Been caged too long.
Showing posts with label reflections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflections. Show all posts
April 20, 2011
April 17, 2011
Deep Crust...
"The enemy of a love is never outside, it's not a man or a woman, it's what we lack in ourselves."— Anaïs Nin
*****
And when will women realise that her biggest enemy is not man, or any institution, but woman herself?
*****
And when will women realise that her biggest enemy is not man, or any institution, but woman herself?
April 15, 2011
A Literate Passion-II
"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."
— Anaïs Nin
*****
"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book...or you take a trip...and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken."
— Anaïs Nin.
*****
"And sometimes I believe your relentless analysis of June leaves something out, which is your feeling for her beyond knowledge, or in spite of knowledge. I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.
What will you do after you have revealed all there is to know about June? Truth. What ferocity in your quest of it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world."
— Anaïs Nin
A Literate Passion-I
"I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don't know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. In reality those who satisfy me are those who simply allow me to live with my ''idea of them."
— Anaïs Nin
*****
"There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest."
— Anaïs Nin
*****
"Don't say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you."
— Anaïs Nin
*****
"Do you know what I would answer to someone who asked me for a description of myself, in a hurry?
This: For indeed my life is a perpetual question mark--my thirst for books, my observations of people, all tend to satisfy a great, overwhelming desire to know, to understand, to find an answer to a million questions. And gradually the answers are revealed, many things are explained, and above all, many things are given names and described, and my restlessness is subdued. Then I become an exclamatory person, clapping my hands to the immense surprises the world holds for me, and falling from one ecstasy into another. I have the habit of peeping and prying and listening and seeking--passionate curiosity and expectation. But I have also the habit of being surprised, the habit of being filled with wonder and satisfaction each time I stumble on some wondrous thing. The first habit could make me a philosopher or a cynic or perhaps a humorist. But the other habit destroys all the delicate foundations, and I find each day that I am still...only a Woman!"
— Anaïs Nin
Criminals...
Our shadows kiss, passionately.
But we stay away, aloof, fearful and separated; scared to let the other close.
But we stay away, aloof, fearful and separated; scared to let the other close.
April 13, 2011
Burn Those Skirts?
Some years back when I was travelling on an international flight, I was harassed by an Arab guy. When I told my friends about the incident, everyone asked me why I didn't complain to the air hostess right that minute when it happened. It might not sound like a very intelligent answer, but I was petrified. I was so shocked I could not open my mouth. I had to cry to get out of the shock once we landed and I knew I was safe in the women's loo. In hindsight yes, I should have complained. Even later when the flight had landed. But you really can't be prepared for such incidents.
Back then when I told this to S, he first got angry at me(for not complaining, no words of sympathy there) and then he asked me what I was wearing(I was wearing a rather boring black jacket over a black spaghetti top with blue jeans and pumps. Nothing too sexy). Funny thing, which I now realise, none of my girl friends asked me what I was wearing. But a guy did ask.
For those who didn't know, there was a slut walk held in Canada on April 3rd. Here's the link.
The recent rapes in Delhi, the slut walk, and a recent conversation with a friend, reminded me of that incident on the plane. One does not necessarily have to be dressed provocatively to be molested. In a sexually charged situation, a man will jump on any woman, even a woman covered from head to toe. Or like A would say, even a man wearing a kilt with a cat. But time and again we keep hearing the same thing: dress properly, dress properly, dress properly. And I am forced to wonder, what does "dress properly" really mean?
I have thought a lot about this topic, dressing, cause it's a topic close to my heart. I love clothes. I love dressing up, always have. And when I have to think 10 times before deciding what to wear, I hate it.
Now I am an advocate of free will. Do what pleases you, as long as your choices do not harm anyone else, in any fashion. So, if some girl out there wants to dress up like a slut, by all means, she has the right to. It's her life after all, and no one should object to her choice.
But here's the thing, what do all those rights and all that freedom really amount to? I have realised, nothing.
As a 21 year old, I would have angrily told you to back off and not interfere in my life had you told me what to wear and not (which is why I never shop with guys). But as a 26 year old, and I hate that it should be this way, I understand that one can not always do as one pleases, even if one's choices do not directly affect another being. Sad huh?
One does not have to be as dramatic as this book suggests, but a woman, like it not, has to come to terms with the fact that:
"[..] a woman’s presence expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her."
As a woman you have to understand and realise that ultimately you and only you are in the end responsible for everything that happens to you. So if you want to wear that mini skirt, understand the responsibility you owe to yourself and realise the danger it could pose to your life, and then take the decision.
It might seem that by saying women are entirely responsible for their own safety, I am letting men off the hook. Which is not the case at all. No man, even your own husband, has the right to touch you without your explicit permission, no matter if you are sober or drunk, no matter if you are covered in a burqa or naked. But, can we really control anyone's actions and reactions? Nope. So what do we women do? We learn to assess risks and dress accordingly. In short, "dress properly." If you're going to a party with close friends to safe place, you can take that sexy number out of the closet, but you know you can not dress provocatively in a bad neighbourhood.
It is sad that even in civilized societies, supposedly safe environments like your own home, women are not safe. In an ideal world, a question like, "what to wear", would probably never arise. But lately, I have realised, that we might live in a free world but there are still invisible boundaries that we can not cross without getting hurt. So don't burn those skirts, but definitely throw away those quixotic glasses.
Back then when I told this to S, he first got angry at me(for not complaining, no words of sympathy there) and then he asked me what I was wearing(I was wearing a rather boring black jacket over a black spaghetti top with blue jeans and pumps. Nothing too sexy). Funny thing, which I now realise, none of my girl friends asked me what I was wearing. But a guy did ask.
For those who didn't know, there was a slut walk held in Canada on April 3rd. Here's the link.
Demonstrators take part in the "Slutwalk" protest in Toronto, Sunday April 3, 2011. Protesters hit the streets to protest against rape and sexual crimes in response to Toronto Police Const. Michael Sanguinetti, quoted as saying "Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized."
The recent rapes in Delhi, the slut walk, and a recent conversation with a friend, reminded me of that incident on the plane. One does not necessarily have to be dressed provocatively to be molested. In a sexually charged situation, a man will jump on any woman, even a woman covered from head to toe. Or like A would say, even a man wearing a kilt with a cat. But time and again we keep hearing the same thing: dress properly, dress properly, dress properly. And I am forced to wonder, what does "dress properly" really mean?
I have thought a lot about this topic, dressing, cause it's a topic close to my heart. I love clothes. I love dressing up, always have. And when I have to think 10 times before deciding what to wear, I hate it.
Now I am an advocate of free will. Do what pleases you, as long as your choices do not harm anyone else, in any fashion. So, if some girl out there wants to dress up like a slut, by all means, she has the right to. It's her life after all, and no one should object to her choice.
But here's the thing, what do all those rights and all that freedom really amount to? I have realised, nothing.
As a 21 year old, I would have angrily told you to back off and not interfere in my life had you told me what to wear and not (which is why I never shop with guys). But as a 26 year old, and I hate that it should be this way, I understand that one can not always do as one pleases, even if one's choices do not directly affect another being. Sad huh?
One does not have to be as dramatic as this book suggests, but a woman, like it not, has to come to terms with the fact that:
"[..] a woman’s presence expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her."
As a woman you have to understand and realise that ultimately you and only you are in the end responsible for everything that happens to you. So if you want to wear that mini skirt, understand the responsibility you owe to yourself and realise the danger it could pose to your life, and then take the decision.
It might seem that by saying women are entirely responsible for their own safety, I am letting men off the hook. Which is not the case at all. No man, even your own husband, has the right to touch you without your explicit permission, no matter if you are sober or drunk, no matter if you are covered in a burqa or naked. But, can we really control anyone's actions and reactions? Nope. So what do we women do? We learn to assess risks and dress accordingly. In short, "dress properly." If you're going to a party with close friends to safe place, you can take that sexy number out of the closet, but you know you can not dress provocatively in a bad neighbourhood.
It is sad that even in civilized societies, supposedly safe environments like your own home, women are not safe. In an ideal world, a question like, "what to wear", would probably never arise. But lately, I have realised, that we might live in a free world but there are still invisible boundaries that we can not cross without getting hurt. So don't burn those skirts, but definitely throw away those quixotic glasses.
March 31, 2011
A Dying Girl...
There's no electricity at home. Didn't go to work. I am sitting on my bed, in an airless room, with Latika's theme playing on my laptop. Inverter gave up. But it's not so hot in here. But everything seems still. Even the breath I exhale seems to hang in the air much like the heavy gold-beige curtains in my room. I've shut the windows, essentially, to keep the heat out. But the dark, reflective film covered window panes cut out light and noise both. I feel alone and cut off from the world. And then suddenly, I am transported back to 2009. My train journey from London to Glasgow and then Glasgow to Aberdeen. I find myself by the window, in an A/C car, in a foreign country, and fields after green fields pass by me. Then a salty, frothy cold sea. Grey clouds. Sheep. Little houses.
I feel again the feeling of independence. A sense of achievement brings a smile. The feeling of being burdened drowns in the sea. All my worries melt. The feeling of being in love bobs on the sea of memories. I feel a bit sad now. I wonder if I'll ever feel love again.
That. That time. Those precious hours. That was pure unadulterated happiness I realise.
Every time I think of happiness, I think of a happy green grassy field. A huge field with a beautiful sky above. And I see myself running in the field (not the DDLJ type). But I am not a grown up in this picture. I am a girl dressed in a red frock. Sometimes it's a white long dress. With ribbons in my hair. And I am free. Unrestrained. That's my definition of happiness.
I think that image must say a lot about me. But I don't know what.
I am craving monsoons. Rains, I am missing you. Come.
Right at this minute, I feel age slip by. Time. It will never be back. It's an intense feeling. I wish I was a writer enough to put it in right words. It's a hard realisation. I want to run away from it, but I let it weigh down on me like a lover instead, I feel its every cell and every pore, so I can memorize its every detail. I am scared that I will not have more of those happy moments. The happiness I felt in that train. I can see life slip from my hands, much like sand in an hour glass. It's an desperate feeling. But I can't do much. It's an helpless feeling.
I want to run in that green grassy field with ribbons in my hair.
I want to feel raindrops slide down my cheeks.
I am craving happiness.
But at the same time, there's this feeling that something is about to happen. Something big. Something important.
I wait.
But does fate care enough?
I have an email in my inbox.
I feel again the feeling of independence. A sense of achievement brings a smile. The feeling of being burdened drowns in the sea. All my worries melt. The feeling of being in love bobs on the sea of memories. I feel a bit sad now. I wonder if I'll ever feel love again.
That. That time. Those precious hours. That was pure unadulterated happiness I realise.
Every time I think of happiness, I think of a happy green grassy field. A huge field with a beautiful sky above. And I see myself running in the field (not the DDLJ type). But I am not a grown up in this picture. I am a girl dressed in a red frock. Sometimes it's a white long dress. With ribbons in my hair. And I am free. Unrestrained. That's my definition of happiness.
I think that image must say a lot about me. But I don't know what.
I am craving monsoons. Rains, I am missing you. Come.
Right at this minute, I feel age slip by. Time. It will never be back. It's an intense feeling. I wish I was a writer enough to put it in right words. It's a hard realisation. I want to run away from it, but I let it weigh down on me like a lover instead, I feel its every cell and every pore, so I can memorize its every detail. I am scared that I will not have more of those happy moments. The happiness I felt in that train. I can see life slip from my hands, much like sand in an hour glass. It's an desperate feeling. But I can't do much. It's an helpless feeling.
I want to run in that green grassy field with ribbons in my hair.
I want to feel raindrops slide down my cheeks.
I am craving happiness.
But at the same time, there's this feeling that something is about to happen. Something big. Something important.
I wait.
But does fate care enough?
I have an email in my inbox.
Labels:
fears,
happiness,
life,
monologue,
reflections,
wishful thinking
March 28, 2011
We Are Here For A Reason...And It's Not Fun...
Having the nephew for 1 whole month has been quite a revelation, to put it mildly. Now that that one month is coming to an end, I can pretty much boast of being semi-qualified as a mother.
For the one whole month sister was here, she was on vacation (meaning she got to sleep for 5 hours at a stretch, poor thing), so it was all left to Dad and me to take care of the nephew. Nephew didn't take to mum a lot, so he pretty much stuck to dad's side or then mine.
So my repertoire includes bathing an one year old, feeding him, clothing him, changing his diapers, keeping him entertained for hours and though it still requires monumental effort to control my shrieks every time I feel something warm running down my legs, I am now also okay with things like baby pee and baby poop without puking. What else? I can even sing lullabies and put a kid to bed. Nice? Eh? And all this without having ever touched or even looked at a kid before. Would it be bragging if I said I was awesome?
No, right? I know, honestly, I deserve a medal!
(Which was duly gifted by sister in the form of payals. And I love them! I almost want to grab the first guy I see on the street and show him how beautiful and feminine my feet look with those colourful anklets and then feel all happy)
Moving on, I am also fully qualified as a hostess. I must have entertained atleast 5 dozen guests in the last one month whilst taking care of the nephew(Clearly, we are not a very sociable family). How awesome can I get? They should like make a new award for women like me!
But I hated every minute of it. Like really, now I know why women want to marry only rich men. Cause rich men can employ two dozen servants at home for all this entertaining business. All the hostess has to do is dress up and sit nicely and smile prettily at the guests and say, "ramu, memsaheb ke liye woh sherbet lana, aur baby ke liye woh lichee ice cream lana", and afterwards, when the party is over, all she has to do is remove the heavy jewellery and remove the pins from her hair and sigh wearily at her husband, who's rich remember?, and tell him how tiring all of it was and Mrs. Snooty-ass definitely wore a prettier diamond necklace. Like really, there's no cooking and washing plates in her life. I want to be a memsaheb too!
No surprise then, I have just postponed marriage by another 5 years and don't plan to have a kid. Unless someone pays me a few hundred lakhs to have a kid (which ain't happening).
Err, yes.
I cried the first day the nephew was here. Now, I am a very private person. I need my "me" time. I need loads of alone time. Which was like zero when the nephew was here. Usually, frustration comes out in two forms: loud, peppered with swear words yelling or then muffled sobs. Since the loud yelling would have woken up the nephew, I had to settle with the sobs. The first day I had to deal with a kid, it freaked me. I am, even now, after one month, can-pee-in-my-pants scared.
Motherhood is not easy.
Let me say it again, motherhood, is not easy.
I said semi-qualified, cause motherhood is more than bathing and feeding a kid. It requires a whole different sort of sacrifice. A whole lot of patience. All women with kids are not mothers, some are just child bearers. It takes something much more to be a mother. You need true whole genuine love in your heart to be a good mother. Every woman should be scared of being a mother, cause it's a tough job. No demand is exaggerated, no sacrifice too big. Motherhood is not all toys and rainbows. At times you'll want to hate your own kid, but you can not. You can not disown your kid, or give him away one day you're tired and frustrated and under-slept and underfed and on saline cause you're so weak or even dying the very next day. You have to count to10, take a deep breath and paste a smile on your face and tell your kid something funny.
Married couples, please please spend atleast minimum two years with each other. Do not, really, do not rush to have kids. Your whole life, as you know it, will change once you have a kid. It will never be the same again, ever. Even after they, your kids, graduate from high school.
Enjoy your precious independent days. Stop hankering after marriage, those who are single. You know how you plan your day without a single thought for anyone else? That? That is gold. That freedom. Treasure it. Love it. Respect it. You'll miss it so much once you have a kid, but it'll never come back no matter how many times you say you miss your single days.
Having a kid means timing your loo breaks, means forgetting the idea of a full meal, means thinking atleast 10 times before going downstairs even, means thanking your stars if you get to sleep for 3 hours at stretch one fine day, means celebrating with canned juice if your kid sleeps without crying for one whole hour first, having a kid means no time for exercise, no time for looking good, being cut from the entire world, means no alone time ever with your spouse, and definitely, forget anything about sex once you have a kid. For one, your bodies, women, will be your worst nightmare. But you'll accept it anyway, cause every time you want to curse having a kid, you'll look at your baby looking at you with eyes full of hope and innocence and then she'll/he'll flash you her/his best smile and you'll say, its okay, I don't mind it, it gave me you. But yes, any man who sleeps with you post baby, tie him to your bed and never let him go, ever. And two, if you ever get any time, even like 20 mins alone, sleep! You can never bet when you'll get 20 whole uninterrupted minutes to sleep again.
Sex? Forget it.
Alrighty, I am off to make some watermelon juice for the nephew then.
For the one whole month sister was here, she was on vacation (meaning she got to sleep for 5 hours at a stretch, poor thing), so it was all left to Dad and me to take care of the nephew. Nephew didn't take to mum a lot, so he pretty much stuck to dad's side or then mine.
So my repertoire includes bathing an one year old, feeding him, clothing him, changing his diapers, keeping him entertained for hours and though it still requires monumental effort to control my shrieks every time I feel something warm running down my legs, I am now also okay with things like baby pee and baby poop without puking. What else? I can even sing lullabies and put a kid to bed. Nice? Eh? And all this without having ever touched or even looked at a kid before. Would it be bragging if I said I was awesome?
No, right? I know, honestly, I deserve a medal!
(Which was duly gifted by sister in the form of payals. And I love them! I almost want to grab the first guy I see on the street and show him how beautiful and feminine my feet look with those colourful anklets and then feel all happy)
Moving on, I am also fully qualified as a hostess. I must have entertained atleast 5 dozen guests in the last one month whilst taking care of the nephew(Clearly, we are not a very sociable family). How awesome can I get? They should like make a new award for women like me!
But I hated every minute of it. Like really, now I know why women want to marry only rich men. Cause rich men can employ two dozen servants at home for all this entertaining business. All the hostess has to do is dress up and sit nicely and smile prettily at the guests and say, "ramu, memsaheb ke liye woh sherbet lana, aur baby ke liye woh lichee ice cream lana", and afterwards, when the party is over, all she has to do is remove the heavy jewellery and remove the pins from her hair and sigh wearily at her husband, who's rich remember?, and tell him how tiring all of it was and Mrs. Snooty-ass definitely wore a prettier diamond necklace. Like really, there's no cooking and washing plates in her life. I want to be a memsaheb too!
No surprise then, I have just postponed marriage by another 5 years and don't plan to have a kid. Unless someone pays me a few hundred lakhs to have a kid (which ain't happening).
Err, yes.
I cried the first day the nephew was here. Now, I am a very private person. I need my "me" time. I need loads of alone time. Which was like zero when the nephew was here. Usually, frustration comes out in two forms: loud, peppered with swear words yelling or then muffled sobs. Since the loud yelling would have woken up the nephew, I had to settle with the sobs. The first day I had to deal with a kid, it freaked me. I am, even now, after one month, can-pee-in-my-pants scared.
Motherhood is not easy.
Let me say it again, motherhood, is not easy.
I said semi-qualified, cause motherhood is more than bathing and feeding a kid. It requires a whole different sort of sacrifice. A whole lot of patience. All women with kids are not mothers, some are just child bearers. It takes something much more to be a mother. You need true whole genuine love in your heart to be a good mother. Every woman should be scared of being a mother, cause it's a tough job. No demand is exaggerated, no sacrifice too big. Motherhood is not all toys and rainbows. At times you'll want to hate your own kid, but you can not. You can not disown your kid, or give him away one day you're tired and frustrated and under-slept and underfed and on saline cause you're so weak or even dying the very next day. You have to count to10, take a deep breath and paste a smile on your face and tell your kid something funny.
Married couples, please please spend atleast minimum two years with each other. Do not, really, do not rush to have kids. Your whole life, as you know it, will change once you have a kid. It will never be the same again, ever. Even after they, your kids, graduate from high school.
Enjoy your precious independent days. Stop hankering after marriage, those who are single. You know how you plan your day without a single thought for anyone else? That? That is gold. That freedom. Treasure it. Love it. Respect it. You'll miss it so much once you have a kid, but it'll never come back no matter how many times you say you miss your single days.
Having a kid means timing your loo breaks, means forgetting the idea of a full meal, means thinking atleast 10 times before going downstairs even, means thanking your stars if you get to sleep for 3 hours at stretch one fine day, means celebrating with canned juice if your kid sleeps without crying for one whole hour first, having a kid means no time for exercise, no time for looking good, being cut from the entire world, means no alone time ever with your spouse, and definitely, forget anything about sex once you have a kid. For one, your bodies, women, will be your worst nightmare. But you'll accept it anyway, cause every time you want to curse having a kid, you'll look at your baby looking at you with eyes full of hope and innocence and then she'll/he'll flash you her/his best smile and you'll say, its okay, I don't mind it, it gave me you. But yes, any man who sleeps with you post baby, tie him to your bed and never let him go, ever. And two, if you ever get any time, even like 20 mins alone, sleep! You can never bet when you'll get 20 whole uninterrupted minutes to sleep again.
Sex? Forget it.
Alrighty, I am off to make some watermelon juice for the nephew then.
March 27, 2011
March 20, 2011
March 15, 2011
Mango And A Jackfruit...
What do you say of a girl whose worst fear is that she would turn out to be like her mother?
Labels:
candid,
confession,
family,
fears,
kids,
life,
marriage,
reflections
Thank You...
The wonderful thing about writing is that someone, somewhere, at one point in their life felt the same as you do, and had the better sense to put it in words. And did it better than you ever could. And you read those words and suddenly you don't feel lonely anymore. It's like they suddenly appear next to you, sit by your side, and gently press your hand and smile at you, a smile that says, it's alright, and all that through words. Such power. Really, such life saving power. Thank you Sylvia Plath. Thank you so very much.
"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
*****
"Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn."
*****
"I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy."
*****
"I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time..."
*****
"God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering."
*****
"Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night..."
*****
"I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same."
*****
"But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get."
March 02, 2011
Few Seconds In The Light...
It's funny how we see a relationship in retrospect. How we see a relationship in terms of how it ended. How easily we forget the first impressions, the unsure start of a relationship, its beautiful journey to love, all the happy days, all the warm moments, its blossoming, how it was while it lasted.
Why do we always remember it in terms of how it ended? What do you remember of your loved ones?
How should one remember a relationship? I think that is a better question.
*****
I think silence, however golden, is sometimes overrated. There are times when keeping quiet will do you more harm. Sometimes, it's good to speak out, empty your heart of its buried emotions.
Why do we always remember it in terms of how it ended? What do you remember of your loved ones?
How should one remember a relationship? I think that is a better question.
*****
I think silence, however golden, is sometimes overrated. There are times when keeping quiet will do you more harm. Sometimes, it's good to speak out, empty your heart of its buried emotions.
Miserable Letters...
Maybe all the signs, all the words, all the warnings...maybe it's all always there. Maybe when you're in love, you just build this mechanism, where you ignore anything the one you love says that would make you unhappy. Your brain just automatically filters out words that might hurt, and blindfolds you when actions that might trigger panic take place. Gestures that might alert you.'Cause you don't want it to end, you foolishly imagine that it would go away if you closed your eyes. And you go on about life, with love in your heart, in a non-thinking phase, floating through days, building your air castles. And then one day, crash.
And then your take on the role of a psychologist and analyse every small thing, every small detail and you exclaim, astonished, "But how did I not see all this?" And you realise, the signs, they were always there. All along. You were just too much in love to notice.
And then your take on the role of a psychologist and analyse every small thing, every small detail and you exclaim, astonished, "But how did I not see all this?" And you realise, the signs, they were always there. All along. You were just too much in love to notice.
February 25, 2011
Last Dinosaurs...
If you died tomorrow...what would be your biggest regret?
Mine would be that I didn't travel enough, that I didn't see the Pyramids, that I didn't sky dive and/or Bunjee Jump, that I didn't love fully and yes, that I didn't get to make love M&B style in a desert under the stars.
*****
I'll never lose you, even after you're gone and I am no more the same, the person I used to be. I'll always have you; cause I have you in a box called Favourites. Safe.
Just the way I knew you: adorable and lovable.
*****
The rains that cleansed the gutters of my heart, you should know that now flowers blossom where hurt and fear once lurked. Thank you.
*****
I wonder what would happen if men just became biologically incapable of having more than one child. Like you know, once in a life time seed. You get to have only one kid in your life time.
I wonder if men would become more faithful. Cause you know, the reason they give us when men stray is that it's just men's nature to want to mate with as many women as possible, you know, keep the race going, spread the seed and all. Evolutionary stuff. Well, what if you just take that away? One woman, one kid?
I have no doubt it would totally overturn the order we have in the world right now. Virgin men would be like the hottest thing on the planet (and not wimmen) for one. But I am still doubtful as to whether it would discourage men from straying. Hmn...
Mine would be that I didn't travel enough, that I didn't see the Pyramids, that I didn't sky dive and/or Bunjee Jump, that I didn't love fully and yes, that I didn't get to make love M&B style in a desert under the stars.
*****
I'll never lose you, even after you're gone and I am no more the same, the person I used to be. I'll always have you; cause I have you in a box called Favourites. Safe.
Just the way I knew you: adorable and lovable.
*****
The rains that cleansed the gutters of my heart, you should know that now flowers blossom where hurt and fear once lurked. Thank you.
*****
I wonder what would happen if men just became biologically incapable of having more than one child. Like you know, once in a life time seed. You get to have only one kid in your life time.
I wonder if men would become more faithful. Cause you know, the reason they give us when men stray is that it's just men's nature to want to mate with as many women as possible, you know, keep the race going, spread the seed and all. Evolutionary stuff. Well, what if you just take that away? One woman, one kid?
I have no doubt it would totally overturn the order we have in the world right now. Virgin men would be like the hottest thing on the planet (and not wimmen) for one. But I am still doubtful as to whether it would discourage men from straying. Hmn...
February 17, 2011
The Day The Words Weeped...
The wounds that last forever are not the ones caused by physical harm but by words uttered by a loved one.
Must remember henceforth to shut up when angry.
Must remember henceforth to shut up when angry.
February 11, 2011
Bless The Broken Road...
A failed relationship...a mistake...being shunned by someone you love...death of a friendship...that feeling of loss...of helplessness...powerlessness...of wanting to reach out to someone but not being able to...of not knowing what to do or feel...that desperate wish of wanting to turn back time...what would you not give for that? I could sell my soul for it, that bad.
It's worse than the Chinese water torture some say, being in a place where the only thing you can feel is your skin being peeled from your body, the only sound you can hear is your soul screaming.
It's like being caged and at the same time watching yourself being seared to death..slowly but painfully.
Is there anything you can do? Well, let me tell you there's no saviour. You can't cut the bars, you can fight the hurt and you definitely can not turn back time or fast forward to a happier time....you have to go through it.
You have to watch yourself die and only then, can you find your escape.
*****
I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Yes He did
I think about the years I spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there, you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
But now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
It's worse than the Chinese water torture some say, being in a place where the only thing you can feel is your skin being peeled from your body, the only sound you can hear is your soul screaming.
It's like being caged and at the same time watching yourself being seared to death..slowly but painfully.
Is there anything you can do? Well, let me tell you there's no saviour. You can't cut the bars, you can fight the hurt and you definitely can not turn back time or fast forward to a happier time....you have to go through it.
You have to watch yourself die and only then, can you find your escape.
*****
I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Yes He did
I think about the years I spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there, you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
But now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Labels:
life,
love,
reflections,
relationships,
videos,
wishful thinking
February 09, 2011
CherryBottoms...
As I stare at my image in the mirror, I look at my trim thighs and I realise how fleeting youth is.
And I must remember what I silently, in my mind, told the little fat girl jogging in the gym the other day. I must remember my words and often repeat them: "Run fatty run".
Another reason why I am scared of getting married. #StuffNightmaresAreMadeOf
*****
My maid's daughter, Sindhu, came home the other day and asked for some work. She washed the bathrooms and windows and took home 150 rupees. This work was apart from the "regular" work she does. So here's the thing: She wanted to go shopping with her friends. Asked her mother for some money. Mother refused. So she told her, "don't give me money. I'll go earn it." Very nice. She wanted to go to the market to buy junk jewellery with her friends. I realise, at her age(16), I had spent a cool 40K on shopping, in just 1 month, from the account dad had opened for me as a gift for passing the 10th boards. Which was, I agree, quite shameful of me. So I should not be condemning her behaviour, unlike me at her age, she is atleast earning the money she's spending. However, I do find her behaviour, somewhat worrisome.
Financial freedom comes with its set of dangers. And I fear, this easy money might go to her head. She is after all just 16 and illiterate.
Or am I being judgemental?
*****
I realise, I am at a historical point in my life. Years later, this is the moment I will look back at and wonder about the what ifs; what if I had taken the other road instead. For, I am at such a point, where the decision I take, and I must make one, will alter everything. Will influence the person I become. It will change my life, forever. This is an important time.
And you honeypuddle, you, you will remain unsaid.
*****
I often fear that I might just throw my mobile or ipod or whatever expensive thing out of the window. Like there's this strong impulse, and I need to quickly mentally reprimand myself for even thinking such a thing. What a ridiculous thing! Does it happen to anyone else? Or is it just me?
And I must remember what I silently, in my mind, told the little fat girl jogging in the gym the other day. I must remember my words and often repeat them: "Run fatty run".
Another reason why I am scared of getting married. #StuffNightmaresAreMadeOf
*****
My maid's daughter, Sindhu, came home the other day and asked for some work. She washed the bathrooms and windows and took home 150 rupees. This work was apart from the "regular" work she does. So here's the thing: She wanted to go shopping with her friends. Asked her mother for some money. Mother refused. So she told her, "don't give me money. I'll go earn it." Very nice. She wanted to go to the market to buy junk jewellery with her friends. I realise, at her age(16), I had spent a cool 40K on shopping, in just 1 month, from the account dad had opened for me as a gift for passing the 10th boards. Which was, I agree, quite shameful of me. So I should not be condemning her behaviour, unlike me at her age, she is atleast earning the money she's spending. However, I do find her behaviour, somewhat worrisome.
Financial freedom comes with its set of dangers. And I fear, this easy money might go to her head. She is after all just 16 and illiterate.
Or am I being judgemental?
*****
I realise, I am at a historical point in my life. Years later, this is the moment I will look back at and wonder about the what ifs; what if I had taken the other road instead. For, I am at such a point, where the decision I take, and I must make one, will alter everything. Will influence the person I become. It will change my life, forever. This is an important time.
And you honeypuddle, you, you will remain unsaid.
*****
I often fear that I might just throw my mobile or ipod or whatever expensive thing out of the window. Like there's this strong impulse, and I need to quickly mentally reprimand myself for even thinking such a thing. What a ridiculous thing! Does it happen to anyone else? Or is it just me?
February 02, 2011
A Mouse, A Helmet And A Motorcycle...You Know What Else? A Camel!
Compulsive Confessor could not have put it better!
I have had more failure than successes and one of the main reason(Okay, fine, there were 200 main reasons!) has always been that I was stuck in the past. Well, one can't be entirely blamed. You are used to a certain person, a certain routine. You are so set in this life you have built, that it's hard to come out of it, harder even to see what you're doing-what you end up doing is essentially replace the old guy with a new guy, in the same old world.
I always thought I was same with everyone. I am not. With certain people, I feel safe enough to be myself, with a few, I am fake, with others I am guarded and controlled, but genuine. With a certain few, I am toned down and sobered down, essentially, not genuine not even fake (You get the worse deal rabbit). With a few, very few, I am weird and nuts and totally uninhibited (I think you'll love me like this, I like myself like this too).
You are a different person with each friend/colleague/acquaintance in your life. And if you think back, you were a different person with every guy you were with (or girl). Each love was different. You can not expect the same love! You have to let the new world unfold in its own time and in its own unique way. But you get into a new relationship, and you end up expecting same answers for your questions, you expect same gestures, same emotional responses, heck, you behave and talk the same way too! It's really stupid, but I believe it is something quite natural. You expect your new world to be the exact copy of the previous one. Cause you don't know anything else any more, you have forgotten any other way.
I think the solution to this is that you take time off. Don't get into a new relationship unless you have given yourself enough time to recover. "Enough" can vary from person to person, I normally take atleast a year(Yea I know!), a friend I know takes 2 months (How cool!). But never rush! You are going to end up hurting yourself and worse, the new person, who doesn't deserve the burden of your baggage. No one does. Not even you.
This is for a friend who wants to move on. Take time off. With love, you'll find old memories at every corner if you want to and aren't they just so painful? And what you end up doing is look for a band-aid. D, you're young and beautiful and smart and funny. And you deserve so much more! Take time off. Go see new places, meet new people, talk to strangers, read, cook new food, dance, sing...laugh. Do all that till you forget how your old world looked like. Then go out and make a new life.
Now if only someone had told me all this 5 years ago! :|
Rule number two, and one I’ve learnt the hard way. I’ve just come out of a pretty long, pretty serious relationship. Now, the problem with that is that you expect the next guy to pick up exactly where you and the old guy were when you broke up. Start at square one. Remember he’s not in love with you (yet). Remember he doesn’t know all your stories. Remember this is new territory, and you, even you, are a whole new person.
I have had more failure than successes and one of the main reason(Okay, fine, there were 200 main reasons!) has always been that I was stuck in the past. Well, one can't be entirely blamed. You are used to a certain person, a certain routine. You are so set in this life you have built, that it's hard to come out of it, harder even to see what you're doing-what you end up doing is essentially replace the old guy with a new guy, in the same old world.
I always thought I was same with everyone. I am not. With certain people, I feel safe enough to be myself, with a few, I am fake, with others I am guarded and controlled, but genuine. With a certain few, I am toned down and sobered down, essentially, not genuine not even fake (You get the worse deal rabbit). With a few, very few, I am weird and nuts and totally uninhibited (I think you'll love me like this, I like myself like this too).
You are a different person with each friend/colleague/acquaintance in your life. And if you think back, you were a different person with every guy you were with (or girl). Each love was different. You can not expect the same love! You have to let the new world unfold in its own time and in its own unique way. But you get into a new relationship, and you end up expecting same answers for your questions, you expect same gestures, same emotional responses, heck, you behave and talk the same way too! It's really stupid, but I believe it is something quite natural. You expect your new world to be the exact copy of the previous one. Cause you don't know anything else any more, you have forgotten any other way.
I think the solution to this is that you take time off. Don't get into a new relationship unless you have given yourself enough time to recover. "Enough" can vary from person to person, I normally take atleast a year(Yea I know!), a friend I know takes 2 months (How cool!). But never rush! You are going to end up hurting yourself and worse, the new person, who doesn't deserve the burden of your baggage. No one does. Not even you.
This is for a friend who wants to move on. Take time off. With love, you'll find old memories at every corner if you want to and aren't they just so painful? And what you end up doing is look for a band-aid. D, you're young and beautiful and smart and funny. And you deserve so much more! Take time off. Go see new places, meet new people, talk to strangers, read, cook new food, dance, sing...laugh. Do all that till you forget how your old world looked like. Then go out and make a new life.
Now if only someone had told me all this 5 years ago! :|
January 30, 2011
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.
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