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...
February 27, 2007
February 21, 2007
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...
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...
February 12, 2007
"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.
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.
January 18, 2007
Memories
Manav woke up in cold sweat. A few minutes passed before he could focus and come back to reality. He was home and in his bed. The same bed he had shared with Reia for what seemed like a lifetime. The memories came flooding back. Her pleading eyes and trembling lips. The moaning sounds that had escaped her parched throat. Her soft skin smelling of the Spanish lavender oil she religiously applied all over her body. Her long limbs curled like a baby's while she slept. He shut his eyes to evade her sweet memory. He twisted and turned, crumpling the white cotton sheet further.
His eyes fell on the bed side table. It seemed bare. She had carelessly flung her favourite wrist watch onto the table one night, cracking the glass. They had gone to 'Landmark' to shop first thing in the morning. He had bought her a classy black Omega with leather straps. The same night, she had carefully taken off and placed the new watch on the table before snuggling into bed with him. He had even caught her admiring it in the middle of the night. She wasn't aware that he had woken up and was looking at her caressing the watch with a smile of contentment playing on her lips. She was so innocent and childlike. There was something about her eyes, especially when she looked at something or someone very intently. Whenever her eyes rested on him, they had made his pulse race and his stomach churn. That brought back another memory from the past...
They were sitting in a secluded corner of an open air restaurant which was on the thirteenth floor and they were looking down at the brightly lit city. Her eyes were dreamy and a little unfocused. She had taken 4 tequila shots already. He couldn't take his eyes off her face. She was beautiful. She felt his eyes boring into her and looked up. They stared at each other for a while. He wasn't sure if it were seconds or minutes that passed them by. She gave him a lazy smile and leaned towards him. He could smell her intoxicating perfume which was driving him wild. He was itching to take her into his arms and bury his face in her long neck and hold her smell forever. She whispered, "Take me home." He did. They were the only ones in the elevator going down to the basement car park. They stood frozen for the longest time staring hard into each other's eyes. He was incapable of intelligent thought and even less capable of making conversation to break the pregnant silence which he was sure could be sliced with a knife. They got off the elevator and into the car quickly. Neither spoke until they reached home. Night sped past so swiftly after that. He let her leave his side, that too regretfully, only when the sun came up.
He groaned and cursed under his breath. He forced himself to get out of bed and take a shower. He stood on the cold wet marble floor for a long time, letting the water wash over his feverishly hot body and then pool around his feet. He felt the drumming in his temples and his neck muscles stiffen as he soaped himself. He missed Reia. All the time. Every corner of the apartment, every little thing in the house, every sound reminded him of her. He associated everything with her. He was losing it. Losing the grip on reality. Reia's memories were with him always. He wanted to run away and hide. He didn't want to face the fact that she was gone. He wanted to go on fooling himself and believe she was at work and that she would come back. He wanted her to come into the kitchen now while he made an egg for himself and rub his tensed shoulders. He wished she would come and sit at the dining table with him again and have cereal and fruits. He wished for everything to go back to normal and for life to start from where he left living it. He wanted her back. It was unfair. God was unfair. There was no God. He didn't believe in God. It was all hogwash to make people feel mildly better about their miserable lives.
The phone rang.
"Manav..." , he spoke into the receiver.
"Take me home", the voice was faint but audible.
A familiar and sharp pain shot up his chest. He could feel his gut twist again. Just as it had done the last time he had heard her speak. He gulped.
"No, not this time", he said.
He replaced the receiver slowly. He was numb. He carefully put the plate in the kitchen sink, cleaned the dining table with a cloth to remove the crumbs of bread, picked up his car keys and shut the door behind him as he walked out of the house.
The loud music playing in the car prevented his mind from drifting into distant memories again. He breathed in the fresh morning air and let his body relax. He congratulated himself on maintaining his composure with Reia when she had called. He resolved to try harder and forget her. Forget the sweet memories and remember the pain she had put him through. Reia had gone through morning sickness while she was carrying. He went through morning sickness too now, just of a different kind. He woke up every morning thinking of her and the good times they had shared. He fretted every night before he slept out of sheer exhaustion. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about Reia aborting their baby in the fourth month. The thought of her committing such a gory act left him nauseated. She had begged him to forgive her. He had been furious with her. Mostly because it was dangerous to get an abortion done post the 3rd month into the pregnancy. To make matters worse, she had lost a lot of weight and had started vomiting a lot. Her eyes had sunk into the sockets and her face had become pale. Everyone had observed how sick she had started to look. He had taken her to a gynecologist who had prescribed loads of vitamin tablets for her. She took several tests and the result wasn't good. They discovered Reia would never conceive again. He had taken a couple of months to recover from the rude shock and for the realization and acceptance of the fact that he would never become a father. As if this wasn't enough to deal with soon after Reia recovered from her illness and regained her strength, she started going out and drinking heavily. He was bothered and he didn't hide his displeasure. There were heated arguments everyday, over the phone and at home. Finally, she sprung the on him her decision to move out. After much probing and prodding she admitted she had been seeing a co-worker and that she wanted to move in with him. "Let me go Maan", she had pleaded. He had. Just like that. His world had crumbled around him while he stood there looking at her folding her clothes neatly and placing them in the red suitcase she had carried her clothes in for their honeymoon. She had carefully placed the apartment key on the kitchen counter before walking out the door.
She had called now to ask him to take her back. Let her come back. Go over and bring her back. Home, where she belonged. No, she had belonged, once. She didn't anymore. The circle of life had pulled them apart. They had to stay that way. There was too much bitterness between them. Too much had been said already. No more.
"Nah. No More now." He drove on...
***************************
(Manav's story to be continued...)
His eyes fell on the bed side table. It seemed bare. She had carelessly flung her favourite wrist watch onto the table one night, cracking the glass. They had gone to 'Landmark' to shop first thing in the morning. He had bought her a classy black Omega with leather straps. The same night, she had carefully taken off and placed the new watch on the table before snuggling into bed with him. He had even caught her admiring it in the middle of the night. She wasn't aware that he had woken up and was looking at her caressing the watch with a smile of contentment playing on her lips. She was so innocent and childlike. There was something about her eyes, especially when she looked at something or someone very intently. Whenever her eyes rested on him, they had made his pulse race and his stomach churn. That brought back another memory from the past...
They were sitting in a secluded corner of an open air restaurant which was on the thirteenth floor and they were looking down at the brightly lit city. Her eyes were dreamy and a little unfocused. She had taken 4 tequila shots already. He couldn't take his eyes off her face. She was beautiful. She felt his eyes boring into her and looked up. They stared at each other for a while. He wasn't sure if it were seconds or minutes that passed them by. She gave him a lazy smile and leaned towards him. He could smell her intoxicating perfume which was driving him wild. He was itching to take her into his arms and bury his face in her long neck and hold her smell forever. She whispered, "Take me home." He did. They were the only ones in the elevator going down to the basement car park. They stood frozen for the longest time staring hard into each other's eyes. He was incapable of intelligent thought and even less capable of making conversation to break the pregnant silence which he was sure could be sliced with a knife. They got off the elevator and into the car quickly. Neither spoke until they reached home. Night sped past so swiftly after that. He let her leave his side, that too regretfully, only when the sun came up.
He groaned and cursed under his breath. He forced himself to get out of bed and take a shower. He stood on the cold wet marble floor for a long time, letting the water wash over his feverishly hot body and then pool around his feet. He felt the drumming in his temples and his neck muscles stiffen as he soaped himself. He missed Reia. All the time. Every corner of the apartment, every little thing in the house, every sound reminded him of her. He associated everything with her. He was losing it. Losing the grip on reality. Reia's memories were with him always. He wanted to run away and hide. He didn't want to face the fact that she was gone. He wanted to go on fooling himself and believe she was at work and that she would come back. He wanted her to come into the kitchen now while he made an egg for himself and rub his tensed shoulders. He wished she would come and sit at the dining table with him again and have cereal and fruits. He wished for everything to go back to normal and for life to start from where he left living it. He wanted her back. It was unfair. God was unfair. There was no God. He didn't believe in God. It was all hogwash to make people feel mildly better about their miserable lives.
The phone rang.
"Manav..." , he spoke into the receiver.
"Take me home", the voice was faint but audible.
A familiar and sharp pain shot up his chest. He could feel his gut twist again. Just as it had done the last time he had heard her speak. He gulped.
"No, not this time", he said.
He replaced the receiver slowly. He was numb. He carefully put the plate in the kitchen sink, cleaned the dining table with a cloth to remove the crumbs of bread, picked up his car keys and shut the door behind him as he walked out of the house.
The loud music playing in the car prevented his mind from drifting into distant memories again. He breathed in the fresh morning air and let his body relax. He congratulated himself on maintaining his composure with Reia when she had called. He resolved to try harder and forget her. Forget the sweet memories and remember the pain she had put him through. Reia had gone through morning sickness while she was carrying. He went through morning sickness too now, just of a different kind. He woke up every morning thinking of her and the good times they had shared. He fretted every night before he slept out of sheer exhaustion. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about Reia aborting their baby in the fourth month. The thought of her committing such a gory act left him nauseated. She had begged him to forgive her. He had been furious with her. Mostly because it was dangerous to get an abortion done post the 3rd month into the pregnancy. To make matters worse, she had lost a lot of weight and had started vomiting a lot. Her eyes had sunk into the sockets and her face had become pale. Everyone had observed how sick she had started to look. He had taken her to a gynecologist who had prescribed loads of vitamin tablets for her. She took several tests and the result wasn't good. They discovered Reia would never conceive again. He had taken a couple of months to recover from the rude shock and for the realization and acceptance of the fact that he would never become a father. As if this wasn't enough to deal with soon after Reia recovered from her illness and regained her strength, she started going out and drinking heavily. He was bothered and he didn't hide his displeasure. There were heated arguments everyday, over the phone and at home. Finally, she sprung the on him her decision to move out. After much probing and prodding she admitted she had been seeing a co-worker and that she wanted to move in with him. "Let me go Maan", she had pleaded. He had. Just like that. His world had crumbled around him while he stood there looking at her folding her clothes neatly and placing them in the red suitcase she had carried her clothes in for their honeymoon. She had carefully placed the apartment key on the kitchen counter before walking out the door.
She had called now to ask him to take her back. Let her come back. Go over and bring her back. Home, where she belonged. No, she had belonged, once. She didn't anymore. The circle of life had pulled them apart. They had to stay that way. There was too much bitterness between them. Too much had been said already. No more.
"Nah. No More now." He drove on...
***************************
(Manav's story to be continued...)
January 15, 2007
togetherness
"Ha, ha, ha..." she laughed uncontrollably.
"Shhhhhh... don't do that! People are glaring at us." he squeaked, thoroughly embarrassed.
This was routine. They loved watching animations together. She would chuckle, giggle, snigger and snort; while he would implore, nag, plead and urge her to curb her uproar.
They had met years ago at the dingy little pet shop down the street from where they lived. She had gone there to buy a pair of gold fish for a glass bowl that had served as a sweet bowl for years. Doctor had finally advised her to stop her intake of anything sweet. She had caved in and decided to do the right thing; i.e, to put fish in the fish bowl. The first thing she had laid her eyes on as soon as she had entered the shop, was a tortoise shell. It was about 15 centimeters long and 13 centimeters wide. She had frozen in shock when she had heard the hissing and popping sounds coming from within the shell. There had been a string tied around the dry hard mass lying in the middle of the cemented floor. He had his grip tight around the other end of the string, as if to keep the lazy, slow and immobile creature from scurrying away (which he obviously couldn't!). The animal hiding in it's shell, probably playing with the wondrous things it had smuggled in, and it's master had piqued her interest. Her fascination with him and his pet had led her to his red brick house with a white stucco fence. He had told her about his quiet and unfriendly pet on their walk back from the pet shop. Like a well-bred and cultured man he had invited her in for a cup of herbal tea. Hence, began the succession of conversations over several cups of tea, long walks in the compound (with the pet tortoise in the perambulator), watching animations at his house (on a 17 inch computer monitor) and in the theatre.
Their relationship had a childlike quality. Innocent, simple and without artifice. They were so engrossed in each other that daily routines were also set to accommodate the other as much as possible. He liked the comfort of his own house and she appreciated the peace and quiet surrounding it. The plants out in the lawn, the bedroom window overlooking the green field beyond, the dim lighting in the sitting room, the compact modular kitchen, the twin beds in one of the bedrooms, the tiny alter hooked up on the wall with miniature deities placed ever so neatly on a red silk cloth, the fragrance of the incense stick in the room after he finished praying were all so familiar and filled her with tranquility.
He urged her to consider moving in with him. She could stay in the guest room with the twin beds, the computer and the altar. She was reluctant to give up her abode, even though she was hardly living there. Most of her time was spent with him in his red brick house or in his compound where they went for long walks in the evening. But then she was tempted too, to live with him in that neat and tidy house with everything functional and in order. Her own house was in shambles with the peeling walls and running taps. Also, the incessant barking of the hideous dog across the street was making it difficult to get any sleep at night.
Who was she fooling? Why was she hell bent upon keeping their lives detached? He needed her and she had to admit, she needed him too. They had come extremely close over the past couple of years. He had shared every little detail of his past with her and she had done the same. She even knew the faces in the pictures he had taken over the years as real people. They loved talking to each other, sometimes they would ramble on mindlessly too. His ceaseless prodding and rationalization of the situation crumbled her objections. She sold off her house and moved in with him.
"I am glad you came", said he; with tears welling up in his eyes.
"I had to, you wouldn't survive a day without me!", she laughed; just to keep the tears from trickling down her bony and wrinkled cheeks.
"Take my hand...live while you can...", he serenaded tunelessly and offered her his scrawny thin hand.
She put her gnarled fingers through his and squeezed them hard. He gave her a charming toothless grin, his eyes gleaming with roguish delight. Although, when he spoke, he sounded sincere; "I promise to help you up when you hurt and curse your arthritis."
She couldn't stop the tears from spilling over now and made a promise of her own; "I swear to listen carefully and not interrupt when you want to talk about your late wife who served, pampered and suffered you for 49 long years! Even though I've heard those stories a million times already..."
He groaned and a tinge of red ran up his ears in sheer embarrassment.
They both sat in companionable silence on the rusted swing in the veranda, with a smile of contentment playing on their dreary enfeebled faces but ageless and bright twinkling eyes for a long time. Only the croaking of the crickets and the rasping sound of the 30 year old swing breaking the silence of the cold still night...
"Shhhhhh... don't do that! People are glaring at us." he squeaked, thoroughly embarrassed.
This was routine. They loved watching animations together. She would chuckle, giggle, snigger and snort; while he would implore, nag, plead and urge her to curb her uproar.
They had met years ago at the dingy little pet shop down the street from where they lived. She had gone there to buy a pair of gold fish for a glass bowl that had served as a sweet bowl for years. Doctor had finally advised her to stop her intake of anything sweet. She had caved in and decided to do the right thing; i.e, to put fish in the fish bowl. The first thing she had laid her eyes on as soon as she had entered the shop, was a tortoise shell. It was about 15 centimeters long and 13 centimeters wide. She had frozen in shock when she had heard the hissing and popping sounds coming from within the shell. There had been a string tied around the dry hard mass lying in the middle of the cemented floor. He had his grip tight around the other end of the string, as if to keep the lazy, slow and immobile creature from scurrying away (which he obviously couldn't!). The animal hiding in it's shell, probably playing with the wondrous things it had smuggled in, and it's master had piqued her interest. Her fascination with him and his pet had led her to his red brick house with a white stucco fence. He had told her about his quiet and unfriendly pet on their walk back from the pet shop. Like a well-bred and cultured man he had invited her in for a cup of herbal tea. Hence, began the succession of conversations over several cups of tea, long walks in the compound (with the pet tortoise in the perambulator), watching animations at his house (on a 17 inch computer monitor) and in the theatre.
Their relationship had a childlike quality. Innocent, simple and without artifice. They were so engrossed in each other that daily routines were also set to accommodate the other as much as possible. He liked the comfort of his own house and she appreciated the peace and quiet surrounding it. The plants out in the lawn, the bedroom window overlooking the green field beyond, the dim lighting in the sitting room, the compact modular kitchen, the twin beds in one of the bedrooms, the tiny alter hooked up on the wall with miniature deities placed ever so neatly on a red silk cloth, the fragrance of the incense stick in the room after he finished praying were all so familiar and filled her with tranquility.
He urged her to consider moving in with him. She could stay in the guest room with the twin beds, the computer and the altar. She was reluctant to give up her abode, even though she was hardly living there. Most of her time was spent with him in his red brick house or in his compound where they went for long walks in the evening. But then she was tempted too, to live with him in that neat and tidy house with everything functional and in order. Her own house was in shambles with the peeling walls and running taps. Also, the incessant barking of the hideous dog across the street was making it difficult to get any sleep at night.
Who was she fooling? Why was she hell bent upon keeping their lives detached? He needed her and she had to admit, she needed him too. They had come extremely close over the past couple of years. He had shared every little detail of his past with her and she had done the same. She even knew the faces in the pictures he had taken over the years as real people. They loved talking to each other, sometimes they would ramble on mindlessly too. His ceaseless prodding and rationalization of the situation crumbled her objections. She sold off her house and moved in with him.
"I am glad you came", said he; with tears welling up in his eyes.
"I had to, you wouldn't survive a day without me!", she laughed; just to keep the tears from trickling down her bony and wrinkled cheeks.
"Take my hand...live while you can...", he serenaded tunelessly and offered her his scrawny thin hand.
She put her gnarled fingers through his and squeezed them hard. He gave her a charming toothless grin, his eyes gleaming with roguish delight. Although, when he spoke, he sounded sincere; "I promise to help you up when you hurt and curse your arthritis."
She couldn't stop the tears from spilling over now and made a promise of her own; "I swear to listen carefully and not interrupt when you want to talk about your late wife who served, pampered and suffered you for 49 long years! Even though I've heard those stories a million times already..."
He groaned and a tinge of red ran up his ears in sheer embarrassment.
They both sat in companionable silence on the rusted swing in the veranda, with a smile of contentment playing on their dreary enfeebled faces but ageless and bright twinkling eyes for a long time. Only the croaking of the crickets and the rasping sound of the 30 year old swing breaking the silence of the cold still night...
January 4, 2007
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...
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...
An Ode to My Folks...
I am a self reliant woman. Brought up in an almost liberal family by moderately conservative parents. I would say they were rather accepting of my rebellious ways, or so I would like to believe. Mostly; they just knuckled under the gigantic steps I took towards self distruction , or so they believed at the time. Thats how average Indian parents are I suppose, obsessively protective. And when all attempts at conservation fail, they safeguard their own pride and say, "You are free to do as you deem fit...we have given you the roots, now you have grown wings...be careful...there are a lot of people out there who would entice and misguide you...don't do anything we would'nt do...blah blah blah...". I am sure they did all that they warned me off. Or maybe they had seen way too many episodes of 'Sansani' and 'Crime Files', which emptied their heads and filled such nonsense. A few arguments I had with my folks in my formative years were; "It stands to reason why would my closest and most trusted friend, who is from a hindu family with religious roots, would one fine day have an inclination to indulge in any sort of malpractice?", "I am not dumb maa... I know who is genuine and who isn't", "Will you just stop asking me so many questions? I've told you I am going out for a movie with friends. Give me a break! Do you even want to know the registration number of the car I'll be travelling in?", "Why can't I ask my friends to come over and spend the day here while you are out on a day trip with your friends? I am telling you its perfectly safe. Stop getting so paranoid!"... Endless bickerings and constant shoving from me led to my parents backing off a bit and giving me some breathing space, just like I wanted.
I started getting fair amount of freedom, though conditional. Ma and Papa started making bargains; "We'll let you go for the movie if you let us drop you to the theater and pick you up after the movie. And also let us meet your friends and say hi. We just want to see who are the people you are hanging out with. It'll give us an excuse to have a date too." It sounded perfectly harmless so I let them have their way. Our arrangements were always fair and square. Life was very smooth until I started working. I needed more freedom than they were ready to give. Some more pushing and shoving was required. I would propose a plan and they would dispose it without even mulling over it. I incessantly cribbed and fought; sometimes to no avail and at other times getting what I wanted, but after being made to feel horribly guilty about it. Life was such a struggle at home. Then the situation deteriorated further. My mum started the sobbing and sniveling when she heard of my 2 month long travel plan. Work required me to go out of town which was totally unacceptable to my parents. I emotionally blackmailed my dad and had him on my side in no time. I realised after 22 yrs of my life that all I had to do was be helpless and weepy to have him comply with my whims and fancies! What a dud I was. Anyway, dad talked to mom, mom cried a bit more and accused him of being too liberal and not thinking clearly. After much hue and cry I was bid adieu. Complete freedom atlast! I could breathe... haha...fantastic! There was no stopping me after that. I travelled frequently. My organisation was growing leaps and bounds and needed trainers to be on the move all the time. Business and clients in Delhi were dwindling and there were more and better organizations demanding their services. World class trainers...multi skilled...such pool of talent was bound to get noticed. I was a tenured and experienced resource of my company. It could bank on me conducting trainings for some quite finicky clients too. I stretched my wings and went out far east. Corporate trainings as well were becoming my forte... Ma and papa were very proud of me. They were also more relaxed and less bothersome after that. I guess when you take flight and your parents are finally convinced that you are not about to crash and vanish in fumes, they lessen the pressure. Or maybe they just had my little brother, who had suddenly shot upto 6'1", to worry about.
Mr.me and I have been thinking about making babies someday... its not happening anytime soon though. I am sure I'll follow my parents in their footsteps. I can forsee myself being even more protective of our kids than my parents were of me. Especially after reading the gory details of the friendly neigbour who molested and mutilated the bodies of 30 innocent kids in cold blood. He even had the gall to bury them in his backyard.
I fear... to bring a life into this crazy and inhumane world. I fear...sending my kid to school and worrying myself sick until his/ her return. I fear...getting an mms with my kid doing the unthinkable. I fear...not being able to bring up my kid with moral values. I fear...losing my kid to the damn world which will fill his/ her head with nonsensical ideas...
I need to gather my nerve before I prove my mettle to my parents by bringing a baby in this big bad world...
I started getting fair amount of freedom, though conditional. Ma and Papa started making bargains; "We'll let you go for the movie if you let us drop you to the theater and pick you up after the movie. And also let us meet your friends and say hi. We just want to see who are the people you are hanging out with. It'll give us an excuse to have a date too." It sounded perfectly harmless so I let them have their way. Our arrangements were always fair and square. Life was very smooth until I started working. I needed more freedom than they were ready to give. Some more pushing and shoving was required. I would propose a plan and they would dispose it without even mulling over it. I incessantly cribbed and fought; sometimes to no avail and at other times getting what I wanted, but after being made to feel horribly guilty about it. Life was such a struggle at home. Then the situation deteriorated further. My mum started the sobbing and sniveling when she heard of my 2 month long travel plan. Work required me to go out of town which was totally unacceptable to my parents. I emotionally blackmailed my dad and had him on my side in no time. I realised after 22 yrs of my life that all I had to do was be helpless and weepy to have him comply with my whims and fancies! What a dud I was. Anyway, dad talked to mom, mom cried a bit more and accused him of being too liberal and not thinking clearly. After much hue and cry I was bid adieu. Complete freedom atlast! I could breathe... haha...fantastic! There was no stopping me after that. I travelled frequently. My organisation was growing leaps and bounds and needed trainers to be on the move all the time. Business and clients in Delhi were dwindling and there were more and better organizations demanding their services. World class trainers...multi skilled...such pool of talent was bound to get noticed. I was a tenured and experienced resource of my company. It could bank on me conducting trainings for some quite finicky clients too. I stretched my wings and went out far east. Corporate trainings as well were becoming my forte... Ma and papa were very proud of me. They were also more relaxed and less bothersome after that. I guess when you take flight and your parents are finally convinced that you are not about to crash and vanish in fumes, they lessen the pressure. Or maybe they just had my little brother, who had suddenly shot upto 6'1", to worry about.
Mr.me and I have been thinking about making babies someday... its not happening anytime soon though. I am sure I'll follow my parents in their footsteps. I can forsee myself being even more protective of our kids than my parents were of me. Especially after reading the gory details of the friendly neigbour who molested and mutilated the bodies of 30 innocent kids in cold blood. He even had the gall to bury them in his backyard.
I fear... to bring a life into this crazy and inhumane world. I fear...sending my kid to school and worrying myself sick until his/ her return. I fear...getting an mms with my kid doing the unthinkable. I fear...not being able to bring up my kid with moral values. I fear...losing my kid to the damn world which will fill his/ her head with nonsensical ideas...
I need to gather my nerve before I prove my mettle to my parents by bringing a baby in this big bad world...
December 22, 2006
I haven't the foggiest!
The winter chill, basking in the sun, nut crackers, woolly bright clothes, dry skin, watery nose, lots of dry fruits, hot chocolate and coffee, energy bars and bowls full of soup... that's winter for me.
"You look happy today!"...remarked someone with a quizzical look.
'ha ha ha'...I laughed out loud..."I am. Its probably because since morning everything I have laid my eyes on has been red!"
Red, makes me feel all christamassy. A tinge of white, makes me think of snow (which I have never witnessed at Christmas or otherwise; but I've seen plenty of movies to know what it must look like !)
Both these colors mark Christmas. Although, individually their natures are so contrary. Aesthetically they are completely different.
Red is considered a stimulant. It can have a physical effect of increasing the respiration rate and raising blood pressure. I feel exhilarated and uplifted when I wear it. And when I see so much of it at work (everybody wears it in honour of Christmas...), it naturally emboldens and energizes me.
Off late I have seen a lot of white as well. Driving through the fog late last night, tailing the truck lights blinking right in front of us, my husband and I were freezing our pretty asses off in the car with 'Gregorian' serenading in the background. Mr. Me finds this German band downright horrific. Their Church like melodic chants depress him. I, on the other hand enjoy the incantation which is definitely celestial! The dismal and dreary winter night darkened Mr.Me's mood even further. He was cheerless and grouchy because of the drive down the foggy frosty road. The grayish white night was brightened only by the fading glow of the taillights of the vehicles in front.
Our car came to a halt at the Kalindi check post. I peered out of the window and spotted a couple of cops with flashlights, knocking at the panes of the cars in front of us. "Jesus Christ! Its going to take forever. They are checking all the god damn cars ahead of us", I muttered.
Mr. Me selected another track, one of my favourites. He too is growing rather fond of 'Lifehouse', especially the album 'No Name face' .
He started to hum along ...
"Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
Closer where i Started
Chasing after you
i'm falling even more in love with you
letting go of all i've held onto
i'm standing here until you make me move
i'm hanging by a moment here with you"
He is adorable when he gets all mushy. I couldn't sulk any more. I started to sing along. We were on a high, still stuck behind a monstrous truck with cauliflowers stacked so neatly on top of it.
The mist settling on our car must have made it glisten under the flashlight directed at it. I couldn't see it of course, but i definitely had a vision of the glossy exterior. Two hazy figures of thickly clad beings, swish swashing their heads from the left to the right, blaring music emanating from within. One of the cops tapped at the window pane and Mr. Me pulled the window down with a smug look on his face. He has these big almond shaped eyes, on this elf like clean shaven face, that look even bigger still when he is joyous. The cop looked at us both with suspicion (as if his glare was going to petrify us and make us divulge the secrets of national importance and that would be his break to glory!).
A brief and vague exchange of words between Mr.Me and the cop brought the matter to a close. The traffic ahead was clearing too. We picked up pace and were finally crawling on the glassy tar road. The warmth of his hand must have melt the icy frost on the car...the droplets sliding down the smooth surface... splashing onto the stone cold road...
The time stopped...we held onto each others hand for a long time...lifehouse still playing in the background... we carried on... shrouded in the cloudy fog... "I am hanging by a moment here with you"...
"You look happy today!"...remarked someone with a quizzical look.
'ha ha ha'...I laughed out loud..."I am. Its probably because since morning everything I have laid my eyes on has been red!"
Red, makes me feel all christamassy. A tinge of white, makes me think of snow (which I have never witnessed at Christmas or otherwise; but I've seen plenty of movies to know what it must look like !)
Both these colors mark Christmas. Although, individually their natures are so contrary. Aesthetically they are completely different.
Red is considered a stimulant. It can have a physical effect of increasing the respiration rate and raising blood pressure. I feel exhilarated and uplifted when I wear it. And when I see so much of it at work (everybody wears it in honour of Christmas...), it naturally emboldens and energizes me.
Off late I have seen a lot of white as well. Driving through the fog late last night, tailing the truck lights blinking right in front of us, my husband and I were freezing our pretty asses off in the car with 'Gregorian' serenading in the background. Mr. Me finds this German band downright horrific. Their Church like melodic chants depress him. I, on the other hand enjoy the incantation which is definitely celestial! The dismal and dreary winter night darkened Mr.Me's mood even further. He was cheerless and grouchy because of the drive down the foggy frosty road. The grayish white night was brightened only by the fading glow of the taillights of the vehicles in front.
Our car came to a halt at the Kalindi check post. I peered out of the window and spotted a couple of cops with flashlights, knocking at the panes of the cars in front of us. "Jesus Christ! Its going to take forever. They are checking all the god damn cars ahead of us", I muttered.
Mr. Me selected another track, one of my favourites. He too is growing rather fond of 'Lifehouse', especially the album 'No Name face' .
He started to hum along ...
"Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
Closer where i Started
Chasing after you
i'm falling even more in love with you
letting go of all i've held onto
i'm standing here until you make me move
i'm hanging by a moment here with you"
He is adorable when he gets all mushy. I couldn't sulk any more. I started to sing along. We were on a high, still stuck behind a monstrous truck with cauliflowers stacked so neatly on top of it.
The mist settling on our car must have made it glisten under the flashlight directed at it. I couldn't see it of course, but i definitely had a vision of the glossy exterior. Two hazy figures of thickly clad beings, swish swashing their heads from the left to the right, blaring music emanating from within. One of the cops tapped at the window pane and Mr. Me pulled the window down with a smug look on his face. He has these big almond shaped eyes, on this elf like clean shaven face, that look even bigger still when he is joyous. The cop looked at us both with suspicion (as if his glare was going to petrify us and make us divulge the secrets of national importance and that would be his break to glory!).
A brief and vague exchange of words between Mr.Me and the cop brought the matter to a close. The traffic ahead was clearing too. We picked up pace and were finally crawling on the glassy tar road. The warmth of his hand must have melt the icy frost on the car...the droplets sliding down the smooth surface... splashing onto the stone cold road...
The time stopped...we held onto each others hand for a long time...lifehouse still playing in the background... we carried on... shrouded in the cloudy fog... "I am hanging by a moment here with you"...
December 21, 2006
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...
***************************
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...
***************************
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