Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

I like someone. Dude could very well be a jerk. I don’t know. I don’t know him. But my brain has decided that his CV matches the profile of the vacant position of prospective father to my children, the latter of whom, incidentally, I’m terrified of having.

Yesternight I had a nice dream. I was in bed, all tucked up, lying on tummy and half asleep, telling the object of my affections’ mum  – she was sitting on the bed showing me a sari – why I didn’t like the sari she was showing me. Now to the best part. Object of my affections lies down on top of me, hugs me and goes to sleep. And I fall asleep like that because I’m cozy and warm. And it’s a perfect world.

And then, in the morning, I wake up to our, who-are-we-kidding, less than perfect world.

But it’s alright’ it’s all good. I slept well and comfortably.

And I’m saying this completely unsarcastically – I  truly am blessed.

 

Senile

Posted: February 2, 2014 in Uncategorized
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You know that scene in a movie when the girl has invited the guy up to her apartment and they’re both acting all casual while the coffee is being made and then the guy casually puts on some music and they flirtatiously start slow dancing and you’ve watched this scene over and over again various other times before and you know how it goes? And usually you love this scene in the movie and this scene is the reason you search for lists of romantic comedies that came out in a certain year and download them and sit back and watch one. I was watching one of those on tv just now. And I got up off that couch. And I walked away.

Senile. Someone called me that recently. So I thought about it. And looked it up. What I usually do when in doubt. And thought about it some more.

It’s just that people get married. And have kids. And the kids grow up. And they get married or move away. And there you are, on your own, old, having done what your parents did before you and maybe a bit more, and you realize that after all that, you’re just going to die, and you have nothing much to do except hang around and wait for it. Sure you’ve had good times and sure you may even have done some things to change the world and perhaps make it in some way a better place for those inhabiting it. But so what. All those others are going to die too. At some point. What’s the point?

And what about feelings? Those feelings you don’t want to contaminate by trying to put into words like you did before. All those moments that make life worth living even if it just ends in death. What about that heart that’s beating inside of your chest even as you read this right now? That lump of odd-shaped flesh that’s pumping blood in there like your life depends on it. That chunk of flesh you rarely think about in that way. Nor think about at all.

No one’s special. We think we’re different, but really, we just look different. No one wants to be hated, no one thinks trust is not important. Basically all of us are in a constant where we try to match ourselves up to the stereotype of the perfect man or the perfect woman. And we all think we are pretty much there. And what we think, we are. Which brings it down to the fact that no one is special. We all are.

I read a nice article today about how to not give a fuck what others think. I think you should read it too if you have some time to spare: http://thenextweb.com/lifehacks/2014/01/27/stop-giving-f-people-think/#!uaVI5

And we don’t always do, do we, have time to spare. And most times it’s a good thing. Coz when you do, you stop, look around, and wonder what all this is all about anyway. Image

 

I didn’t know I was. And now that I know and have accepted it, I’m not sure how others will take it. There is a thrill in it. It makes me happy. Sort of a forbidden pleasure. But I don’t know if I will be accepted out there. I don’t know if they will judge me. I’m wondering if it should matter…

Never accompany your friends when they go shopping if you don’t intend to buy anything. Mine wanted to buy a handbag, bought two, and didn’t stop me when I went and bought myself a bright green one which is really not the black sensible but nice can-wear-with-everything bag that I would have wanted to buy had I actually wanted to buy a bag, which of course I didn’t.

I am now the vaguely happy owner of a bright emerald greenish handbag which I will be carrying to office, as well as, other public places.

And I’m not sure how I feel about it. And I know it’s not because of what I actually think about it but because of what I think the world in general will think about it. This then, is what it must feel like to be gay. I know. I don’t know why it took me so long to make the connection.

I know that what I should have actually bought is a black bag. If I make the right choice no one’s going to give it a second (eyebrows raised) glance and I could fit right into the crowd. Merge, weave-in, not upset anybody. No one’s going to put their lives on hold for a few minutes to stop and point fingers at me. There would not even be a question of being accepted.

I also know that if I could have gone one step ahead and bought a beige or grayish bag. Without a bat of an eyelash and just a sling of the bag I would have been elevated to an envied echelon of taste and when people did turn to give a second (eyebrows raised) look, it would be one of unspoken respect. In their heads they would be bowing down to pay homage to my beige bag. I know it. No one’s going to question me. The bag commands authority, and even if it was an ugly eyesore, the bag commands respect.

But what will become of my bright green bag? Image

The thing is, I’m not exactly that arty type of person that can wear coloured headbands, or a bright beaded waistcoat or a mix and match of bright swatches of colour and get away with it. Thus the concern.

So what if it looks different from the rest and stands out from the crowd. I like it. Why should it matter to anyone that it’s bright and that it’s loud and that I can’t match it with all my clothes nor my shoes or my belts. Why should anyone have the right to an opinion about it in the first place? If it’s not going to impair their eyesight or give them a sexually-transmitted disease in any way, why should it matter to them? To each their own business surely?

I’m standing up for my green bag even before carrying it because I know that it’s going to have a hard time out there. And it’s not fair.

People Are going to ask me why I bought a green bag. “I like green” for an answer will not satisfy them. It will not compute. “But you can’t carry it with everything” they will say. “Watch me do it” as an answer is going to come off as rude. “I don’t like it, it’s ugly” they will say. “Then it’s a good thing you won’t be the one carrying it so it really shouldn’t bother you” as an answer will probably come off as rude as well.

I like green. And if I don’t have a problem with it, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s problem.

I think I’ve always liked green. Even through my blue phase, orange phase, and turquoise phase. And this is not the first time I’ve gone all out with green. *Remembers being inside a chunky jewellery story and reaching out to touch an emerald green huge plastic beaded necklace with some emerald green crotchet work on some of the beads; and falling in love instantly* The necklace was not accepted too well by society as well, except by a few discerning eyes.

Why am I getting defensive about my new green bag even before it crosses the cruel, judgy eye of the public? Because it’s not fair.

The bag deserves a chance. A chance at finding out who it is. Everyone does. The bag deserves a chance at maybe discovering that it likes itself the way it is. If I really wanted a black or beige bag maybe I would have bought a black or beige bag. I bought a green.

I’m proud and green. Remind me again how that’s anyone else’s business?

Note: The bag’s going public tomorrow. Woe be to anyone who feels it their business to tender un-sought-after disapproval. No I am not a lesbian. I just bought a bright green bag and think that it’s nobody’s business if someone is gay. One purchase, one thought; two things. Carry on.

You know how when you’re small you have certain things in mind for yourself and how when you grow up things don’t happen the way you imagined they would? I can’t remember most of what I wanted, but one thing I do, and that is that I wanted to fall in love with that one person and marry that one person, and live happily ever after; with that one person. The one.

So that didn’t happen. It’s fine. I’m good. I’m glad it didn’t happen that way.

But while washing the dishes at the kitchen sink awhile ago, I had a sudden thought.

What if there was no one person out there, destined for you.

How many times have you thought you were in love?

And when it was over, didn’t life go on?

How do you know that someone won’t walk into your life when you don’t expect anyone to and make you realize that the world we live in is infinite. That there’s no such thing as a stop.

That you don’t fall in love with one person and love that person for the rest of your life.

What if you keep on falling in love with people? With things, with thoughts, with words and with possibilities?

What if what you fall in love with was not the person itself, but life. The life within that person.

I watched a horror movie sometime after a breakup and it wasn’t a horror movie at all. It was called The Last Kiss (2006) and it falls under the romantic comedy genre for some reason. Which I think is wrong because the movie scared the crap out of me. Don’t watch it.

What troubles me is the thought that if there really was no One, what that would mean. Would that mean that you can never get comfortable? Never settle down? How can you commit to someone for the rest of your life if you don’t know what it would bring you in future?

Sure it’s a decision to commit to someone for the rest of your life but how can you do it knowing that life is going to continue to happen to you.

The scary part is that you don’t see any of this when you’re in a relationship. I never did.

One, Two: (Give them the boot) Buckle my shoe

Three, Four: (Your hearts been broken) Shut the door

Five, Six: Pick up (the pieces of your life) sticks

Seven, Eight: (Try to) Lay them straight

Nine, Ten: A big fat hen (followed by a beautiful wedding, and happily every after)

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Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so sober.

Today I set myself free for the first time. Let myself be swept away off my keyboard and into nothingness; another place where my being hovers, facing eternal infinity. The colours that sweep on before me are those of sunset and passion. Purple lurks. The air I breathe is uncontaminated by the life of the world. It’s a quiet here. But far in the distance, there is consciousness; always present, hovering. I am here.

What if in this endless void, there grew a flower. Just one.

Suddenly, there is presence in this place where I am. All of eternity focuses on this one lone flower that I thought to be. What if there was a tree. An apple tree. Growing in the middle of eternity. Life. A woman walks towards the tree, naked, her hair long. She reaches for an apple. Man walks to her and touches her softly. She shivers. A snake coils along a branch of the tree, watching.

Wherever there is purity, evil manifests. There can be no peace. Evil perceives and persists. Pervades. There is but one law. The choice of resistance. But temptation is seductive. Oh so seductive. It caresses you to a heightened state. Touches you so deep and fully as you let it in. And everything else becomes nothing and you are governed by desire alone; a maddening pleasure pain that writhes for fulfillment. You go on. You forget. You want just one thing. Fulfillment. And you arch your body closer and let the pleasure hit you, wash over you; blinding you, fulfilling you. You peak. And lie satiated.

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But the memory of bittersweet want remains. Pervades. Reminding you. A tickling memory of the pleasure of yearning.

Purple. It persists. Pervades.

Looking down at the sky

Posted: February 23, 2013 in Uncategorized
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I remember noticing, back when I was about seven years old, the evening sky. Beautiful. Unbelievable shades of blue and orange. Perhaps it still is. But I’ve stopped noticing. I’ve stopped having the time to go out into the garden, walk up to the gate and look up at the heavens.

My house is by the main road of a dusty and busy town. If I walk out of my house into the garden and look up, I’d only see a square of sky. I had to go near the gate to see a wider stretch of  it. Only a little taller than a couple of feet then, I remember standing there by the gate, looking above the road, past the buildings and dust, over the roofs and antennas in the distance. At the kingdom of clouds that reigned up high in all its majesty, untouched by the noise and dust below.

I remember gazing at the well-fed fluffy clouds and wishing I could be amongst them. I remember picking out in my head exactly which cloud I’d want to be on. Surrounded by ethereal orange and blue.

And while on a flight for a conference recently, peeking out of my window seat and looking out at the skies, I suddenly remembered. Like in a movie, swatches of memory flashed before my eyes. And I saw myself, at the gate, in the garden of our house, looking up at me, up hear amongst the clouds.

Never did I think while looking up those many years ago that my innocent wish would many years later become a reality. Now I realize that it didn’t even take many years. I think it was possibly the very next year that I had my first flight to India with my parents. But I didn’t realize at that time that I’d gotten my wish, just like that.

It took a long time for me to notice and remember, but finally I did. Never did I think for once that I’d one day be able to be amongst the clouds. The thought of getting there by way of an aero plane didn’t even cross my mind. Sometimes you get what you want and you’re too busy to even realize and appreciate life granting your wishes.

 Now, looking down at the world below from up here in the clouds, I’m humbled and awed by the fact that there really is no limit to possibilities. 

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Whether you look up at it or look down at it, the sky is blue.

Why ME???!

Posted: January 25, 2013 in Uncategorized
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You know the age-old question. You hear it being asked all around you all the time; sometimes morphed in a grunt of misery, sometimes amplified in a wail of pain, sometimes whispered in a prayer for answers. Recently I had a why me moment myself. It raised (as opposed to reduced) me to tears.

Sometimes all you need to do is open your mind to everything around you; and if it’s open enough, you see things the way someone else might.

Why me? What did I do to deserve everything that happens to me and unfolds before me?

Why me?

What did I do?

Surely it’s not fair.

 

Showers of blessings.

Overwhelming.

Everytime.

Colourblind

Posted: January 20, 2013 in Uncategorized
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I am brown. Recently and randomly my eyes (dark brown with speckled whites) were opened to the colours out there. Always there, but somehow unnoticed. I was reminded of the colour black. And I noticed the colour white. And I saw colours coming together. And I realized something. Something I knew and know but realized at the time I saw the colours combined.

Life is what’s beautiful. Not the colours. Life is what attracts you, what pulls you. What you fall in love with. I could be purple and be pulled by the passion of red or the sunshine of yellow. And it could be alright. Because life is what creates the sparks when colours collide. And what is a life without sparks. 

Hmm…!

Posted: October 10, 2012 in Uncategorized
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So I’m not too impressed with people flaunting their religious beliefs in public, but (Ya having said that, I’m about to do it myself) I came across this Bible quote which got me thinking “Hmm…”

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain.” Psalm 127:1

And what I thought when I read that was “Hmm..”

Seemed to me that it was like a reminder to remind me of something that I sometimes forget. That everything, good and bad, happens for a reason. That everything, small or big, happens for a reason. And that when all these things happen – the good, the bad, the small and the big – they happen with purpose.

We are broken for the purpose of being moulded into who we were meant to be and are. Bad things happen. But good things happen too. And whatever happens, at the end of the day they are not things that will kill us. And if they do, being dead, it’s not going to matter anyway. Life will go on.Choices. There is always a choice.

It’s as simple as that. The power to choose the consequences that craft your life as you see it, is in the decisions you choose to make.

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*Thank you to a certain someone who reminded me that it made me feel good to do this. I shall do it more often.

Revelation

Posted: December 19, 2011 in Uncategorized
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It’s about love. The phenomenon. And how it happens. You see, as of late I seem to be coming across quite a few people who profess to be in love. Which is great. Except that in almost all cases, the feeling is supposedly or genuinely not returned by the objects of their desire. Unrequited love they call it. But is there such a thing?

Coz you see, for me, love has always been something that is shared. It’s not something that can be enjoyed on one’s own, like a chocolate maybe. Although there Is a sense of sadistic pleasure in being able to devour a chocolate perhaps, or a tub of ice cream, or a dish of something spicy and Chinese, all on one’s own – just gobble it up to fulfill that stomach-burning hunger for something delightful, something that serenades the taste buds and gives you intense gastronomical pleasure. But it’s that ‘feeling after’ that’s significant. What is it about that feeling after…? You’re satiated, but not complete. It’s sad. If you had to share, you’d secretly hate the fact that you had to. When it’s all yours, you’re not satisfied either. Endless dissatisfaction.

So what is love? To me, it’s sharing. It’s something that you can’t enjoy on your own. It has to be shared. If it isn’t, it isn’t love. Unreciprocated love you say? No such thing, I say. That’s not love at all. It could be many things, called many names. But it isn’t love. Love is something that has got to be shared.

Coz if what you feel is really love, and you feel it for someone, that someone would love you back, always. No exceptions. Because true love is something that does not occur at the spur of a moment. It is something that grows. Like a plant. They don’t just appear, plants. They grow, and keep growing. And love too, like a plant, grows between two people.

You meet someone. You get to know each other. You build a relationship – of friendship, of trust, of understanding, of acceptance. And it grows. Like a vine creeping up the branches of a tree. Completely natural, yet with the power to destroy. Branches, vines, intertwined. And sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, this relationship takes on a deeper level of attachment and turns into a shattering bond that goes beyond everything worldly and makes you think of words like souls, forever and eternity. And it just continuous to grow. And just is. And you know. That this then, is something special. And suddenly, there is nothing standing in-between your heart and brain. You are complete.

Notice how I didn’t use the word love in that paragraph? I didn’t have to. You just know. And you’d only know if you’d shared it, at some point in your life. And if you’ve shared it, that would mean that the feeling was returned. It may not always be shown, but if it is love, it is always returned. No exceptions. You say you love someone and that person does not love you back? If what you feel is love, real love, the feeling would always, always be returned. Because if it is love that you feel for someone, you do not need words or grand gestures or formal declarations to let you know that the feeling is returned. If it is love, you would Know that the feeling is returned. And magic happens. Unless.

Unless? Unless one party decides to willfully close their heart and show nothing but the bolted door to the outside world. Love is not a choice, but to show it, is.

So you love someone and that someone does not love you back? There could be but two reasons for the predicament. Always. One: the significant other has decided, for some reason, to close their heart to you. In which case, what you share is love, and if it is love, it is returned, but if someone willfully walls themselves against it, there ought to be a good reason. And if you’re honest with yourself, you, the partaker in this phenomenon of sharing, would know the reason. There’s your problem. Can you fix it? I don’t know.

Two: what you feel is not love. What then is this maddening desire to stalk that significant other, what then is this annoying obsession that does not leave you alone when you’re not busy with other objects of interest? It could be a number of things, but it is not love. One might call them sub-divisions or even imitations of the real thing. Infatuation, desire, lust, obsession, boredom, craving for love, need for attention, need for affection, for appreciation, for an ego-boost, for comfort. It could be any one or more of these things. The tricky part is that they all have the power to create a mirage of love; tempting you with promise of the cool waters and magic that you, you thirsty and starved human, seek for in life. So how do you know if it’s the real thing?

When it is the real thing, it is shared. Always. No exceptions. And there will not be a single doubt about whether it is the real thing or not. So ask yourself, is it shared? It does not matter if the other party is standing on his/her head insisting that he/she does not love you back. Honestly look inside of yourself for the answer to the question: is it shared? If it is, it is the real thing. If it’s not, give the significant other a break and leave them alone. If it was meant to be, it will be.