly weigh his/her "value" and if he/she fits the bill, get married. But something similar happens in love marriages. You meet a random person, maybe at a party, maybe in college, maybe at work and decide to talk and then maybe get to know each other over a cup of coffee and then blah blah...you know the deal. Yet, we look at arranged marriages with such trepidation, and love marriages with our rose-tinted glasses. I wonder why such unfair treatment?
Probably because in a love marriage, you know the person well enough(get to know in "biblical sense" too?) and you know for sure that this is what you want, this is who you want to be with. In an arranged marriage, how well can you really get to know the other person during the courtship period?
The first thing that went through my mind when I thought about arranged marriages was-sex. I can be all modest and choose to ignore it, but it's an important aspect of a romantic relationship and I have seen couples break up, after 2 years, cause the girl wasn't ready to commit fully or the guy was no good. Physical compatibility is as important as emotional and intellectual compatibility and while you can judge a person's emotional nature and find out if you both match intellectually by talking to them and spending time with them, there's no sure way of knowing if you'll click in the bedroom department as well, unless you actually give it a shot. Which surely can not happen in an arranged marriage (You can't be kissing every guy your parents/friends approve!). So essentially you enter into an arranged marriage with your fingers crossed, hoping that you both will be great together. Definitely loads of luck and some divine intervention I thought.
After talking to a lot of people, it seemed like, yes, it was one of the main drawbacks of an arranged marriage. A colleague from work is in the process of getting a divorce 'cause apparently the guy had some problem. Another one is getting a divorce after two years cause the guy still refuses to do it with her. A friend's friend has got a divorce 'cause the guy refused to even get near her. And when my best friend got married, I did wonder if she would be comfortable doing it on her first night. Wouldn't it be weird, I thought, to get intimate with someone with whom you've never been intimate, at all? And say if you do get intimate and find out that it was a total dud and then what? What a damper that would be! And you're stuck now, cause you're married! ***
And so I told H about my doubts. And what he said made much sense, atleast to me, though I think I have yet to fully figure this thing out. Physical attraction is a tricky thing. You can never know. A friend recently told me that she had the most awesome time with a fat guy, and she never ever even dreamt of going anywhere near a fat, sloppily dressed guy. Forget a fat guy, I feel zilch attraction toward even some of the good-looking, impeccably dressed guys. I was looking for some kind of pattern that I can trust to guide me. But can you really know? Can you ever guess who can take you on a ride in the clouds and who will leave you staring at the ceiling? What however, one has noticed is that physical attraction comes when you like the person, really like the person. Physical intimacy comes when there's emotional intimacy.
I remember a guy friend once told me, I loosely paraphrase, to seduce a woman touch not her skin, but her mind. When I look back, I realize, the guys I have strongly been attracted to, physically, I have most definitely been very very strongly attracted to their minds. I remember liking a guy, who, what shall I say, wasn't exactly James Dean in the looks department, but I loved him, cause I was so seduced by his mind. Which also explains why I just can not bring myself to like this another guy, who's is physically great looking and all that but I don't remember ever going "wow" while talking to him. "Yawn" most of the time.
So there, I am still confused, but maybe one doesn't need to worry all that much about the sparks and chemistry and getting to know your partner in the biblical sense before tying the knot. Our parents, after all, did have babies, no? I guess then, strong physical attraction will be there if you like that person and are emotionally and intellectually compatible.
***Same could hold true for other qualities as well. Really that girl who comes carrying the tray, all shy and coy and salwaar-clad, do you really think she's all shy and coy and wears salwar-kameez all the time? Or for that matter, I always wonder, what would be a right response to your husband's "Have you had sex before"? If you say no, you make him happy, and you hopefully live a happy romantic married life. If you say yes, brace yourself for a barrage of questions, loads of insecurity and a possibility that it might ruin your chances of a happy romantic married life. I always wonder what guys would prefer to hear. Would they prefer to hear a no, never knowing if she was lying or being truthful, believing the best and forgetting about it or would they be okay, truly okay with hearing the truth. I know most guys will say, "I would rather you be honest with me and tell me the truth", but I wonder, deep down, if they'll really be ever okay.
Age...
Who's that man she asked me.
Which man, I questioned.
Arey the one with white hair.
Puzzled, I turned and looked, and I realised, my dad had white hair now.
I had not seen him for years. He was old now and had white hair. I could barely recognize him.
Which man, I questioned.
Arey the one with white hair.
Puzzled, I turned and looked, and I realised, my dad had white hair now.
I had not seen him for years. He was old now and had white hair. I could barely recognize him.
January 17, 2011
A Wilted Rose...
She broke his heart, just to test his love for her.
He still wanted her back.
Desperation or love, others wondered.
He still wanted her back.
Desperation or love, others wondered.
January 16, 2011
Nine Cats...
What if I had many lives?
I'd be a writer in one life, sitting in the courtyard under the shade of a neem tree, I'd sip sweet tea and pen stories of you and me, of life. I would be a traveller in another. So many wonderful places I would see. Israel, Morocco and Canada. I'd travel to Mexico, Japan and Srilanka and Peru. I'd send you postcards from South Africa and Egypt, Brazil, Turkey, Cambodia and Jordan. And in another life I would be a farmer in Spain, and grow oranges and grapefruits and limes and lemons or even a farmer in Italy, and grow tomatoes and olives and nuts and peaches. In another, I would teach creative writing to the kids in Bhutan and I'd have a small but cozy house on the river bank. I would climb the mountains to touch the clouds often and Tiger's Nest would be my favourite hangout. In another life, I would be a wife of a good man and live in a white picket fence house with rambling roses and bougainvillea and I would pack lunch for my two kids and take the dogs for a walk in the evenings. I would be an artist in another. I would spend my days surrounded by colours and ideas and nights immersed in beauty. In another I would be running a company, sitting in my corner office with a glass view of the NewYork city, I would clinch another deal, another victory. In another, I would run my own beach-side restaurant and during the off season, I would swim in the blue seas and read under the coconut tree(not a good idea). In yet another, I would be a monk in Tibet, and find answers to my many questions. I would be a daddy's girl in another, shopping and eating and partying and coming back home at 4 in the morning and partying again in the evening.
And in each one, I would try to do a little good, to even out all the bad I did in another life.
But I don't have many lives. And so I endeavour to live all those many lives in this one life.
I'd be a writer in one life, sitting in the courtyard under the shade of a neem tree, I'd sip sweet tea and pen stories of you and me, of life. I would be a traveller in another. So many wonderful places I would see. Israel, Morocco and Canada. I'd travel to Mexico, Japan and Srilanka and Peru. I'd send you postcards from South Africa and Egypt, Brazil, Turkey, Cambodia and Jordan. And in another life I would be a farmer in Spain, and grow oranges and grapefruits and limes and lemons or even a farmer in Italy, and grow tomatoes and olives and nuts and peaches. In another, I would teach creative writing to the kids in Bhutan and I'd have a small but cozy house on the river bank. I would climb the mountains to touch the clouds often and Tiger's Nest would be my favourite hangout. In another life, I would be a wife of a good man and live in a white picket fence house with rambling roses and bougainvillea and I would pack lunch for my two kids and take the dogs for a walk in the evenings. I would be an artist in another. I would spend my days surrounded by colours and ideas and nights immersed in beauty. In another I would be running a company, sitting in my corner office with a glass view of the NewYork city, I would clinch another deal, another victory. In another, I would run my own beach-side restaurant and during the off season, I would swim in the blue seas and read under the coconut tree(not a good idea). In yet another, I would be a monk in Tibet, and find answers to my many questions. I would be a daddy's girl in another, shopping and eating and partying and coming back home at 4 in the morning and partying again in the evening.
And in each one, I would try to do a little good, to even out all the bad I did in another life.
But I don't have many lives. And so I endeavour to live all those many lives in this one life.
Phantasm...
In today's world, with easy access to everything that your little heart yearns for and more importantly, access to internet from your mobiles, it's no wonder we're dying under the stress of having fun. When you see everyone on facebook and twitter updating what and how much fun they're having, you sitting at home are left to feel sorry for yourself. Or since everyone else is having fun, you're forced to have fun as well, lest you be left out of the group.
It's funny that we force ourselves to enjoy these days, not because we want to enjoy, but because there's always the pressure to enjoy; so we can publicize our adventures.
Sometimes a quiet Sunday afternoon is enjoyment too. Hope we remember that.
It's funny that we force ourselves to enjoy these days, not because we want to enjoy, but because there's always the pressure to enjoy; so we can publicize our adventures.
Sometimes a quiet Sunday afternoon is enjoyment too. Hope we remember that.
January 15, 2011
Towels & Trunks...
In Baisers volés, Delphine Seyrig explains to her young lover the difference between politeness and tact: ‘Imagine you inadvertently enter a bathroom where a woman is standing naked under the shower. Politeness requires that you quickly close the door and say, “Pardon, Madame!”, whereas tact would be to quickly close the door and say: “Pardon, Monsieur!”’ It is only in the second case, by pretending not to have seen enough even to make out the sex of the person under the shower, that one displays true tact.
When I read that quote, The first thing that went through my vain mind, was not, "I would be thank-god he didn't see me", but, "I would be embarrassed, yes, but I would be slightly mad at the guy to have thought I was a guy! I am sure he saw *something* and how could he have thought I was a guy! I think I would be rather sad".
Not related, but the above quote reminded me of the towel question. Long long time ago, someone asked me what I would do in the following situation: So you're in the shower when there's an earthquake and you have to rush out immediately. Now would you stop for that 1 second to collect the towel? Or knowing that you'd possibly be crushed under the building if you use that 1second to fetch the towel, would you then just run outside naked?
The above quote somehow also reminded me of something I heard many ages ago on Mtv. Remember they used to have those show where you called up the VJ and requested a song? During one of those shows, Nikhil Chinappa asked a caller a rather embarrassing(atleast then it was) question. "Would you keep the toilet door open if you knew there was no one in house?" And I remember wondering for many hours what I would do.
And I leave you to wonder, what would you do?
January 14, 2011
Trouble...
| Coldplay - Trouble .mp3 | ||
 | ||
 |  |
Your loveShould never be offered to the mouth of a stranger,Only to someoneWho has the valor and daringTo cut pieces of their soul off with a knifeThen weave them into a blanket to protect you.
--Hafiz
Winks...
She laughs like a child and she cries like a child, but she loves like a woman.
She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child,
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS:
Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
--Mhmm--
Bridge
CHORUS:
Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
And she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
--Mhmm--
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child,
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS:
Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
--Mhmm--
Bridge
CHORUS:
Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
And she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
--Mhmm--
ToyHeart...
You grew up reading Sherlock Holmes and other mystery stories. And when they asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up, you said you wanted to be an undercover detective. And your mum bought you a black fedora hat on your 10th birthday and your grandparents gifted you a black coat on Christmas and you ran around with your toy pistols, fake knife and magnifying glass, pretending to uncover the goons and save the gold. You loved stumbling upon things, it made you feel like you discovered a secret that was never meant to be found. And so one day, in a fit of boredom, when you told me let's play a game, I said yes, knowing well what it would be. But you anyway went ahead and told me to hide something and you promised you would find it for me. And so I hid it. Under the mattress one time, in the microwave another time, you hated it when I hid it in cookie's doghouse, and you felt so proud when you found it hidden under the broken table lamp that you still haven't fixed. Then under the pillow you found one morning when you woke me up with a kiss, and then under the blue bell that one evening, and behind the yellow pinwheel that lazy Sunday afternoon, behind your dirty shoe rack when you were late for that important meeting, in the Periwinkle pot that I asked you to water while I was away, and one time in the garam-masala jar when you decided to impress me with your cooking skills; I hid it and no matter where, you always found it. Except this one time when I gave it to you. Why won't you see? Why won't you keep your promise this time and find it for me? Or was it, I fear, was it always just a game for you?
January 13, 2011
Uncle Scrooge...
Next time my bf and I are having a serious talk, I am going to use the following script:
Me: hum dono husband-wife hain kya?
BF: No
Me: Kyun? *confused hurt expression*
BF: Kyunki wives bahut demanding hoti hain. Mujhe yeh chahiye, mujhe woh chahiye. Jamta nahi hain!
Me: *Says in a soft hurt voice* Par mujhe toh sirf Malabar hill mein ek bungalow chahiye jiske garage mein ek BMW M model car khadi ho. *makes a itna-bhi-nahi-kar-sakte-mere-liye-jaanu face*
BF: Checking his wallet, aisa kya?
Me: *Nods innocently*
BF: Toh fir thik hain. Aaj hi mummy se baat karta ho.
And then we kiss and live happily ever after.
How nice, no? I clearly need to sleeeeeeeeeep! Sleep sleep sleep!
January 12, 2011
Shaddi Waddi, Hai Rabba!
So the next few posts are going to be dedicated to, you'll be greatly pleased to know, marriage. I am going to just dump my thoughts about marriage, and those of my friends, here. And lets see if I can make some sense out of it all.
So after Munira's wedding, M, this guy friend of ours has taken it upon himself to get me married next. And so we had lengthy discussions. And then H joined in and explained to me how my requirements are not necessities, but frivolous demands, almost luxuries that can never be met. And then it seemed PB's worried about me too. "A needs to find someone as crazy as she is, else...". Ofcourse, Mom's given up on me. Then my pyaari sakhi Munira forced me to register on the likes of shaddi.com. Another friend suggested I become friends with some other friend cause this friend runs a marriage bureau of sorts. You know, extra help? And so it would seem that the whole world wants to get rid of me. Fair enough, I am a pain like that. But I don't understand, why must all of us follow the herd mentality when looking for a spouse? Tall, handsome and rich? Fair, slim and docile?
So when I told my friends the kind of guy I want, much disappointment happened. When I read out the quote that described him perfectly to the T, much fun was made, of me, the quote and of the author. Many laughs at my expense were had. Infact, every time someone new joined our discussion, M would say, "hey did you read this quote?" And then someone would go on and read it out loud, and obviously, no one would get it and everyone would then laugh at how I wanted to marry a snake. So I said chuck the quote, and looking out of the window, I remarked how the sea looked liquid gold with the dipping sun in the background; I was immediately termed crazy. I was then advised, in a very serious manner, how I should be looking for a caring guy and not a poet, someone who would get me water and not someone who would think the water is golden and leave me to die of thirst. No stupid, it's just light reflecting off the water. Why, I never studied physics! :|
And sigh, when that didn't work, AC told me how one should never marry. MG said she would never marry. She knows someone who's 35 and single and hot and happy. And someone else who is also 35, not that hot, but single and happy. Everyone else joined in how marriage didn't make any sense and then told me stories of how everyone they know were getting divorced, young and old, love and arrange marriages both were f**ked.
And so here I am, obviously, pretttty confused. So I thought maybe I should write it down, it helps me. Or then maybe I should just go sleep. See video.
In this case though, I think, I need to do both :|
So after Munira's wedding, M, this guy friend of ours has taken it upon himself to get me married next. And so we had lengthy discussions. And then H joined in and explained to me how my requirements are not necessities, but frivolous demands, almost luxuries that can never be met. And then it seemed PB's worried about me too. "A needs to find someone as crazy as she is, else...". Ofcourse, Mom's given up on me. Then my pyaari sakhi Munira forced me to register on the likes of shaddi.com. Another friend suggested I become friends with some other friend cause this friend runs a marriage bureau of sorts. You know, extra help? And so it would seem that the whole world wants to get rid of me. Fair enough, I am a pain like that. But I don't understand, why must all of us follow the herd mentality when looking for a spouse? Tall, handsome and rich? Fair, slim and docile?
So when I told my friends the kind of guy I want, much disappointment happened. When I read out the quote that described him perfectly to the T, much fun was made, of me, the quote and of the author. Many laughs at my expense were had. Infact, every time someone new joined our discussion, M would say, "hey did you read this quote?" And then someone would go on and read it out loud, and obviously, no one would get it and everyone would then laugh at how I wanted to marry a snake. So I said chuck the quote, and looking out of the window, I remarked how the sea looked liquid gold with the dipping sun in the background; I was immediately termed crazy. I was then advised, in a very serious manner, how I should be looking for a caring guy and not a poet, someone who would get me water and not someone who would think the water is golden and leave me to die of thirst. No stupid, it's just light reflecting off the water. Why, I never studied physics! :|
And sigh, when that didn't work, AC told me how one should never marry. MG said she would never marry. She knows someone who's 35 and single and hot and happy. And someone else who is also 35, not that hot, but single and happy. Everyone else joined in how marriage didn't make any sense and then told me stories of how everyone they know were getting divorced, young and old, love and arrange marriages both were f**ked.
And so here I am, obviously, pretttty confused. So I thought maybe I should write it down, it helps me. Or then maybe I should just go sleep. See video.
In this case though, I think, I need to do both :|
Three Questions...
For A(you know who you are ;)), hope you find the answers :)
Games, changes and fears
When will they go from here
When will they stop
I believe that fate has brought us here
And we should be together, babe
But we're not
I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you
I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning
I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
I may appear to be free
But I'm just a prisoner of your love
And I may seem all right and smile when you leave
But my smiles are just a front
Just a front, hey
I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you
I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning
I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Here is my confession
May I be your possession
Boy, I need your touch
Your love kisses and such
With all my might I try
But this I can't deny
Deny
I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you
(but I'm dreaming of you babe)
I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning
I try to say goodbye and I choke (yeah)
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
(when you are not near aahh)
Goodbye and I choke (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I try to walk away and I stumble (hey, hey, hey)
Though I try to hide it, it's clear (sick of love)
My world crumbles when you are not near (your love, kisses and)
Goodbye and I choke (I'm choking)
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
(My world crumbles when you are not near)
Yeah, yeah..
Games, changes and fears
When will they go from here
When will they stop
I believe that fate has brought us here
And we should be together, babe
But we're not
I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you
I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning
I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
I may appear to be free
But I'm just a prisoner of your love
And I may seem all right and smile when you leave
But my smiles are just a front
Just a front, hey
I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you
I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning
I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Here is my confession
May I be your possession
Boy, I need your touch
Your love kisses and such
With all my might I try
But this I can't deny
Deny
I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you
(but I'm dreaming of you babe)
I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning
I try to say goodbye and I choke (yeah)
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
(when you are not near aahh)
Goodbye and I choke (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I try to walk away and I stumble (hey, hey, hey)
Though I try to hide it, it's clear (sick of love)
My world crumbles when you are not near (your love, kisses and)
Goodbye and I choke (I'm choking)
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
(My world crumbles when you are not near)
Yeah, yeah..
The Art Of Losing...
2010 was a cruel teacher. It taught me lessons I didn't want to learn, made me face truths I scarcely imagine existed, it made me look deep inside me, it showed me my ugly side but worst of all and funnily, maybe even the best, was when it pushed me into that deep dark well on whose edge I have always stood, trembling knees, shivering body and a breath stuck in my throat, 2010 finally pushed me into that well. I fell down, splintered into pieces, my happy world splattered on the walls of the well, I lay bleeding and just when I was about to breathe my last, it offered me its hand and told me to stand up again. And in all that, it gave me a precious thing: It taught me how to lose. To cope with loss. How to be completely alone, without even those who gave me birth.
*****
I remember it was summer holidays and Priya and I were loitering around in her society when we found out Pinky's mother had died. I was only in my 5th grade. I had never heard of death before. I had never seen a dead body before. I knew something like death existed, I wasn't that naive, but by all means, it was an alien concept to me.
Pinky's mom's story spread like wildfire through the town. She was in love with another man; she knew she could not marry him. Pinky's family was one of the well known families in the town and her mother's love affair had become the talk of the town. There were constant fights at home, and finally it all had led Pinky's mum to commit suicide.
I remember standing a few days later at the same spot, with Priya, where Pinky's mother had apparently lain while waiting for the morning fast train, and wondering, "Will it be my mom next?". And if so, will dad bring another mom home? Will she be like Pinky's step mother? I was afraid even before I fully understood what it meant to be afraid.
I remember sitting by the window at 2am in the night praying to god to please send Dad back home. I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving us, his threats indigestible.What would happen to us? I knew mom couldn't work. What will I tell my school friends if I had to drop out of school? I could never grapple with it.
Looking back, I realise, I have lived my entire life being afraid. Afraid that someone I love, someone I care about, someone whom I am dependent on will leave me and then what will become of me? I have lived in constant fear; fear that first parents would leave, then friends, then the men in my life.
And I never realised it, but this fear was all pervasive, under the covers, invisible, but always present. Subconsciously affecting everything I did. I loved people more than I loved myself. Not because I am noble, but because I was selfish. I loved them, 'cause I was scared they would leave me. So I loved them. So I could keep them with me, close to me. And I never learnt to cope with loss. My losing mechanism permanently damaged, broken.
That acquaintance I don't give a rat's ass about? Let him stop talking to me and see how I go in my panic mode. I can't handle it. I can't see anyone walking out of my life. Why do I care so much about what others think of me? 'Cause I can't afford to have them think bad about me. Cause wouldn't that mean they would just leave me? I ran after people who didn't matter, after fake friendships, after hollow relationships, 'cause though they didn't matter, and somewhere I knew they didn't matter, I could never be okay with losing anyone. I hoarded relationships, people, like an ant would hoard food, saving it for a cold wintry evening.
So much energy lost in preserving friendships that didn't matter. So much love lost. So much time spent in mending broken relationships that weren't ever meant to be. So much lost, in this quest for not losing.
And then one day you realise you anyway have lost it all. You anyway have lost them all. You don't have them after all that running around, after all that begging, pleading, loving. And you sit dumbfounded and you realise how truly alone you are. And that's how everyone is. And that, it's okay.
And that's what you learn, when you learn to fend for yourself, you understand that nothing bad can ever happen.You can still survive.
*****
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
--Elizabeth Bishop
*****
I remember it was summer holidays and Priya and I were loitering around in her society when we found out Pinky's mother had died. I was only in my 5th grade. I had never heard of death before. I had never seen a dead body before. I knew something like death existed, I wasn't that naive, but by all means, it was an alien concept to me.
Pinky's mom's story spread like wildfire through the town. She was in love with another man; she knew she could not marry him. Pinky's family was one of the well known families in the town and her mother's love affair had become the talk of the town. There were constant fights at home, and finally it all had led Pinky's mum to commit suicide.
I remember standing a few days later at the same spot, with Priya, where Pinky's mother had apparently lain while waiting for the morning fast train, and wondering, "Will it be my mom next?". And if so, will dad bring another mom home? Will she be like Pinky's step mother? I was afraid even before I fully understood what it meant to be afraid.
I remember sitting by the window at 2am in the night praying to god to please send Dad back home. I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving us, his threats indigestible.What would happen to us? I knew mom couldn't work. What will I tell my school friends if I had to drop out of school? I could never grapple with it.
Looking back, I realise, I have lived my entire life being afraid. Afraid that someone I love, someone I care about, someone whom I am dependent on will leave me and then what will become of me? I have lived in constant fear; fear that first parents would leave, then friends, then the men in my life.
And I never realised it, but this fear was all pervasive, under the covers, invisible, but always present. Subconsciously affecting everything I did. I loved people more than I loved myself. Not because I am noble, but because I was selfish. I loved them, 'cause I was scared they would leave me. So I loved them. So I could keep them with me, close to me. And I never learnt to cope with loss. My losing mechanism permanently damaged, broken.
That acquaintance I don't give a rat's ass about? Let him stop talking to me and see how I go in my panic mode. I can't handle it. I can't see anyone walking out of my life. Why do I care so much about what others think of me? 'Cause I can't afford to have them think bad about me. Cause wouldn't that mean they would just leave me? I ran after people who didn't matter, after fake friendships, after hollow relationships, 'cause though they didn't matter, and somewhere I knew they didn't matter, I could never be okay with losing anyone. I hoarded relationships, people, like an ant would hoard food, saving it for a cold wintry evening.
So much energy lost in preserving friendships that didn't matter. So much love lost. So much time spent in mending broken relationships that weren't ever meant to be. So much lost, in this quest for not losing.
And then one day you realise you anyway have lost it all. You anyway have lost them all. You don't have them after all that running around, after all that begging, pleading, loving. And you sit dumbfounded and you realise how truly alone you are. And that's how everyone is. And that, it's okay.
And that's what you learn, when you learn to fend for yourself, you understand that nothing bad can ever happen.You can still survive.
*****
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
--Elizabeth Bishop
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