170 - You and I- we ceased.

Aah, there I see the familiar pattern of falling apart. Slowly, but surely and steadily. I do.

I recognize this. Like I breathe. My body knows this. And yet. And yet.... I hang on to something strange thinking that we can't just have died! Not like this.. No... No.. Not like this at all. Atleast not you and me. We are different and same.

We lived. We were supposed to be happily living. In the present and future. And the past.

The memories- are all memories. Alas, you will never get to read any of this. You wanted it this way. I am just abiding by what you want. I can never be happier. But not knowing this, you can be happier.

The sentiments flew away. Out of the window. The memories will stay. And what else? What else? The day we said, "what else?" and searched for words to fill the empty silence.. I recognize that pattern.

It truly was a dead end.

169 - Death

When? Oh, when did the poetess Mazra become the dead poet??????!!

Life passed by. A lifetime passed by.

167 - Even the shadow walked away. Slowly but surely.

I can see the ever faithful shadow giving up as well. I saw its' death today.
When it said, "I am tired my dear. I need to rest hear. I shall never be in peace otherwise."

And then it vanished. Maybe it is the right thing to do.
Maybe I should call it a day too.

Maybe then I shall see that bit of life that I crave for silently. And loudly.

The rapping of the door has increased. It's not deafening.
It said, "take the plunge". Someone will catch you.

But I know, it can only be death. 

166 - O, What can ail thee knight at arms? Alone and palely loitering...

What stops us from cutting people and minds off and walk away into the welcoming darkness that shone with so much of bright light?

Who builds these walls?

165 - The dream. My world.

An old lady appeared in my dream, two nights ago.
She was cursing me. In Telugu. That I will see my nemesis soon.

I have no clue who that lady was ad why she was cursing me with so much vengeance.
I cant recognize her one bit.

And a night ago, I saw someone else in my dream.
She seemed to be enjoying seeing me lifeless.

I was gasping. I am still gasping at the audacity.
And wondered...

Where? Why? How?

164- As I walk along...

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep....."

The walk was lovely. The woods were everything I ever dreamed of.
'Magical' was the word I believe they all said.

Then the tone of the walk changed. I started pacing.
I started racing. The thorns- they did prick me.
The blood- it started flowing out.
The gash- slowly stopped healing.
Just like that. Body stopped the process of repairing.

The woods just laughed and said,
"you are giving up my athlete."

My mind just lashed out in fury...
And like all famous saints did,
I cursed at the entire clan of woods.

"All of you shall live forever"

163- And I asked.

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Everywhere. The proverbial 'pin-drop' silence.
And then.

There was a booming question that came out of a person. Poet, I think. The first one to break silence in the group.

The first one daring to be different and yet feel belonged because everyone in the group longed to ask that question. I wanted to ask it too.

The poet asked, "Why me?"

The group settled in with the question, not in the least bit surprised or shocked. They were perhaps just a bit deterred from their thoughts which were mostly flowing in the same direction.

And then I asked, in response, "Why not me?"

The group now turned towards me and said I was being negative. I held my ground.

"So, why not me?"

These things happen because of randomness. Mathematicians call it probability. If it were not a few others, then it had to be me.

It was me.

So. I asked them all again. "Why not me?"

162 - Boundaries of togetherness

A dog peed to mark its' territory.
A dad held his arms around the family he and the mom created.
A man stuck his fists inside his pockets and marked his family members.
A woman said this is where she belonged.
A person mentioned that the priorities were clearly with the family.

And yet. Despite all this, all of them collectively embraced and chose unhappiness with pride. More power to families. We all fall united and stand divided.

Me. My. Mine. They are such powerful words that pierce this world. Was universe meant to be this way?

161 - The blanks.

Unanswered calls.
Incomplete conversations.
Insufficient time.
Lack of mindspace.

In a nutshell, havent we all become so busy that we dont seem to complete our lives?

Whatay!!!! The blanks that shall always remain to be filled. And the blind hope that one day, it will.

160 : The unrest (ed) soul

A wail of a child woke the resting dog up. Abruptly. Startle is an apt word.
Tommy wondered from where it echoed. It couldnt be the house. His master was not the kind who'd have children- leave alone a wailing infant.

He twitched his ears so he could hear it again- with more alertness, now that he was awake.

The sound didnt come come again. Maybe it was a bad dream. (Did dogs dream?) Tommy did not know much about the other dogs because he was pretty much the lone dog in this household with his master and the deceased mistress. BUT. Tommy did dream. Or atleast he thought so.

He liked dreaming. It gave him hope. A hope that he would see another day. And that the other day he would find his date. And maybe it would turn out to be his mate. Days went by but his pee and poo break walks with his master was not time enough for him to find a date. Lost in his thoughts and misery he wondered where his mistress's soul was. She was one person who he could never understand.

He still remembered the day when she looked blankly into the space inside the house. In the hall. On the sofa. With both her legs on the floor. Her gaze was intently searching for something on that white wall. Tommy wondered that day and this day- about what she was looking for.

With his limited dog wisdom, he knew you cant find pretty much anything on a white wall. His mom once told him that a white wall could be used as a canvas to showcase brilliant paintings. Maybe his mistress was painting with her eyes? If she did it was an unhappy picture for sure.

His mistress saw two lives. Swarming in and out of her life. Each time she was rooted. Happy. And then she uprooted. And saw unhappiness. Each life gave her hope. And yet, each life left her desolate. in isolation. In loneliness. Each life gave her a reason to fight and be strong. And yet each life in the process fizzled out. Each life made her richer philosophically. And made her poorer emotionally. Each life made her more cynical. Each of the lives came back when it was convenient. For them. And never really for her.

Tommy wondered. His mistress was definitely an A class fool. She didnt learn the lesson once. In his dog life, if it ever happened to him, he would have walked away from that bitch. And today- he was still looking for a mate.

Who ever wanted to live in loneliness like his mistress who awaited her death despite dying, sitting on that sofa where he slept?

She stopped fighting. Which was a good thing. He could do without that noise in this universe. Tommy looked at the clock and yawned. Whatever or wherever that wail came from can go take a walk. He was sleepy.

And he could do with some rest. His soul would otherwise stop functioning. And unlike his mistress- he had some soul leftover.

And hers? Well- it could wail all it want. It didnt matter to the universe.

159 - The story of a silence

I love watching movies. The more intense, the better.
And if they are filled with silences, even better.

Silences are the biggest give away of an epic lurking in the background. They are.

On a day like today, I lay under this stone filled with silence, weighing heavy on my body. A welcome weight. A welcome shield from reality. But, it has its' own story to tell. A long, deep, intense story like the movies. Only this is real. Happening in our lives- as we speak, or as I write.

I always thought poetry is full of real lies. And silences? They are all a part of the ugly truth.

158 - Snap judgment

I'd wrote many a times in my blog about judgments and how much I loathe them. They just show all of us how black and white we are as people and more importantly, how we shape our thoughts.

How easy is it to make a snap judgment? Very. How difficult is it to get to the bottom of a person's mind to understand what or who they are? Very. The best of us even with the people we know all our lives, dont get the joke.

It is really that easy to judge someone. And btw, it takes time. And a lot of effort. And trust. Some faith. Compassion. Did I say time? Heck, yea. It takes aeons to uncover something precious. Then you dont see black and white. You see bright and brilliant art work.

That's the beauty of staying away from judgments. You create a safety zone. Like the mother's womb. Like the burrow we all need once in a while.

We all are flawed living beings.

157 - A second chance at life..

Ironically, some people will never get it. It could be a variety of reasons. BUT. Some people never get it. A second chance will also not help. A third chance will also not help.

It's the same cycle of Karma. Everything repeats. The cracks begin to show. The flaws explode. And people die. Repeat.

As I said, some people never get it.

156 - Baggage

A dear friend and I were speaking about how baggage will accumulate in the happiest of a relationship. In my head, it is not ideal to expect a no baggage relationship.

As long as we are forgiving each other and as long as the wounds dont hurt and hey- your body has forgotten it, then you may not acquire baggage. The ride is smoother. Baggage is acquired when there are expectations. Baggage is around when we are unable to forget and move on. More importantly when you know you can still derive some happiness out of a relationship- you are still there.

That's why you may still be friends with your chaddi buddy and may lose out on your marriage. 

155 - Taste your own medicine...

Another suicide. Again the jokers are out covering it in sensation and fascination.

Our lust for damage never ceases to amaze me. Truly.

Like imagine this- the amount of people on the road holding candles for a rape, murder or figuring out why someone committed suicide is far far more than the one person that could have helped control this damage.

We all love our mysteries. We love discussing the various versions of a story. True and untrue. And then follow the story as it floweths. Like a very interesting serial. And still we hate listening to this. The bitter truth.

In the context of this suicide that I opened this post with, I saw an indignant lady weeping saying "suicide is a terrible thing. Dont commit it. You should not be so weak. You need to be strong and face challenges with might and overcome it."

Thanks aunty. Many thanks. While I am sure you meant well, did you also pause to think you were one of those people who stood there and made this person weaker? Do you realize you, who are the part of this bigger society created a life full of boundaries that made the person in discussion extremely difficult to find a safe place for him to talk to?

And do you realize people will die more and more as long as people like you dont let people be? Or figure out what's bothering them truly than rattle out the rules to live life in a society? Remember those rules that include, rape has foiled a persons' virtue. Like those rules which state that you dont make enough money and hence we dont want to marry you. You wear short skirts. You are fast. Loose. You are single and we dont rent our flats to single people in this society.

Not just you aunty, but hundred other people. Including the kids. We just love taking pride in our gene pool. I wonder why? We anyway make them like us. 

154 - Nirvana

A big win. That had gone by uncelebrated.
A big loss. That had gone by ungrieved.
A wide chasm. That lives by: empty.
A harmony. That exists in dreams.

153 - Ovid

Dripping water hollows out stone, not through force but through persistence.

Take a bow you poet !!!

152 - The dead poet

The dead poet indicates death.
That's the hope.

The past is but a glory of the past.
Sometimes a gateway to the present.
A door of hell into the future.

A dead poet's place belongs there.
Buried under the truth that was.
Values that were.
Now all of it 6 feet under.

The poet is dead. Long live the poet.

150: A fleeting moment. Birdie flew away...

There are days. There are minutes. There are moments. There are times when you feel that when you dont mean any harm, your mere thoughts have transgressed this universe. Even if it is unintentional, damage is done. And the most terrible thing about damage is that it is permanent. Someone said resurrection? It is never the same.

Unfortunately, when you live after you sinned, the baggage is extremely heavy. It is here to stay. Even if you want to let go, the universe will make sure you carry it. And again- there is no respite. If you transgress this universe, there is no trial. There is no last wish. There is no straight punishment you expect and prepare for. They come by in strange ways. In unforeseen ways.

There is a nest on the ledge in our balcony. Two baby pigeons are trying to live and fly. They will fly in a few days. Pigeons flying away is evolution. Everyone in the nest will be happy. Us humans? We are not built to let the birdie fly away. But each of us will. From one place to the other. From one person to the other. From thought to the other.

I let the birdie fly away. I am breathing. I wonder if I shall ever feel complete- for I have blood on my hands. And baggage in my head.

These fleeting moments- I wonder if there is a place at all for some people in this world. Universe in general doesnt like a few people. They will never find a place. Neither do they find acceptance. It is the dark secret. Fate tempts at times, but wasnt a lesson learnt by our beloved ancestors?? Succumbing to temptation- bad idea. BAD BAD IDEA. :-)

You are either way wronged. 

149: I..

Am mad. Really mad.
I killed the me in me.
What's left is only a piece of something.

148 - How are you?

A dear friend from the past wrote me a note few days ago. Maybe weeks? Maybe months? I lost count- and it's natural because I am living in a daze. An email asking me how I was doing and telling me how she remembers me.

What she wrote about me felt like another person. That person, that girl died. Long ago. Today I live a life of the dead. Full of illusions and disillusions. Oh yes- I eat. I breathe. I sleep. I function to complete an operational life. 

But behind the facade lies the ugly truth. Ugly, dark truth of a broken face. Dead dreams. Hopelessness. Anger. Sadness. 

All things negative that I abhored earlier in my life, when I was still living now reside in me. I loathe a universe that doesnt allow me the happiness I sometimes look towards. 

Maybe too much to ask? Maybe it's idiocy to sit back and expect help. Maybe I was born to be a slave. A person who does look out for everyone else, a stupid person might I add. And yet, the very few times.... the very few times I did reach out- and it can be counted on my fingers, I ALWAYS saw a back.

Maybe it's my karma. The cycle. 

And yes- I know some call it indignation. Well, it is what it is.

147 - The moment(s) of melancholy

When you know something is wrong, you know that it is wrong.
You know it is wrong when it is not the same.
You know it is wrong when it is not  happy.
You know it is wrong when your gut tells you it is wrong.

It is not the same. That moment when your heart breaks, physically your body seeks breath. The basic element of the life system. A gasping body never really gets it. That all it has to do is just breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. lowly and steadily till your body calms down.

You know nothing is worth anything when you fight a losing battle. Alone. And that word- that single word tells you a life story. All happy and sad endings and moments in life ironically are dealt only by ourselves.

My dad is a very wise man. He made sure that time and again I was reminded that all battles are fought alone. With strength and grace. And when it matters, he was absolutely right- nobody, nobody shall come and give a lending hand.

My dad is indeed a very wise man. Because he said- time and again and again. That nobody should be an emotional fool enough to think there will be a few more who shall join hands and fight. They wont.

My dad is a very very wise man. He said while you can help people, dont go out of your way to do it. If you do, there is a slight weight attached to it. It is called expectation. During the time of a need, the expectation pops out- like it or not. He said and says, I am not strong enough to sign up for selfless help.

He is right. My dad. He is correct. 

146 - Short lived

A life that fell short of everything all the time by just those few inches. You know? Like just that few inches, which always give you hope to claw back again. Just those last few inches to jump and overcome.

Again those inches unconquered and these losing battles, makes me wonder is hope really a true thing that exists in this universe? Or is it just a delirious tiredness? 

145 - Where do we begin and where do I end?

Poornamada Poornamidam
Poornaat poornamudachyate
Poornasya Poornamaadaaya
Poornamevavasishyate

If my life can tell me my story of evolution in the last 15 years, all I have to do is patiently sit and write down the changes of my perception of the meaning of these lines over the years.

Today, I'd like to think I have understood this better than ever. Today I also think the upanishad which this sloka belongs to (I think Yajurveda) is eternal. And for the first time I also think that while vedas have been left to interpretation most of the times, I have a theory that it was written with an intention to guide so we can live a very evolved life. So maybe it is not meant for open interpretations? Maybe today I feel I got the meaning of this exactly like how the writer thought. How the universe thought.

You have an attachment to the entire universe and yet your journey is a very detached one. Like Krishna in Mahabharat... He belonged to the war field in Kurukshetra, and yet he was a detached man. Confusing??

Think hard. I think (maybe I know) that a being should be completely in sync with the world around. Have that special relationship with the universe. Help move people those inches. And in this context the whole universe and the beings in it will be the family. It doesnt need to begin and end in our houses. Or our intermediate/known family. BUT, the soul is a loner. Despite all the ties we have we have that one tie with ourselves- our soul that still needs nourishment. But, both these phases need not be complimentary. See how much I am struggling to write what I want to say?

The 4 lines above say this so much more beautifully than my amateurish philosophy.

While I am many miles away from a life like this I intend to pursue such a life- day after day.

144- Solitude of Alexander Selkirk

On a day like today, I cannot describe my state better than this poem. I wonder what Cowper was going through to write something as accurate as this. :-)
Take a bow my poet. You have so beautifully crossed the thread that explains the difference between solitude and loneliness.

Be as mesmerized as I am.

http://www.hermitary.com/literature/cowper.html

THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK

I am monarch of all I survey;
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, Friendship, and Love
Divinely bestow'd upon man,
O, had I the wings of a dove
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth;
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more:
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-wingèd arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

143- The power of No.

There are tonnes of books in the market that tells you and teaches you to say "no".

Again on a day like this, I realize while it is difficult for me too a lot of times to say "no", I do wonder what makes me say "yes".

I have a strong sense that the "no" most of the times can kill safety in the eco system- slowly and steadily. As I write this however, I am very conscious of my assumptions. I assumed that universe in general will not take advantage of the other person. And I also believe that all of us will/would need help in our life (time).

Everytime we say no, we add disappointment. We add fear of rejection. We add hesitation. We kill some comfort. We add layers.

And yes- that is the power of no in my book. A book that comes from a person who rarely asks for help. It kills me at times to realize that compassion is so far away in this world. How did we even think we are social beings? A chat with my 6 year old about the way she defined communities (parroted from the teacher I assume) reminded me that clusters of people live together to help each other improve the inches. And still today, here we are successfully limiting the other folks from reaching out by placing barriers, making ourselves as private as possible.

Who are we? And more often than not, do we realize why we are saying "no"? Is it just to prioritize and place our comfort levels over the other? (and contextually, this is still ok, but my point is do we realize to what are we saying no to?)...

PS- The post is not intended at all to stop saying "no" to something we are not comfortable doing in terms of our values. That's not the point. It is from the context of us being just a teeny bit lazy when we say no. I realize I do it a few times. And I realized I also bothered people I did so badly that they hesitate to reach out to me when they need help. I wont say sorry. :-) It wont suffice at all. I do feel responsible to death. And small as a person.

142 - Devdasi...

On a day like today, I ponder over the concept of devdasi. I read a lot about it in the recent past and I wondered what would drive human beings to do this. (not as a clan/caste, but in spirit- as in truly thinking you are born to serve god).

And realized that we all also are 'dasis' (servants) in some way or the other to some one or the other. And I write this not in sarcasm. I write this because I believe we are all slaves to a lot of things- materialistic and non-materialistic.

We are dasis to monies. People. Family members. And again on days like today, I wonder what do we expect in return? As in what is our motivation to do this? Is it just satisfaction? Or peer pressure? Acceptance? Self realization? Better choices? Good decisions? Emotional Dependence? Overcome weakness? Strengths? Superior advantage?

Are we just prone to being dasis? Like the DNA- does it make us depend on someone for faith? Or because we do want to genuinely give ourselves up for someone? Is this true? Does it exist?

And why is the universe so powerful suddenly that it sees the need to have dasis around? (read in a larger context. It includes all things like dependencies, addiction, slavery, servants- getting the broader philosophy?).

Just from the context of universe, think about this. There is a vast area of land desperately waiting for some water (read rains). The land is dry. It looks all wrong without a trace of water in it's life in a long long time. Ironically it has become a dasi to the nature trying to do everything to please the god of rain to show some return. Desperation. And the day it got tired of doing it's job, there is a sudden outburst of rain. And yes, the land collected all of the rain. As much as it gave. As much as it came. BUT, the timing was weird. Land needed some rest around the time. But the dasi that it was, it never really had choice to wait. It just had to soak up all the rain till it lasted.

Thing is the land never knew when the rain would show its' presence again. It's not like it rains every time the land dried up.

Wasnt the land a slave to the mother nature? Doesnt it feel like universe truly created classes?

So... do we accept this bitter truth? Or is my perspective all wrong? (I almost wish it were the latter).

141 - Sorry. Truly sorry.

I am always so fascinated with this word. The power it carries is capable of healing a wound. Hurt- no matter what the depth of it is.

I also wonder if it is fair we have this word. It has become a convenient word in our vocabulary. Think. Count the number of times we use this word in our life- everyday. Day in and day out.

It is supposed to convey a very very expensive message all the time. A communication that means you genuinely regret what has happened. It also comes with a baggage associated with the circumstance. It weighs on your psyche that you have caused some/large amount of inconvenience. It will hold you back for that moment every time a similar circumstance pops up in your (our) life. Hold you back rightly to rap on your head that you need to take a step back.

And yet. Time is supposed to heal more than the apology. "Sorry" is just a word to close the conversation.

Think about this:

1. The doctor tried his best to save the child. And yet. "I am sorry". (ouch! gone. Over. Does sorry even register in your mind? It is so fking formal).

2. I shot the bullet. It hit the wrong target. "I am sorry". (Story over. Does this word even register anywhere?)

3. I was angry with the watchman of the society. I gave an earful assuming he fully deserves it for his carelessness. Both of us are sorry. He- for being careless and me for using expletives. (How was the value added in this fight/chat?)

Get the picture? Sorry. Sorry.

Sorry what? Sorry who? Sorry why? It doesnt matter.

We shall still fight. We shall still misbehave. We shall still beat and cuss. We will still not hold ourselves in check at the right time. We shall still not have compassion. We will still prioritize our difficulties over others. We will still think we have bigger problems and hence have more rights to use the word.

Sorry. How does it matter that the heart breaks? Sorry shall heal it all up. Stitch it up to 9's. Just doesnt save the one in time. Sorry. Yea, the heart did break.

Sorry. Yea- the hurt, it's gone. But the scars- they remain. Sorry.

140: You said it...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KdBiT6Fxw8

I couldnt have said this better than Trivikram Srinivas about the Telugu poet Sirivennela Sita Rama Sastry. I really really couldnt have said it better.

Take a bow- both of you geniuses... 

139: War or Verses?

Who said wars were powerful because they have the power to kill people??

Really..

Think about this.

I say, that poetry will give life to people. If only people paused. Paused every time they wanted to fight. And pause every time they feel indignant. And pause. Pause so you want to be more sensitive. Pause so we want to be more aware. Pause because there is beauty in this universe. Pause because there is a tool that we need to practice to make ourselves all of this. Pause because we need to pause. The key is the beauty of words. Words spun together to make poetry and literature.

Today. I feel small but lucky. Small because today, I feel challenged that I dont understand everything already written in this world- all languages included. I just wish today genuinely that I learnt so many more languages that I understood so much more. That I felt more beauty in this world. 

And yet, I feel lucky today because I am trying to learn to pause. To pause so I can appreciate the beauty of the words. In the languages I know. Limited. But still makes me excited enough. Limited. but still makes me sleep with a lot of thoughts. 

That's the beauty of languages my friend. 

I feel greedy. I feel so freaking greedy today to just soak up everything available in the form of beauty. On paper. From some beautiful minds.

138: The car... it is now parked in the shed

Dead body.

He was stabbed to death.

Once. In the stomach.

The knife still rested inside the folds of the soft flesh.

Blood splattered all over.

A set of feet stumbled upon the dead body.

The feet belonged to a powerful person.

The gleaming knife and the lifelessness caught her attention.

A devilish smile appeared on her face.

She pulled the knife out. Almost to give some life to the dead. Maybe some dignity.

After a pause, she stabbed the knife yet again. As if to reiterate death. To reiterate to herself that the person was indeed dead.

She walked off. A few metres later, she came back.

Maybe in remorse? Maybe to finally grant some dignity to the lifeless (person)?

She looked through the gleaming knife yet again. 

She pulled the knife out. Almost to give some life to the dead. Maybe some dignity.

After a pause, she stabbed the knife yet again. As if to reiterate the loss of dignity. To reiterate to herself that the person had indeed lost dignity.

She wanted to walk off. And yet found the beauty inside the dead still disturbing.

She stomped off the listless face with her foot. Ground the dead face with the heel.

Even mother earth could not take the impact. She swallowed the dead into her warm womb.

Away from the heels. Away from the feet. Away from the hands. Away from the knives. Away from human beings.

What did it matter? The hug was too late. A soul wept and cringed in shame. It was naked. And wondered. And then wandered in it's long and lonely journey. With a shamed history.

The car?? It was parked in the shed. 

137 - Devil or the deep blue sea?

I'd choose the deep blue sea. Atleast it looks tranquil and beautiful. Whatay way to go I say! Plus there is hope. I swim. So there is a sliver of hope that maybe, I may find an odd boat somewhere or an island before I tire and die in the water. Or be eaten away by the sharks.

Is this choosing the best in whatever situation you are in? Is this being positive? What if I come up with another option? Maybe a desert? In the hope I'd find an oasis???

Thinking. Thinking. I need options. Lots of them. But not to help me choose. The options to help me live. 2017 so far has been a bit irate to me. Again, I am hoping its' just the beginning of the year. Like starting trouble.

I am officially looking for a job. A better career path. At work, it is just the devil. No deep blue sea option. Infact there is no option. :-) The devil is also off limits.

That's when I say- What else? It is neither the devil nor the deep blue sea. It's nothing. Nada. Zilch. What next? What next? 

136 - Dearest sweetheart... You are mine.

Dearest SH,

Where do I start this letter? Is there a way where I can even define what we are? Or who or how? When or where? Maybe not counting some blessings in this world is a better state to be in. The intention to write was only to let the world know about this relationship between you and me. It is not for a mark of approval. But it is a sign to all those people who think this kind of love is not possible or think we can't exist.  We did. And how...

While I know you are someone who will refuse to express even if your life depended on it, I hope you will agree within yourself when you ever understand my sentiment. This is not to rat out on you. Or show you off to the world. This is about my love for you. And our special relationship.

The first time I saw you.... (sigh! :-) ), there was the proverbial music in the background. I heard violins and cellos doing a "game of thrones" in my head. I was lost in the moment. I just lost. I was bowled. Is that what they call love at first sight? Some said you were big, and some said you were small. Some told me how sexy you looked (and I agreed) and some said how racy you were (which I know now). Some told me you were snobbish and old class and some said you were fake. But it didn't matter to me what some and others said. In my eyes... In my eyes darling you were the sexiest and the most beautiful being in this universe. Despite all your flaws (and you do have a few- Cmon baby, dont we all???).

The more I saw you, the less I heard about you from 'some'. I gradually stopped hanging out with my friends. The moments where we needed to separate- were the most painful moments. But there was a tiny ray of hope. There was hope that someday, we will be with each other. The fear of seen or caught by someone was strong. We kept to dark alleys. We found better hiding places to escape the policia. And so far we managed it well.

But baby, I have to tell you... The fist time I touched you.... (fanning. fanning...). :-) What can I say? My body was a war zone. I needed to touch you once more. And once more. And more. Some more. Oh- please some more. Here. And there. Everywhere. We couldnt get enough of each other. One fine day I managed to get all the monies in this world to make you mine.

Your keeper. Your foul keeper. Your bad, bad, wily guardian. He and I- we bargained so ruthlessly over you. How can I make it up to you my dearest? It was not my intention to insult you, but I needed to make the best out of what I had. I only had so much with me, but he had SO MUCH with him. He had you. And finally, when I could make you mine, honey we lived in sin. I couldnt stop touching you. There was no going back. I finally rode you. The moments when we mingled in sweat and dust and grime and held on to each other- had to be the most amazing moments in this wonderful life.

What else could I ask for? Was this gratification? (you think?) Or was it satisfaction? It was neither. It was complete. The moment... It was complete. And now.. On a day like today, when we finally announced it to this big world out here that you are mine, on this day, we are also legally connected. Yes baby, we are registered. And we now no longer need to run from this Policia. Or keep to the alleys unless we want to. Our relationship is now legal. We are not sinning honey.

I paused. I stumbled when they gave you a name. They said it was "MH0XXXXXXXX". I was annoyed. It felt so impersonal. You are not some random bike to be given such a name. You were my "Raheja chi Rani". You are my red, shiny, sexy, sassy, saucy, saarcy Vespa. My queen.


L
D.

136 - Betting and getting

Many winters ago, when I was back to being a full time student, I was this stuck up, FOB, conservative (bordering judgmental) desi who would scrunch up her nose at the sight of women smoking (oh yea! with all my equalist theories now...). Who has never had women friends before who would drink. Or had any friends before anyway who danced when they were happy. I had a lot of friends who used to learn Bharatanatyam, but I am sure that doesnt count in the coolness quotient. :-)

So here I was- first time with the whole class- out at a pub. It was a class party. There was a ManU Vs Chelsea match going on. People were drinking, laughing and dancing. And me.... I was struggling with a stupid dress I wore thinking it was "pub wear". The more comfy me today would have been happier with a pair of jeans. I looked out of place and I looked like I could do with a truck load of fibre. :-) Constipated is the only word that comes to my mind now.

Yea- We played truth and dare. I was the timid person who did neither. By then I picked an OJ on the rocks (and nothing else in it...) and settled next to the DJ. Actually no DJ. I just loved the way the sentence rhymed just now. :-) I just sat next to the projector. I could veer away from the crowd and got my bolt hole. So near, so far.

I was intrigued with football. I started cheering with the crowd for ManU. Maybe the red attracted me. It was my first match where I was actively participating in the play. I was curious. I was biting my tiny nails almost. And in the next few minutes, I was with the crowd who were people like me openly shouting. And cheering. And thumping the tables. That's when I recognized a classmate of mine in the crowd. Another person who switched off from the class and on to the crowd.

He noticed me and we exchanged a shy smile and acknowledgement of the situation. And then he came along and said , "10 quids say Chelsea wins". The challenging side of me woke up. The wild me. The raucous me. The idiotic me. The foolish me. I made a leap and a pounce to the bait. "here you go, 10 quids, but remember 20 will be mine when you see ManU wins and takes the pants of your C"..

I lost 10 quids the day. But who cares?? The loss came in with a lot of fun. Exhilaration. Excitement. Rush. I paid a price. I was most happy paying that price. It was worth everything and more. It taught me to bet. On life. And it taught me to be ok to lose. In life.

I would still bet. Maybe not on ManU. :-) BUT.