1. I call myself a realist (practical-ist) when what I really am is a pessimist.
2. I make excellent onion bajjis.
3. I appreciate all things beautiful and when I say beautiful I refer exclusively to my good friend Saranya (Krishnamoorthy)
4. I am easy to please.
5. I am ALSO eager to please.
6. I cant say no to people.
7. I cant stand other people's fingerprints on my stuff.
8. I like driving in the rain with a plastic bag on my head.
9. I whine incessantly.
10. I like the word "awww" and I use it everywhere.
11. I think poetry is the hardest thing to write.
12. I hate technology and gadgets.
13. I have a knack of cracking people up.
14. I laugh at random things.
15. I can be your bestest friend, which also proves that I can be highly egoistical.
16. I love bags in all shapes, sizes and colours.
17. I am generally an agony aunt.
18. I can talk for endless periods of time. I can also listen for endless periods of time.
19. Although I dont admit it, I like Shah Rukh Khan.
20. I can put on a Tam Brahm accent and talk to confuse and irritate people.
21. I am a geek
22. When i was in LKG, i dint cry on the first day of school. I cried one month later when everyone else had settled down.
23. I once put my tongue out at a photographer for a passport size photo and he clicked AND printed it!
24. I say everything is boring, even before I get down to doing it.
25. I love all things soft.
Saturday, 30 January 2010
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Journey of a Woman
An article I wrote for a friend's journal. Good enough to be posted? Comments are most welcome :)
The woman. The mother. The virgin. The symbol of all that is pure and chaste. The eternal manifestation of beauty. God’s loveliest creation. When John Keats said “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”, we have every reason to believe that he was referring to the creation that is; a woman. Love her or hate her, you definitely cannot afford to ignore her. From being the apple of her father’s eyes, to doting on her grandchildren, there are many roles a woman fulfills in one lifetime. Yet you never hear her complain. A peep into the journey of a woman – as a daughter, a mother, a friend and more…
Daddy’s Little Princess
There is something about a little girl dressed in pink. Not only does she look as cute as a button, but there is pure innocence that shines in her eyes. In her world, everything is simple. There is nothing that Daddy cannot do. When Daddy says “You are my little princess”, she knows that he means it. “A daughter is definitely easier to bring up than a son” says Kripa Subramaniam, mother of two, a son and a daughter. “My daughter was calmer and a much easier baby growing up. She threw lesser tantrums and even helped me take care of my son, although she was just a little girl herself. My son, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.”
Maternal instincts seem to spring up quite young in little girls. “I remember when I was young,” reminisces Paarika, an IT employee, “the world was a much simpler place to live in. I had my Barbie and my kitchen set and that was all that I needed.” she adds. Stuffed toys, miniature utensils, playing “house-house”, endless make up trials on dolls and baking mud pies is all that is needed to keep a little girl occupied and let her weave her dreams of her perfect home. Most girls would even have names picked out for their children. “Its true”, says Vedika, a college student. “I picked out the names of my kids when I was around 12 years old. There is a certain perception that we have about life that is quite different from men. Being women, naturally, factors such as home and children make a very essential part of planning the life process at that age” she adds with a smile.
Growing Up
Some one very wise once said, “An adolescent is somebody who is in-between things. A teenager is someone who is kind of permanently there.” Kripa agrees.”When my daughter blossomed into a beautiful young girl, I saw less and less of her. She was always on the phone with her friends, sometimes even late at night,” she says. Teenage is considered to be synonymous with rebellion. Women being as emancipated as they are today, refuse to take it lying down. She does a lot of things that she would not be particularly proud of later on, but hey, at least, she’s living life king errr queen size! “That is so true”, says Deepthi, an aspiring film maker. “I got my nose pierced when I was seventeen. Dad was so angry, he refused to talk to me for three days,” she laughs. “That however did not deter me from getting my first tattoo on my eighteenth birthday. For me, it was more than body art. It was a form of self expression,” she adds with a grin.
A lot of the innocence and charm of childhood is invariably lost when the little girls grow breasts and begin to pay more attention to their bodies. The little girl in pink strangely vanishes, and her wardrobe is replaced either predominantly with the color black, or an array of loud and jarring colors. Clothes too mysteriously begin to shorten in length as she grows up. Fashion, films, friends and more importantly boys become the centre of their world. Right from crushes, to boyfriends, to piercings, tattoos and heavy metal bands– there are many firsts that a teenage girl witnesses. However dark and testing this period may seem, this is when the woman metamorphosizes into what she ultimately turn out to be. Pyjama parties bring forth friends for life. As teenage begins to draw out into adult hood, she is armed with the realization that the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair, but is the real woman that lies within her, making her truly beautiful.
The Institution of Marriage
Marriage is an important milestone in every girl’s life. “Marriage is a commitment one makes for life,” says social worker Anjali Chandhok. “To me, that (marriage as well as commitment) is extremely sacred,” she says. The sanctity of marriage is what a lot of women swear by. It is not something that grows overnight; the planning begins very early on. “I had my whole wedding planned out when I was about nineteen or twenty,” laughs Neethi Chandra, a homemaker. “I had to get married to understand that marriages and weddings are completely different. The wedding was a mere ceremony. Marriage was a whole different ballgame.”
Moving out from the parental home into a strange household is a mentally taxing process. Changes, in the form of lifestyle, freedom and relationships can take any woman by surprise. A great deal of adjustment and understanding is what a marriage initially means to most women. Adapting to the change can be extremely difficult and that is what causes most marriages to fail. Mothers-in-law, sisters-in-law and various other in-law’s become something that women begin to fear at first, and then detest. However that is not the case all the time. As Neethi says “I had the most wonderful mother in law. She was just like my own mother and we seldom disagreed on anything.” Women today are smarter and mature enough to deal with nagging mothers-in-law. “Most urban women share a deep bond of understanding with their in-laws. The feeling is not just one sided. It is mutual,” concludes Neethi.
Maa Tujhe Salaam
The life cycle of a woman is truly complete when she becomes a mother. Becoming a parent, a mother at that is not an easy job. If you are a working woman, you can just about kiss your peaceful life goodbye once the baby comes. “As a woman who has always been and into her work, it was scary when I realized that I was going to become a mother. I thought of all the sacrifices I was going to have to make and it literally drove me up the wall. It has been a year now, and I don’t regret a single day that I have spent at home, looking after my kid” writes Shravani Singh, an assistant news editor with a leading newspaper and a full time mother on her blog. Bringing up a child can be a lot of fun and hard work at the same time. “It doesn’t matter if you are working or a full time mom, either way you’d wish that the day had at least 30 hours,” she writes.
Watching your bundle of joy take its first baby steps, utter its first words and laugh at the sound of its mother’s voice is what makes motherhood the divine experience that it is. But all good things have to come to an end. As the little one grows up into a beautiful young lady or a handsome young lad, the woman comes to realize that it is finally time to let them go. “Today, I see my daughter is starting to exercise her will. I would like to see her fly, but I fear that I will have to let to let my baby grow. That is life,” Sharavani writes with an air of understanding. “She will have her share of triumphs and will also make her mistakes, but I know that she’s aware of the fact that we will laugh them over and at times cry over them too”.
“Both my son and my daughter are grown up and married. They are the sun and moon to me and given a choice, I would do it all over again, without changing a thing,” says Anita Nair, a retired teacher. “Even today, they come to me for advice and when they need someone to talk to. That is when I realized that I can never stop becoming their mother. Whether they are five or fifty, it’s a comforting feeling to know that I am still needed” she continues. Like Oscar Wilde once said: All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.
All in all women can be charming and exquisite, sexy and infinitely cleverer than most men. They can also be less pompous and less important. They can entice a man to destruction. They can be sex symbols or prostitutes, bar dancers or feminists. They can be power hungry career women or content homemakers. They are the women that seduce you on screen; they are the ones that clean your house. Yet, they don’t stop being beautiful. For true beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but is reflected in her soul. It is the care that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years. And that like the lyrics of a popular English song; is the strength of a woman.
The woman. The mother. The virgin. The symbol of all that is pure and chaste. The eternal manifestation of beauty. God’s loveliest creation. When John Keats said “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”, we have every reason to believe that he was referring to the creation that is; a woman. Love her or hate her, you definitely cannot afford to ignore her. From being the apple of her father’s eyes, to doting on her grandchildren, there are many roles a woman fulfills in one lifetime. Yet you never hear her complain. A peep into the journey of a woman – as a daughter, a mother, a friend and more…
Daddy’s Little Princess
There is something about a little girl dressed in pink. Not only does she look as cute as a button, but there is pure innocence that shines in her eyes. In her world, everything is simple. There is nothing that Daddy cannot do. When Daddy says “You are my little princess”, she knows that he means it. “A daughter is definitely easier to bring up than a son” says Kripa Subramaniam, mother of two, a son and a daughter. “My daughter was calmer and a much easier baby growing up. She threw lesser tantrums and even helped me take care of my son, although she was just a little girl herself. My son, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.”
Maternal instincts seem to spring up quite young in little girls. “I remember when I was young,” reminisces Paarika, an IT employee, “the world was a much simpler place to live in. I had my Barbie and my kitchen set and that was all that I needed.” she adds. Stuffed toys, miniature utensils, playing “house-house”, endless make up trials on dolls and baking mud pies is all that is needed to keep a little girl occupied and let her weave her dreams of her perfect home. Most girls would even have names picked out for their children. “Its true”, says Vedika, a college student. “I picked out the names of my kids when I was around 12 years old. There is a certain perception that we have about life that is quite different from men. Being women, naturally, factors such as home and children make a very essential part of planning the life process at that age” she adds with a smile.
Growing Up
Some one very wise once said, “An adolescent is somebody who is in-between things. A teenager is someone who is kind of permanently there.” Kripa agrees.”When my daughter blossomed into a beautiful young girl, I saw less and less of her. She was always on the phone with her friends, sometimes even late at night,” she says. Teenage is considered to be synonymous with rebellion. Women being as emancipated as they are today, refuse to take it lying down. She does a lot of things that she would not be particularly proud of later on, but hey, at least, she’s living life king errr queen size! “That is so true”, says Deepthi, an aspiring film maker. “I got my nose pierced when I was seventeen. Dad was so angry, he refused to talk to me for three days,” she laughs. “That however did not deter me from getting my first tattoo on my eighteenth birthday. For me, it was more than body art. It was a form of self expression,” she adds with a grin.
A lot of the innocence and charm of childhood is invariably lost when the little girls grow breasts and begin to pay more attention to their bodies. The little girl in pink strangely vanishes, and her wardrobe is replaced either predominantly with the color black, or an array of loud and jarring colors. Clothes too mysteriously begin to shorten in length as she grows up. Fashion, films, friends and more importantly boys become the centre of their world. Right from crushes, to boyfriends, to piercings, tattoos and heavy metal bands– there are many firsts that a teenage girl witnesses. However dark and testing this period may seem, this is when the woman metamorphosizes into what she ultimately turn out to be. Pyjama parties bring forth friends for life. As teenage begins to draw out into adult hood, she is armed with the realization that the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair, but is the real woman that lies within her, making her truly beautiful.
The Institution of Marriage
Marriage is an important milestone in every girl’s life. “Marriage is a commitment one makes for life,” says social worker Anjali Chandhok. “To me, that (marriage as well as commitment) is extremely sacred,” she says. The sanctity of marriage is what a lot of women swear by. It is not something that grows overnight; the planning begins very early on. “I had my whole wedding planned out when I was about nineteen or twenty,” laughs Neethi Chandra, a homemaker. “I had to get married to understand that marriages and weddings are completely different. The wedding was a mere ceremony. Marriage was a whole different ballgame.”
Moving out from the parental home into a strange household is a mentally taxing process. Changes, in the form of lifestyle, freedom and relationships can take any woman by surprise. A great deal of adjustment and understanding is what a marriage initially means to most women. Adapting to the change can be extremely difficult and that is what causes most marriages to fail. Mothers-in-law, sisters-in-law and various other in-law’s become something that women begin to fear at first, and then detest. However that is not the case all the time. As Neethi says “I had the most wonderful mother in law. She was just like my own mother and we seldom disagreed on anything.” Women today are smarter and mature enough to deal with nagging mothers-in-law. “Most urban women share a deep bond of understanding with their in-laws. The feeling is not just one sided. It is mutual,” concludes Neethi.
Maa Tujhe Salaam
The life cycle of a woman is truly complete when she becomes a mother. Becoming a parent, a mother at that is not an easy job. If you are a working woman, you can just about kiss your peaceful life goodbye once the baby comes. “As a woman who has always been and into her work, it was scary when I realized that I was going to become a mother. I thought of all the sacrifices I was going to have to make and it literally drove me up the wall. It has been a year now, and I don’t regret a single day that I have spent at home, looking after my kid” writes Shravani Singh, an assistant news editor with a leading newspaper and a full time mother on her blog. Bringing up a child can be a lot of fun and hard work at the same time. “It doesn’t matter if you are working or a full time mom, either way you’d wish that the day had at least 30 hours,” she writes.
Watching your bundle of joy take its first baby steps, utter its first words and laugh at the sound of its mother’s voice is what makes motherhood the divine experience that it is. But all good things have to come to an end. As the little one grows up into a beautiful young lady or a handsome young lad, the woman comes to realize that it is finally time to let them go. “Today, I see my daughter is starting to exercise her will. I would like to see her fly, but I fear that I will have to let to let my baby grow. That is life,” Sharavani writes with an air of understanding. “She will have her share of triumphs and will also make her mistakes, but I know that she’s aware of the fact that we will laugh them over and at times cry over them too”.
“Both my son and my daughter are grown up and married. They are the sun and moon to me and given a choice, I would do it all over again, without changing a thing,” says Anita Nair, a retired teacher. “Even today, they come to me for advice and when they need someone to talk to. That is when I realized that I can never stop becoming their mother. Whether they are five or fifty, it’s a comforting feeling to know that I am still needed” she continues. Like Oscar Wilde once said: All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.
All in all women can be charming and exquisite, sexy and infinitely cleverer than most men. They can also be less pompous and less important. They can entice a man to destruction. They can be sex symbols or prostitutes, bar dancers or feminists. They can be power hungry career women or content homemakers. They are the women that seduce you on screen; they are the ones that clean your house. Yet, they don’t stop being beautiful. For true beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but is reflected in her soul. It is the care that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years. And that like the lyrics of a popular English song; is the strength of a woman.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
What Women Want
Mel Gibson had to shock himself in the movie “What Women Want” in order to truly answer that question and gain perspective into a woman’s mind. Most men, when it comes to women aren’t so lucky. The eternal complaint among most members of the male species is that women are extremely hard to understand and thus they are left at a loss when it comes to figuring out what women really want!
Impressing a woman by trying to act cool or say things that are considered to be “pick up” lines can be very big turn off’s to most women. Pick up lines which most men use are very redundant and the woman is so used to being hit on with these pick up lines that they get bored easily and sometimes even get irritated. Bad shoes, body odor and sloppy dressing are big no-no’s when it comes to going on a date. Women prefer men who are well turned out and pay a little attention to themselves. Women make the effort, so why cant men? While on a date, eating in a disgusting way, talking about themselves, being rude the waiters and boring the living daylights out a person are considered to be dating disasters by a majority of women.
But all hope is not lost! When it comes to figuring out women, men just need to think simply and out of the box. Women appreciate and in fact love simplicity. What she needs for her birthday is not that expensive watch that can seem to be the perfect gift, but just a simple bouquet of roses and a box of candy which could work wonders. Women are suckers for chivalry. Therefore, opening the door for a woman, standing up when she gets up to leave or when she enters and other small acts of chivalry such as complimenting her can earn a man brownie points not only on a date, but otherwise as well. Honesty is another thing that most women swear by, so if a man is impressed by a woman and really likes her, he should just go ahead and tell her so genuinely. Women can see right through all attempts of trying to put on a show of being very gallant, so the best thing would be to try and not act gallant. A guy who can tickle a woman’s funny bone makes an immediate headway when it comes to impressing her. Any woman loves a guy who can make her laugh. Being funny without being crude is an art by itself, so being funny is definitely an added advantage. A woman’s biggest grouse is that men don’t listen when they talk. So, all men out there who look like they are in a history class when their women talk, one piece of advice – listen!
Figuring out what women want is not necessarily simple, but it is not that complicated either. Like the lyrics of Christina Aguilera’s song goes, what a woman wants is just what makes her happy and sets her free.
Impressing a woman by trying to act cool or say things that are considered to be “pick up” lines can be very big turn off’s to most women. Pick up lines which most men use are very redundant and the woman is so used to being hit on with these pick up lines that they get bored easily and sometimes even get irritated. Bad shoes, body odor and sloppy dressing are big no-no’s when it comes to going on a date. Women prefer men who are well turned out and pay a little attention to themselves. Women make the effort, so why cant men? While on a date, eating in a disgusting way, talking about themselves, being rude the waiters and boring the living daylights out a person are considered to be dating disasters by a majority of women.
But all hope is not lost! When it comes to figuring out women, men just need to think simply and out of the box. Women appreciate and in fact love simplicity. What she needs for her birthday is not that expensive watch that can seem to be the perfect gift, but just a simple bouquet of roses and a box of candy which could work wonders. Women are suckers for chivalry. Therefore, opening the door for a woman, standing up when she gets up to leave or when she enters and other small acts of chivalry such as complimenting her can earn a man brownie points not only on a date, but otherwise as well. Honesty is another thing that most women swear by, so if a man is impressed by a woman and really likes her, he should just go ahead and tell her so genuinely. Women can see right through all attempts of trying to put on a show of being very gallant, so the best thing would be to try and not act gallant. A guy who can tickle a woman’s funny bone makes an immediate headway when it comes to impressing her. Any woman loves a guy who can make her laugh. Being funny without being crude is an art by itself, so being funny is definitely an added advantage. A woman’s biggest grouse is that men don’t listen when they talk. So, all men out there who look like they are in a history class when their women talk, one piece of advice – listen!
Figuring out what women want is not necessarily simple, but it is not that complicated either. Like the lyrics of Christina Aguilera’s song goes, what a woman wants is just what makes her happy and sets her free.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Happiness
Happiness is, was and will always continue to be a very relative and strangely misunderstood term. The search for happiness or atleast to find an answer to the question as to what happiness really means is never ending. People often lose sight of themselves in the pursuit of this so called relative happiness. People change in this pursuit. Why? Why are people, people like me and you really clueless about the true meaning of happiness? The bottom line is… do we really know what makes us happy? Are we really the true masters of what makes us happy?
I asked a few people, a few friends actually what happiness meant to them. If they really could define happiness. I got a couple of interesting and really thoughtful answers. A good friend of mine defined happiness most beautifully. If there ever could be a way to describe it, this would fit perfectly. "Happiness is a feeling, something that you experience when your needs are fulfilled". I went like "Wow". I was stumped. That was a pretty good insight of things. Being the kind of person I am, I got more curious and I decided to probe.
I ask him "So are you telling me that materialistic things make you happy?"
Pat comes the reply "No".
"But doesnt that just contradict what you just told me?" , I question further.
"Not necessarily" he says to me " You can also be happy if you are able to quench your thirst when you are relieve. You could be happy when you think of an old memory, of someone or something right"
"Hmmm". I wonder. And the conversation ends there.
That got me wondering. Can a memory of someone or something really trigger off a feeling of happiness? I tried to think of something, a memory that triggered a feeling of happiness in me. Luckily (??) I found that I had plenty to choose from. My first job, completing a tough photofeature on time (whew that was a task altogether), writing about things that really matter (sometimes that don't) were all memories that triggered happiness or in plain simple terms made me feel good. Next, I thought of the people that made me happy. Once again, I had a handful of them picked out - the ones that brought a smile to my face when I thought of them or the times that I spent with them.
At the end of this I realised something. There were plenty of happy memories, plenty of people who made me happy; but there hasn't been a single day of my life where I can look back and say: "Wow! What a great day!!" Something or the other has to invariably go wrong with it.
It was almost as if it were a crime to be happy all the time!! Alright. 24 hours.
This realization hit me like a stone in the face. Was my life this sad? In the 22 odd years I have lived, I have just 22 people or 22 memories to pick from? What kind of a sad life did I live anyway? Was I really that hopeless.
Then came another realisation (yes there was another :P)
My happiness would have been confined to 22 memories or 22 people, but it has been these 22 memories and these 22 people that have shown me the true meaning of what it is like to feel loved and wanted. What it is like to be happy. What it is like to be me.
Happily signing off!!!
P.S: First post of the year comes a shameful 4 months after it has begun. Must resolve to write more often.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
A Toast!!
They say that it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them a day to love them and an entire lifetime to forget them. Well I maynot have lived a lifetime but I want to take a moment and retrospect. I want to thank those special people in my life and what better way to do it than here.
This is part one. Dedicated to the MEN. The ones whom I have learned a lot from. The ones indeed who have made a difference. (No offense ladies! I started out with this one because the list is shorter :P and its more easier to put down. There is one more coming up exclusively to all of you).
So here is a big thank you to all of you listed below for in your own special little way, you have made my life more special :)
1. Mr N.Sadashivan Nair - My grandfather - The single one person whom I cannot imagine my life without. If I am what I am today its only because of you and I am deeply deeply greatful for that. From you I learned that no task is impossible and no goal is unattainable. I couldnt want more from you.
2. R.Ravi - My father - For being the kind of father that he is. From him I learned that everyone makes mistakes and life is all about forgiving those little mistakes. Thanks Acha for breaking your traditional ways and letting me be the way I am.
3. Rahul S Narayanan - My friend, philosopher and guide. From you I have learned that a guy and a girl can indeed be the BEST of friends despite all distances. He is the guy I can call up and talk to in the middle of the night, even if I havent spoken to him in months.
4. Ganesh R - My best friend - From you I learned patience and tolerance, things that I dint think I had in me. From you I learned that men are as sensitive as women and most importantly, they need to be taken care of. From you I also learned what it is like to be so passionate about something, that you forget the world around you. Thank you Ganesh for telling me that life is about appreciating the beauty of the little things around you.
5. Jonathan Lamech - One of my closest pals - From you I learned to appreciate the darker side of things. You taught me one big lesson - the art of accepting people for what they are. Thanks for all the times that you have told me not to let people walk all over me and thanks for being one of the most constant things in my life since I met you. It does mean a lot that I have someone to fall back on when everything else goes haywire.
6. Ravi Chaitanyaa - Colleague and more from IGS - Simply put - For being my mirror reflection.
7. Tarun Shan - The friend I love to hate - From you I learned the art of giving my best shot at something that I believe in. You taught me about committment and how difficult it is to stick to them. Trust me I am still learning. Most important of all, you taught me in your own little way that people's lives did matter and that is probably the one big thing that I respect you for. Otherwise Tarun, you are a jerk :P
8. Mohan Ram - My best friend's boyfriend - From you I learned about commitment of a different kind. I learned what it takes to be comitted to a relationship. Thanks to you, I have gone from being a feminist to someone who supports gender equality. :) Thank you Mohan, for making me see the other side and being the best boyfriend to one of the most important people in my life.
9. Ernest Reynold Paiva - Colleague and friend from IGS - From you I learned how to take things lightly. Thanks for being that person whom I can identify with most of the time.
10. Ranjith Nair - My brother - For being the brat that he is. For showing me my dark side. For proving to me that I can get really angry and frustrated. For making me cry by saying the worst of atrocities. However there is something that perhaps nobody else would have taught me but him - that blood indeed is thicker than water.
11. Seshasayee Gopi - For showing me the beauty of the written English language. For moving me to tears with his work. For giving me the chance to put my thoughts onto paper and having faith in me.
12. Vasanth Thomas - Colleague and Friend from IGS - For making me laugh my guts out.
13. Krishnan N - Team Leader for PE at Ajuba - For showing me that being a leader or being in charge of a team did not mean dictatorship and for simply being the wonderful person that he is and always will be.
14. Ratheesh Chandran - For being an absolute darling and paying for everything..Lol not only that, for just being the most genuine show off that he is.
15. Sam/ Manjunath - For showing me that friends sometimes are not forever. For making the three years of my life extremely memorable in a class filled with women hating men..!! For holding my hand all the times I cried and for taking turns to sleep when the exams were on. If you happen to read this, please gimme a call!!!
I think that about sums it up and contrary to what I thought, the list is indeed gone past the 10 mark. Now I know for a fact that probably not even ONE of these 15 souls mentioned here is going to read this but then, in case you do happen to read this, I want to clarify that there is no particular order of some sort that I followed while writing this. It is just names that came into my mind at random and I put them down. I guess what I am trying to say is that I wasnt trying to be partial in anyway. Everyone of you are special in your own different ways, and it means a lot.
Comments are welcome.
P.S if i have forgotten anyone please do leave a comment. :P
This is part one. Dedicated to the MEN. The ones whom I have learned a lot from. The ones indeed who have made a difference. (No offense ladies! I started out with this one because the list is shorter :P and its more easier to put down. There is one more coming up exclusively to all of you).
So here is a big thank you to all of you listed below for in your own special little way, you have made my life more special :)
1. Mr N.Sadashivan Nair - My grandfather - The single one person whom I cannot imagine my life without. If I am what I am today its only because of you and I am deeply deeply greatful for that. From you I learned that no task is impossible and no goal is unattainable. I couldnt want more from you.
2. R.Ravi - My father - For being the kind of father that he is. From him I learned that everyone makes mistakes and life is all about forgiving those little mistakes. Thanks Acha for breaking your traditional ways and letting me be the way I am.
3. Rahul S Narayanan - My friend, philosopher and guide. From you I have learned that a guy and a girl can indeed be the BEST of friends despite all distances. He is the guy I can call up and talk to in the middle of the night, even if I havent spoken to him in months.
4. Ganesh R - My best friend - From you I learned patience and tolerance, things that I dint think I had in me. From you I learned that men are as sensitive as women and most importantly, they need to be taken care of. From you I also learned what it is like to be so passionate about something, that you forget the world around you. Thank you Ganesh for telling me that life is about appreciating the beauty of the little things around you.
5. Jonathan Lamech - One of my closest pals - From you I learned to appreciate the darker side of things. You taught me one big lesson - the art of accepting people for what they are. Thanks for all the times that you have told me not to let people walk all over me and thanks for being one of the most constant things in my life since I met you. It does mean a lot that I have someone to fall back on when everything else goes haywire.
6. Ravi Chaitanyaa - Colleague and more from IGS - Simply put - For being my mirror reflection.
7. Tarun Shan - The friend I love to hate - From you I learned the art of giving my best shot at something that I believe in. You taught me about committment and how difficult it is to stick to them. Trust me I am still learning. Most important of all, you taught me in your own little way that people's lives did matter and that is probably the one big thing that I respect you for. Otherwise Tarun, you are a jerk :P
8. Mohan Ram - My best friend's boyfriend - From you I learned about commitment of a different kind. I learned what it takes to be comitted to a relationship. Thanks to you, I have gone from being a feminist to someone who supports gender equality. :) Thank you Mohan, for making me see the other side and being the best boyfriend to one of the most important people in my life.
9. Ernest Reynold Paiva - Colleague and friend from IGS - From you I learned how to take things lightly. Thanks for being that person whom I can identify with most of the time.
10. Ranjith Nair - My brother - For being the brat that he is. For showing me my dark side. For proving to me that I can get really angry and frustrated. For making me cry by saying the worst of atrocities. However there is something that perhaps nobody else would have taught me but him - that blood indeed is thicker than water.
11. Seshasayee Gopi - For showing me the beauty of the written English language. For moving me to tears with his work. For giving me the chance to put my thoughts onto paper and having faith in me.
12. Vasanth Thomas - Colleague and Friend from IGS - For making me laugh my guts out.
13. Krishnan N - Team Leader for PE at Ajuba - For showing me that being a leader or being in charge of a team did not mean dictatorship and for simply being the wonderful person that he is and always will be.
14. Ratheesh Chandran - For being an absolute darling and paying for everything..Lol not only that, for just being the most genuine show off that he is.
15. Sam/ Manjunath - For showing me that friends sometimes are not forever. For making the three years of my life extremely memorable in a class filled with women hating men..!! For holding my hand all the times I cried and for taking turns to sleep when the exams were on. If you happen to read this, please gimme a call!!!
I think that about sums it up and contrary to what I thought, the list is indeed gone past the 10 mark. Now I know for a fact that probably not even ONE of these 15 souls mentioned here is going to read this but then, in case you do happen to read this, I want to clarify that there is no particular order of some sort that I followed while writing this. It is just names that came into my mind at random and I put them down. I guess what I am trying to say is that I wasnt trying to be partial in anyway. Everyone of you are special in your own different ways, and it means a lot.
Comments are welcome.
P.S if i have forgotten anyone please do leave a comment. :P
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
India Shining?
India's youth is a standing representation of the nation on a global scale. They are the torch bearers of the nation's pride - the pioneers of India's future. Some of the nation's youth have succeeded in making a mark in various fields like sports, art, cinema and business - A genre of Indians we could call global Indians perhaps? Although the achievement of these Indians are commendable and has made a difference, why is that the development come to a standstill on a national scale? The energetic youngsters who are excelling in almost everything they do, shying away from politics wherein lies the real development and future of the nation?
The involvement of youth in politics seems to be confined to election day. Some dont even go through the trouble of casting their votes, however are on the forefront when it comes to criticizing the nation's existent leaders and its policies. The politicians in the parliament today may lack morality or integrity (or in some cases, both)but how fair is it to pass a judgment on them? Its about time the focus be shifted and the youth of the country learn to value their rights and bring about significant changes in the political governance rather than resorting to complaint and criticism.
General knowledge and basic civic sense is what needs to incorporated in the school and college syllabi which concentrates mainly on science and math. It is only of a person is truly informed and educated that he/she can be truly active and productive members of the society. A thorough understanding of legal and political system of the country as well as proposing solutions to the problems faced by these sectors needs to be the primary focus.
Lack of exposure has led student political movements to take a back seat in campuses today. The government has to realise its duty towards the youth and develop means by which they can express themselves either by expansion of interschool networks or through their local council. Publications and forums that allow young people to voice their opinions must be encouraged.
The need of a young politician on the front benches suggest that age is vice by itself. No government can survive without seasoned voices. Some of the notable performers of the government have also been its connoisseur campaigners. What the nation needs is a healthy balance between youth and experience. A superior government that can lead the country into a victorious march is the need of the hour - with the young guns (hopefully) leading the way.
The involvement of youth in politics seems to be confined to election day. Some dont even go through the trouble of casting their votes, however are on the forefront when it comes to criticizing the nation's existent leaders and its policies. The politicians in the parliament today may lack morality or integrity (or in some cases, both)but how fair is it to pass a judgment on them? Its about time the focus be shifted and the youth of the country learn to value their rights and bring about significant changes in the political governance rather than resorting to complaint and criticism.
General knowledge and basic civic sense is what needs to incorporated in the school and college syllabi which concentrates mainly on science and math. It is only of a person is truly informed and educated that he/she can be truly active and productive members of the society. A thorough understanding of legal and political system of the country as well as proposing solutions to the problems faced by these sectors needs to be the primary focus.
Lack of exposure has led student political movements to take a back seat in campuses today. The government has to realise its duty towards the youth and develop means by which they can express themselves either by expansion of interschool networks or through their local council. Publications and forums that allow young people to voice their opinions must be encouraged.
The need of a young politician on the front benches suggest that age is vice by itself. No government can survive without seasoned voices. Some of the notable performers of the government have also been its connoisseur campaigners. What the nation needs is a healthy balance between youth and experience. A superior government that can lead the country into a victorious march is the need of the hour - with the young guns (hopefully) leading the way.
Friday, 24 October 2008
Confused Ramblings
The concept of God has always been a controversial one. I often wonder why. For some it is an easy thing to accept whereas for others it quite is not. For me it is not. Why? Why cant I accept that there is a God? Maybe I do. Well the truth is I dont really know.
I am a firm believer in destiny. I believe that destiny can be controlled and it is something that I have control over. I have always lived my life the way I have wanted to and hence I strongly believe that I am the creator of my destiny. I also believe that I have been put here for a purpose. Now that is something that I am yet to figure out. My purpose. I know that I am not the kind who is going to make some significant contribution to the world or something. Lets just leave that to the brainy ones and the ones who truly believe that they can make a difference. I know I am not cut out for it. I just want to lead a good life, I tell myself.
Well then why is it that I dont believe in God. Does that make me an aethesit? I am not too sure. I know there is something that is bigger than me. Something that "allows" me to write my destiny and ultimately will lead me to fulfill my purpose, whatever that is. Do you want to call that GOD? Well. Maybe it is, maybe it really isnt.
For me, God is definately not in the idol that I worship. I grew up listening to the same stories that everyone does. Stories of Krishna and Shiva. Stories of Jesus and Allah. These remained to be just stories for me. Somehow it never affected my relegious faith or whatever. It never even struck me for an instant that I was from a different relegion as my friend. If this thought could have been planted in my head then I am sure that it could have been planted in a million other heads too.
A strange thing happened to me once. Somehow I feel an intense connection with churches. There is this church that I go to. I go to this church when I am in the lowest point of my life. When I feel all is lost and I just need things to be right. I sit at the church and just talk to myself and at the end of it I wish for something to happen. Contrary to whatever reservations I have about the existance of God and everything, I got my wish EVERY single time. Did I pray at the church, NO. Did I believe in Christianity? NO. I just needed to lift my spirits. I guess this is what the term miracle means.
This is turning out to sound confused isnt it? First I say no god. Then I say yeah maybe there is...miracles. The truth of it is that I have something that I believe in. Whether that belief is what I would call faith in God or myself or destiny - I still dont know. There are times when not knowing things in itself clears out confusion and things seem clearer. Maybe, just maybe this is one of those times.
Kidnap
Film: Kidnap
Cast: Sanjay Dutt, Imraan Khan, Minnisha Lamba, Reema Lagoo, Vidya Malvade and Rahul Dev
Director: Sanjay Gadhvi
Genre: Thriller/Action
Storyline: An ex convict in a bid to settle score with the man who sent him to jail, hence kidnaps the daughter of the industrial giant, leaving behind a series of clues that is supposed to lead him into finding her.
One would expect more out of the man who gave us the blockbuster Dhoom, but sadly he disappoints. At the end of the movie, the only word that strikes your mind would be “What??”
The plot is seemingly original and pretty straightforward. Minus the typical Bollywood masala that is. The movie begins with sketchy representations of a young boy sent to juvenile prison and how hard life is for him there. As the credits begin to come to a close, the cartoon boy begins to have stark resemblance to Imraan Khan. So far so good.
The entire fiasco begins after the kidnapping happens. Although the actual act of the kidnap was well thought of, the gravity of the scene is lost when Kabir (Imraan) gravely declares that “This is a kidnapping” and Sonia (Minnisha) breaks into a fit of exaggerated girly giggles. From there on, the entire movie seems to be more of a comedy of errors than anything else. You have Sanjay Dutt and his stunt double taking turns in running for the action sequences (perhaps one of the only highlights of the movie). Would you call someone who cooks, cleans, buys you designer clothes and takes you to sandy beaches to bathe and spares your life after you have tried to kill him twice (unsuccessfully) your kidnapper? Not in a million years you wouldn’t. The various “clues” that Kabir sends across to Sanjay Dutt (to help him figure out the location as to where his daughter is hidden) remind one of those nursery rhymes that one learnt in school. How the clues are solved is left to your imagination as there is no clear (read humanly understandable) explanation available. The only good thing about the movie was perhaps that there was a big cliché avoided - a possible romance between the kidnapper and the kidnapped. Frankly after seeing so much of Bollywood in a supposed thriller styled along the lines of Hollywood, you almost expect it and the director keeps you guessing until the very end, when they meet again.
The movie boasts of an impressive cast or rather a cast that fails to impress. Minnisha and Vidya are literally dressed to kill, in fact so overdressed that one is initially confused between the mother and the daughter. Sanjay Dutt comes up with an overall decent performance, he switches between the hard core businessman to the gentle and loving father with ease. Reema Lagoo as the mother and grandmother essays her (very) limited role to near perfection. Rahul Dev’s presence in the movie as Dutt’s highly qualified bodyguard leaves you wondering if he was in the movie to simplify or complicate things further. Finally coming to the protagonist, Imraan Khan. Yes he does play a refreshingly different role compared to his chocolate boy image in his debut. Yes he manages to look like someone who is angry and revengeful. But the last thing that he can carry off is the menacing look of a villain who is supposed to give you the chills.
Music is definitely not one of the movies highlights. Maybe Minnisha Lamba in a bikini is. Confused? Well that’s what the movie can do to you at the end of 150 odd minutes. Perhaps you could watch this movie once. Not for the thrills or the chills (which is perhaps what it was intended to be) but for that wonderful and completely pointless experience called wasting time.
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
How to Save a Life
A favorite from The Fray -
Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
You begin to wonder why you came
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
And you'll begin to wonder why you came
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life
How to save a life
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life
Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
You begin to wonder why you came
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
And you'll begin to wonder why you came
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life
How to save a life
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
CHORUS:
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life
Friday, 18 July 2008
Homecoming
Its been over a year since I went to the house and I realize now how much of the house I actually miss. Its really strange that I have always had a knack of establishing contact and instant connections with all things that are non living. I dont know how or why but then I have realized that this is simpler that establishing human relationships. Hmmm. Maybe my connection with the house does have to do with the people living in it. My grandparents.
My earliest memory of my grandfather is quite strange actually. I remember me all of three years old, sitting on his lap. It seems to be afternoon and my grandad is feeding his only grand daughter. Now I take pride in the fact that I am one of his oldest grand children. We cousins are about 8 of us on the whole of which 6 are boys. The so called first born is a boy and is just a mere 3 months older than me. My grand parents were based out of Chennai when I was born and therefore it was only natural that my working parents would entrust me in their care. Not that I complained. Thanks to them, I never ever felt that I dint get the love or the attention that I needed. In fact, I got it so much that I can safely say I was a rather indulgent(read spoilt!!) child.
I enjoyed my afternoon meals with my grandad up until I was about 4 or 5 years old. Grandma was an amazing lady, and she still is. Although not quite as expressive as her husband, I knew that I was the apple of her eye. There was nothing that she wouldnt do for me. My memories of her include playing house house in the kitchen with her and our daily evening walks. I virtually used to push her into "Vakil kadai" and insist on "Aasai" chocolates. I would be rewarded with one everyday and it was a real shame, considering that it costed her a mere Rs 0.25.
Thus I took immense pride in the fact that I was their bundle of joy. Literally. As my cousins were born one by one, I had fully anticipated that things would change. I thought that I would be expected to grow up and take responsibility. To my utter amazement I still was doted on. They had left Chennai more than a decade and a half ago (an agonizing experience for me) and this spelt nothing but DOOM for me. I spent the rest of my "childhood" afternoons eating by myself from a plate and throwing paper rockets at a servant who stretched herself across the main door and slept soundly, oblivious to everything around her.
Coming back to the house and my connection with it. It was a lovely house actually set right across a small lake in Gods Own Country. Yes, I am from the land of coconuts and "kappa"and I have no qualms accepting it. This house was typically everything that a house in Kerala was. It was set bang in between a beautiful garden that my grandad carefully planted and took care of like his own children. My summers were spent getting my hands dirty gardening and watering the plants twice a day. I still remember I used to wake up everyday and pray that it rained so that I would be spared of this daunting task. Gardening was not exactly my cup of tea but I did it anyway just so that I could watch him beam at my shoddy work after I was done.
The house is the best house I have ever lived in. Its nothing short of heaven. It had about 5 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, a study, 2 kitchens, 3 bathrooms and a pooja room. There is an open courtyard right at the center of the house and this is where I have spent a LOT of my time, enjoying the rain when I was younger and putting some of the best thoughts I have had on paper. There is something infinitely inspiring about that house. I loved the house as I had never ever lived in something that had so many rooms in it. I feel a sense of freedom when I go there even today.
The best part about the house is that everytime I go there, I feel a sense of belonging. I feel at home instantly and that feeling is something I havent experienced even in my own home in Chennai. No matter how many times I go there, the house always has something new in store for me. There would be something that my grandfather (once an architect) did to modernize the place. I have told him to repeatedly let things be as it is but he refuses to listen. And I love discovering the little surprises the house has in store for me when I go back.
The truth is that house has completed me... and my life. Whether its the charm of the house in itself, the blessings of the people who have lived and died in that house or just the fact that the two people I love the most live in it; the house has ceased to serve its purpose. It has grown beyond that. To me, it was..it is... and will always be HOME.
Tuesday, 17 June 2008
Letting Go
It is extremely important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut them loose. People need to understand that no one is playing with marked cards; sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Dont expect to get anything back, dont expect any recognition for your efforts, dont expect for your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood. Complete the circle yourself. Not out of pride, inability or arrogance; but because whatever it is it no longer fits in your life. Close the door. Change the record. Clean the house. Get rid of the dust. Stop being who you were and become who you are.
- Extracted from "The Zahir" by Paulo Coelho
- Extracted from "The Zahir" by Paulo Coelho
Monday, 24 March 2008
Rain
On Thursday night, just before leaving from work I told my friend Preethi that I hoped it would rain incessantly the next four days. We had a long weekend coming up and I for one had absolutely NOTHING to do with my time. Anyway, whoever coined the phrase "Be careful what you wish for" was dead right. My wish came true. It has been raining cats and dogs here the last four days. And I am totally thrilled.
There was a time in my life that I really hated rains. Rains meant staying at home, power failure, flooded streets and lots of muck splashed on you even if you did manage to go out. I hated it so much that I actually wished we just had summer as a season. On the contrary, my friend Ganesh loved the rain. He loved getting wet in the rain(YUCK!!!!!!!), he loved going out in the rain, dancing in the rain, driving in the rain; in short he loved every aspect of the rain that I hated. I used to wonder why. More importantly I wondered how.
Today I got my answer. I woke up in the morning(ok, close to afternoon) to the sound of thunder. I opened my front door and stood at the doorstep looking up into the dark, stormy sky. I saw the clouds move. I stood there mesmerized with this scene, when all of a sudden, with no warning, it began to pour. Just like that. No drizzle developing into a mighty rush of water. Just a gust of wind that brought with it a whirlwind. Like someone had just turned the shower on in full force.
I stood at my doorstep for a full five minutes before I was snapped out of my revere. Suddenly I realized that I have to write this down. As I was writing, it struck me. I dont hate the rain. I love the fact that I can stay at home all alone, cuddle up under the bed covers, have a hot cup of tea and read a lovely book, or watch a movie. OR just take some time off and spend it getting to know myself again.
Being stuck in monotony for months has made me lose perspective of what I actually am. It would be really fantastic if I could discover me - once more. The search begins with a simple admission:
"I love the rain."
There was a time in my life that I really hated rains. Rains meant staying at home, power failure, flooded streets and lots of muck splashed on you even if you did manage to go out. I hated it so much that I actually wished we just had summer as a season. On the contrary, my friend Ganesh loved the rain. He loved getting wet in the rain(YUCK!!!!!!!), he loved going out in the rain, dancing in the rain, driving in the rain; in short he loved every aspect of the rain that I hated. I used to wonder why. More importantly I wondered how.
Today I got my answer. I woke up in the morning(ok, close to afternoon) to the sound of thunder. I opened my front door and stood at the doorstep looking up into the dark, stormy sky. I saw the clouds move. I stood there mesmerized with this scene, when all of a sudden, with no warning, it began to pour. Just like that. No drizzle developing into a mighty rush of water. Just a gust of wind that brought with it a whirlwind. Like someone had just turned the shower on in full force.
I stood at my doorstep for a full five minutes before I was snapped out of my revere. Suddenly I realized that I have to write this down. As I was writing, it struck me. I dont hate the rain. I love the fact that I can stay at home all alone, cuddle up under the bed covers, have a hot cup of tea and read a lovely book, or watch a movie. OR just take some time off and spend it getting to know myself again.
Being stuck in monotony for months has made me lose perspective of what I actually am. It would be really fantastic if I could discover me - once more. The search begins with a simple admission:
"I love the rain."
Saturday, 9 February 2008
Hope
I look at her, so young, so innocent
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
Her tired eyes give me a tired smile,
that stretches across miles and miles.
I look at her and I see
all that she could one day be
if only she were guided properly.
Was it her fault she was born this way? I ask myself
when will we ever do something to help?
Will we always choose to ignore reality?
Will that poor girl find a good soul in this vast city?
She looks at me and says something
something that I cannot hear.
I know its something important,
but the words are just not clear.
I choose to ignore her like everyone else does,
but my actions scar my conscience.
I think about her as I board the bus
something is not right, it does not make sense.
I get off at the next stop
and head back to where I had seen her.
But she is gone,
just like that..... In a flash.
She hadn't left alone, of this I was sure
she had left behind her grief; her sadness at being so poor.
I turn back and head homeward,
thinking of her tired eyes and tired smile,
that stretched across miles and miles.
I wonder if I would see her again
I really want to, but I realize that I might not.
And then one day, when I eventually do
she may not be the same person,
but a soul that I would have long forgot.
I head out again the next day, the same road, the same route.
I look around hoping to see her again.
Instead I see, at precisely the same spot,
another face, so young, so innocent,
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
His tired eyes, giving me a tired smile
that stretched across miles and miles.
Looking at him standing there, suddenly
I knew what I needed to do.
I took his dirty hand in mine and walked across
to the shop round the corner.
I asked him what he wanted,
but he was too shy to answer.
I got him a big bar of chocolate,
put it in his hands and asked him
"Is this not what you have always needed?"
He looked at the bar of chocolate in his hands
then he looked up at me.
I met his gaze and for the first time in my life
I saw Hope.
He seemed happy and thankful.
And so was I.
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
Her tired eyes give me a tired smile,
that stretches across miles and miles.
I look at her and I see
all that she could one day be
if only she were guided properly.
Was it her fault she was born this way? I ask myself
when will we ever do something to help?
Will we always choose to ignore reality?
Will that poor girl find a good soul in this vast city?
She looks at me and says something
something that I cannot hear.
I know its something important,
but the words are just not clear.
I choose to ignore her like everyone else does,
but my actions scar my conscience.
I think about her as I board the bus
something is not right, it does not make sense.
I get off at the next stop
and head back to where I had seen her.
But she is gone,
just like that..... In a flash.
She hadn't left alone, of this I was sure
she had left behind her grief; her sadness at being so poor.
I turn back and head homeward,
thinking of her tired eyes and tired smile,
that stretched across miles and miles.
I wonder if I would see her again
I really want to, but I realize that I might not.
And then one day, when I eventually do
she may not be the same person,
but a soul that I would have long forgot.
I head out again the next day, the same road, the same route.
I look around hoping to see her again.
Instead I see, at precisely the same spot,
another face, so young, so innocent,
bonded in labor, right here.... living in the present.
His tired eyes, giving me a tired smile
that stretched across miles and miles.
Looking at him standing there, suddenly
I knew what I needed to do.
I took his dirty hand in mine and walked across
to the shop round the corner.
I asked him what he wanted,
but he was too shy to answer.
I got him a big bar of chocolate,
put it in his hands and asked him
"Is this not what you have always needed?"
He looked at the bar of chocolate in his hands
then he looked up at me.
I met his gaze and for the first time in my life
I saw Hope.
He seemed happy and thankful.
And so was I.
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
I Believe
I fall, and I pick myself up again.
I lose hope, yet I dream.
I am lost, yet I manage to find myself somehow
I cry,
But I have learned to laugh through my tears,
I despair...
Yet... I BELEIVE!!!!!
Something I picked out of Femina; never found anything more apt to describe a woman!
I lose hope, yet I dream.
I am lost, yet I manage to find myself somehow
I cry,
But I have learned to laugh through my tears,
I despair...
Yet... I BELEIVE!!!!!
Something I picked out of Femina; never found anything more apt to describe a woman!
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
Obsessions
There are things that i sometimes wonder a lot about. Things that are totally abstract. Things that are absolutely crazy and things that are totally random. Then i wonder why i wonder about those things. And i confuse myself up. Like how I am doing right now.
The fact is this, I love thinking. However randomly, abstractly or crazily... I love the fact that my mind is alive and kicking. And better still, I love the fact that I can write all of this down. I can come back and relive those crazy things that I thought about. Chuck all the modesty. I love what I write. More importantly I love the way I think. Yes, I am self obssessed. But is that wrong? Isn't everyone? I have no issues admitting that I am self obsessed. By self obsessed I dont mean that I look in the mirror every two minutes. Nope thats not me at all. I am obsessed in a different way. I love writing my name over and over. I could write my name hundreds of times and fill thousands of pages and still not get bored. I can go on and on. I used to do that a lot back in college. Write my name on any bit of paper that I could find. In the back of notebooks, textbooks, exam papers. Absolutely everywhere.
You think I am crazy? Well everybody who saw me indulge in this weird habit of mine thought i was mental as well. And I was asked why I do it. I never had a clue. Although the habit seems to have mellowed down a bit, I still dont have a clue as to why I do it.
Another one of my indulgences is tearing bits of paper into even tinier bits. I could do this for like forever. A nice bit of paper in my hands would be in complete shreds in a matter of minutes. I'd tear it into tiny bits and tear those tiny bits into even tinier bits. And the best part would be that i'd gather up all these bits of paper and bolow it on the face of the person that sits closest to me. God, thats real fun!!
Habit number three. Sitting in darkness. Well I guess people would really love that and a lot of people would sit in darkness. Me? I loved the darkness in my place so much that when the bulb burned out, I dint get a new one for three weeks. Ultimately after the risk of my brother almost breaking his leg; I had to give into parental pressure and get a light in my room. Now there is a tube in my room that burns so bright, my eyes hurt... UGH!!!
Ever found a place which you thought was the best place on earth? One that you could virtually live in for hours?? I have two such places. First is my bathroom. Although its the size of a cupboard and there is virtually nothing in there except the closet and a bit of soap, I louve my bathroom. I do almost everything there apart from the obvious. I read the newspaper there, I sometimes drink my coffee there, I read my magazines there, I used to cram in there when it was exam time, hoping I would fall sick. Some of my best writings have been in the bathroom.
My bed comes a close second. This is again a place where I can do everything. Yes I sleep on it too. I eat on my bed, I sleep on my bed, I walk on my bed. I write on my bed, I read on my bed, Oh and did I say I sleep on my bed?? Ahhhhh.. Bliss...
Normalcy has always had me thinking. Does it exist? Is everyone the same? Just imagine how boring that would be!!!! I love me the way I am. Like the dialogue of a recent movie, Main apni favorite hoon. Tall claims like selflessness and normalcy are a farce. Everyone is different, everyone is crazy. So am I. Only I have no problems admitting it. Do you????
The fact is this, I love thinking. However randomly, abstractly or crazily... I love the fact that my mind is alive and kicking. And better still, I love the fact that I can write all of this down. I can come back and relive those crazy things that I thought about. Chuck all the modesty. I love what I write. More importantly I love the way I think. Yes, I am self obssessed. But is that wrong? Isn't everyone? I have no issues admitting that I am self obsessed. By self obsessed I dont mean that I look in the mirror every two minutes. Nope thats not me at all. I am obsessed in a different way. I love writing my name over and over. I could write my name hundreds of times and fill thousands of pages and still not get bored. I can go on and on. I used to do that a lot back in college. Write my name on any bit of paper that I could find. In the back of notebooks, textbooks, exam papers. Absolutely everywhere.
You think I am crazy? Well everybody who saw me indulge in this weird habit of mine thought i was mental as well. And I was asked why I do it. I never had a clue. Although the habit seems to have mellowed down a bit, I still dont have a clue as to why I do it.
Another one of my indulgences is tearing bits of paper into even tinier bits. I could do this for like forever. A nice bit of paper in my hands would be in complete shreds in a matter of minutes. I'd tear it into tiny bits and tear those tiny bits into even tinier bits. And the best part would be that i'd gather up all these bits of paper and bolow it on the face of the person that sits closest to me. God, thats real fun!!
Habit number three. Sitting in darkness. Well I guess people would really love that and a lot of people would sit in darkness. Me? I loved the darkness in my place so much that when the bulb burned out, I dint get a new one for three weeks. Ultimately after the risk of my brother almost breaking his leg; I had to give into parental pressure and get a light in my room. Now there is a tube in my room that burns so bright, my eyes hurt... UGH!!!
Ever found a place which you thought was the best place on earth? One that you could virtually live in for hours?? I have two such places. First is my bathroom. Although its the size of a cupboard and there is virtually nothing in there except the closet and a bit of soap, I louve my bathroom. I do almost everything there apart from the obvious. I read the newspaper there, I sometimes drink my coffee there, I read my magazines there, I used to cram in there when it was exam time, hoping I would fall sick. Some of my best writings have been in the bathroom.
My bed comes a close second. This is again a place where I can do everything. Yes I sleep on it too. I eat on my bed, I sleep on my bed, I walk on my bed. I write on my bed, I read on my bed, Oh and did I say I sleep on my bed?? Ahhhhh.. Bliss...
Normalcy has always had me thinking. Does it exist? Is everyone the same? Just imagine how boring that would be!!!! I love me the way I am. Like the dialogue of a recent movie, Main apni favorite hoon. Tall claims like selflessness and normalcy are a farce. Everyone is different, everyone is crazy. So am I. Only I have no problems admitting it. Do you????
Thursday, 10 January 2008
THE UMBRELLA MAN
He sat in silence as the crowd rushed past him. He watched each and every one of them with a slight smile, wondering how empty their lives were. No one know how old he was or where he came from. Or why he was at the station. He was tall, his skin and hair dark. He had an angular face, his jaw protruding slightly covered in a bushy beard. His nails were dirty and the skin on his hands was rough cracked near his palms. The most interesting feature about him was his eyes, which were at one glance, the most intelligent pair of eyes one would have ever seen. They were such a dark shade of brown that they looked almost black. A few of them, deceived by his appearance, dropped a couple of coins at him. He looked at it with disinterest, with an expression of acute disgust on his face. He pushed it away from him in anger. Money irritated him. He did not like it… how it looked, how if felt. Worse was the way people virtually threw it at him, as if it were something so unimportant. He hated it. He hated every aspect of the world that he was living in. Yet he chose to be helpless.
He had been living at the station for as long as he could remember. The lone bench had been his home ever since he had run away from his actual one. All attempts to remove him from there went in vain. They even shut him up in an asylum for a few years. Since he seemed sane and normal, they eventually had to release him. The day that happened, he was back to his bench. It was as though he had never left it. No matter where he went or what he did, he always returned to the same bench. And he always sat in silence.
The bench in itself was not much. It had a half broken seat, the bricks along the broken edge stood in an odd, jagged manner. He sat close to this edge, his back against the wall, slightly hunched over, his hands around his knees and his intent gaze watching everyone; taking everything in.
The area under the bench was covered with an array of the oddest bits and pieces. There was a ceramic mug, brown in color, with a broken handle, which primarily served as his drinking cup, although it had come in handy at various other unexpected times as well. There were also three very old plastic mineral water bottles, which lay half buried in the earth under the bench, the caps on two of them missing ever since he had found them. There was also an old, dirty, yellow cloth bag, which looked as old as he felt, containing three blankets. These blankets, in spite of being folded and stored carefully inside the cloth bag, were so dirty that even he had forgotten how it used to look like initially. There was also, tucked away at the farthest corner, three very old, well worn shirts and three faded pieces of loin cloth.
Apart from this strange collection of everything that he owned in threes, the man had safely wrapped in one of his three dirty blankets, the only thing that he truly loved – a blue umbrella.
The blue umbrella strangely was a stark contrast to the kind of surroundings he lived in. It was impeccably clean and completely undamaged. It opened and shut with ease. It was the kind of umbrella that looked stylish, yet simple. It was the exact color of the deep ocean, a dark and royal blue. It was this blue umbrella that he loved more than anything in the world.
He had had the treasured umbrella for almost as long as he was at the station. The memory of the day that he acquired it was still fresh in his mind . He was hunting for food in the dustbin near the fast food center. All of a sudden, someone bumped into him. He looked up into a pair of angry black eyes. Upon seeing him, they immediately softened. The anger was gone, replaced by a totally different emotion. Pity. As he watched the eyes go through the transition between anger and pity, he felt hate and disgust welling up inside him. He looked away from the sympathetic gaze and went back to rummaging through the rubbish. He felt the eyes boring into the back of his neck. He then heard a clinking noise. A noise that he loathed. Something fell against his feet. He knew what it was. He dint want to look.
He forced himself to look down once he felt the eyes leave him. There were three coins lying at his feet. Rounded and perfectly shaped. They even looked new, looking at how they lay there glistening. Vomit curled up his throat. He wondered what animalistic breed human beings had become. Did they not value anything? Was everyone a materialistic fool? He was about to turn away and concentrate on the garbage again when his eyes caught a flash of blue. He went a few steps forward, and there it was, lying on the station platform, the neatly folded, navy blue umbrella.
He was about seven years old then and never in his life had he seen anything so bright and shiny. He picked it up and carefully turned it around a couple of times in his hand. He then noticed a small button on the handle of this wonderful thing that he now possessed. More out of curiosity than anything else, he pressed the tiny little silver button. At first, it seemed like nothing was happening. He pressed it again, applying more pressure this time. The umbrella opened then with a soft ‘pop’ sound. He was so startled that he dropped the thing and took refuge behind the dustbin to see what other magic the strange object was capable of.
Almost immediately, a man stumbled over the open umbrella and fell flat on his face; in the process dropping a file containing a lot of obviously important papers. Involuntarily the boy began laughing from behind the dustbin. When the man realized this, he cursed in a language that the boy did not understand, folded the umbrella, threw it aside, picked up his stuff, cursed some more and left. Cautiously the boy came out of his refuge, picked up the discarded umbrella and ran to his bench.
The years came and went. He remained solitary at his bench, not saying a word; keeping his prized possession safe and more importantly working. He kept the umbrella hidden at all times, away from the prying eyes of the people he saw at the station. Time passed and he too grew old.
During the years, he sometimes wondered what the umbrella was used for. He noticed from his people watching that they came in all shapes and sizes and different colors as well. But not a single one of them was as stunning as his. He also observed that people carried it around with them and at times, when it rained, they became wet. But people still carried it around. He concluded that this magnificently strange object was some sort of a device that could be used as a shelter from the rain and also be useful as a walking device.
He was jolted back to reality by the sound of the train pulling into the station. He looked up at the clock. He had taught himself to tell the time by the arrival and departure of the various trains. The clock read 6AM. The first train was late by over an hour. He wondered for the first time in his adult life if this day would bring something different. He did not know why, but somewhere deep within him, his instinct told him that this day would be different. Still, he did not break his routine and in five minutes he was at his bench, staring resolutely at everyone. People came and went their own ways, no one taking much notice of him. Some of them stared at him for a while, then lost interest and went away. When people got wind of the fact that they were being stared at, they sometimes turned and looked. Noticing the source, they all turned away. Everyone except her. She was about ten years old and had jet black hair. She was clean, well fed and obviously well off. She represented everything that he had grown to hate. She returned his stare with the same intensity that he did.
He looked into those eyes and for the first time, he dint see pity in them. Neither did he see the disgust that everyone felt for him. Although he did not know it then, he was staring at innocence. The kind which only a child would have, mixed with a mild expression of curiosity. Both man and child kept looking at one another, each lost in their own thoughts, neither one able to break the stare. Almost reflexively, he raised his hand up and waved to her. Her eyes suddenly lit up. She gave him an unsure smile and waved back.
Then in a flash, the dream crashed. She was gone. He kept searching and searching for her everywhere, among the hundreds of people, but he knew that it was a vain search. She was gone. Lost in the crowd. He sat back on the bench feeling a little lost himself. And sad. He lay down on the bench and spent the rest of the day just looking at everyone, hoping to see her again.
When he opened his eyes next, there was a little boy standing a few feet ahead of him, rummaging through the garbage, the boy’s back facing the bench. An old woman passed by. Seeing what the little boy was doing, she stopped near him, opened her little purse and dropped a couple of coins at his feet.
The boy took no notice of the coins. Once the woman left, he looked down at the money she had so carelessly thrown at him. There were three coins in all. Rounded and perfectly shaped. They even looked new, looking at how they lay there glistening. He looked up at the old woman’s retreating back with disgust and continued to rummage through the garbage. He ignored the coins.
He got up from the bench where he had been lying down, observing this scene. He knelt down on the platform. He carefully tied up his clothes and three blankets and the ceramic mug into a bundle. All that was left now was the umbrella. He picked it up carefully and dusted it. He turned it around in his hands feeling the folds of the cloth and the softness of the ribbon that held it in place. He pressed the little button at the bottom and the umbrella shot out, although it did not open out fully. He carefully locked it back in place, looked at it one last time; walked up to the boy and handed it over to him.
A variety of emotions were etched upon the boy’s face. There was a look of surprise along with that of wonder and amazement. Finally he looked up at the man. He looked into the boy’s eyes and found what he was searching for. He saw no pity, just innocence. The kind of innocence that only a child could have, mixed with the mildest expression of curiosity. For a moment, just that one instant, it felt as though it were that little girl staring back at him and he almost waved again. Bringing himself back to reality, he looked at the one thing he had owned all his life, bent down and picked up the three coins that lay at the boy’s feet. The boy stared at him, the umbrella clutched in his left hand. He then turned and walked away, losing himself in the crowd of people that thronged the station everyday.
Tuesday, 25 December 2007
A Friend
If there is someone you can talk to
Someone you can never replace,
If there is someone you can laugh with
till tears run down your face
If there is someone you can turn to,
when you need a helping hand
If there is someone you can count on
to advice and to understand.
If there is someone you can trust
to keep each secret that is heard,
If there is someone you can sit with
and not say a word.
If there is someone you can think more of
as each day comes to an end
Then they say you are a very lucky person
because you have a special friend.
Someone you can never replace,
If there is someone you can laugh with
till tears run down your face
If there is someone you can turn to,
when you need a helping hand
If there is someone you can count on
to advice and to understand.
If there is someone you can trust
to keep each secret that is heard,
If there is someone you can sit with
and not say a word.
If there is someone you can think more of
as each day comes to an end
Then they say you are a very lucky person
because you have a special friend.
Monday, 24 December 2007
Goodbye
What I've done wrong, i still dont know
The pain of parting will never go.
You meant the world to me, yes u did.
But behind an invisible wall you hid.
My heart cries and my eyes well up with tears,
Wonder if I am living with unknown fears?
Will you ever come back? This i wonder
or did I just make life's biggest blunder?
So many questions, not a single answer,
I still don't know what led to this disaster.
I wish you would come back, yes I do
I really loved you and thought you loved me too.
Is this the end or just another beginning
of heartbreak, sorrow, tears and eternal yearning?
I want you to come back to my life again,
fill it with love and happiness and please no pain.
And when you do come back, I hope its not too late
because you see I have never been taught to hate.
I lie in my bed, thinking of you day and night;
with nothing to cheer me up, no source of delight.
Suddenly I come across a light so bright,
and then its complete darkness, nothing in sight.
No, dont stop me, let me go...
to the place I've never been to before.
I'll always love you, you'll always be in my heart.
I just want to tell you this once before i depart.
Don't cry for me, I dont need your tears,
you made me cry enough while you laughed and jeered.
Its time to say goodbye once more
For our ways will never meet again, I'm sure
The pain of parting will never go.
You meant the world to me, yes u did.
But behind an invisible wall you hid.
My heart cries and my eyes well up with tears,
Wonder if I am living with unknown fears?
Will you ever come back? This i wonder
or did I just make life's biggest blunder?
So many questions, not a single answer,
I still don't know what led to this disaster.
I wish you would come back, yes I do
I really loved you and thought you loved me too.
Is this the end or just another beginning
of heartbreak, sorrow, tears and eternal yearning?
I want you to come back to my life again,
fill it with love and happiness and please no pain.
And when you do come back, I hope its not too late
because you see I have never been taught to hate.
I lie in my bed, thinking of you day and night;
with nothing to cheer me up, no source of delight.
Suddenly I come across a light so bright,
and then its complete darkness, nothing in sight.
No, dont stop me, let me go...
to the place I've never been to before.
I'll always love you, you'll always be in my heart.
I just want to tell you this once before i depart.
Don't cry for me, I dont need your tears,
you made me cry enough while you laughed and jeered.
Its time to say goodbye once more
For our ways will never meet again, I'm sure
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