Monday, December 19, 2016

Mi casa...

Si I’ve just returned from a mini sojourn to Mangalore.

Was asked before I left if I was happy to go home. A very nonchalant ‘no’ slipped casually. Drama queen has finally grown up. So I thought. Customary foible ensures I pack my bags just before I leave. Foresight and planning are unfamiliar cohorts. A comfortable and uneventful journey and I’m home. Step out of the airport and it rains! In December!! In Mangalore!!!

 Seemed for a moment that the drizzle was deliberate. As the rain fell, the mire washed away and along with it the earlier nonchalance. I could have burst into lyric and when the desire was expressed it was squashed. Unceremoniously and emphatically by Anjali. She’s recuperating with great decorum so I acquiesce.  

My five nights and four days were a blur. The commingling with the besties and chance encounters. The warmth of friends and acquaintances of the past. The nocturnal drive into abandoned buildings. Reyana quoting Psalm 91 while quaking with fear. Chennu and me yowling in harmony. 
Conversations with Geet and Raji way past the restaurants shut down. The familiar ice creams and food that I yearn for. The sights, the sounds and the BO I definitely do not yearn for. The cajoling with tailors and abusing the road hogs. The cacophony of honking and mindless jay walkers. The roadside rendezvous aka Sam. The ghost of memories prior. The beauty of a wedding and joy of the celebrations. My dad’s quiet sobs as I bid goodbye. 

I aggregate them all and swaddle them. Like abaca fibers they bind the soul. Rejuvenated refreshed revitalized.


Paradoxically, I’m home. And gossamer strings tug gently…

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Mirror me...

Her sphinx like gaze never wanders 
Its unwavering gleam 
A conundrum that has me fixated 
Ambushed I am
Against my will
I’d like to run for cover 
Shroud myself in an infrangible armor
Talks too much this numen aperture

The tempestuous turbulence is more than this boat can ferry 
My path is chartered and there’s no room for diffidence 
Its drift secure and fuselage sound
The gig preempted and seats sold out
My tread sanguine and vision unwavering
This cover my shield and buckler

I steal a furtive glance 
An almost disquiet pervades my soul
Wretched this scrutiny
Atrocious her demeanor
An all knowing smile creeps into her countenance

Wicked Lorelei shameless hussy
Dissemble the oculus dexter and sinister
Bring her to her knees, make her entreat
Disarm deplete destroy her hubris
Annihilate mutilate exterminate her ubiquity

And yet I’m trapped and quite emasculated
My swan song replete yet godforsaken
I’m ensnared in someone else’s story
I bow down in defeat
Lift my eyes again and look straight into the mirror

Monday, November 21, 2016

Interesting...

So I had this conversation yesterday, where an experience was described as ‘interesting’. Immediately rankled me, to me the word didn’t quite describe the episode especially when I know that the verbiage and cant of the speaker is par excellence.

Another conversation with Anjali yesterday when we made a pact to use words henceforth in our conversations, that aren’t common parlance so that we challenge each other and ramp up each other’s vocabulary. Which we’ve been doing for years with pronunciation of words, we’re both Daniel Jones aficionados and quiz each other, tease mercilessly at an erratum and edify.

A quote that Tom Schulman wrote but was made famous by Robin Williams in the movie Dead Poets Society, “"So avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boys - to woo women - and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do. It also won’t do in your essays” is a personal favorite.

“I know your head aches. I know you're tired. I know your nerves are as raw as meat in a butcher's window. But think what you're trying to accomplish - just think what you're dealing with. The majesty and grandeur of the English language; it's the greatest possession we have. The noblest thoughts that ever flowed through the hearts of men are contained in its extraordinary, imaginative and musical mixtures of sounds. And that's what you've set yourself out to conquer, Eliza. And conquer it you will.” Professor Higgins in the “Pygmalion” by George Bernard Shaw.

Always been impressed by the way Professor Higgins loved the language, the lexicon and its perfect enunciation and been inspired to up my language skills.

So back to the word interesting and I’m being a snob, maybe ‘cos I was snubbed? Say curious, exciting, intriguing, pleasing, stirring, stimulating and refreshing maybe?

After all when you’ve got the gift of the gab… use it generously!

Friday, November 18, 2016

Haberdashery...

I have this quirk, a word enters my head and refuses to leave and props up at the most inopportune times and I find myself trying to frame sentences with it in my conversations with self. 
Not going there, that’s Pandora’s box. I’m both prosecution and defense.

Haberdashery is the current bête noire. The definition of the word is ‘small items used in sewing, such as buttons, zips, and thread’. Gets me thinking, what a beautiful word… buttons, zips and thread are the links convert fabric into an item of clothing. Yarn, whether as cloth or the fantasies that we weave need haberdashery to convert them into a complete ensemble.

Methinks we need haberdashery in life as well, little things that seem so insignificant and blasé are in truth the mechanisms that transfigure the mundane into a work of art.

That haberdashery then could be the hobbies you cultivate and nurture, the habits you inculcate, the idiosyncrasies that define you and above all, the people who surround you.

And now the sentence that's playing on loop in my head, you’re the haberdashery that augments my raiment from cotton to gossamer…

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Light and Dark...


We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us – The Joker, Batman.

I often wonder about when the transition from innocence to cynicism happened. When did the child die and where did the beleaguered adult emerge from. I guess the simplest answer is that when you stop believing in magic and allow reality to envelop you, when you move away from Phosphoresce to voluntarily invite the Cimmerian.  When you recognize that the most fearsome beast dwells deep inside of you.

We’re dark and light in equal measure and the choice is individual, which of these will you espouse to foster. Sometimes the luminous path that has been commonly followed may seem dull and the shimmer wane. Dark, then insidiously seems safe to take refuge in. We’re human, weak with itinerant foibles and the slippery slope welcomes the weary soul.

The beauty of it all though is when the lucent being wakes up and annihilates the murkiness that you’ve been wading in. This is maturity then when you consciously surmise that you’d still want to cherish the guileless spirit that is the core of your essence even at the cost of being labelled silly, gauche and stupid.

Dark has its value but the Light will always prevail… cos you're more... much more than F&F...

Thursday, November 10, 2016

For the love of shayari...

Momin Khan Momin (1800–1851) was a Mughal Era poet known for his Urdu ghazals and was a contemporary of Mirza Ghalib (1797- 1869) the last great poet of the Mughal Era, is considered to be one of the most popular and influential poets of the Urdu language.


There's an interesting legend about these two heavyweight poets, although rivals, Ghalib (who is famous for his couplets) is supposed to have asked for below couplet for himself in return for his entire life’s work. Something which is now claimed to be more satirical than complimentary now.

"Tum mērē pās hōtē hō gōyā
Jab kō'ī dūsrā nahīⁿˡ hotā"

You are close to me [as if]
When no one else is.

Posting some of Momin's and Ghalib's poetry I love with a feeble effort at translating from Urdu. Sigh!

For those of you who decipher Urdu please ignore the translations as I haven't quite been able to capture the essence.

Momin's poem:

Wo jo hum mein tum mein qarar tha tumhen yaad ho ke na yaad ho

That comfort we had between us you may remember or maybe you don't

Wo naye gile wo shikayaten wo maze maze ke hikayaten

Those novel greivances those delicious allegories

Wo har ek baat pe ruthana tumhen yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Your being mad at me for every trivial matter maybe you remember or maybe you don't

Koi baat aisi agar hui jo tumhare jee ko buri lagi
to bayan se pahale hi bhulana tumhen yaad ho ke na yaad ho

If there was anything that hurt your spirit, t'was forgotten before it was expressed maybe you remember or maybe you dont

Mujhe sab hain yaad zara zara, tumhen yaad no ki na yaad ho

I remember everything infinitesmal, maybe you remember or maybe you don't 

Ghalib's couplets:

Hazaron khwahishen aise ke har khwahish pe dum nikle
Bohat niklay mere armaan, lekin phir bhi kam nikle

Thousands of desires such that it I would die for each (each may take a lifetime to realise)
Much has been my desire and its realisation, yet I've so many desires yet to fulfil


Is qadarr tora hai mujhaay uss ke be-wafaai nay "ghalib"
 Abb koi agarr pyar se bhi daikhaay to bikharr jata hoon mai ...

Her infidelity has broken me in such a manner that now when anyone glances at me with love, I shatter

Kitnaa khouff hota hai shaam kay andheroon mein,
Poonch un parindoo say jin kay gharr nahi hotay ...

How dangerous the darkness of night, ask those birds that don't have a nest

Hum toh fanaah ho gaye uskii ankhen dekh kar Ghalib,
Naa janay woh Aainaa kiasay dekhte hogey ...!

The glance of her eyes have destroyed me, I wonder how she looks at the mirror

Unkay dekhnay say jo aa jaati hai muh par raunaqq,
 Woh samajhatey hai ki bimaar ka haal achcha hai ...

When she looks at me I am flushed bright and she thinks that the patient is now fine

Hathoon key lakiroon pay matt jaa ae Ghalib,
Naseeb unkay bhi hotay hain jinkaay haath nahi hotay ...

Don't read destiny by lines on the palm, those who do not have hands are also serendipituous





Momin Khan Momin (1800–1851) was a Mughal Era poet known for his Urdu ghazals and was a contemporary of Mirza Ghalib (1797- 1869) the last great poet of the Mughal Era, is considered to be one of the most popular and influential poets of the Urdu language.
There's an interesting legend about these two prolific poets, although rivals, Ghalib (who is famous for his couplets) is supposed to have asked for below couplet for himself in return for his entire life’s work. Something which is now claimed to be more satirical than complimentary now.

"Tum mērē pās hōtē hō gōyā
Jab kō'ī dūsrā nahīⁿˡ hotā"

You are close to me [as if]
When no one else is.

Wo jo hum mein tum mein qarar tha tumhen yaad ho ke na yaad ho

That comfort we had between you and me you may remember or maybe not

Wo naye gile wo shikayaten wo maze maze ke hikayaten

Those novel greivances those delicious allegories

wo har ek baat pe ruthana tumhen yaad ho ke na yaad ho

Your being mad at me for every trivial matter

koi baat aisi agar hui jo tumhare jee ko buri lagi
to bayan se pahale hi bhulana tumhen yaad ho ke na yaad ho

If there was anything that hurt your spirit, iit was forgotten before it was expressed maybe you remember or maybe not

Bohat niklay mere armaan, lekin phir bhi kam nikle
mujhe sab hain yaad zara zara, tumhen yaad no ki na yaad ho

Is qadarr tora hai mujhaay uss ke be-wafaai nay "ghalib"
 Abb koi agarr pyar se bhi daikhaay to bikharr jata hoon mai ...

Kitnaa khouff hota hai shaam kay andheroon mein,
Poonch un parindoo say jin kay gharr nahi hotay ...

Hum toh fanaah ho gaye uskii ankhen dekh kar Ghalib,
Naa janay woh Aainaa kiasay dekhte hogey ...!

Unkay dekhnay say jo aa jaati hai muh par raunaqq,
 Woh samajhatey hai ki bimaar ka haal achcha hai ...

Dil say terey nigaah jigarr tak utarr gaye,
Dono ko eik adaa mein razaamand karr gaye ... -

Hathoon key lakiroon pay matt jaa ae Ghalib,
Naseeb unkay bhi hotay hain jinkaay haath nahi hotay ...

Matt poonch key kya haal hai mera tere pechhee,
 Tu dekh key kya rangg hai tera meray aagay ...

 Hazaroon khwaheeshen aise ki har khwahesh pay dum nikale,
 Bahhut nikale meray armaan lekin phirr bhi kam nikale ... -

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Daunting Inferno...

Is it diffidence that leads you to believe
You're but a trifling spark
Even when there’s averment to the contrary

The resounding avowal you jab willfully
Cannot inter the unvarnished truth
Incendiary is the terrible animal

That burnishes a narcoleptic spirit
Atrocious the beauty of surrender
Trust is an untarnished street

Beware the inferno daunting in its singe...








Daunting Inferno...

Is it diffidence that leads you to believe
You're but a trifling spark
Even when there’s averment to the contrary

The resounding avowal you jab willfully
Cannot inter the unvarnished truth
Incendiary is the terrible animal

That burnishes a narcoleptic spirit
Atrocious the beauty of surrender
Trust is an untarnished street







Sunday, October 30, 2016

Lift the FOG...

Have you been and do you - Railroad and FOG.

"FOG", is a term coined by psychotherapist Susan Forward, Ph.D., and talks about controlling relationships and the theory that fear, obligation or guilt ("FOG") are the transactional dynamics at play between the controller and the person being controlled.

May also be called misusing the keys to your heart.

Ok, before drama queen makes a grand entrance let me get to the facts and technical details.

Wikipedia further subdivides FOG into the four mental manipulation styles identified by Forward and Frazier:

TypeExample
Punisher's threatEat the food I cooked for you or I'll hurt you.
Self-punisher's threatEat the food I cooked for you or I'll hurt myself.
Sufferer's threatEat the food I cooked for you. I was saving it for myself. I wonder what will happen now.
Tantalizer's threatEat the food I cooked for you and you just may get a really yummy dessert.

Sigh! I cringe at the familiarity. In some form or the other I'm guilty of this and let's be honest, it's a habit. We've grown up being victims, still are and mindlessly we dole out the same dross to ours.

The wonderful thing about maturity is that it allows you to clinically observe a common practice without adding emotion to it and deciding whether this makes sense or not and when the answer is in the negative, to have the courage to dump it in the trash.

Got to recognise that fact that, the oft repeated, "I'm doing this because I love you" is the biggest lie in the world.

Jaggi Sadguru has this to say about love:

When you talk about love, it has to be unconditional. There is really no such thing as conditional love and unconditional love. It is just that there are conditions and there is love. The moment there is a condition, it just amounts to a transaction. Maybe a convenient transaction, maybe a good arrangement – maybe many people made excellent arrangements in life – but that will not fulfill you; that will not transport you to another dimension. It is just convenient.

Good time for some soul searching and kicking off die hard habits which are more cancerous than the malady itself and far more damaging than nicotine and alcohol. Time to shrug off the fake cloak of "love" that is used to smother an individual's right to live a life of self respect and pride.

Here's a promise, I will try not to coerce you to lie like exanimate railway tracks in the wasteland, waiting for my egoistic train to pass.

Neither Railroad, nor FOG... time to lift the personal mist!

Friday, October 28, 2016

Keeda kaun...

I'm mean, like really... shut up Anjali.

So this morning I drive to buy diwali sweets and as I enter the roundabout I can see another car do the same. In my mind I have entered it before the other car and I'm sure he thought the same with the only difference being that he lost it! Like seriously. I could see him shake his fist and mouth the words MC...

That was it… I saw and felt the words and lost it too!

 I began laughing uncontrollably, the fit of giggles was so overwhelming that I had to double park by the kerb 'cos I was shaking so badly and the poor guy was apoplectic as he could obviously see me doubled up. So he slows down to hurl more abuse and bursts a few blood vessels while gesticulating wildly and by now I'm tearing up with all the mirth. If he could get off the car and cause physical damage, I'm pretty sure he would have but there were a few cars lined up behind him and he had to reluctantly drive ahead.

Once the laughter died down though I started feeling remorseful... I probably ruined his weekend and he would probably do the same for someone else.

Which brings me to the why? I mean why do I get cheap thrills at being petty and mean. Most often I'm the one sermonising about kindness and empathy and decency towards fellow human beings. I cannot handle meanness and it bothers me endlessly when I see victimisation and then I go and do this. 
Sigh!

Also brings some déjà vu, Anjali and me are serial offenders. There’s a pattern and a method to our madness, we’re quite famous for making faces at unsuspecting people behind the wheel and riling them up and egging them on to something stupid and the thrill! Oh man…. I remember one drive in particular where Anjali played zombie with dilated eyes and a deadpan expression on her face which was stuck to the window and I would slow down and she would stare into every passing vehicle like that. After about eight people almost drove off the road in shock we gave up counting!!!


TJ has a name for it. She says we have the keeda. So the next time you see Anjali and me on the road, remember… keeda kaun!

Sunday, October 16, 2016

Doppelganger...

When fakery enervates and affectation wilts
Endorsement and her sanction wanes

When the yoke is paralyzing and the albatross crushing
The theatricals blasé and histrionics fossil

When the cloying ambience of the mise en scène palls
The curtain call subverts your selfdom

When innervation turns to apathy and conviction is sceptic
As phosphorescence achromatizes across the hinterland


Come lay on the dark side with me…

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Gossamer strings :)


How many people have you met who use the expression, like gossamer strings... albeit to describe a body function. I confess I'm a snob when it comes to English language. You either speak it well or don't. Yes I know that language is a source of communication and what does it matter how it is pronounced or what words are used as long as the message is delivered and understood.
Can't accept that.
My credo demands that I use words that make you want to grab a dictionary, sorry Kuki! If I were to use mediocre language and everyday expressions, I believe I would be causing grievous injury to self and limiting the expanse of my thinking.
Got to do this.
Apparently the jargon I use is too complicated and who wants to comprehend its quintessence at the cost of opening a lexicon. What devil prompts this rapacious malady to create sentences that perplex the unsuspecting peruser.
Not apologizing.
And then there is the insidious vampire who weaves sinuously a magic so ethereal that you want to celebrate who you are with your infinite foibles even when you battle the conscripted milieu that decries the magic.
Gossamer strings...

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Ode to my alter ego...

I didn’t ask you for you even in my darkest hour
The length of my days and the rhythm of its nights
Stayed static and still like a never ending adagio
The symphony though nocturne was an uncomplicated andante

Everything I am and have done seems now gauche and desperate
The words I’ve written were empty barges
Looking for a secure shore to drop anchor
While all this while it’s been the grapnel that skimmed and kissed the quicksand

Maybe you’re a figment of my overactive imagination
That seems more desperate than the vulture at a banquet
Is hungrier than can be sated
And wants to devour till it’s depleted

I am so many people
And yet I am no one
I’m the white horse you ride surfboards on
I’m the Dead Sea you hover desultorily over

I didn’t ask for you even in my bleakest hours
Even those spent wandering aimlessly in the barrenness of my soul
Or the darkness of the stalactite caverns of the mind
Waiting for that icicle to skiver eyes that have no right to behold

Yet here you are, blight on my peace
Nemesis of the fiendish kind
Spurring the beast to surpass the superlative
To rise above the sinuous ellipse

It's akin to a bloodied war, it's spoils cheated of a decent interment
No time to mourn the grim scrimmage 
A cleansing after the ashes settle
As I seek to prove my unyielding mettle

The rites of celebration play rampant in the spirit
My wolf call loud and unabashedly brash
I'm the hunter and the hunted, the tormentor and her delight
I didn't ask for you and you came, so stay... until I annihilate myself




Ode to my alter ego...

I didn’t ask you for you even in my darkest hour
The length of my days and the rhythm of its nights
Stayed static and still like a never ending adagio
The symphony though nocturne was an uncomplicated andante

Everything I am and have done seems now gauche and desperate
The words I’ve written were empty barges
Looking for a secure shore to drop anchor
While all this while it’s been the grapnel that skimmed and kissed the quicksand

Maybe you’re a figment of my overactive imagination
That seems more desperate than the vulture at a banquet
Is hungrier than can be sated
And wants to devour till it’s depleted

I am so many people
And yet I am no one
I’m the white horse you ride surfboards on
I’m the Dead Sea you hover desultorily over

I didn’t ask for you even in my bleakest hours
Even those spent wandering aimlessly in the barrenness of my soul
Or the darkness of the stalactite caverns of the mind
Waiting for that icicle to skiver eyes that have no right to behold

Yet here you are, blight on my peace
Nemesis of the fiendish kind
Spurring the beast to surpass the superlative
To rise above the sinuous ellipse

It's akin to a bloodied war, it's spoils cheated of a decent interment
No time to mourn the grim scrimmage 
A cleansing after the ashes settle
As I seek to prove my unyielding mettle

The rites of celebration play rampant in the spirit
My wolf call loud and unabashedly brash
I'm the hunter and the hunted, the tormentor and his delight
I didn't ask for you and you came, so stay... until I annihilate myself




Saturday, October 1, 2016

Me... idiocracy

Mediocrity seems to be a recurring theme today, from a conversation this morning to, Monsters University; a movie I'm watching as I type this.
Pride prevents me from thinking I am a run of the mill pedestrian type, you see I don't want to admit that since I believe that I'm special and above the ordinary.
Besides, I have a secret disdain for this undistinguished quality and have trained myself to dither from what I thought was an unappealing trait, especially for my own self.
One does need reality check whether it comes as an experience or even a blight on your peace alter ego who can steer your reflections toward an au courant angle.
So I was told that most people are mediocre and it's fine really, nothing out of the ordinary in that... but to be happy in that knowledge and not wanting to trans-mutate, now that is a crime.
Complacency is a deep rooted malady and needs a vigorous discipline to shake off.
Let's face it then, most of us are wannabe's but let's not stay that way. What's life without a challenge and what is growth if it isn't of one's own intellect and competence.
Learning has to be a credo, a faith and compulsion and yes, hanker for more and then some.
Whatever it may take, an academic course, a practical instruction, an instrument you've been hankering to learn to play, carpentry, tailoring, or even learning to be a handy man, Nike!
As always... this blog is a place I spit and spew, interestingly I'm learning to swallow.
Me idiocracy... for now.

Me... idiocracy

Mediocrity seems to be a recurring theme today, from a conversation this morning to, Monsters University; a movie I'm watching as I type this.
Pride prevents me from thinking I am a run of the mill pedestrian type, you see I don't want to admit that since I believe that I'm special and above the ordinary.
Besides, I have a secret disdain for this undistinguished quality and have trained myself to dither from what I thought was an unappealing quality, especially for my own self.
One does need reality check whether it comes as an experience or even a blight on your peace alter ego who can steer your reflections toward an au courant angle.
So I was told that most people are mediocre and it's fine really, nothing out of the ordinary in that... but to be happy in that knowledge and not wanting to trans-mutate, now that is a crime.
Complacency is a deep rooted malady and needs a vigorous discipline to shake off.
Let's face it then, most of us are wannabe's but let's not stay that way. What's life without a challenge and what is growth if it isn't of one's own intellect and competence.
Learning has to be a credo, a faith and compulsion and yes, hanker for more and then some.
Whatever it may take, an academic course, a practical instruction, an instrument you've been hankering to learn to play, carpentry, tailoring, or even learning to be a handy man, Nike!
As always... this blog is a place I spit and spew, interestingly I'm learning to swallow.
Me idiocracy... for now.

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Flawlessly squinted...

The first time I was told that my eyes are slightly squint, I was offended to put it mildly. Having only received éclat for my saucer eyes all my growing years, the suggestion of a deformity gave me dysphagia.
But like always, when the cow ruminates, the cud is easier to chew and I did give myself an unhurried glance in the mirror to confirm that I was indeed cross eyed and of course Anjali came to mind as she kept warning me that I would end up this way since I have this terrible habit of mimicking the squinch.
Fact is then, I look at you and the person next to you thinks I'm doing a peekabo with them.
Sigh!
Very briefly the cogitation of a medical correction flirted coyly in mind, but like most coquetry, it was squelched rather easily, oh and I'm lazy! Seemed too much trouble anyway. And if I could kill two birds with stone or affect two people with one glance, why would I upset the dual birds in the bush.
Which brings me to the meat and potatoes of this post.
Isn't it better that your vision is off centre at times? When you're fastidiously cautious and single mindedly judicious maybe you miss the magic of the moment or the fragrance in the air (sic!) or the sounds of laughter that could manifest into a healing harmony.
Those who know me well enough will figure out that this is a disclaimer for my scatter brained indolent self, but honestly, I do commend that life should be viewed cockeyed so as to see beyond the evident and obvious.
If you could look at everything from people to relationships and actions to shennanigans with an assymetrical glance, I guess it would be far lighter than a twenty twenty vision. Extreme focus can be terribly tiresome and weigh you down.
A blurred around the edges picture sometimes gives it a charm that a straight shoot may not possess.

So there I go, looking askance, not just with my eyes but with my mind too and honestly... McDonald's!!!

Thursday, September 22, 2016

When Autumn leaves gently fall...

Today, Sept 22nd is the day of the Winter Equinox, to put it simply, it's the beginning of winter in the northern hemisphere and the beginning of spring in the southern. Well, to us who have only two seasons of summer and winter it doesn't mean much but for me it's a good time to do a recce on the seasons of the mind and soul.

While we are aware of the changing seasons in the environment we live in, how attuned are we to the transmutations of the self and do we need to.

I've noticed that sometimes if you just let things be, not really delve into the why's and how's... they have a tendency to fade into the sunset without a whimper. But then it's only to the dullard that enough is as good as a feast or so it is said (and if vanity isn't my second name, the Pope is Saraswat Brahmin! as Anjali would say...)

Autumn is the season for the deciduous trees to shed leaves... maybe the season for me to shed archaic notions that I have, this trait bordering on arrogance and even complacence. Irrespective of how hard I try, the specter of pride looms large and plays heavily on my psyche. A job well done, some flattery and the sense of accomplishment I have, seemingly innocent, turns into a massive chip on the shoulder and I become difficult to live with, even for myself.

Been listening to and gently humming Autumn Leaves and here's a personal version.

The falling leaves drift by my window
The flailing wind on my brow
I see myself in the summer of old
The many notions I used to hold

Since its time for the days to grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
I must then surely take this call
When autumn leaves start to fall

Keep me grounded and ever so humble
Hold my hand lest I tumble
Make me laugh when I'm pissed and grumpy
Prep me up when I'm feeling frumpy

And most of all... help me be... when autumn leaves gently fall...


Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Set yourself... free...

“I have worn my heart on my sleeve because it is too painful to carry it inside my chest.
When I carry it on my sleeve, it has the freedom to exist, to beat in rhythm with the Universe.
I feel like I'm more alive and yes, there are those who out of curiosity will say or do things that can cause its delicate existence to feel pain and sorrow.
I would rather deal with that, than to put it back in its little cage where it knows nothing else but the rhythm of my body and my Ego.
My heart was never meant to be part of my Ego.
My heart was meant to experience the Soul.” 
― C.C. CampbellThe Stolen Light of Women: A Quest for Spiritual Truth Beyond Religion

Now that is what I call freedom, when you allow yourself the luxury of being you, with all your frailties and letting the world see that and creating experiences for self without knowing how it will end,
I had an interesting experience during my travel last week and this has given me a lot of perspective. I had been to Netherlands on official work and since had done a holiday and explored Amsterdam a while ago, thought I'd visit Belgium and specifically Bruge and Gent this time around. Was looking for a place to stay in these places and wanted to try out Airbnb, the popular accomodation provider that I'd heard so much about.
I zeroed in on a place in Eeklo, a little town located between these two places I wanted to visit. I loved the pictures of the house and the description and the host's introduction seemed interesting, so off I go and book the place for a steal, the price was unbelievable.
So I rent a car and drive from Breda in Netherlands, straight to Eeklo in Belgium, whoever invented the GPS system has my undying gratitude! The navigation system takes me to a house with a broken gate in a cobblestoned pathway and I double park my car in the narrow alley and walk through the gate to the door and look for a bell, finding none I push the door and walk in to find it empty! I'm seriously worried now about my car being towed and I call out loudly for my host, an exercise in futility as I discovered.
About 15 minutes later he walks from another side of the house and says, "Oh you're here, cool, that's your room, settle yourself. I'm in the garden behind, join me when you want to" and walks away.
For a couple of minutes I coudn't comprehend what just happened, this stranger lets me into the house and disappears, really??? I run after him and say, " I need to park my car and it's been out in the street for the past twenty minutes!!!" He then shows me which turn in the road to take to enter the garden and walks off.
I bring my car to the other entrance of the property, pull out my bags, settle in my room and walk towards the path he had showed earlier. It was a beautiful peice of land which he had converted into an open picnic area with tables and chairs and a few structures for a circular bar, kitchen and had animals like sheep, hens, a pig and a goat in different pens. He also had a vegetable patch on which his mother and step mother were working together, pulling out weeds in harmony.
I make polite conversation and we all walk back into the house and my host tells me he has a meeting, he's a local politician and will be late and walks away. Which allows me to go into town for a few beers and a meal and I return to an empty house. I pull out my book and settle myself and begin reading and the heavens opened and it began to rain in torrents.
Suddenly a thought struck me, it was 10:30 pm and I was alone in a house I don't know, owned by someone I don't know, in a country I don't know, what the hell was I doing??!!?!? I'm never one to take risks, always try and follow the safe route, where had my brains gone?
Apprehension now slowly began to creep in, all my bravado slowly began to seep out, especially when I remembered that my host said that the house is Never locked, like Ever! And he doesn't have a lock either. I looked around the house and saw it strewn with ipads, records, fancy electronic gizmos, laptops and many expensive gadgets I could walk out easily with. My flights of fearful fancy came to a stand still right then.
This person left the house with everything in it, with complete faith. He didn't know me either but he didn't look like it bothered him. All he knew about me that I was an Indian living and working in the UAE and I was married and have two children. Fullstop. Yet he walked away in faith, never thinking that I would do a Bonnie and Clyde!
I had conversations with him everyday during the three days that I stayed there and his philosophy was so simple. He believed in the goodness of things, in all men and women being equals, in community service, saving the environment, being self sufficient, being free of the trappings of success as defined by society, empowering the young and mostly in giving what you had, the more you give, the more you recieve. Not being worried that your faith will be destroyed, you may have a few unfortunate experiences but that shouldn't cloud your vision.
This to me, this thinking, is freedom. Freedom from what others tell you how to think and behave, freedom to believe in goodness, freedom to allow youself peace with yourself and everyone around you. Freedom truly means one thing and one thing only, Peace.
When you are at peace, irrrespective of your surroundings, even if you lived in a cage or a wide open field, but you were at peace, then you're truly free.
Allow your mind to think positive things... freedom and peace will come uninvited and make their home with you...


Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Insanely... Janus...

Human nature fascinates me, my own included :P

I wonder why I say and do the things I do even when I know sometimes, for sure, deep inside of me that I'm not being true to myself (avoid the word hypocrite... as you notice!) and when it is retrospection time I want to kick myself, in the nether regions most often.

In Roman mythology, Janus is the God of beginnings and endings; birth and death. Closer to home, Hindus observe 'Sutaka' a period signifying Impurity arising (to the members of a family) through a birth in it, but understood popularly in the sense of Impurity arising through a death, similar to beginnings and endings.

So Janus, also called the two faced God since he looks to the future and to the past is rather unfortunately remembered when I digress from being honest, a state I'm struggling to minimize. This trait probably stems from my first birthday. My photograph has two of me in a single frame, albeit looking at each other!

As I do some soul searching, it's easy to see that most times fear hems me in and sometimes my ego does and other times it's a mindless habit. A very thin line this, between diplomacy and authenticity, between doing what's right and doing what's accepted, between following the herd and being yourself.

To be accepted and loved and cherished and praised is, and will be a hunger unappeased in all of us. How far would you go to ensure you had this adulation is the question. When will you decide that someone's, anyone's, everyone's opinion doesn't really matter, what you feel strongly inside of you is the real McCoy...

It's perfectly alright to have your own thoughts and act accordingly, being part of an ethinicity, religion, nationality, family even doesn't necessarily bind you to someone else's idea of the real thing, if you have one and a real strong won't-let-you-go-no-matter-what one, Go for it.

In this quest to be absolutely true to myself, above all I know I have to struggle against convention, be brave enough to accept labels and kind enough to know that people don't really mean what they say, they're afraid of losing face/ faith or petrified of a new order and this manifests in their unkindness.

And so I try zealously to undo my Janus... ness!


Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Preach no more...

Am part of a training on managerial skills and one session was a live simulation of coaching and delegation.
The planners were given a puzzle and they had to give instructions to the team of implementers who would solve it and I was part of the observers team.
When it was time to give feedback, I was brutally honest and unerringly blunt and to me it seemed that I was being candid and they were propitious in having a discerning observer in me.
To my supreme mortification and disgust, not only was what I said ingratiating but also offensive to a few.
For someone who continuously posts in my blog about the power of words, you would think that I'd keep them soft and tender 'cos I know well I will have to swallow 'em at some point.
Well I can't claim temporary amnesia or insanity for that matter. As I reflected on what I said and how, I hung my head in shame and wondered how I could forget what I so vehemently advocate.
As I reflect on the choice of words I used, I understand that no matter how genuine my intentions, the truth is that the message has to be worded gently.
The worry is, I know all of this... 
Yet I slip, stumble, fumble, fall and fail.
Like we exercise for our bodies to remain fit, I guess I need to practice using language that avoids confrontation, condescension and corrugation. 
And when I slip... don't get mad and walk away, Stay and tell me to buzz off!

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Spectrum of perspectives...


So I'm currently reading this book by Elaine Kagan titled, 'The Girls' and though it's reviews are mediocre at best, I’m enjoying the different perspectives of different individuals.

The story revolves around six girls who were friends and grew together and are now in their fifties, living different lives in different places. They are brought together by a tragedy, one of them shot her husband and the story is narrated by all six women. And each has a story to tell! About the man who died, about their collective past and about the present and about each other.

The characters sound repetitive at times yet the way they see things is brought out quite interestingly. It’s fascinating the human mind, our interpretations and the many impressions we form. I have yet to meet two people who think exactly alike in all situations and this intrigues me to no end! I have a brother (Manny) and God knows we’re different! I have two children and the same God who made Manny and me is surely laughing, sigh! History repeats and how…

So if two people who share the same genes and DNA and parents and faith, culture, upbringing can be, think and act differently, tell me why we expect others who aren’t connected to us by any of the above social, economic, biological factors need to conform to our thinking?

The biggest common factor in failure of relationships is incompatibility or irreconcilable differences. If we love our siblings despite their incomprehensible and sometimes flaky personas, why not offer the same ingenuity as we view other people in our lives. Err… Manny, when I said ‘flaky’ I was describing yours truly :D.

You know, those great expectations that we have (not Lady Havisham variety), maybe it’s time to do a recce and audit whether they still make sense. Did you expect that your partner, friend, child or colleague would conform to a set standard of the image you had of them in your convoluted mind? Did they? God Bless you if they did.

But for those who were not blessed with this, could we look at them like we do our own siblings and say, hey we’re chalk n cheese ourselves, how do I expect you to play jam to my toast. It’s all in the perception. You have yours and I have mine and ne’er the twain shall meet and you know what, it’s just fine. It’s not supposed to.

What is, is this… the faith that each one of us is unique and its perfectly alright. We make the world beautiful, each of us, by our myriad madness…

You’d for sure be bored without mine ;) (Of course I'm vain!)

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Give me a break!!!

I have said this before in a post in 2007 I guess... I don't understand the fuss behind Women's Day!

Seriously.

When I first opined this many moons ago, we weren't connected to virulent social networking sites as we are today. I have recieved countless posts, forwards, pictures on Women's Day and methinks, they either ridicule women or set standards or norms like the Biblical allusions to perfect women, Ruth, Mary, Esther and our Indian versions, Sita, Savitri, Gandhari.

C'mon! Give us a break and let us be.

I'm a woman and every day is my day. I don't stop being a woman on a single day. Except during periods.
I'm a daughter, sister, wife, mother. Every day. Hmnnn... maybe not during periods.
I'm a career woman and rush to work every single day except weekends when I'm working at home.

So yeah, what's the fuss about exactly?

Pardon me but I do not conform to anyone's idea of a Perfect Woman, but my own... warped as it may be.

I'm not in the competition to check how I compare with role models or other 'super' women, I'm perfectly flawed and fine with it.

Women... all of you, don't wait for accolades and pats on the back or medals or certificates of achievement on any day of the year. Enjoy the attention if it comes your way but don't hanker after it.

You dont need any of those. You're a WOMAN!!!

And hell yeah, that's quite ENOUGH!!!

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Unplug and shrug...

Came across this post which said, Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes... including yourself.
Don't know why but there's always a sense of urgency everywhere, there's so much frenetic activity and people constantly trying to do something, accompllish another thing, complete everything... push themselves and then some.
I just tire looking at them, like what's the rush?

Ambition is great and perfection unsurpassable. To those who seek the latter, God Bless.

“If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders - What would you tell him?"

I…don't know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?"

To shrug.” 
― Ayn RandAtlas Shrugged

Unplug and shrug is the latest bug...