My best friend is preggers.

 It makes me soooooper happy and at the same time wistful. It could be me too. :-)

Another time. Another life. 

I convince myself that life is not about bringing more babies into this fk all world where you need fight tooth and nail for resources.

Sigh. Yea- I admit I am envious. Not.

Meena Kansmy- Sigh. Let me explain...

 I am not a regular Twitter user. I check it for news. 3 days back there was this whole "brahminism" tag trending. I took a look at the thread. 

I was aghast- because I thought so much of love/hate towards something is so totally uncalled for simply because we are polarising units. How does warring help?

Do I have the "privilege" of upper castes? Yes. 

Do I have the "stigma" of being in a particular caste? Yes. Ask my friends who think I am stuck up. (btw- I am).

I dont want to troll and infact I dont stand with anyone who is trolling. 

Do I agree with Meena? Lets' see- Has a "lower" caste person lost out on many things due to a brahmin? Yes- Mostly the sense of entitlement that made knowledge inaccessible to the other castes. I vehemently agree.

Did it cause loss of opportunities for other castes? Yes. I am sure it did.

Do I encourage reservation? Yes- I do vehemently encourage it as long as it is deserved. You ask how? If it results in upliftment of a family and eventually can result in the loss of stupid stigma- yes. If the family is second/third generation one, then no- sorry. You needed it the first time. Not always.

Why do I find Meena's tweet stupid? I refer to the tweet where she is ranting about how much she has done in her life and that other brahmin women cant' measure up. It is sad that one feels like they are judged so brutally that they have to take this philosophical stand of: "I am OK, others are not OK".

The problem with this stand is that you just keep on collecting facts through out your life to convince why your stand is correct. 

She (MK) has already achieved quite a few. her profile has more degrees/tittles than her name. She is trying to stand out- and rightfully so. BUT. I just wished she didnt stoop so low where she feels she also has to survive. 

It takes the sheen away. She now seems to be a normal human being. And her flaws are too loud. And her thoughts- are far too monochrome for a poetess.

Everytime a person is reminded of their caste, in a stereotypical way (and brahmins inc), you drag the universe down. Take stands when you have a way to solve. If your way of solving is just waging war- I dont know what the prize is. 

What do you want out of this verbal war? What are you fighting for? Is it just to provoke people to their worst behaviors?

I have been there, done that. I pay the price for these wars every single day in my life. Recognition is not something that others give you. This is the only piece of wisdom I want to share with Mk when she can hear me out. 

Meena Kandsmy- Dear gawd!!

 I mean.... 

That she is a decent poet and writer- everything whooshed off in my head.

Am I judging her too harshly??? I dont like (hate) folks who think they took a stand by shooting bullets at another group.

She has been provoked. Heck, what was she thinking???

I cannot un-see. Whatay!!!!!!!!!!! I say!

The twist in the tail

 There comes a point in everyone's life, when times change. Evolution. The journey. Many twists.

Life threw some major shit way back in 2008. It was a challenging year. Very. VERY. 

It took around 2 years for me to reach a new normal. 

2020 is another bi&ch. I just hope I will reach a new normal in 2 years. I am prepping for that ride. 

It's gone. Over. Kaput. Finito. :-)

Goodbye 2020. It was never you. It was me. :-)

PQRST

 The first time I tried my hand at drawing the PQRST curve, I hadnt anticipated that my freehand drawing would actually result in the disapproval of the committee. I was presenting it in a tech forum- my first ever white paper. Those were the days when there were OHP projectors and slides for presenting.

I realized the value and importance on the PQRST complex. Yes- it was complicated. 

Just like my heart beat. Today I finally hit the flat. Phew. What a journey. 

Every T has a P. :-) 

And every P has a T.

Mirror mirror on the wall, which is the best drink of all?

 Baileys Irish cream on the rocks. Make that crushed ice.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm... Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.. 

:-)

Phew. THAT. 

The yellow pillow and the weeping willow

 The winter was unapologetic. The nights, even more so. As he sipped his favourite bourbon by the fireplace in the living room, he stared into nothingness, that was filled with his life. The smooth liquid burned his gut as it turned fiery. Poetic justice symbolizing his life, which begun just as smooth and turned absolutely as fiery.

The grip around the amber goblet inadvertently grew hard just like his heart. The yellow pillow that was his faithful bed mate, slowly had a growing red stain. That yellow pillow which was his faithful mate. His partner in sickness and health. In richness and poverty. Till death does him apart. They exchanged their vows when he got her out of a mad house. It was a punching bag. He fell in love with it and got her home. Since then, thru his time with his wife, the mating ritual, and the fights, the pillow gave him the solace.

He still looked at the patch that grew lighter but spread out even more. Just like his life. The cancer just spread out. The pain became unbearable. The stare hardened. He threw the shards of glass that remained into the whistling fire. He held the pillow. And wept into it. Like there was no tomorrow. 

Along with his blood there were a pool of tears that the pillow absorbed. It was nothing new to her. She was used to it. This man needed a mate. A partner. Never a family. He wanted a fan. Not a friend. The pillow was eternally there for him. Plumping up when he needed a fat one. Flattening when he wanted a thin one. Took a shape when he wanted it between his legs. And struggled to breathe when he smothered it on his hard on. But the beauty of it all- is she chose to stay on.

He looked at the pillow in disgust and asked her in silence: Why didnt you leave me? The willows are weeping too. Why do you stay?

She stared at him. No answer. Only silence.

The willows howled even louder in the dreary darkness of the night. He asked her the question again. 

Silence. Again.

There were unsaid words. Feelings that she had. She was after all a pillow with a heart. She was lost in her thoughts. 

"There was a time when I didnt want to be between your legs. I couldnt bear the stink of the leftover pee. There was a time when I cringed when you beat me into shape. I couldnt bear the hurt.

There was a time when I wanted to be next to you, and not your wife. I couldnt bear the thought of sharing. 

There was a time when I wanted to be cuddled. I couldnt bear the thought of not having your attention. 

There was a time when my twin was a part of Us. I couldnt bear the thought of her dying. 

There was a time when everything was gone. All that was left was you. I couldnt bear the thought of being lonely. 

There was a time when I thought you would want to be with me. Out of desire. Out of choice. Out of lust. Out of love. Out of care. Out of passion. Out of happiness. Out of sadness. Out of the intent to share.

I couldnt ask you any of it, because I didnt want to ever think of me as an expectation. 

There was a time I needed someone. You. Not like you. But you. I thought that day will come before I die. I saw hope.

Today, I die with your blood leaking the life out of me. As it oozed into me, it dragged all my life. 

As the life fizzled, the only thought I had was, Damn, my friend, I wish we had the life I wanted. Atleast my expectations gave me happiness. You didnt even know what you wanted."

What a wasted life! The funeral happened in that hall. In the fireplace. With an epitaph that said, "life is full of expectations and hope. Live it up."- The weeping willow's partner- yellow pillow.

The gift of the Magi

 I still remember the day I read this story for the first time. I was an impressionable pre teenage school fellow. I was in grade 6 and my the then English teacher did a very sucky job of reading/explaining this lesson. Honestly.

And then I read the story in my 12th std. And then on a cold winder night during my Masters days. Every single time, I found it wistful. Like there was so much in that story about the two people who did magical things. It was never about what they had received. But about what they gave. It fascinates me to this day.

When I receive a gift, no matter how my day is or how my mood is, it invariably only gets better. I love it that someone had taken the pain to remember me, and get me something. It makes me feel very special. I always end up smiling very sub consciously. Someone took this effort to make me feel happier. To make me feel good. To make that effort to get me something that I must have chosen for myself. 

There's a sense of excitement in giving and receiving. It only enhances the process so much more when the excitement is shared.

Like my cousin just sent me a pic of her wearing a dupatta that I had gifted her last month for her bday. I smiled. She sends a pic everytime she wears it. The experience in giving and receiving gifts is ethereal. 

It doesnt matter what it is. Like in "the gift of the magi".

Extremism vs identity

 I had a chat that turned slightly uncomfortable yday and today morning with 2 different people. One person (a Hindu friend who is an atheist) and another friend - a christian evangelist. :-) Irony of life when you have chats like that- almost like a cosmic joke.

I never took a stand in either of these chats because I know I would be judged or worse- examined in the court. 

1. Was Godhra correct? No.

2. Was Babri masjid destruction OK? No.

3. Was 9/11 ok? No.

4. Armenia Vs Azarbaijan ok? No. 

5. Kashmir decision Ok? No.

My point being where are religious doctrines here? Why would someone's identity/faith or belief system be questioned when a person sticks to their faith- even when it's blind? Is my faith bothering my spouse? As long as it's mine, we are good. 

If it's not, then there's something wrong. What's wrong? 

1. Religious gathering is wrong. (esp in the name of prayers. They are personal)

2. Hate speeches and destruction-no matter the religion is wrong.

3. Religious institutions engaging in corruption is wrong.

4. Twitterati taking stands like mob is wrong. 

In all of this, why am I indulging in a chat that is questioning my personal belief? Why is this even right? 

Why has religion become a collective activity? Why dont I have the choice to be and wear my identity if I have to?- religion agnostic? 

Religion is absolutely wrong if I thrust it on someone else. Or if I tell others' are shit. Or if I go and slay heads or blast sites. Or demolish places.

Meh? Heck I am a bordering pantheist who thinks there's god even in a stone and I shall take an Aarti to it. Oh yes, I have a special affinity to Hindu gods.

Is law important?

 I have often pondered over this question many a times. Is law the same as justice? No. Is justice needed? Yes. How do you deliver justice? Through the system of law. Is justice legal? Philosophically not really.

Why do we have a legal system that often fails to deliver justice? Because it is indicative of a very firmly rooted black and white processes. Often predictive and indicative of the inputs, outputs and processes, No?

What is justice for a city that's submerged in rains?

What is justice for Ms Ranaut's cries of nepotism?

What is justice for rape and murder? (case in point being juvenile courts- what is juvenile in a person who is capable of raping someone?)

What is justice in love? (example being someone's mistress does not make them lawfully wedded wife who shall have access to rights on any decision inc finances- Remember Gemini?)

What is justice in death? Going, going and gone. Could we have done any justice at the "going" phase? Not really. We take it for granted they wont go.

They will. 

Massive news dump... yet again! Not again!

 I suddenly saw the press go gung ho about things not related to B'wood (finally!). I see B.Dut and others back on a massive dumps of news all over with views and opinions, thoughts and feelings. Yawn.

In my head, I mentally started ticking items that deserved this attention. And in our country, that's an easy thing. List goes:

1. B/K/T Wood    2. Politics      3. Rape/ murder/ any other crime     4. All of the above

You cant get us excited about anything else. Honestly, we are that simple. Simple right?? No. Not really.

We are back to protecting women's honor (as if it were a commodity). We are back on the streets (with masks) to protest yet another gang rape. And murder. We are back with our candles. All of it is now templatized. 

I mean who are we? We abuse our women/girls/females at home with an unconscious bias. And yet, we become an indignant clan. The more of this news, the lesser is the empowerment due to "precautions" women must take.

How do we train our daughters to be ready for this world? By telling them to be strong. By telling them to be resilient.

I mean, why do we teach our kids to survive? Why should we be strong to face a crazy world? 

It's just enough to be crazy in a crazy world. Let's not confuse strength and resilience with craziness, exasperation and tiredness.

Sigh. 

And just like that, he is gone

 Taking away with him: Tonnes of memories. Tonnes of moods. Tonnes of everything. Part of me. A very big part of me.

SPB was that guy who grew up with me. Made me fall in love. Out of it. Helped me thru the difficult times. Happy times. A song for every mo.

What else can I say except silently weep my very personal loss? Wherever you are my friend, you will be cherished. Exactly like my son would be. 

I will miss your presence. Your life. I am soo soo glad we both lived in the same era. I am so glad you were around. 

Madam...

 There's this really sweet colleague at work who keeps addressing me as "Madam". :-)

No, it's really amusing. He also smiles when he says it. And so do I. :-) Little things in life that are far better than the ugly truths that happen around in the name of honesty. 

Give me dishonesty anytime bro! I value the fun more. 

Suicide

 I know what suicide feels like. I did mine- professionally, I mean.

Not defending feedback that's thrown at you from all centers, is suicide. Period.

How do you fight with lack of many many things? And all your core values?

When the poetess becomes Kali

 She burns herself. That's what she does. She takes her anger and pours on herself and burn to ashes with reminders of the memories that keep flooding the anger.

Heck- what was I thinking? I was never even in the league.

I have never counted losses. But here I am. I ran away from my hometown 20 years ago to escape reminders. And today I run away again- but this time from myself.

I shall remember this day

 Today shall be a marker in my life.

I have seen difficult days at work. I have seen people thinking I have slept with the boss to go up the ladder. I have seen people thinking I have had it lucky. 

I am writing this today in helplessness that I failed so thoroughly. If I were to pick my own pieces, I will fail miserable to place them back together.

When I walked out of Banking, I thought I saw the worst. I thought I hit the muck. I thought I cant go lower and yet- today, I just did.

It is a difficult life. I walked the path of the shame one too many times. 

These are my choices. And that- is the ugly truth.

Complacency. Ownership. Accountability.

 Throw in hard work. And throw in sleepless nights. Anxiety. 

This is how I built my life. These are the core values I rely on to help me get the push. I have steadily tried to learn. 

And yet- today those are the values that have vanished in me. Someone shook me up so hard that I realized I am not who I am. Or who I think I am. 

Another hard knock. I guess 2020 is strange. If I do come out alive, I guess I will be as thick skinned as the elephant. 

Disintegration is a very harsh phenomenon. I have seen abuse of all shades and types. Everything. And yet- today seems so fresh and new. Even the scars seem raw. 

Atleast I know this is how I'd feel if I were on a ventilator today. That's how much of life and faith that is left over in me.

I also learnt a very important lesson today. By standers and spectators are everywhere in the country. There's Social media, news etc where a chance is provided for the audience to see the circus. But no by stander in the country has balls to stand up and tell a person what they are doing is wrong.

No one. Exactly why rapes still exists. Why people still can arrest on democratic belief. And why glass ceilings still exists.

For an infinite time, I wish I were not born a woman. It's ten times hard to live. No matter what country it is.

My paati's ruby bangles.

I chucked too many things out of my life to feel at peace. I paid a heavy price. But made my choices as of today.

I sleep in tears and wake up with a sense of loss. This is the only truth of my life currently.

I am officially depressed all over. Again. This time though, I am standing by my choices.

It means I am only going to do one job. And stick to it. One sport. And not many. One kid and that's it. I dont hold the theory of all kids are universe's kids and mine too. 

I am drawing boundaries. And will live within them. 

Finally- I am buying a house. I gave up on gold to swap for the house. If you knew me any better, you'd know that's the final nail in my coffin. Bang. 

I crashed and this time- very famously. Like imagine a crowd and many bullets pelted at your direction? Yes, pretty much sums up.

Go life- Bring it in. Douse me with your fire. And ashes shall appear to get me back to the place where I came from. I cant take so much action in my life anymore.

Gone are the ruby bangles I cherished. It's in my memory now like my paati's ruby bangles. 

She wanted freedom and he wanted a bond

Millions of girls grow up fantasizing a family. She grew up playing house and dolls. Until one day, she was reminded by the universe that she will not be eligible for this play anymore. She dropped the dolls even though her heart yearned it. She walked out without turning her face once. The dolls were all given up for adoption. Many took what she had with a lot of joy and happiness (and why not?). They were such good dolls who were all glowing with the love showered upon them. Through the pain, she thought atleast they found good houses.

She gave up on bonds. The separation was painful. She chose a minimal living that was completely impersonal so she could avoid separation forever. 

She started earning her living. Made more conscious choices. She was a free bird who didnt have to nest anymore. She migrated and she was happy. And yet- she stayed away from bonds. 

He... In her eyes, she thought she met an equal partner. They understood each other. They connected well. Her freedom was nurtured. There was safety and equality. Until he got the taste of freedom and she got the taste of that bond.

Tables turned one day. She realized they were polar opposites. Universe was so ironic. To this day, she never understood the ways it worked. He was her only doll and she had to make a choice to again give this doll up for adoption to a better home. A home the doll chose this time. 

What can a mother do except find a better home for her child? 

Terrible English

I shall start by writing something very honest today. I am terrible at English. I have terrible communication skills. And I am terrible at debates. Most terrible. Do not ever take me along if you have to do settlements with anyone in your life.

Why is this realization so important? It is very important because I always (read my lips- ALWAYS) took pride in all of the points above that I said I was terrible at.

Over night (and all of it in less than 24 hours), all the pillars of my life called out my dishonesty. That leaves you in a very scary place. Why? Because you always think that on a day your life comes crashing down, you would rely on these pillars.

S told me yday that I was an unreliable friend who she will never count on. I was/am not available usually when she calls me. Another friend just showed me a mirror that made me conclude that our frequencies dont match- after all these years of toil. And then the third pillar just told me I suck at intimacy.

I said all hell shall take my wrath today after this post. And yet here I am. Again protecting identities. What shall it matter?

End of the day, all of the 3 people above deserve festivities at home on Onam. And I shall weep on this day. To and for me.

Loneliness is like a terrible fk. It makes you begrudge everything beautiful in this world. It tells you why epics like Mahabharat happened. A mistress shall always celebrate in silence and solitude.

Since I am terrible at English, I try my hand at Tamil.

Yamunai Aatrile Eera Kaatrilae Kannanoadudhaan Aada

Paarvai Poothida Paadhai Paarthida Paavai Raadhaiyo Vaada

Iravum Poanathu Pagalum Poanathu Mannan Illayae Kooda

Ilaiya Kanniyin Imaithitatha Kan Ingum Angumae Thaeda

Aayarpaadiyil Kannan Illaiyo Aasai Vaippathey Anbuth Thollaiyo

Paavam Raadhaa...

How does a guilty person look like?

The omlette is flipped. Oops, we wanted the sunny side up. Now it is impossible to bring it back.

It was just another omlette. We can make one more. Oops! No more eggs. 

But the daughter wanted only sunny side up. What do I do?

I am terribly disappointed with myself. I switch on the TV and watch news. Oh wait, something super funny happened. Laughter.

Understood guilt in me???? No?

Ok- Picture this. 

You just tell a person what bothered in his/her behavior. The person apologizes. Profusely. And then goes silent. You wonder wtf happened. And then you realize, the guilt was long gone. There's laughter everywhere. Something amusing on the internet.

Why do I feel like I was just tossed?

Oh wait a minute. I was the last egg with which this omlette was made!!!!

Funeral.

Once something is dead, is there any value in debating if we should bury or cremate? And yet- I sat through a discussion. Where I saw things dead. Gone.

Gone with them were their hopes, dream, aspirations, pain, past. Everything. Kaput. And then we discussed if we should bury or cremate. 

Does it matter? My penchant for drama would make me imagine a cremation. Where every single atom was turning into ash. In front of my life. It doesnt even matter how this death occurred. It did. And some of us paid the price. 

Some things could have been immortal and time immemorial. And some things- are best left dead. Assume a few limbs and a part of your soul is not with you anymore. 

Funerals are funny things. They drive home the fact that things are really dead. 

I shall of course mourn the loss. They say time heals. I shall wait for my time to come. 

Death is the only absolute truth and reality of life. It will happen. It has to happen. 

Times move...

As I continue on my day 6/7, I lost track of the days now. My sleep cycles are smashed. The head aches' gone (and what bliss is that!), the fever's abated. It looks more likely that it is not the new virus in town.

And yet- the experience has been quite grueling and excruciating on not just me but people around me too. More importantly, sometimes these events are reminders of why we live.

Atleast what I figured in the past few days is more subjective. Infact throws away my sense of objective completely into thin air. Logic and rationale are but useless things. We need to embrace the more irrational part of us too. :-) There may be some truth in the emotions.

And that's another ugly truth. Emotions tell us something about ourselves. Our anger communicates what's not agreeable to us. And feeling it is more important than not feeling it. A human being is so much more complete in his/her incompleteness if only we embraced what we truly felt. And understood why we feel/felt them.

I am grateful that I am definitely on the path of recovery. For the first time I am happier in many months/years. What the past week showed me was that we are dispensable and people will be forgotten. Our lives are indeed in our hands. Any other way- it is but wrong.

All that's now left to recover is my battered sleep. One day. I shall get there. :-) :-) And on that day- I shall sleep peacefully. 

The walk of shame...

When she turned around and saw the place she left for one last time, she saw the familiarity of it all. The walking away part. It was always full of shame and yet every time it felt new. As new as the habit itself. Oh yes, it definitely was a habit.

The walk always brought it more anger with it. As she made herself immune to the noises, stares, views, opinions and judgments, around her, she became more and more empty. You see, life force was used to build immunity. Staying immune mattered to live.

For a moment she wondered why was this walk full of shame? Isnt it as imaginary as the values, culture, integrity etc that other people believed in? Why should someone carry this imaginary burden?

An invisible angel smiled. The walk of shame was meant to remind one of their ego. And pride. Both of which are again imaginary and delicate. Very fragile. It was needed for human beings to go back to basics. Like she did periodically.

Walk of shame was filled with learnings that a body rejects. Walk of shame is a battle with death. What matters is that with the walk of shame, she bought some time for herself to live. All that matters is a few more moments to live.

When you are in a neutral zone

Scene: Health is breaking down. You have a few symptoms and you are isolated. You have not taken the test because you dont fall in that zone yet. What happens then?

You will be isolated. You wont talk about it with anyone lest they outcaste your family. You suddenly feel that you are a part of a race where survival of the fittest indeed works. And you realize that you ARE a part of the race (even if you'd like to think otherwise).

We all fight for our lives first. That's the ugly truth. Locked up in a room for day 4 now: I am off work an off everything. I have been fortunate to get access to home cooked food that is fresh and hot sent to me on time everytime. I have been off phones. Check WA rarely/barely.

Ask me how does it feel to be a host to the new virus in town? Heck- I dont know if I am hosting "new" virus. I am hosting some virus that could be the new virus. Rest assured- your head feels like it's cracking. It is a challenge to use the loo. There's a huge fatigue factor. Your body is in pain. And the temperatures wax and wane. The heart accelerates and decelerates. And I battle with sleep (sometimes because I want to and sometimes because I dont want to).

Most importantly, it has given me this physical silence shot me to pieces. It is humbling to realize that it has to come to this point for a person to see somethings that otherwise we would be blinded to or have blindspots for.

In the confines of my room, I think. I exercise my brain as much as i can to play games with my conscious moments to find out more about myself. The outcomes are'nt good.

I realize that who I have become are many parts of many people who have inspired me over the years I agre (and continue to grow), but in the process, I forgot who I was/am.

The question who am I? continues to haunt me. 

Inkaar

First off, the album is out of the world. Shantanu Moitra is a genius. Really. The hwole album is a genius. But if there's a song that I need to pick to put it for you to sample, taste and savour- I'd easily pick Inkar's title track. Weep worthy... Drool worthy :-)
Swanand Kirkire has written this. For a non-Hindi/Urdu champ like me :-), these simple words make for a great poetry in the lyrics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Stel6Z4tW-0


Now the movie-  Another day, I can write many things. On a daker day like today, what can I say? Love is soo strange indeed.

Once a mistake, always a mistake

As he saw the proverbial light in the tunnel, he heaved a sigh of relief- albeit premature. Finally, he thought the war zone was clearing and things and people in his life fell into peace as the light grew brighter and larger.

He lovingly turned his gaze towards his wife who was there with him throughout the journey. He looked at her intently as if he was communicating a very pious message to her thru his eyes. The intensity threw his wife off guard and she flinched in a reflex that was age old- defending herself from his assault.

He knew he was a beaten man. He knew then that the sliver of light he saw was all illusion. He knew that once a sinner, always a sinner.

He knew the universe would neither forgive nor forget.

The last knot

The third knot was tied. According to the Hindu tradition, the couple were pronounced man and wife. He looked lovingly at her. And she wept out of joy. The tears that flowed looked like pearls that were falling off her nose amidst the festivities and the colors.

It felt like this moment would be etched in her mind forever. For many aeons that would come by. She looked at the man she married. A very flawed but a fair man. Yes she knew he was flawed. And yet she had love for him that made her blind to these. For that fleeting second, his gaze held hers and enquiringly looked at her asking if she was doing OK? She smiled in between the tears. He thought she looked so beautiful that perhaps she has never been more beautiful than this ever before. And maybe never after.

There was care. There was a lot of affection. Loads of it. There was warmth. Their eyes spoke. To each other. They completed each other's sentences in silence. There was trust. As a bystander, I could see the effortlessness in their communication and couldnt but feel envious. They must have invested so many of their abilities to come till this place...

And I took a moment to reflect on my own life. Admittedly, I never took that effort to communicate about my feelings. Myself. My reactions. My thoughts. Or took the effort to understand the other person any better. Neither talked not listened.

There was a time when there was a language of our own that our silences spoke. The silences got broken with realities of our lives. Our unsaid promises no longer withstood the sands of time. I was no longer his life. And he???

Someone tapped on my shoulder. I swallowed the last of my envy and with a bright smile turned to engage in another totally worthless conversation.

I love weddings. Sigh. And long live the bride and the groom.

And just like that light became foggy...

Crackling sparks from the fireplace on a rainy night like tonight brought familiar memories from the past and present. The warmth was comforting on a cold night. It showed that universe had answers to the questions that the world posed.

Light had darkness. Rains had summers. Seas had still waters.
Only... Time never knew when light became dark. When the summer blooms got drenched in water. And when the life of the sea waves got engulfed by the ocean.

As she was sipping on a steaming mug of coffee, a lone tear left her right eye. In her usual posture, her face always fell slightly to her right like the squint in her left eye. Slightly. As the sip of coffee hit her gut, she stumbled into the memories that were getting burnt in the fire.

"Your squint- it looks lovely on your face"....  She smiled.
"Come here- come closer, everyone deserves a hug to make their day better".. She was awkward.
"Coffee?".. She was shy.
"Donuts?".. She fell off her chair.


Or the time when he nursed her back to health after a bout of a 25 year old illness. Or the time when.. well- they had time.

And then the day came when it eventually became night. The dark and chilly night never gave way to anything else. He started rising in front of her eyes- what joy!!! She was most happy when he finally tried to get what he always wanted. She dreamed of his dream; She walked his path. Happily.

The sun that rose eventually set on her side of the world. He became so busy it didnt matter if it was day or night. Dark or light. East or West. Here or there.

To him, the rise mattered. To her, his rise mattered. Suddenly, her demise became oblivious. Some changes are best ignored. Some changes are best left by themselves. 

The warmth of the fire place was no more warm. It reminded her of another time. A time that eventually became painful to deal with it. She woke up with the same darkness that matched her skin. With the same squint that didnt match left eye with the right. She slowly walked towards the closet and brought each item that she lovingly preserved all these years.

There was a sudden energy furor in the fire. It started screaming loudly through the chimney. A painful moan that only she could hear. And yet the whole universe was silent.

Silence filled the room finally. What was left were the grey ashes.

And nothing else. And nothing else. And nothing else.

Ms A Roy..

I saw her movie.. :-)
No really, for those who didnt know or watch it, pls pls go and watch this movie called: In which Annie gives it those ones.

That's the name of the movie. :-)
She looks cute. The movie is way way ahead of it's times. It's way way better than 3 idiots. Infact, I have a strong feeling C Bhagat must have seen the movie and then wrote his book. And then the movie was made. So it's unfair the two parties (CB and Raju H) fight over the rights when the reality is it should give credit to the script of "In which Annie gives it those ones"....

Blocked. Blocked.

As he walked along, the shadow turned fainter. Just the inverse of his mind. The more he wanted, the little he got. The tune that he whistled faded away just like his listless energy. As he walked along, he reminisced his life. He took a quick sneak peak behind him to check if the usual demons were following him. These were unusual times. And all he had with him were usual weapons. Rusty. And lifeless.

He moved the tongue around his jaw inside as if a good stretch inside his palate would make his tongue sharper. A butter knife was far better. There was a time when his sharp tongue could give his enemies a run for their monies. There was a time when his looks could kill. In his days, he was known to be a handsome charmer.

Now? He was something of a man hag. His gait lost its' panther like prowl. His laughter lost its' hyena like howl. His moves on the chess board lost the edge. His words that he typed lost their razor sharp intellect. His stubbornness lost his partner in crime. And his sense of rightness lost him his family.

With a sharp rap to the walking stick, he tried to gauge his way another step further. He couldnt move. He tried harder. Nothing budged. In the darkness that was- he didnt know what was going on. His tired old mind was playing tricks. Was it the visible wall that was invisible in the darkness? Or was it his invisible resistance?

He realized he was finally, royally blocked. Check mate. In weariness, he turned back to re-trace but knocked himself to the invisible barrier- yet again.

This was what 6 feet under felt like. 

When life becomes difficult....

You realize that there's no one to ride along. Not even your shadow.
Darkness is such.

Mallela teeramlo sirimalle puvvu

It takes an artist to even think of a title like this. I am fortunate enough to be one among a very very few people who got the opportunity to see this movie. And what a movie! I almost didnt want it to end. Like the ice cream you still want. Like the joy of sharing the first kiss- mingled with the fear that this will be the most beautiful moment of your life that will never be repeated. Knowing that the moment is so precious- AND knowing that it will end soon.

I just wish that I never saw this movie- so I would have had the joy of watching it for the first time all over- again!

And that! That is art. That is fk-ing art. And the film maker- G V Rama Raju, take a bow. I finally recognize and realize that you are a living legend.

Sometimes everything overwhelming makes me cry. Like I could be happy- and cry. Sad and weep. Get the picture? I wept buckets after this movie. I cried unabashedly. I felt for the protagonist. I felt for me. I felt for the people. I connected. My demons also connected.

These movies make you realize that you are not alone in this world. Thanks dear earth and parents- for bringing me into this world. I have the fortune of feeling beautiful things.

College bashing...

I am giving in to my passive aggression. Here goes.
I had a bunch of posh B-school folks (read the likes of Anderson etc) approach me with an idea to be the do-er.
Their pitch to me: "blah blah blah.. blah blah blah.. you can fit into this role well (privilege for me), blah blah blah.. o btw, we are all Ivy league folks). Their pitch to me ends.
Then they tell me further- we need you to give life time commitment. Let;s play happy family. In return you will get our love and affection. And anything else tangible, let's talk when we get there...

Believe you me, I have seen so many people in the past couple of years that I have started to choose folks who I can help now. Oh, I can help. I can make the difference. And no- I am not from the Ivy league. Dont have their brains nor their monies.

You smell a hint of envy?? Yea- I agree. I envy their monies. But not their intellect.

I mean: you need to be so egotistic as to sell your college name before your name. Does it matter? This is the place where I tell you that I can recite school drop outs who did better than these jerks.

And I have enough friends and family from these dangerous schools. Trust me-- if you are 16 and still have a chance to go to these colleges/schools- pls do. Chances are that you can live off those years of hard work for the rest of your life.

And yea- I am angry.

Terrible terrible me

As I walked out of yet another mine, I wondered why do I step wrongly- why dont I play a good game of Minesweeper without getting dinged. (or donged :-))

I mean we all choose such terrible things at times in life for ourselves knowing we will fracture a few facial bones. Why?

What makes us stay in relationships where we are redundant? What makes us stay with people who dont feel we are fun or that we are capable of happy times?

I mean I wonder what makes us stay with people who think we are pressurizing them? Are relationships a thing of duress?

Dear god, I hope not.

It's terrible when I become the circus trainer. And yet- I am one. I hate myself that I have stooped so low in my life, that I have started depending on another person. And called it love. There- I said it.

Mirror mirror on the wall- who's the angriest of all?? Of course the bitter me! :-) Whatay!!!

How much is too much?

In my own South Indian style, I have to admit that we are a breed who have no clue of how to deal with boundaries. As in- we have clear ones. But ask us to go and give a welcome hug, let me tell you that it is of the most awkward ones you'll find on the street. Trust me on that.

I did my fair deal of "awkward" business. Until I decided that it wasnt me. I am happier when I am spontaneous. And when I am spontaneous, I shake hands or even do a good old "namaste". But not hugs. Warm hugs dont suit cold people :-)..

Like we'd probably be having sex with someone inside the darkness of our locked bedrooms but we would never really touch our partners in public, but hey, we will try and hug our friends. :-) Get the picture???

Question is- we are a confused lot. We really are. Our sense of boundaries are fk-ed up. We dont know when we get too close- inadvertently and then become awkward. Or we measure far too much- and then get awkward. So point is we will be awkward anyway.

Where do you draw the line? How much is too much? How do you fall in love? And how do you fall out of it?

Namaste! :-)

Eternal realizations of a flawed mind...

I realized today that a person stays alive to learn a few lessons. 

I keep learning mine. We meet new people because in some ways the cosmos wants them to help us learn these lessons.

Truly happiness or sadness is only a state of mind. Lessons are never right or wrong. Good or bad. They are just awareness campaigns. :-)

I do believe that I learnt my lesson finally. And fully. For some time (say eternity), I dont want to learn much. I truly want to live life for sometime on a pause.

We seldom forget people who teach us lessons. I look back fondly to those people. I am what I am because of them. 

The circus

Let's call me Marcus, the ring master.

I have a great love for circus. I used to check events religiously to figure out where and when the next circus would arrive.

As a spectator, I always was fascinated that wild animals also would perform to a ring master. I was Mike then. A very normal Charlie.

I never realized that one day I would become Marcus. The transformation has been very gradual and eye opening. But very unconscious. I neither remember the goal nor the journey. And yet Mike became Marcus.

On a day like today, and the months that have been, I ponder about the karma of my profession. I make animals jump to my tunes.

Marcus's shoes are super tight and pointy. Truth is Marcus will be alive- even after his death. Long Live Marcus!

Dangling key(chains)

As the lightening and thunder struck for the umpteenth time that night, I was frightened to death. By now, I almost wished I were dead so I didnt have to live through those moments of intense fear. Fear has that power. It eats your insides and makes you feel super small. Actually makes me feel invisible or maybe that's what I hope I am.

Every thunder made me shudder at the suddenness of it all. Obviously there was a power outage and it happened to be one of the rare moments of solidarity that I otherwise enjoy. I tried shutting all the rattling windows. But who can stop the ten gale wind? And who could stop nature's fury? I tried meditating. But all that came into my mind's eye was my broken life.

I was born an angry kid. Everyone in the neighborhood would vouch for this despite the years that rolled by. My loud wails still haunt the walls. Now they haunt the walls of my heart and body. The only identity that I hold very dear to my body is anger. My adornment. I fought hard- tooth and nail. I made sure I was not to be fooled around with. And yet- there are moments we all succumb to. The lighter moments that are meant to fool a person. The forbidden fruit.

There's poetic justice in all of this. In the lightening that stuck my attention drew towards the glistening keys. The holder was swaying side to side as if shouting to me to get the keys so it could settle in more freely. Oh- the forbidden fruit. And the siren call.

There are moments when fear is forgotten when you realize there is something bigger than fear- My anger. And then I smiled. The not so nice smile. The wicked and cocky laughter that will make everyone uncomfortable. Like I was transferring fear to something else. I stood up and counted steps to reach the key stand. I clutched the cold bunch of keys in my hand. I gripped it so tight that I thought it will cut my insides of the palm.

With one key of the bunch, I locked the house. And with the other, I started the ignition of the car. Raised the accelerator like I wanted to. I heard the sound. The crunch of the gravel sounded like a lullaby that brought peace to me. Stepping on the gas further, I drove away. The hunted became the hunter.

The house was finally shut. And the distance between us increased. Just like the house wanted. And meh??? I was happier driving away.

Hey farmer farmer...

I heard this song and suddenly got hooked to this line "farmer farmer put away the DDT"
While I loved the song and was grinning as I heard the lyric, I just couldnt stop listening to this- on a loop. :-)
They are obviously many many people after 1970 to try this song.. But the original guy is the guy :-)
Joni Mitchell! :-)

Into each life some rain must fall

Marshall (the speaker) was the common interest. It was neither Longfellow's poetry nor Fitzgerald crooning that wafted in the house. It was the overpowering silence that was screaming between the two people who were living in it. None paying any attention to anything else but their own thoughts- which were about others.

S(he) said, S(he) said-

"I can't believe you changed so much over the years! You were so caring earlier. How come you have become like this? I dont recognize you anymore!"

"Oh really! It's not like you didnt change! You werent like this way back! Do you remember how forthcoming and light you were when we met the first time?"

"That was when you were fun. Then you focused on your work. I was invisible to you. You were not even conscious of my presence. Did not pay attention to the lunch I packed for you. All that mattered was your ambition."

There was a pause... In the noise.

Marshall started making it's presence felt.

Some folks can lose the blues in their hearts
But when I think of you another shower starts
Into each life some rain must fall
But too much is falling in mine

An eternity passed. Heavy breaths. Panting breaths. High stress on the angry bodies that were shouting. In another day and age, these breaths denoted a home coming. A coming together of hearts and bodies. Heaviness denoting an earth shattering climax. A common goal that was happy. That was not a race. That help love. That held safety.

The battle resumed.

"There was a time when you initiated interesting chats. There was a time when you asked me out. told me how pretty I looked. Heck, you bought me clothes."

"Fk- is that what this is about? It is an easy thing to fix. Let's go shopping and I shall buy you clothes".

Pause.........
Heavy breathing.

"Dont insult me like that ever again. I dont need your monies. I make enough of mine to take me shopping. I am hinting that you lost interest in me"

"What non sense? It's not like we are teenagers. Of course we go thru journeys that can make us weary. But this is life, Isnt'it?"

Marshall stopped playing the song. But thought for a second- how/why do these people turn me "on" and then fight? It's like there is no respect in my letting go off my beauty. Such a waste of my energy and sperm! :-) Well, Marshall is of course that boy. :-)
His thoughts were perturbed. Yet again. Someone started yelling. He was sure it was Ella from deep his belly. This was one of his personal favourites.

BUT. The noise overtook his thought process again and he sighed.

"Why should I accept this unhappy life? You gave me this ring and told me your soul was in it. You said it was for both of us. And yet- you removed yours so nonchalantly. Didnt you think I noticed?"

"Heck- it cant be about the ring!! I am happy to wear it again but it was feeling uncomfy and I removed. There was no other thought to that action except my comfort. Is that too much to understand?"

"Yes. Yes it is too much to understand. I could have understood you had you involved me in your journey. Had you included me in it. You and I had very separate paths and you decided it was OK."

"That's not true. You got the benefits of my hard work too. Let's just say that both of us screwed up and move on from here. I am tired of this fighting. Can we call it quits?"

"Actually... No. Sometimes. It is not both the people who screw up. It is only one of them. In our case, it was most definitely you. That's a mistake. It was not expectations. But it was your jaded philosophy of rationalizing what works for you. And at the same time getting conveniences from me. Let's call out."

Marshall wilted. Fitzgerald was egging him to complete the song.

Into each life some rain must fall
But too much, too much is fallin' in mine
Into each heart some tears must fall
But some day the sun will shine

But some day the sun will shine. Unfortunately neither of them have invested in patience. And honesty. he sighed again. He knew for sure over the past generations that he has been seeing the family, that the only truth of the matter was Marshall was never utilized to the fullest. Fk, he had a brilliant voice. Aye, he did.

His dad Jim must be rolling in his grave.

Karen tei Yamashita

Pls pls read her book "letters to memory".

There are more popular books of hers, but my heart beats super fats for the memory.
In all these years, I havent read a more personal book the "Letters to Milena" by Kafka. Today, I found a book more personal and more connected than Kafka's. Maybe- Just maybe, evolution is indeed a reality.
My latest love has to be Karen Tei Yamashita. One day... I will meet her.

The buffaloes used to say "roam where you roam"

Moriarty were busy with their song. I was wrapping up an otherwise long day. I am a very hard working boy. No, really, I am. I work hard. I slog through the day. Right from the moment I wake up. Till the time I sleep. There are very few days where I might have done some binge watching of series but never throughout the day. And never without a shower. :-)

I am this chaste brahmin boy who got used to eating only after the famed Sandhya Vandanam. Yes, I smear a tiny horizontal line of ash on my third eye. And yes, I speak better in my mother tongue than in English. I sing carnatic classical music true to my South Indian upbringing. I play the mridangam- like any brahmin boy worth his salt does. I dont eat meat. I studied hard. Did I mention that I work hard? Yes, so I work hard. My mother being this wise lady taught me to sing and cook apart from my usual school based academics.

I guess I do experience the fruits of all of the above traits that has been instilled in me. All matrimonial sites seem to like the god fearing boy that I am. They also like the monies I make. I am perhaps everything that everyone asked for in another person. I am also the same boy that the neighbors asked their kids to be.

While everyone were out having fun and learnt life values that were required to live a better life, I slogged. I made sure my family was happy. Happier than I am. I made sure everyone approached me for help- in (m)any ways.

Many years later- as I am gazing through the window of my high rise flat, I looked at the moon- who looked through me. The stare was hard. Stern. And yet kind. The tears that rolled had so many stories to tell. Of the person who I am not. Of the person who I became. Of the person who I dont know.

Jimmy won't you please come home?
Where the grass is green and the buffaloes roam
Dear old Jimmy you've forgot you're young
But you can't ignore the buffalo song

Some conversations. Some unhappiness

Some conversations cause me some unhappiness. And then some. Why would an innocent chat be taken out of context? Why?
One moment we are discussing Sartre Vs Nietzche. And the next we are wrestling. No clue of what happened in between. :-)

The birth of Tragedy

That. Is. Philosophy at its' bestest.
F. Neitzsche

And then Sartre. I mean, I wonder what makes us think that way???

Fuss in the Fuzz

As I was pulling the tiny strands of my beard, I gazed into the nothingness from my balcony. That had trees. Lot of them. I was lost in my thoughts. It is very difficult at times to understand my train of thought. It is weird. It is very dynamic (even for me to catch hold of it). It has a lot of 'stuff' and yet nothing in it. As in nothing useful. So basically, this is my past time. Pulling my beard I mean.

I thought about the first time I saw my beard sprout. I cant remember my age then. But one of my close friends joked about it in a lift car as we were reaching home. He said to me I should start shaving and told me about the brand of razor he used. Those were the days when the Dollar Shaving Company still didnt exist. Birdie was still a fledgling that didnt leave or had a will to leave the nest then.

I went to the market. With a lot of trepidation I got me a razor. I dont think I'd have felt that embarrassed ever in my life- not even the first time I bought condoms from the shop. The shopkeeper looked at me and laughed asking if those stuff (I meant the razors) were for my dad. I refused to look in his eye. It was a shop miles away from my house. I took the bus from school to go the shop. I had to save pocket monies because I couldnt ask my parents any money to buy razors. I mean, D-uh! Financial liberation at that moment felt like having the ability to buy my own razor. Which was all of Rs 10 then.

So I went home that day and checked the calendar to see it was not a Tuesday, Saturday or a Friday. It is extremely difficult, mind you, to get a day that is apt for a shave or a haircut if you come from a family like mine. There are more days for not doing somethings. I guess that's how they controlled economies back then. :-) Spend on lesser number of days so you spend very little.

On a Wednesday, I did the deed. I shaved this fuzz. I shaved that fuzz. I shaved those fuzz. I shaved these fuzz. And I couldnt come out of the washroom. I was paralysed with fear. I knew then that I was a birdie and not a fledgling anymore. I wanted to fly away from that nest. Into the skies. Where I met others birds. Who wouldnt recognize the fledgling in me.

Sigh- what a life! Nobody noticed anything. Not even my friend who mentioned I had sprouted. He neither noticed nor spoke the lack of the strands.

You might wonder why is this important enough to note in this journal- well. Think about it. Sometimes. Most of the times, perhaps we take our fuzz far too seriously. We think what others say is important for us to take an action on. People just say things because they feel like. Not because you like it. :-)

Amid Covid

I stayed away from writing my views here- not because of fear. But because I didnt know what to write. I have access to a lot of info that my left and right brain process very differently. What I do know is that I dont like what I see.

It is not about the lock down. No sire. It's about the behaviors that people exhibit. In fear, we become strangest of the survivors. Do we need to hoard? No. As a collective if we live for a day, we can try living for another.

I see people wearing masks. Why the need to move around? Stay the fk home! Dont waste masks for your strolls. Please. People dont have a clue of what's happening tot he front line healthcare staff and workers. There is a HUGE deficit. It will hit in millions.

Please stay away from the TV. There's farr too much of stuff that's repetitive. It disrupts the day. If we do have enough work on our hands then dont engage in watching TV for hours or checking updates every few min. We are not there on a war front fighting. We are in our drawing rooms/bedrooms. In the comfort of the confines eating on time. Every time. Everyday. Dont think we are become subject matter experts by watching TVs.

Oh the negativity- I hear people having a lot of negative views and opinions on Govt. My sincere urge. This is not to support or shun the initiatives of the Govt. Every single day, so many things change. Please please pause. Amidst all the banging and clanging, pause to understand what you can do to the collective? Can you help? And if you can, please do. Else, please stop passing gyan. That just wont work anymore.

So basically- folks, if you have no work to keep yourselves occupied thru the day at home, then do whatever you want to- but dont spread negativity that does not add an iota of flesh into the much needed help requests at this point.

My point being- either volunteer- be there in the zone or shut your traps and get on with your lives in your realms.

Living from the scratch

The last week at home has humbled me. And disgustingly entitled. It made me feel greedy for living a life like this.

I always wanted to do a lot of things in my life. I truly did. I had a huge checklist that denotes everything that an un-evolved human being ever would have. If you deep dive into the lists, you'll realize I am an egotistic, jealous, depressed and greedy individual.

A sneak peak into this character:

1. Loved to travel. To look at what earth wanted to offer. BUT. wanted comfort travel and comfort hotels. Just coz' I could afford. I still want to travel- but some things will change.

2. I wanted to publish a book. Badly. To show the world that I am a capable writer. Funnily enough, I paid a publisher to help in this regard. An editor too. Only now I realized I am a fk-all writer who will only publish a book just coz she could. :-). I am not going to do it.

3. I wanted to start a company. See it rise. Like a baby. Like my baby. I wanted it to do bloody well. I finally made peace with it that I dont have it in me to sustain it. It would have been a passing fancy. You see- I could never commit to a problem.

4. I wanted the society to stand up and tell me what a good job I have done. I wanted fame. I wanted the stigma to be erased from my life- I said it. I didnt want to be that "woh". I didnt want to be that "funny" person. Today. I feel it doesnt matter. Woh or otherwise. I have no right to expect or feel that I am a good person. I have been a terrible person- I said it. I have not stood by my friends in need. I have never cared enough. I have never had compassion. I still dont. I dont understand what empathy is. Truly I dont.

5. I wanted a house. A red tiled house. French style bungalow by the sea if you may. With a lot of green around. A huge house with a very earthy and rustic flavor in the insides. A lot of wood and brass. Functional house. With an open roof in the centre of the house for the rainy days. I fantasised that the house will be full of me, my laughter. My happiness. I feel terrible with myself for even allowing myself to think about it. I forgot about contentment. I forgot that I still live in an apartment that has a garden view, a sky view and a view of planes that land from behind the hill. The house with it's happiness is gone.

6. I always wanted to own a posh car that I drive by myself. Do road trips with my kid. My partner. Myself. My dad. I hadnt realized that I dont enjoy driving. I dont even take the small car in the parking. I dont need no car anymore.

7. I always wanted to record a singles. In my vocals. A nice old telugu folk song that I could choose and make. Re-make. I thought I'll even wear make up if I ever did that song. I croak. My voice is shrill. I am older. I lost the innocence that a person needs to sing. I must have really lost it when i thought of this one.

8. I dreamt. Damn it. I dreamt. I was a dreamer. I was never a thinker. Never. Today reluctantly, with my amateur philosophy, that sounds cocky, I have become the do-er. Just blank your mind out. And get on with work.

9. I wanted more children. I love kids. When they are not assholes. Actually- they are not assholes when they are with me. I like them. Genuinely. I wanted to adopt a few of them. Not out of godforsaken social or moral obligation- but for my own personal and selfish love for them. I decided in the last week that I am a terrible parent. I cant do anymore injustice to this universe by leaving a few of my traces than stuff that's already left over.

10. I hoped that people who wronged me would one day apologize. I really thought. This was a huge hope/expectation. They wont. I didnt realize that the wrong-doing was two sided. My own "version" of events would never allow me to apologize to them. I remember what I like to remember.

11. My version of a dozen- will always have something less. Like my life. I wanted to live and be in love. Well, I just fell short.

I had misconceptions about love, family, money, security, parenting, heck- life! Today it feels like my whole life was false. My choices. My truth. My lies. My honesty. My intentions. Everything.

I guess this is what the universe thought I should learn. That today- I am still alive. And I should just be grateful. And that there is nothing else that should matter more to me than my own life. And that no matter what we like to think, no two beings are one. They are always 2. 

My triplets finally rest in peace

After 3 years of mourning, today was the first time I woke up and thought of my triplets- and surprisingly didnt weep. The first thing I did today morning was really get into work. And when I thought of them- I finally felt peaceful. I could forgive myself for the blood in my hands.

I finally knew they were not real. They were just a figment of my imagination. It was my mind playing games with me as usual. Did they exist? Or did they not?

Finally I acknowledged today that even if they did exist, it didnt matter today. They could have. They might have. And if they did'nt- all the more better- because I dont really have to grieve.

Funnily enough, my breast remembers feeding the lambs. So, it must be true. Bodies dont tell lies- I guess!

He was the sun. Now he is another planet.

I read this fantastic piece of writing by Chandrika today. Chandrika is a dear friend and I have super fond memories from the past. Many meals together. We were a riot. But I digress- that post will be for another day.

I couldnt help but think about my own life. Muse. Drama in my mind obviously got a trickling tear or two out of eyes. Maybe more than a couple.

I dont believe in love. I said it. Ouch! That sounded harsh. But here is my theory- love is imaginary... It is non existent. Everything that happens in and around that place is very heady and surreal. Nothing to keep you grounded. The problem with not being grounded is- it is very easy to be in the air. It takes nothing to be happily floating around. Until one day you realize that there was nothing that was holding you up. It were our own thoughts. Imagination. Human minds can be very powerful.

So from the highs and pinks, suddenly you see it for what it is. I also fancied to be in love when love had a very different meaning in my life. It is never easy to fall or be in love. Not for me. But when I was, he was the Sun in our universe. Here's the truth about being the sun- he does many many things. I was just another planet. An important planet in 'his' universe. But I was neither his sun nor his star.

The madness in all of this is you dont realize it is not OK. That the Sun does it's thing. Anyone goes near it any close and it will singe you to death. I went too close without realizing I was being singed- unintentionally of course.

And then my debris cried hard. The moment of disillusionment amidst all the of the knowledge that the Sun gives.

Sun is as flawed as the planet. I became my own star. And the Sun? In my view became another planet. An important one.

That's love. If it existed. It is not about theories. It is not about choices. It is about me and my perception unto myself. Everybody and every thing else is exactly that- not you.

End of the day what mattered was I got my debris. I got my little life. I started living slowly but steadily. Surely. I am me.

Stores of Stories

I have been partial always towards fiction. I louve especially Somerset Maugham, Stephen Leacock, Kafka and the likes- I just wish I wrote some of them... (that's the narcissist in me) :-)

I read "Appointment in Samarra" just now. Wow!! These authors are gods. The hope in me that I will one day be a writer is also dead today. Whoever said death is bad? Little death isnt. :-) I had mine just now.

Pseudonym

You told me you will never ever write another word in your life.

As I gazed into the nothingness, I couldnt but see the beauty of it all. 
It reflected the flaws of the dear moon.
It mirrored the cracks on earth.
It showed the tears and the tears of my face.
It illuminated the broken love of life.
It lamented.
There were lost dreams. Lost hopes. 
Thousand cuts. 
Most of all the child. That child we made. 
And I killed.

As I started to read this book, the first word, the first paragraph- I knew you wrote it. From the first word. From the first para. I just could feel you all around me. And in me.

In my own naive view of our lives, I assumed you will never ever write another word in your life. After many years of wisdom post that phase in life, I realized that you mentioned it to me. As a context. Not life as a whole.

You were a charming rascal who could weave your way through words.

Mechanical Mommy pride

One of those days, when you cant help but beam. Out of this stupid, misplaced pride that can sometimes be unwarranted and biased. :-)

As a lazy Sunday was progressing, my little one was looking frantically for her tool box- real one with a few wrenches and screw drivers, screws and so on. From her Mechanix set. I thought she was going to build something. Imagine my surprise when I see her with her bicycle seat in her hand when she walks in??

I ask her (more out of fear than curiosity- it was a brand new cycle), what was happening. She tells me to hang on for a few minutes. More of scuffling here and there and by now, I am really curious. Enough to stop whatever I was doing.

She then comes to me and asks me to take a look at her cycle. She basically fixed a reflected at the base of the seat. :-) And she was so proud of herself.

Cant agree more. :-) I bet you.. Get a kid to do this job. Any kid. It takes focus and patience. And common sense. It is a blo*dy easy job to do- ask me, but needs a lot of focus.

What's the right thing for me to do? Leave her be? SO she chooses her path? Or......... Do I be the quintessential Indian parent? 

Let's talk, baby!

If there were Oscars running for shorts, this deserves a lot.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KP0aDTVtFI

We dont talk what's relevant and needed anymore. We talk about everything that's socially acceptable from cancer, to AIDs to global warming. BUT. No, let's not build tolerance for rape.

Leave me in peace.

As I stared hard at the body I was used to living in, I wondered what was in it that was'nt in someone else? What makes us dark/fair? Fat/thin? Our Karma?

My soul was all set to fly away in peace. Those final moments, my eyes fell on a man who gazed at my wilting body that had no life anymore. A very distant gaze. A very indifferent gaze. A very shuttered gaze.

The eyes gave a reflection of his brain. A brain that I couldnt comprehend any better when I was alive. A spirit that I have been trying to fuse with since ages. A spirit that has been avoiding this for ages. :-)

This time, the message came out loud and clear- "Leave me in peace", he said. It felt like another hard stab.

A very broken body already, my body gave up. My spirit danced away to glory post this. In pain and in disconnect with the universe. I finally flew away.

My time on earth was so strange. So short. So half lived. So painful. 

My conversations with the moon

Emptiness. Lies.
Illusions. Reflections. Silences.
Death. Ghostly.
Ghastly.

My moon. Gone with the darkness.

Equal partners...

We all being being more equal than the other- in a nice way.

And then we start becoming more and more equal. Normalization occurs at some point. Could be a decade, could be a day. But happen it would.

On the day we realize that we were never indeed equal, is the day that looks like the red sea in a dead sea.

The day I stopped being...

There is a straight 7 year patch in my life that I hate to revisit. 14 to 21.
I just wished sincerely at times that these years never ever happened in my life.

I met someone last week and that reminded me of my wars at 17.

I have only one line to describe that war. Live your life around 1200 people who resented you for 4 years- continuously. Imagine- no home. Just this jail. And 4 years of resentment. And 1200 students. Teaching and the non teaching staff- from sweepers to the top guy. Every. Single. One.

Against this one- Me.

I stopped being. 

And I have become a monkey...

The phone ring awakened me from a deep slumber that was induced by a marathon session of well- you know what! A lady never kisses and tells.

The problem with certain bells is that it throws you into reality. A reality that you'd deeply begin to loathe. I woke up gingerly. And went into my own world. Of loneliness. And of reality.

I realized I would never be a part of my own home. A home that I lovingly built. Every brick of hardwork and affection all broke apart. 

And I also realized I will never have another home.  A mistake that I made with open eyes- maybe with a bit of wisdom too. Maybe it was called a choice. A home was a place that everyone guarded with their life. And more than life.

I assumed there'd be one or two like me. I made the wrong assumptions- not for the first time. But this choice.... Aaaaah. :-) This choice makes me weep out of sadness. 

I just wish......... Sigh. 

I became a monkey. Yes, I did. 

Our views and opinions

I met a gentleman on a flight to Delhi a few days back. Looked very sophisticated and had a happy chat with me thru out the flight. And them wrote me a very nice note (those notes really make you smile). I am not writing the contents of the note, but he and I met again very recently again. He then mentioned to me that who we become are broadly because of our experiences and what we stand for- opinions and views.

I pondered about that statement. Not that I dont know- but think about it hard. Is that who we all are? Have become a slave to our own thought processes? Doesnt this make us more and more confined and narrow in our minds?

Like 3 days back I was talking to another friend who mocked at my taste in music. Nudging me that there's better music around the world. I listened to the song he played to prove his point. And I agreed. There's better music. There's better books. There's better many things. I wont debate on it. My taste in a lot of things are terrible too (if I had to pick a scale). Yes- I grew up with different exposure and I still try and learn. Hear stuff.

What I dont get is to make the creator responsible for not creating beautiful things. It is unfair to haul him/her up and tell them that they can experiment more. They are mere human beings end of the day. They have the same set of weaknesses (if not more) as another human being. Same set of insecurities- only scale is different. Like if you have an EMI of a 3 bhk in Blr, then chances are that guy also has an EMI of his mansion in LA.

We are the "rasikas" who would review to death but will never budge from our high stands to see what real human beings are like. We will continue to judge them. Continue to beat them for not making good music or writing good books.

Like I dont like Chetan Bhagat- but I must admit that I found Five point someone very very related to my life at that point in time. Yes- the book is terribly written. But did not resonate with me- the subject I mean..? Yes the story eventually communicated to me. Does this make Bhagat a good writer? No. Does this make him a good story teller- A big fk-ing YES.

Same goes to a much talked movie- Arjun Reddy. Is Sandeep Reddy Vanga a good guy or a bad guy? I couldnt care less. Honestly. Does he make good movies- No. Is he a good film maker? A big fk-ing yes. He knows how to tell a story on a motion medium. He has the engagement of an audience for 3 hours.

Our world has become so obsessed with saying and doing the right things and so clinical that we forget sometimes that we are as flawed as the other person. We may have the right to review, but we dont have a right to judge another person for their values or lack of them. My point being this will only restrict our happiness and approach to life. We become more and more closed.

On a day like today, I have to admit that sometimes I go with the crowd sourced opinions to make me look more sophisticated and dont admit to a few things. I mean that is a problem with these psedo intellectual types. They would make you sound like an idiot for liking something that's very common.

Am I an idiot, then??? Oh yes. :-) A very happy one at that. I still find them gujju songs that they play at Dandiya a LOT of fun. 

Meditation called eating

There have been many instances where people laughed, stared, mocked, appreciated, and ridiculed when they saw me eat. They wondered why I wouldnt lift my head as I eat (from my hostel days in college) to folks who wondered why I liked eating alone in school (didnt like sharing so stuck to my own dubba and my own self) to why I still prefer eating by myself even today. There was somebody who took pains to explain to me that eating is/was a social activity. Is it?? I wonder.

Then there are people who laughed at my OCD about using particular utensils for a certain set of activities. There are those who were amused that I change cutlery for different food (use fresh ones for change of a course of a meal if I were not eating with my hand). There are those who think I am too narrow minded because I have issues about eating from someone else's plate or someone else touching my food. Yes- I hate it. I said it. :-) Oh- and then there's another set of people who think i waste mental cycles by keeping so many things in mind about food and react when it doesnt happen to my convenience or comfort.

I felt like explaining this to one or two people- about the madness in the activity called eating. Honestly did. But decided against it because I didnt feel they'd ever see my point of view- and what's more- they dont have to.

Food is life for me. It matters to me that I eat and treat it with respect. There is a difference in my eyes- when you tear a piece of bread and gobble it up vs you look at it, feel happy and then tear that bread. Food is blessed. It cannot be eaten (according to me) if we feel unhappy or sad or if there's terrible company (or company you dont enjoy esp in that moment). And yes- I dont eat when I am angry. I feel that food wont help me or vice versa.

It matters to me that a particular ladle is used to serve a particular type of food. In my own head, they are related emotionally to each other (and yes- I am that mad). So- no, you cant take the rasam ladle and use it to serve rice because in my head, neither rice nor rasam nor the ladle would enjoy that experience.

Yes- I dont like sharing food. Sharing food is an intimate experience and I need to know that food has been prepared by those who lovingly made it to cater to my needs. And yes- I am that mental about eating. Yes- I dont prefer raising my head while I am eating because it matters to me that each grain on my plate feels that they are touched by me and each grain on my plate should bless me. I dont want to miss out on a single blessing that the plate has in store for me. And yes- I take a lot of time while eating because I feel lost in the act of eating. I am lost in the taste, the texture and the whole experience of giving life to my body through an important aspect- eating.

Why, pray tell me- is eating not a meditative experience? It's not like I am telling my neighbor or friends to do exactly the same while eating. And of course- not all meals are like this. Unfortunately I live in a social world where all people want to do is mock at another person for their values or lack of them. But hey- we are democratic. Arent we?

I would love to tell you all to start eating like this- but I wont. There is no benefit or advantages of eating like this. Except heart ache that people sometimes dont get you. But. :-)

Indignation Vs Indifference

While both are different means, in my view they achieve same result. Nothing.