Through The Looking Glass

Some 3 years past, today, I revisited my blog. I read a few of my posts. So what led me to it? An inquiry! After a long time, someone asked me for my blog address. I have sent the link, which I had honestly forgotten (it's been that freaking long!). After a few failed attempts, I finally figured the correct address & mailed it out.

I am feeling strange. Very strange indeed. It's sort of like when someone is in a comma & has an out of body experience! The soul floats over the numb, cold body & gets pulled towards the pearly gates. As it draws near the blinding white light, the past flashes in front of one's eyes. While he sees his past actions & reactions, realization dawns. He is able to tell the rights from wrongs. I wouldn't go so far out & say that I am a changed person & I believe I should have thought, said, done things differently. But it sure as hell has left me in a contemplative mood.

I see that I was brave at times & then a coward. I was loud mostly but also feeble. I was downright funny sometimes & then just plain dreary at others. But through all that, I had a friend or two holding my hand, keeping me company. People I could trust & be myself with. I feel blessed to have met them when I did & for as long as they stayed in my life. I couldn't have done without them then.

I usually never look back. I live for & in the future. I am a dreamer. I don't have any fixed ideas. I just have fragmented thoughts that string every now & then & paint a picture that I see myself becoming a part of someday. Not to say I am not living in my present. I am. But then my present is beautiful because I look forward to my future so much. Nothing is or can be wrong with today bçoz there is a sunny tomorrow to take care of the un-attained & unattended. Tomorrow always comes... & becomes an awesome today!

Albeit seeing things through the looking glass, my world isn't topsy turvey. It's sure changed, yes. But it still makes sense with everything & everyone exactly where they should be! :)

'Cause I am...

What makes a woman go wild? What makes her heart fill with desire? What makes her swoon with delight? What puts those stars in her eyes and a mysterious smile on her face? What makes her giggle like a school girl? What makes her sing? What makes her laugh out loud with joy at the slightest provocation, when others don't find that conversation funny in the least?

Is it a man? Or is it the promise of something that may come to pass in the future that brings a spring in her step...?

I am a woman...
Sometimes childlike, sometimes evil, sometimes brave, sometimes feeble, sometimes creative, sometimes reactive, sometimes wild, sometimes trying...

I have my moments...both ugly and nice...

Today was a particularly pleasant day. I was ecstatic. Without splashing my personal life on the world Wide Web let me discreetly mention, it had something to do with the way Mr.Me and I spent last evening. I am still quite heady with the after effects of our frolic yesterday.

*I sang to myself while working on dreary reports and a presentation of the kind that usually leaves me high strung and in black humour.

*I couldn't wipe that grin off my face even when people observed and commented on my rather delighted state of being. I had nothing to say except continuing to smile foolishly!

*I made pleasant conversation with almost everyone I ran into at work.

*I went over some very happy memories I had shared with a coworker I have practically known half a decade.

* I had an uncontrollable urge to buy something for Mr.Me. I took time off work and picked up a few surprise gifts for him. I am not about to disclose what I bought for him until I give them to him and he is pleasantly surprised. Wouldn't dream of ruining his surprise in case someone stumbles upon my post tonight and promptly texts, mails or calls him to ask him if he likes ...etc etc etc...

*I had the most divine pasta ever and literally wiped the bowl clean.

*I couldn't stop thinking about our forthcoming trip to Neemrana...which is in 2 days...I had several brainwaves...I considered and rejected several ideas of making the trip absolutely gratifying (pun intended).

Just a girl, just an ordinary girl
Just a boy, just an ordinary boy
Just a dream, just an ordinary dream...

Life's like that...Our past and the promise of what might happen affects our present.
We take life too seriously. Its the imagined gravity of every situation that keeps us grounded. The angles on the other hand fly, for they take themselves lightly.

Laugh...for you don't know how long you'll have something to be glad about.
Smile...for you don't know how long you'll find something amusing.
Talk...for you don't know how long you'll have someone to share your joy with.
Walk...for you don't know how long your legs will support you.
Drive with the windows down sometime...for the wind in the hair is like a lovers playful touch.
Hold hands...for you don't know how long the love of your life will stay by your side.
Go on vacations regularly...for you need a break every now and then!

Tempus

The worst is parking yourself on your cushiony rear which is getting even more coagulated by the day because you keep it parked for endless lengths of time waiting for an inopportune moment when you would be called upon for something that would require you to mobilize your inert bottom. It’s the wait that is killing. The comfort of being relinquished, of staying in the dark corner where no one’s razor sharp eyes zero in on you, doesn’t last long. Someone somewhere up the ladder takes a quick peek down below…notices you wasting yourself and decides to entrust you with a responsibility which is entirely inconsequential according to you…and ‘pop goes the weasel’.

Now this phrase has been used after much deliberation. This obscure slang has a cryptic reference. Without getting into too much detail let me just make a passing mention that it is a darkly humorous chronicle of the cycle of poverty among the underbelly of East London.

The weasel particularly in my case is 'time'. Pop it goes without warning. I see it sitting straight backed…waiting patiently for the underground. The express train stops… the automatic doors slide open…time of my life demurely lifts one shapely leg snug in pointed red high heels…then the other…tantalizing creamy skin playing havoc with my senses…I know now that it was only to stall me that it had clad itself such…before I know it, the door shuts. It sees me standing stunned in silence…it gives me a delectable smile and has the nerve to wave covertly. I stand on the platform in the underground tunnel with big posters splashed with obscenely bright colors. They are frozen in time…mocking me. A throng of people mill around me…they push and shove…I know I was the only one who saw it leave.

‘This too shall pass’. And it does. Even when you wish it wouldn’t. Time plays such juvenile games. It hides like a child, it steals like a thief, it returns like a lover, it haunts like a ghost, it runs like a deer, it flows like a stream, it lies like beauty...

toodle-oo

How about some security and enjoyment of knowing that the people you care about most also care about you. How about your love returned; not in a sexual sense, but in a sisterly or brotherly sense. Where there is no feeling of sibling rivalry. Instead, there is a chance for your needs to be met and your heart fulfilled.

It's a great blessing when times as uncomplicated as these happen. Even though the moment may be brief, cherish the memory; if you can, write it in your journal before it fades. Preserve this reminder and keep it available so you remember the times in your life when everything was working well.

A salute to the times of common interest, shared views and companionable silences…

How sarcastic do u think I am?

A moron once said, "sarcasm is the lowest form of humour".
Sarcasm usually requires a quick wit, and the ability to extract the minutest points of weakness in a conversation. So it is quite unlikely that it is the lowest form of humor as some would like to call it. Perhaps not being able to enjoy sarcasm is directly related to not having the ability to come up with sarcastic comments, which in turn creates a feeling of inadequacy, which in turn can spawn an inferiority complex, that can cause someone to believe that sarcasm is the humor of the stupid.

Shine on, u crazy die...mond

Now there is a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky
Shine on you crazy diamond...

Pink Floyd bombilating in my head
I stare at the ceiling lying down on my bed

Arms reaching out in all three directions
they screech and swing around
they sweep and beat about

The white and empty space beyond
like the sky falling
beckoning and then hauling

Sockets filled with coffee black and egg white
liquid swarms and pools
do they drip or do they drool?...

Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

As An Afterthought...

Lord Verbal sat with me at my work station to read the latest post on my blog. For those who don't know Lord Verbal, he sometimes leaves comments on my blog. He is hmmm...well....very direct. If you go back and check a couple of comments left by him on some of my earlier posts, you'll know what I mean. I disappoint him. He says he expects better from me. He knows me quite well is why he so liberally tells me to let my true self reflect in my writings. I, at least around him, vocalize my thoughts. Even the ones which are not so pleasant. I coolly sit down with him over a cup of coffee, play all high and mighty and shred some dimwits to pieces. He loves my 'caustic' tongue. Sometimes I am mean and biting just to please him. I like his reactions to my outrageous observations. I pretend...not just around him, but around others too sometimes. Lengthy discussions about nothing in particular, senseless jokes which aren't even funny, maligning unknown people walking past...unaware of the insulting remarks being cast...

How trite and trivial can i be...how corny can the others be...and I gladly interact with them too... All of us are superficial...

We are surrounded with people who want appreciation, they are nice to you till you look at them with adoring eyes and give them pretty smiles. Likes of Lord verbal are few...he welcomes criticism, of any kind. Try dispensing a bit of professional advise to those who sabotage the system and see how they injure your reputation. Forgotten are the moments of amiability and camaraderie. In the face of little constructive feedback they take an instant aversion to you. The worst is when you have a 'People Management' role. The money could be good, the position could be enviable, the visiting cards that get printed in your name could be impressive...but it stands to reason why would your organization give you this feel good factor? If you are one of those utterly responsible and dedicated employees is when they also laden you with the 'albatross'. Wait till they put you in a difficult situation, such as, providing feedback to your subordinates... in a non offensive manner of course! What manner is that I wonder. You can be bum chums with your team but the day you take them aside and 'politely and blamelessly' discuss the 'concerns', they blow their top. They snivel and sob, whimper and wail, lament and howl...and of course shred you to pieces behind your back. They ruin your reputation..which in no time starts to precede you. You realize how there is deathly silence when you enter a room full of people. You notice how others have started retreating from you cause they are just vary of you because of your profile. you are no more the lad or the babe around the block who they could tease and needle, crack up and die laughing with... Things change...people change...interactions with these people take a sudden turn...

You are not the same anymore...you want to run for that Mr. or Ms. Popularity contest after all, you want to win them over again, you want them to welcome you warmly into their group again, you want to share a meal with them in the cafeteria again, you want to take smoke breaks with them again....you fear being abandoned in your ivory tower suddenly... the thought leaves you nauseated...you want to run and hide...you don't want to face them anymore...you voice you discomfort to those who are not judging you...you vent...

You sleep over the discomforting thought...you wake up...you sit up in bed thinking...you mull over it while brushing...you stress a bit more over it while relieving yourself...you reach the conclusion that it doesn't matter... they don't matter... you carry on...you are carefree again...you think to yourself, "f*** it"... there are those who know you and then there are those who don't...

Confessions of a dangerous mind

Who is without sin? Who doesn’t suffer from guilt? Who hasn’t experienced pain induced by self or others? Who hasn’t sat crouched on the bathroom tile or marble floor of the bedroom, rocking his/ her body back and forth and cried for hours? Who hasn’t looked at the mirror and turned away for it was hard to meet the cold, callous or incriminating eyes staring back? Who hasn’t refused to meet their parent’s eyes in the formative years? Who hasn’t called someone in the middle of the night and hung up for the fear of getting discovered? Who hasn’t abused the one who had tendered the agony? Who hasn’t been insecure enough to wonder what went wrong in a relationship and if it was because of something they did? Who hasn’t retracted from people who are intimidating? Who hasn’t violated someone else’s privacy at some point in time? Who hasn’t fancied something that belonged to someone else? Who hasn’t cheated on one’s partner at least once, even if it were only in one’s thoughts? Who hasn’t criticized someone behind his/her back? Who hasn’t lost his temper enough to give someone a scare? Who hasn’t been impatient with someone and then hurt him/her too?

People have always been amoral, shiftless, and self-gratifying beings. Most of them are self-proclaimed virtuous and chaste beings. They live in constant denial. They are the ones who discriminate, expose and finally denounce the ‘sinners’. These self-righteous beings are the real sinners. They commit all the 7 deadly sins...

An excessive belief in one’s own abilities...Vanity. Don’t the self righteous beings have an inflated sense of self-worth?

The desire to gratify one's carnal needs... but restraining or sometimes giving in to the desires... but in shadows. The fear of the truth being discovered. Envying others their freedom. Begrudging those who express their desires freely. The craving to be as bold as the self acclaimed sinners...The restrained lot is furious with the indulgent. They blaze in their own frustration. Their wrath emerges and looms like a dark cloud over the bold and the unrestrained.

The lazy and shiftless... neither aspire nor work hard to achieve their goals, nor do they want others to do anything progressive. These ‘envious’ beings are like crabs in a pit. They tug at anyone who even remotely seems to have the drive and the chance to mount...They preach sacrifice. It stands to reason that if one sacrifices it would be someone else’s gain. And who else is there to gather those sacrificial offerings but them? They are propagating the masters and slaves society. And they no doubt intend to be the masters. They try to make one feel guilty for enjoying the fruit of his/her success. They covet the same...

They desire to consume all that they can’t have. They want even what’s on other’s proverbial plate. If that’s not gluttony then what is?

Their inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body stem from their abstaining from the same...Is indulging really more sinful or the constant craving and near obsession of it? Doesn’t that encompass all the other six sins too? The mental overdose of everything that’s denied to self and the false pride that wouldn’t let them admit to their fault is sinful. And what or rather who is this renunciation for? What are they trying to prove?

Sacrifice is synonymous to escapism. All the so called Prophets we hear of, the one's who abdicate the physical comforts and go in search of 'self' and 'the meaning of life' are the true escapists and how will they ever find the meaning of life when they actually run from it? They don't live it...they would never know it

I breathe, I ache, I feel, I love, I hate, I laugh, I cry, I play, I Live...

And while I do it, I also deal with my own set of insecurities, my fear of losing things and people which were never mine...

"I do"

Weddings!
I find them so intriguing. I also consider myself quite capable of commenting on them. I am rather experienced in that department. It's not because I have been married more than once (God forbid!). No Sir. I have just attended over a hundred weddings till date. Half of them I chose to attend, the other half I was forced to. Lets not get into who forced me and why. Lets just stick to my observations and derivations of such ludicrous events.

In a typical Indian wedding you will broadly notice the following things: the venue swarming with over bearing elderly women dressed in heavy silks and laden with jewellery, men folk busy discussing politics or the job opportunities in the market, pretty young things dressed in bright colored Georgette's and chiffon's, the young men shifting on their feet looking uncomfortable in the suits they have been forced to wear, the screaming children running free and unattended, tables and china overflowing with oily food.

When you start observing more closely you will realize that the over excited and hyper womenfolk are freely dispensing their unwanted advice. These women are usually the elderly relatives of the bride/ groom's parents who are of the belief that without their expert opinion the wedding would not fall through and the couple would not be able to get together in holy matrimony. And even if they manage to get married barring a few old customs, they would have severe problems in their relationship post marriage. I don't know how far its true, but I sure have seen the new age, open minded bride/ groom trying really hard to get out of some over hyped customs, however with little success. These over bearing maternal and paternal aunts have furrowed brows and clenched teeth. They are most often than not trying to gain one up over the other aunts present at the scene. Do you notice the frequent use of the word 'over'? That's intentional. It's to indicate the excessive body weight as well as the weight of their arguments and aggressive behaviour. They would beat any man hands down in 'forcefulness' at times like these, where their seniority and their say in the matters is at stake. The Men, unlike the women, take a back seat and seem totally disinterested in the wedding preparations and proceedings. All that you would see them do is; pretending to be deep in intelligent conversation, drinking like fish and eating like hogs. They carry an air of boredom as they ferry their pot bellies across the lawns. They look like they wish they were somewhere else, in all probability work or watching the latest football or cricket match on TV (depending on the season of course!). They congratulate the parents of the bride/ groom in a grave tone, which sounds more consoling than congratulatory. I suspect that at a deeper level they empathize with the father-in-law-to-be for bearing the heavy expenses of the wedding. But still, it does not deter them from consuming the expensive and coveted alcohol!

The pretty young things on the other hand (especially the ones who are scarcely clad and showing off their nubile bodies in see through dresses) seem elated about just being there. They would laugh at the slightest provocation and that too with a trill~ a laughter that excites mind you. Its practiced dear! You don't have to be a psychologist to know why they do it in that peculiar fashion. When they throw their head back, the hair tease their pretty cheeks and get in their big eyes ( made up with thick mascara and eyeshadow). They gently tuck the straying misbehaving strand of hair behind their small ears with tinker bell earrings. You will catch them eyeing the young men, the eligible bachelors and also the fit looking married men, even though they are strictly off limits. But then do they care? It's a number game my love. They score every time a man passes them by and flits an appreciative glance over them from head to toe. Imagine the Axe Click Deo Spray ad reversed. Although, the women don't smirk like Ben Afleck in that ad, they burst into spurts of giggles. They get together in a group, cracking girlie jokes amongst themselves and catching the men's attention with little effort. Like a close friend remarked a few days ago in exasperation; " Women play games...cat and mouse games" and I inquired, "when have you seen them play these games?", spat came the reply, "sweets, the question should have been what games? and not when do they play such games. It stands to reason that you have been one of them once, even if you don't fall into that category anymore." We exchanged a knowing smile. I couldn't disagree. Do you get the drift? ;) The poor young men in pretty pants don't stand a chance around these nymphomaniacs. Even though they would act nonchalant and totally disinterested, still their coy glances give them away. They are driven to heights of excitement and they end up fantasising and hyper ventilating. God save their souls. Some fall into the web so thick that looks lead to conversations lead to relationships which eventually blossom and lead these men and women into the vicious circle of tying the knot. And so the story goes dida di....

We, the people, the attendees of these do's stand and marvel at the smooth way the cycle of life long commitments draw some people so close for eternity and pull some apart forever.

Venting...

I am surprised, not pleasantly though. Soon after my public admission and the attestation of the fact that 'I am a self reliant woman' , why do I still feel the need to lean on a trusted few? Why do I fervently text, mail or call them up at odd hours to vent my anger and exhasperation. Most of them let me release my rage and gladly pose as my punching bag. They are usually unruffled by my outbursts and hysteria. They ever so nicely lend me an ear till I heave a sigh of sheer helplessness. Then with a knowing smile playing on their lips ... they think , "I have witnessed this agitation before...and yet again you are making a mountain out of a mole hill!" . Its most natural for an outsider to find issues like; 'submission of extensive reports on short notice', 'a trainee not only being nonchalant but downright disruptive in the sessions', 'co-workers who think you are out to get them just because you have been assigned a responsibility which could disrupt their sluggishness and hence, become mildly sarcastic' trivial. However, they still listen, analyse and unabashedly give me their opinion...mostly with a word of advise thrown in. Finally, they make me reflect on how I chould have handled a particular situation and what it is that I can do to mend it.

I have to modestly admit that I, just like other human beings, have these moments of weakness wherein It feels nice to have someone to just be there to listen and acknowledge my feelings of disgust or dispair, as the case maybe. They could either be physically present to see and hear my woes or keep responding to my endless texting. If ever I am unable to vent my displeasure, I keep pondering and find it difficult to focus on the task at hand. Sometimes I would try to sleep with the event still playing on my mind...but I would fail, miserably. However, these occasions are few and far between. These few trusted souls that I have been talking about, usually come to my aid and help me see things more clearly. Even though I dont always agree with their point of view... it sure helps to vent :)

To know my text, mail or call will not go unattended... places my faith back in humanity. To know that the recipient will not mind the intrusion at ungodly hours... assures me I still have affinity with others. The knowledge alone, of this companionship and solidarity is what keeps an opinionated and an avid jabber like me at ease...

Coversations...

Conversations, over coffee or sometimes over a smoke. In biting cold we stand, shifting on our feet way too many times to keep our legs from going numb. Searching and searing looks, wondering what lies beneath (do you really mean what you say?). Laughter; sometimes forced, sometimes genuine. I see, I hear, I feel....I reflect.


Sometimes I look back and wonder... what was that all about? Especially, when I revisit the memory of an interaction and still am not able to recollect the 'snippets' of conversation I've had with people. Then the realization dawns on me that it was perhaps me doing most of the talking and mere monosyllables were chimed by the one I was in a so called 'conversation' with. Meaningless, futile and inconsequential is what the whole exercise seems like at the end of the day. Do I need to spruce up my listening skills? or maybe such people are too trite to be taken notice of. But then, there are also conversations which seem sumptuos, wholesome, mentally stimulating...

Where are they?...the rational and the judicious beings.Have they been evacuated for the fear of their capitulating under monstrous pressure exerted by the senile and the witless? Or is there an array of such beings but I haven't had the fortune of getting acquainted with too many of those? This deprivation can be detrimental for the intellect and wit of those who are blessed with any...

I've had some scintillating snippets of conversations with people...although, I have to admit in all honesty that such occassions and the people who I shared these moments with can be counted on my fingertips.

I still anticipate and carry on having conversations over coffee...



***************************