That kind of a year...

It was the middle of the decade when I started writing this blog, all of 18 years old, always believing myself to be older than what the years stated. It's been almost six years, and just like the life it was trying to transcribe in this public yet often too personal space, this blog has seen its shares of ups and downs. The flavors and the tones have kept changing with the season, but a true companion it has always been, especially in the lows of life. Even so, the dark and the melancholy have overwhelmed the struggling words on this pages in the last year, particularly the last few months. And still, much has remained unsaid and unwritten, only sometimes by choice. It has been that kind of a year.

As 2010 draws to an end, I sit back and wonder- and it is only now at the end of the frantic year that I have taken a much deserved break to unwind and just let myself be - how tough it has been and I should give myself some credit for pulling through it all in the end. Then again, there is no cause to act like a Tragedy Queen. More than anything else, the struggle has been in the mind, and to some extent between the mind and the heart, and continues to be so. Somewhere down the way, I completely forgot who I was, who I am  - till one day as I stared at the darkness of the  abyss I realized how lost I was. That was the beginning of the end of what had been until then, a journey of reactive living, constantly lowering self-esteem, endless pain and a desperate expectation of help that never came. 

Growing up and just coming to terms with life is a harsh process full of rough edges. The choices, the decisions and the constraints. The desire to fit in, the desire to belong, the desire to feel safe and protected. The search for roots, the search for the zenith. The kindness of strangers, the bitterness of relationships. Most of all, the weight of your expectations from yourself. And the constant judgment of what is right, what ought to be, and what is forgivable. The questions, the hopes and the disappointments. Would there be a respite, was there a safe place where one could hide from all of this, am I meant to keep fighting this alone, is there an end. The cold, lonely pillow that unleashes the devils in the night - on some nights it was warmed by tears, on others it was a hard dreamless seat of repressed energy and pricking pains. 

I'm not saying the process is over, or these edges have smoothened, or that I know any better to deal with them. All I am saying is I know they exist, I have survived them so far, and will continue to until it is over. Which it probably never will be, but it doesn't feel that scary any more. I think it is because the last year had more than its fair share of gloomy nights. When it hurt so much it possibly couldn't hurt any more. When tears didn't halt for hours, and also when tears simply froze away and were replaced by icy smiles. Also, I lost a lot of people. Some of those I think I did a favor to myself by losing. Some I grossly miss, and regret pushing them away/not keeping them closer. And for some I lost them in the sense I lost the "idea" of who I thought they were in my life, while they really were someone else. The idea remains an endearing void, the reality awaits full definitions. Those losses were, are, hard to deal with.  Some, I magically managed to repair though. Residues of pain, strong rage and hurt still remain from the darkness. There're still two days in the year - I hope it will take those along as it goes.

Anyhow, when it gets really low, it starts getting better because it can't get worse. And so, life has started hoping to look better again. Importantly, I have stopped waiting and started doing. By bits and pieces, the journey of unlearning self-destruction and discovering who I really am has started. This blog has been a mirror of my life for the last few years, and intertwined in the reflections of some of the words and the truth of my memories, I find clues and causes, clauses and closures. And there is a calm, of the kind that gives you strength even as struggles continue to surface, mind continues to battle the heart, opposing needs and wants tear up and the mayhem underneath sustains with renewed interest. Yeah, it feels alive.

There were the good parts, of course, to count my blessings.  I think by the time I moved out of Mumbai, I had accepted the city as my home, in some way, and it taught me a lot of things worth remembering. I have also now finally managed to find my comfort zone back at home here in Delhi - in seven years away I had quite forgotten my corners of the home. I made a few good friends with whom I shared a few memorable laughs, a few candid moments. I did well in what is my first job, and found much to learn about the world and about myself. There were a few moments of sheer bliss worth savoring around the year. Towards the end of the year, I finally broke the circle of depressive, reactive thinking and accepted some truths, some mistakes, some to-dos. I feel less lonely, even if I am just as alone. Baby steps, but they all count. Best of all, I survived and came out happier, no less.


There is plenty to do. Plenty to renew and rekindle. My friendship with words for one - they have choked somewhere and come out only in blurts and splutters without flowing.   The ability to connect with people in ways that mattered. The energy to learn and do well in work and in life. The freedom to let myself just be and dream again. To find love and hope. To find myself. I hope 2011 does not wither away in the burden of expectations. :)


Happy new year, everyone.

Calm

 

There is a calm so peaceful, so serene in life - can't remember the last time it felt so light.

Words, they form on the precipice of existence, and them vaporise away, for somehow, there's nothing more important to say, than just living the moment.

The present.

And what a relief is it, the present, free from the burden of the past as well as the future.  

The rant againt too much connectivity

My submission to the argument against globalisation is simple : it homogenizes too much and takes away the pleasure of being "local, lazy" :) Whatever good it may have done or not, people can argue, but what good is it that makes people wake up at obscene time to do "calls" because someone else in some other time zone is up (and sometimes, not even that). Worse, globalised, connected worlds bring so much standardisation...for instance, in pre-globalisation era, probably in another town, I could have stayed put in the quilt till 9 in the morning everyday because it is so cold, and all offices and shop would shut down by 6 with dusk because nobody gets out in the cold anyway, let's stay at home, sip hot chocolate and dream away. 

Who spoilt my party? Why should I work and travel in the chill just because other places like Mumbai (they call India office "one office" - huh) or Singapore ("one region") or some other place with "important" people is unfortunate to be not cold and is open and working. I say, bring on the end of too-much-connectivity, let's sip hot coffee to the awesome dilli ki sardi.

Kitna kaam karte hain aj kal log, and yet, such little is constructive. 

Chhutti!!

PS You thought I'd rant about Facebook, twitter types again. Woh to you already know ji :)

Emotional bandwidth

A mixed bag.

A load off the shoulders.

A job well done.

A day lived memorably.

And yet...a familiar numbness...twinges of pain, disappointment, joy and fatigue....and nothing.

Another big day. Another empty, stretched feeling at the end of it all.

A chill pill

So, Delhi is chilly in the air, isn't it. Sweet, soothing cold. Romantic, colorful winter. Warm soups and coffees while snuggling in the bed. I really love this season!

To top it all, I am really look forward to a month of chillaxing. Don't expect much work to come in the next few days and planning to take a couple of weeks off post that. There's a wedding in the family, and a family trip is being planned for the last week, but still have enough free time to sleep, relax and make sense of my now unrecognisably battered life. Really need vacation ideas and suggestions for plan - so please shoot. So far I have found Friends Of Books Library. It's convenient, it's easy and it keeps me company on long wintry nights.

Meanwhile, time to take a chill pill. Probably 2011 will be a better year.

Change-X

While the change is unquantified and unknown yet, this time it starts with loads of relief, some hope, some pain, and much determination at its base. 

This time, it is for me.

The phoenix is going to die and hopefully be reborn. Need strength. Pray for me.

Cute nothings

I found today in an oldddddd journal a very cute little entry which is simmering with confusion, anger and hurt of the 12 yr old variety over seat allocation in the classroom. I have been laughing like crazy ever since. For the life of me I can't remember the specifics other than the sketchy details in the journal, and I am marveling at how wonderful memory is - it automatically erases most of the ugly parts of day to day life, because all I really remember now of being 12 is the fun, the carefreeness of life and the little moments I cherished. Yes if I really think about it I remember the few people I used to dislike or fight with, and the struggle it *felt* like. But I do have to really think about it. More or less, it was the time when scoring 95+ was easy and also mattered :D Such a nerd I am. 

Writing journals is a useful, even if embarrassing habit. :-)

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

On another note, yesterday we celebrated the first marriage anniversary of two very close friends. It is a scary thought - marriage + 1 yr also (are they old or am I? :-) ) but on the other hand it is no nice to see them happy. Here's wishing loads of happiness and good luck to all my other friends who have taken the plunge or are shortly going to in the next few months. 

And to everyone else, boys and girls you rock for not being insane! Please stay this way and not lose it :P :)

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

We recently had a "women's get-together" kind of an event at office - with all the femalefolk present and discussions wandering from dieting, shopping, marriage and how it ruins your life, work-life balance, kids, dieting, shopping, hot men at BCG (yawn!), "embarrasing secrets", "fun facts", "hidden talents" and kiss/crush stories. And dieting. I missed part of the event towards the end, but apparently that is when one of the younger crowd i.e. another IIT associate went and asked one of the older women -" I am sorry but I just cant relate to any of the topics you are talking about (marriage, kids, work balance blah) is there something wrong with me? Am I not a woman?" 

Such a cutie!

Control the Controllables

Life is funny.

As always, problems magnify when they happen to us. They easily become full-blown Shakespearean tragedies, in fact, if we let them. Then you see someone else committing the same mistakes as you did, or suffering the same self-created trap you did, and something cringes inside. You rush to make it right, because it is -- just as it was back then -- largely futile. You want them to let go - it will become easier - and you remember your own reluctance in letting go. 

Life is funny, hind sight is funnier.

I think I keep realizing the same things over and over again every now and then in life. It is sad life wastes so much effort in re-educating me, and I spend so little in remembering my lessons. Once you see someone else in pain, in slow agony and you realize you care, your own pain just disappears somewhere. It is magical, it is potent. It is what we probably like to call being human. I love it. I should have probably become a doctor but I cant stand a hospital (consultants only afflict pain, not cure them, especially verbal and visual through jarring unending presentations).

So this is my new commandment to myself. Control the controllables. It is not new, it is hardly unique. But it is a good reminder to self. It makes the one most important thing easy in life: letting go. It is also incredibly important if you want to live with knowing that you are not good enough, no matter how badly you want something.

I love it.

:-)

Jeevan hai barf ki naiya :D

...Naiya pighle haule haule

Chahe has le, chahe ro le

Kya pata zindagi mein kitne pal hain, par har pal mein bahut zindagi hai

Or maybe not

...but it's still worth a shot,

with everything you've got.

Everything is as simple as you please.

Makeover

I'm bored of myself. I can't blame others for feeling this way - I have become boring and irritating. And fat and ugly. And careless - I lost a mobile phone and a wallet with all my cards in a space of two weeks. WTF.
I have become, mostly, somebody not-fun.
Why? How? I don't know.

But me no like. Me want change. Me need to change. Me need to chirp. Me need to smile. Me need to write less crap and more fun stuff. Me need friends. Me need love. Me needs to be lovable. Makeover time, people!!!!!!!

I'm thinking of going down the radar - MIA - for a few weeks and seeing what I can do. I need a fix-it.

I need ideas. Now. Help.

Tired

Needs - too many. Desires - endless.

How much is too much? How much is enough?

Things have changed. Have they? How? Why?

Love? Attention? Companionship? Friendship? Which one is it? All of it? None of it?

Questions - too many. Restlessness - endless.

Weak. Very weak. Alone. Very alone. Crazy. Very crazy. Me. Very me.

Blank

Tasvir

Achhi si nahi lag rahi
ye jo tasvir ban rahi hai
Mann karta hai sab kuch mita kar
kagaz ko fir kora kar dein

Kehte hain mitane par bhi magar
Kuch daag aksar reh jate hain
Mann kehta hai bhula dein is zindagi ko
Aur kagaz ko palat lein

I didn't even realize

...when my life ended.

Or when it began, for that matter.

Idhar udhar ki baatein...wagerah wagerah -II

Hi again to dear diary
As I was saying last evening, all of these random nothings keep happening to life like it was a random nothing itself (is it?). We wonder and wonder, if there is something "funny" to be found in the mundane we normally ignore, and then we find it. Amusing to only the two of us I guess, the private joke nonetheless provides entertainment in what is otherwise just life as usual. As an aside, this life as usual business is really such a waste - every time someone says what's up these days, that's the only default, boring, true answer. Why is this the usual?

Anyhow, so we went to IIT Kanpur yesterday and had an okay event, I suppose. What a maggu campus it is, we wonder too. And then we try to drive to Lucknow at midnight, and get stuck in a miles long traffic jam caused by a truck breaking down in the middle of a single lane bridge over the Ganges. As nothing moved for almost an hour before improvising souls found ways to make the car jump over a foot high divider, we wondered in the dead of the night, if that wasn't the epitome of present day India. Where 24 hour channels go into outrageous hyperbole on anything and everything. Where governments struggle to comprehend the difference between national pride and national shame. And where futile corporate slaves like us get a hotel to serve us dinner at 230 AM. Life goes on, I suppose. As usual.

I think we need sleep.

Idhar udhar ki baatein...wagerah wagerah

Dear Diary

Today was one of those good days I got to sleep in late on a weekday. I had a 1230 flight to catch, and thus going to office for an hour in the morning was logically wasteful. However, sudden urgent stream of work between 930 and 11 messed up my leisurely pace of getting ready, getting into a car etc, and the missing lane on the roads (ref CWG) meant that I had cut it really really close on a 1230 flight. But then again, Air India being Air India leisurely delayed the flight by almost 3 hours (a flight they had preponed yesterday from the normal 2 pm slot) and thus began a long wait at the not-so-cool terminal 1A. Still, what to do, this being the only connection to Kanpur in the day, we wait; we read an(other) intriguing book on Wall Street insides behind the Great Depression II; we are offered complimentary Masala Dosas by generous Air India supervisor aunty; a balding gentleman also on our flight decides to flirt with us, and happens to be some bigshot at the Libyan embassy; a call and an email informs us that we'd be moving to a new project from the current one with immediate effect, which later translates into a week or so of paid vacation (hopefully)/ some work more life balanced days :-) (the office recommends we utilise some of our balance leaves - anyone game for a vacation plan next week? :P) We arrive in Kanpur after gazing at flooded fields of UP from up in the air, aghast at how bad the external city roads are, and how long the distances seem to be. We are aghast also at how shady the only so-called five star hotel in this city is, where we wait for the night event to begin. And in between all of this, we work, but that's what we do everyday - what's great :-)

PS By we, I mean me and this stranger in my head I've been talking to all day. The stranger is also editing some of the words above as I type, so I don't take responsibility for all of it.

That kind of love

He came striding against the sunlight in slo-mo against a thumping ‘Hud., Hud’ score and I knew I loved him again…you know that feeling…when you have loved with the gush of first love, heart beating at every phone ring, blushing-by-his-mere-mention type of love everyone scorns but secretly wishes for…and then you grow up and become all like a dry leaf with a stone for a heart pretending to be ‘mature’ but one day you meet that guy who made you understand the magic of spring…he looks different but that boyish charm is still there and you don’t know if he has changed…or forgotten…and you don’t know if you have forgiven…but then he smiles and you smile back and in that moment you love him again…a different kind of love that will remain and will now keep beating silently next to your heart asking for nothing…Well, I got carried away there, but you understand. Yes, I was back in love. With that kind of love.

Not my words. But mine. In a way.

Complex

Getting older is almost synonymous to making decisions. Decisions that are almost always in the gray, almost always difficult and almost always leaving a significant bitter after-taste. You can be poetic and call them choices, and go into a soliloquy about the choice between choosing and not choosing. Somehow even that seems like a thing of the slightly simpler past, when the monologue gave some solace, and when it was mostly about deciding pink or purple, gems or Hajmola, engineering or sciences, crush or forgettable. Admittedly those seemed challenging at the time and this may seem trivial later - the enormity of a tragedy is a function of the speed of the passage of time, and the present does not allow time to hop days, weeks and years at will.

However, despite the complexity of today, I remember something very valuable learnt in the simpler past. That everything is as simple as you please. Even the present.

Now, only to figure out what I please.

Restless

Restless tonight
No sleep in sight
Waves of questions
rise and crash
Thoughts pop
Collide and dash
Meanings threaten
To disappear in a flash
Lightning, thunder
And then rains lash

Restless tonight
No sleep in sight
Fear reigns
In an empty night
Asks questions
Is the future bright?
Vulnerable, should I
Give in to the might
Or let destiny, distance
And my soul fight

Lightning. Thunder.
And then...

कुछ लोग..

भीड़ को समझ कर दोस्त, खूब मुस्कुरा रहे हैं|
अपने ही अक्स के साये में खुद को महफूज़ पा रहे हैं||

शुक्र है

कई बार कई फैसले
हमारी ज़िन्दगी के
हम नहीं करते
नहीं कर पाते
शुक्र है|
बोझ अपने ही फैसले जीने का
भारी नहीं लगता वैसे तो
पर कई बार राह लम्बी हो
और सफ़र करना पड़े अकेले
तो बोझ बहुत बढ जाता है

सब फैसले खुद के नहीं होते
शुक्र है|

Of roads not traveled and places not seen

Two in three people I know would say they love traveling if I asked them - or maybe more. I would too, of course, if you asked me. Traveling is really fun, exciting, adventurous. From ancient travelers who wrote tales about lands and regimes they passed through, to the modern-day backpackers and travelogue-writers, their choice of lifestyle has that enigma, that excitement worth being jealous of.

Of course, I am a consultant - it's one of a few jobs where traveling is a part of profile, a requirement. What, when, where, how much - all depends on how lucky or unlucky you are with staffing. :) But the why is always a constant, 99% is for work, 1% for official recreation, which is also work under disguise :)

One could argue that work related travel is hardly travel, and correctly so. Of course there's no fun in waking up insanely early for a morning flight, battle random traffic mess,airport queues, flight delays and train crowds to get somewhere, prim and proper to meet a client at about the same time you get to office on another day. And zip through roads, hotels, airports to work late till night because of all the travel time "lost", and brave yourself for an encore the following day. No complaints, it's part of the job!

But that's exactly what it is - part of the job. It isn't exactly traveling, is it. I have been in eight or nine cities in the last couple of weeks as part of the job. Short field phase. But that wasn't travel. What did I see of those cities? What do I remember of those sights and sounds and smells?

The boyfriend just returned from a nine day vacation to Sikkim. It reminds me the last trip I took to anywhere was a two day trip to Lansdowne - 250 kms from Delhi - almost a year ago. Excluding an overnight getaway to Alibaug near Mumbai few months back. And before that, I cant remember anything till the Sweden exchange except IITK.

It reminds me how little I have traveled in my entire life. It would shock most of you, but if I died tonight, I'd have never seen Jaipur, Jodhpur, Agra (I was 2 when I was taken there - doesn't count), Goa, Shimla, Chennai, Kolkata, Pune .......And then there's the list of places that work has taken me in the past year - all comprising of work-filled stays of one night or less, and therefore not counting as travelled either - Bengaluru, Hyderabad, Ahmadabad, Kochi, Lucknow, Kanpur (been to IITK once before for Antaragni). Hell, it would be shorter to count places I have been to.

I admit I'm a loser. I know you're going to say, take a week off, pick your bags and go somewhere, anywhere. I know I want to do that - have always wanted to. And still haven't. Till a year back I never had the money to do that. I was in college, I was supposed to study, have fun within the campus confines, and make my pocket money last the month. I also didn't have the friends, for the most part, for company. And what would I say at home? Where am I going - why, with whom. Now I can manage the money, but the other two is still a problem.

I know I need to get up, grab a backpack, and just leave. The complications would probably wait till I return. Someday.

Anyone wanna join?

Writer's block

An empty page stares at me
I imagine drops of ink
taking some shape, undetermined.
Thoughts rush, collude, collide
disappear, boomerang, rewind.
Sadly, my imagination is limited
words say formless, shapeless, unborn
thoughts continue to wander around blind

Too serious? :)

It's a small world.

Life - I can't decide whether it's long or short, opinions flip flop on that one - but life is reasonably long to make us forget a large part of it, as it happens. We get over most of it easily.

Some, of course, we like to hold on to. In tinted, hazed versions. In pictures, boxes and words. In stories we remember every time it rains, or cry to in the darkness of nights.

But since it is a small world, and as I said, life is reasonably long on an average day, sometimes we run into figments of our own life that we had forgotten, lost or gotten over. Bang, they're right there in front of us. Those people, those places. Those pictures, boxes or words. Stories we half-remember. They tend to take us down nostalgic lanes, mostly hopping over things we have held on to, and sometimes revealing forgotten milestones that surprise us -pleasantly or unpleasantly.

I do not know if this ever happened to any of you.

"Hey I knew this person... I spent a good year sharing all my secrets with her, crying over her shoulder and hiding behind her to avoid getting caught for my pranks. What happened? Why don't I remember why we got over each other?"

"Ah! I don't remember ever drawing these things. God, how silly was I. Why did I ever stop?"

"This place looks familiar, and still doesn't. I know I spent years jumping around these halls, but.."

Of course, you move on. Things lose relevance quickly. That's relatively speaking. At that moment, the pace of time is slow enough to make it feel like the entire universe, or the biggest tragedy in the country upon a human being - as the case maybe. Things feel different when they happen to you, I guess. The funny part is, once time has passed, we get over them so quickly that it's easy to be distant and forgetful, even more than if it were to happen now to a stranger in front of us.

And of course, this holds for about 95% of the people we meet and 98% of the events we live through.

It's amusing how seriously we take life still!!

I wonder if this will happen to this blog, say, 10 yrs from now. Would I care so much? Would it exist? Would I remember? Who knows...

But the archives will always state that here, in the 600th published post on this page, I acknowledged that in the roller coaster of life - hopefully, not a long one - these archives would have their own special place. :)

Cheers!

Being there

Something in me wanted to run away, if only for a moment. But of course I didn't. I couldn't have, no matter how suffocating my own helplessness was making me feel. I was irritated, mostly at my inability to help. Not at him. I was angry, also mostly at the events that brought him to me in this state. Not at him. I wanted to pity him, maybe, but couldn't get myself to.
At my wits' end, I asked, meekly, what my heart wanted to know, "How can I help?"

He looked at me with more questions than answers in his silent eyes, and then shut them. He probably didn't have any response, or maybe, I hadn't understood his response.

For sure, I didn't understand his problem either. There was no reason I could comprehend why this should be like this. It didn't make a lot of sense, and seeing him in misery, without knowing how to make it better for him, made me angrier. I wanted to find something or someone to blame, including myself, but it didn't seem to work. I wanted to walk away and hope everything would become magically alright by the time I returned.

Lost, I said, I'm there for you, and left- trying to figure out for myself what being there for him meant.

Devil in my pillow

A devil lives in my pillow. I would have said bed but that could have other unintended meanings. Anyhow, the said devil is pretty evil anyway. It jumps in my head and plants evil thoughts. One night in a month or two it manages to overpower and make me sad. Then I say crappy things, think crappier things and write..eh well, you guessed it. I imagine trouble, and over-react to real and imagined trouble. It's all pretty funny, actually, if it weren't so idiotic. The good part is it is a cleansing exercise. The bad part is people get worried for nothing. And the ugly part is it happens all over again after a few months.

Anyway, no mood to work today, etc. Let's chill.
And kill the devil, someone?

Limbo

Sometimes it is hard to decide whether having a choice is better than not having any.
Life has stopped moving in any direction, and the inertia of the interim has started to get to me. The depressing thing is that neither of the possible short term alternates look attractive enough to energise. One slightly better and slightly worse than the other - that's all.

The good thing however, is for the first time in a long time, the medium/long term looks like something I would like to live for.
Now, how about some sunshine?
Actually, on second thought, the monsoon is great - the rain makes me want to fall in love, and the damp nights make longing that much thirstier.
Que sera sera, I guess.

Haze

In the haze where they merge -
yesterday and today
dream and reality
memory and projection
evening and night
you and me
In that haze I wander
from one shore to another
In that haze I belong
In that haze I wonder.

Credit to SS for the thought - this came out while replying to one of her emails :)

Bits and pieces of a consultant's life: Chapter 2

So, some of what they say about consulting is true. One day in a year you get to live a "high-flying" life. Somebody says the client wants to do the meeting in Dubai, somebody says, "What the hell, you come too", and in a haze, while you generate slides after slides for the said meeting, somebody makes the booking and one evening you find yourself flying with other much senior, darker people in the team (and thanks to them, flying business class, no less). Few hours later, you find yourself chauffeured in a 7 series Limo to a splendid hotel (which sadly enough, is only 5 minutes from the airport). That's the part they tell you - the glamor!
And then there's the rest of the iceberg. Like you spend a total of less than 24 hours (including 4 hours of sleep) in a new country, only seeing the airport, one hotel, one "view", and one boardroom for 14 hours :) And then you fly back, landing at an odd hour in the night, body tired of too much exhaustion, wanting to just sleep in peace. That you didn't get to see more of the city at 50 degrees C is hardly a regret by then. Lots of people will still kill for this job. :)
Or maybe not. But show off of the one good day in the year apart, it's actually been more than 10 months in this job. Thanks to the fact that our joining was delayed, the new batch for this year is already in and we are already the "older", "experienced" lot. Really? :)
I wonder if I've changed much in this time. I wish there was someone who could point out and explain. I would like to reflect what I learnt and what I unlearnt. The collage in my mind has started filling in with memories of the good times and the bad ones. Of crying in a meeting, to the ones where awesome people around made life feel a breeze. Of mistakes made, of misjudgments, of frustration, of fatigue, of excitement. Yeah, I guess I have grown somewhat.

Don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. :)

Ms Lucy says: Habits are good things...

The unsaid
needn't stay
unheard for long

The heart
finds for itself
a heart, to belong

Confusions
may persist;
Uncertainty ain't wrong

Hills and valleys
may shake in quakes-
The base is strong

When you smile
I remember
Life is such a beautiful song

Because there's more to it than meets the eye, but whatever, doesn't matter.

There are few things more gruesome than a clash between an idea and a reality. Neither wins, both get ruined. We say a thousand things, we mean some of them, and even then, meanings change over time. People change over time. Expectations?, those too.

They say, "I understand", but do they? They promise otherwise, and they still do what the world does. Leave. Leave a void.
It's easy to be evil. You find explanations and excuses. You find reasons to be angry, but guilt doesn't recede, doesn't die.

Shall live with this as well. If it is fated, it better be for a good end.

Mad at the world, mad at myself. Mad at the inadequacies of words, mad at the incapability of self.
There is no right thing to say. There is no right thing to do.

There's no Ctrl+Z, there's no Escape. The truth be masked, the void be left alone, learn not to care, and move on. And hope for peace.

Theek hai, sometimes not having a choice is better than having too many. Sometimes not being cared for is better than care you cannot reciprocate.

Sometimes, being someone else is better than being yourself.
If only...

Adios.

Borrowed words

Once in a while you read/hear something that you identify with so much you wonder why you didn't write that yourself. Also, sometimes answering somebody else's questions helps you know something about yourself that you didn't know.

Both those things happened today. :-)
Heard this:
आज तक कायम है उम्मीद तेरे लौट के आने की
ज़िन्दगी अब तक उसी मोड़ पे खड़ी है|


And read this. Below was the answer I found myself writing.

How do I exorcise my grief?
I don't.
My grief isn't evil
My grief isn't a ghost
My grief doesn't flatter to deceive
My grief doesn't boast
My grief doesn't abandon midway
like seasonal love, like the joy of success
My grief doesn't ask for "space" of its own
My grief is mine to possess
I soak in my grief
and let it pass through me
in the darkness of the nights
it helps me get to know me
My grief is my friend
it strengthens me when it leaves
rather, when it hides in the shadows
waiting, till my heart grieves
My grief hears my sighs and screams
My grief embraces what my eyes won't
How do I exorcise my grief?
I don't.

Life is amusing :)

I see a story everywhere.

The eyes they see
Elegant man, gentleman, a married admirer
An old guy, a young lad
Enduring nude grin
Stupid girl drips guilt
The ears hear, set car has a crash
Can't rely on it, certainly not
Listen silent conversation, no voices rant
Love? Violent Tainted date!
The answer wasn't here.
Hey you coward! Why do you care?
I fear to think I'm here
I think, therefore I am.

Kill me.

It is difficult to ask for forgiveness when you are not even ready to forgive yourself.

There's a mixed indigestible taste in the mouth - the bitterness of guilt, the sweetness of pain and the sour taste of what's always been sweet.

How do you prove intent? How do you compensate for loss of belief? Is there anyway to repair that fragile thing called trust in trust?

There isn't.
Things don't always go as you plan. Or as you want. Or as you mean.

Hate myself.
Wish it was simpler to quit living.

On the count of super-meanness leading to self-sabotage...

...Guilty as charged.

Sometimes I am such a jerk.

If only

If only you were not the ephemeral
but the eternity
If only time with you wasn't so little
but an infinity
If only life wasn't a mayhem
but a tranquility
If only you weren't just my dream
but my ubiquity...

Change-IX ?

I have a strong urge for change...an urge to quit everything and go somewhere far away, another country perhaps, for a year or so and live/work/study/do anything there - essentially, make a different life, alone, free from all the baggage and my life as I've known it so far. See if an alternate version of my life can/does exist? See if that makes me want to live, or at least value appropriately the plenty good I've in my life.

Don't know what this means. Don't know what I want.

Beyond-IV

[[I have been trying to write this for many days now. I had actually intended the last part to be the concluding one, but words deserted me. I don't know how this ends.
Or, even if I know, I do not want to write that ending. Fiction is not life; life is not perfect. And telling stories some times take away more from you than you'd negotiated. I write here two versions of reality my imagination. Excuse the fallacies of writing and the inadequacy of answers, and take your pick.

Concluding part. Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here]]

Version 1

"...I don't even know if you remember or not that today, the 10th of May, represents the day I gave you my heart, my trust and my life all those years ago. I don't even know if I represent anything to you other than a chapter of the past. But somehow, even after all these months, my heart doesn't believe my head. The same heart you shattered mercilessly that day at the airport. The idea of you not loving me hurts me more than your admission of what you did behind my back. Somehow, something in me believes there was something in your eyes and your silence even that day. Maybe I've gone crazy. My anger and my sense of betrayal have both subsided. Both love and the agony of love have finally deserted me, but peace eludes me. Even today I cannot reconcile to the fact that I didn't know the girl I loved at all, and that one day you just stopped caring. I do not even envy the object of your affections any more, but it hurts me to realize that you'd have to have changed entirely as a person to be what my mind tells me you are now.

I have been thinking of talking to you once for a long time, but I feared I'd break down in front of you because at that stage I was afraid I wanted you back. But today I need to get past this. And that's why I ask for a small favor from you, for the sake of better times.

I want to believe you did what you did for your happiness, and you are better off for it, and then I will be able to forgive you and move on beyond.
If you do not wish to see me or speak to me, just hand over this envelope back to Shikha . I'd understand.
Good luck..."

I read the words several times. My mind was numb and my eyes were red, but the rest of the body was bursting with pain. I had no idea what to do. Jumping off the roof seemed like a smart idea. I felt small and I felt hopeful at the same time. What would I tell him? What did he want to hear? He clearly did not love me any more - was I supposed to give him the peace he needed to move on. Should I just apologize for my mistake and let him decide.
I soon realized I wasn't and couldn't think straight. It was just the kind of times when I needed him, to be able to run into his arms, where he'd make me feel secure, then scold me and cajole me into doing what was right.
I had to let go of the tussle inside me. I got up, opened the door and walked barefoot to Shikha's place, letter in hand.
I knew he would be waiting there.

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

Version 2

"...aren't you surprised that I still celebrate the day we first got together. Despite how it ended, it was the best thing that happened to me, and that is why every year I'd striven to make it special. But I guess what we had was never special enough for you. You ruined my dreams with a cold betrayal. You changed, without warning.
Before I left for London, I sensed that you were unhappy with the distance and all I could think of were ways to make you happy. That is why I had asked for a permanent transfer to Mumbai and I'd planned to ask you to marry me as soon as I landed back in India, back in your arms. But for once, you beat me with your plans. Your arms hadn't waited for me. I was so wrong...I was not the one you ever needed to be happy. My broken heart felt heavier than the ring in my pocket. But most of all, the coldness of your eyes when I asked you in desperation if you loved me even a little bit - that still sends shivers down my spine.

I was a simple guy. I loved you with everything I had. I tried my best to make you happy. But it wasn't enough. You couldn't be mine. Still, you could have just told me and walked away sooner instead of breaking my trust. Why did you have to ruin my belief in life? You'd never be able to build your castle of joy over the grave of my hope.

I myself do not believe the kind of things I did just to get over you. I drank myself silly, I quit my job and I spent nights wasted at friends' places just to stop feeling the pain. I hooked up with random girls just to see how it felt to cheat on you. But satisfaction eluded me even in revenge. Thankfully, I eventually realized that life was not worth wasting over one bad memory. You never deserved me.
And now, I actually forgive you for what you did. You don't deserve my hatred either, any more.

Between you and me, I have been the one planning every anniversary for us. This year too, I have a plan. I'm leaving India today permanently to start a new life that is not haunted by your betrayal. I'm leaving for you the ring - the burden is not mine to bear anymore. Consider it my last anniversary gift...."

I picked up the envelope - there actually was a ring inside. Shiny, slightly bruised at the edges, but still, almost smiling, with my name engraved on it. I wore it and felt a strange happiness, a strange relief. The tears dried up and the pain vanished.
I felt I could now die.

Beyond-III

[Continued from here] [Part 1 here]

The doorbell rang. I decided to stop moping and open the door. It had been hours already; I needed to fix dinner and get some work done. As long as I wouldn't die, I need to survive. That was the only thought driving me for the last few months. For several weeks after that fateful day at the airport, the silence and the guilt had consumed me. I lost him, my job, most of my friends and my own self-respect. But as long as the guilt wasn't killing me, it wasn't paying my rent either. Gradually I decided to move on, get a new job and occupy myself. To the extent that today I didn't even remember what day it was.

The doorbell rang again. It was Shikha, who lived next door. Once, she was a great friend.to both him and me. But she never looked me in the eye again once she got to know why I broke up. She told me she wasn't judging me, but was pained for him enough not to be my friend.
She stood at the door with a few envelopes in hand. The postman had wrongly delivered the mail again. I took them and she left, without saying a word.

I put on the lights and settled on the bed to add up the bills for the month. That's when I saw the white envelope marking my name and address in his handwriting. Written letter? From him? My heart skipped a beat. I could not decide whether to open it or not. My hands were shivering and tears welled up in my eyes. After several minutes of numbing anguish I decided to open it. I wasn't breathing. It looked like a letter. The only thing I could think of was why a letter. Why not a phone call or an email or...

"Happy anniversary...." I started to read.


[To be continued]

Beyond-II

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I thought I was in love.
Once upon a time, a bit before that, I was really in love. At that time, it was the best thing to have happened to me. Probably still is. Point is, once upon a time, not so long ago, my life had revolved around one precious relationship for more than seven years.

Like many other people. And like many of those people, I intrinsically believed that was it. It was full of love, care and deep understanding for the most part. Except that time, distance and that funny thing called too-much-comfort had probably taken a toll on it.

Aarghh...why am I trying to find an excuse. Lying to the mirror doesn't tint your reflection. Fact is, he loved me a lot and he loved me the same all those years, and probably would have for the rest of my life. But I wanted more. It now sounds irresponsibly callous, but it wouldn't be too off the mark to say I was probably bored, and life seemed to offer so much freshness. The day I stopped taking his calls and pretending I was too busy, I didn't feel a thing. Maybe I was dead already by then. And I was indulging myself in what felt like righteous liberating choices.

He had come here to surprise me on May 10th last year. To celebrate our seventh year of being together. I was happy and touched. The past few months of distance had almost vanished. I could have been rescued!
We spent two wonderful days together. And then flew to London for the next three months.

The day he came back from London, I went to see him at the airport. And then, when I saw that immense love in his eyes, I just couldn't stand it any longer. I felt small - yes, maybe even then I had a soul. I told him I had cheated on him behind his back with this guy who lived in the same building as me, but had no more courage to say anything more. I couldn't even answer when he asked if I loved him. I had frozen. The pain of his eyes at that moment stings my insides even day

He walked away.

When I finally realized what I had done, and how little everything in the world without him meant to me, I collapsed.

I tried calling him once, and he disconnected. I haven't been able to try again. People tell me move on, look beyond. I wonder, to where.

How could someone be so dead that they stay alive knowing the evil that lives inside them.

[To be continued]

Beyond - I

May 10th.

I hadn't realized it in the rush that defines every morning for me- in fact, not till 11 am in office when I needed to schedule a meeting did I realize what date it was. And then it was in the calender, staring at me. May 10th it was. Eight years today. And I'd actually forgotten the date.
Life changes so much, so soon.

But once it was back in my mind, there was no getting away from it. The sharp pain returned, almost as if someone had removed the insulation that strangled its intensity so that one could always feel it there in the background but was practically numbed to it. I tried to work, but after another hour, gave up. The images wont quit flashing, tears threatened to well up, and my body felt weak. I tried to eat some lunch, but ended up running to the restroom to puke. There, in the restroom luckily empty at that hour, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It looked pale, it looked guilty, it almost did not look my own. And then I started to cry.

Before the end of the hour, I'd managed to somehow explain sudden onset of illness and sneak out of office. But how was I to know where I needed to go at that hour, in that time. I felt the world was going to come crashing down - or I was going to faint and fall, one of those. I called a taxi and asked him to take me home.
25 mins later I walked in, drew all curtains till it was pitch dark, and collapsed on the bed. At some level, I couldn't believe just the memory of a date can do this to me- bring me back to the same darkness I found myself in for months altogether not so long ago.

But then again, it wasn't just any date. May 10th meant to me a world that was once all I knew. I tried to put myself to sleep.

(To be continued)

I think I may like to belong to the middle zone...

..or maybe not, but I'm certainly bored of the orange zone :P

Unhappy, here's why

Somebody recently had pointed out that this blog has predominantly negative or neutral posts. Part of the reason is that of late I only write a post when in a certain mood. Now, after writing more of those crappy ones, I figure why I've been unhappy.
I've nothing of those three, if you count out one crappy job.

Low

It's a bad night
- one of those.
I try a deep breath
through the nose
so it relieves the ache
living in my chest
If only for a moment
I get some rest.
I feel alone
and worthless
angry at the world
stupid, aimless.
Just like the stupid rhyme
of these lines
I feel crappy and shredded
by Naxal landmines.
(see what I mean
I dont even have words
the motivation is dead
but phoenixes are stupid undying birds)

Love in the time of dictionary.com

I searched for love
In a dictionary
It told me what I was looking for
Was tender affection and care
I filed a tender
To do something worthwhile
Wrote a cheque to CARE
Then cheated with the spelling
And caught an infection
By some inspired rain playing
I felt happy for a moment
Wondered if that was love
In my feverish rumble
Then went off to sleep
Hoping that love would find me
Or else
I'd sue the dictionary.

Jealous

Two girls walked hand in hand by the side of the road. Neither seemed in any hurry. They were talking incessantly - of course, what else do you expect - while enjoying their icecream. I felt a twinge of jealousy, and dunno why, began to follow them, keeping myself slow and as inconspicuous as possible. The evening breeze was pleasant, the hour largely unhurried, and I wanted to hear what they talked about. I got within earshot, and kept the pace, amused at first at their animated reactions to what seemed like distant minor, almost irrelevant, issues.

But they seemed happy - rather despite the whining, they seemed content, at peace. They switched topics fairly quickly and randomly, and I struggled to follow the full import. Then it struck me, there isn't always a point to what and why you're saying.

I felt another twinge of jealousy, this time at their ability to stay at peace without searching for meaning in everything. They didn't pound every moment to death with an intellectual curiosity absolutely pointless and self-defeating in the first place anyway. At that point, something in my rebutted with a snide remark on how petty, irrelevant and inconsequential their talks were.

I halted.

As I watched them past away, the jealousy returned as pain. I was at least as inconsequential and had had nobody to talk to as carefreely.
And I was walking alone.

Over rated

That's what being nice is.

Being humble, polite, considerate, sensitive, liberal, respectful. Not saying things you feel in the heat of the moment because they are mean, exaggerated and not fully true.

All of it, is simply over-rated.

Being who you should be, is over rated.

SO mad at myself.

UPDATE: Comments are back. Still mad at google.

...

Duniya mein tumhari jagah bana nahi paye
Is duniya mein jagah rakh kar kya karenge
Parchhaiyon ke peechhe bhag rahe the ab tak
Ab sirf andhera baki hai, bhag kar ke kya karenge

I.Miss.Having.Someone.To.Talk.To.

Anyone. Someone I want to talk to.

Duty

Shikha didn't know what she was angry about. Just that she was seething. She deserved better, yet she knew it was as much her fault as anybody else's. Her life had become an endless wait - the yawning emptiness of waiting between each moment and the next was eating her up. And yet, on the outside, she was her perectly normal cheerful self going about her duties. Dutifully she'd keep calling up the children daily without complaining about the calls they never made and the bunchful from her they'd never take. Dutifully she'd stress about every modulation of their voise that hinted something was amiss, something hadn't gone well. Dutifully she'd go about her job nobody appreciated her for, at least it paid her bills and helped her kill some time. Dutifully she'd thank God everyday for the wonderful world he'd created without asking why did he not create anyone to help her loneliness. She was angry at herself, and the pointlessness of her existence.

But she didn't know that. She just felt like she would explode. Then, like everyday, she hid her weeping ace in the pillow and went off to sleep.

Promise

I couldn't wipe every tear
I couldn't always lend an ear
I couldn't kill every fear
I did not bring you cheer
every time, like I promised

I know I did not
I tried, I could not
I'm sorry I forgot
I tried and I fought
and I will, like I promised

On why google is evil

We have always known it's a bad thing one big fat company's servers hold so many bits and pieces of our life stashed with them, and a few clicks by someone somewhere could affect us unjustifiably, still until it happens to you, it feels like cynicism and some more. Now, after suffering a virtual homicide of some sorts in blogosphere, I'm forced to wonder - is it time for an un-google-ification. Here's what happened - all the comments I've ever made across blogs, including on my own, have vanished. Without as much as a trace (or an email). Sucks!

That's more than 5 years worth of comments. Did I have no right on them at all? Or the people on whose blogs they were made (like him). I've posted a complaint and stuff, but don't see any help forthcoming. What next - tomorrow this blog can just vanish in thin air? Or, horror of horrors, my gmail account? Makes me furious.

Do I need to prove to google I'm not a spamming bot but a real person - has the world come to this already?

Google is evil.

Love sex aur dhokha darling!

Bada difficult kaam karte hain
Subah aur shaam karte hain
Love tumse hi hai darling par
Bas kehne se hum darte hain

Tum saamne jab bhi aate ho
Dil dhak dhak dhak dhak karta hai
Love tumse hi hai darling par
tumhe dekh dekh roz badta hai

Har chehre pe fisalta hai
dil humse nahi sambhalta hai
Love tumse hi hai darling par
Sex bhi to karna padta hai

Karna nahi chahte lekin
very sexy is your neighbour
Love tumse hi hai darling par
Ye Love shove is lot of labour

Ye doori sahi nahi jati
Ab tumse contract karna hai
Love sex aur dhokha darling
sab kuch tumse karna hai

How much is too much?

There's only so much you can stretch a string before it breaks. After a point you have got to say enough is enough, or the string will break and the recoil will hurt you bad, real bad. But it's hard, isn't it, to know when.
I mean look at cricket, IPL was a good exciting thing when it started, but it got bigger than first cut calculations and suddenly someone thinks it is an infinite money-making machine. Ad plug-ins in between balls and in every sentence of the commentary, way too much noise and crackers, way too many matches coming up, too much blatant, vulgar money - IPL3 is already an overkill I've little interest left in, and it's bound to get worse. It feels like a bubble, much like sub-prime, waiting to burst, IMHO.

It's just greed, isn't it? This desire to milk a good thing for more and more until it dies in the hope of well..more. Blinding disillusioning greed.
Greed that makes corporate bosses push their people to work harder and longer in less and less time for less and less money, screwing their lives to increase their margins until it starts hitting the breaking point and the brave among the good people begin to leave their jobs. (Sounds familiar?)

It is also greed of some kind that makes us hang on to relationships that aren't working - eternal hope or just desire to get more. I don't know really. It does feel like greed if you don't do anything about a problem just because you know that the other person is somehow living with it, even if with enough difficulty. The string will snap at some point, won't it. Wouldn't/ shouldn't at some point, you hear - enough is enough.
What's the right thing to do - I'm confused (and incoherent, sorry!)

Not so cheap thrills

This afternoon I was on a flight to Mumbai. Mid-air the aircraft started experiencing some air turbulence. As standard procedures, everyone was asked to return to their seats etc. and a lot of people started looking out of the window. The turbulence was both long and strong - a few people woke up, many spilt some coffee and everyone waited for the aircraft to pass.

I couldn't help but wonder, like every single time something like this happens, what would it feel like if the plane crashed. I wondered where the life jacket was that the long security drill at takeoff talks about. I wondered if people will scamper for life jackets and emergency exits (again, the long at takeoff speech came to my mind) I wondered, almost wished, that there be no time for that, and the aircraft just goes into a freefall and crashes.

I thought about what will follow. The imagined news headlines amused me. Maybe in 2-3 days when I don't show up they'd discover in office I was on that plane. Will they worry about the laptop and other BCG paraphernalia now lost? Isn't my company insurance double if one dies in an accident? What if I don't die and show up one week later? etc etc etc
It's a familiar train of thoughts. Similar to what may happen if I got the opportunity to be in a hijack, a bomb blast, a derailed train etc.

These things - fun, interesting - they just don't seem to pick me and happen to all those innocent people who don't want them to happen.

Life ain't fair.

Fact, simplified

I oversimplify a bit, but not much, when I say that you are responsible for the sinusoids of my life.

You bring me joy by being, and pain is when you aren't.

It is all your fault!

Sainkdon pal kaat dete hain kuch pal ke intezaar mein
Jab pal fir bhi nahi aate, muskura ke laut jate hain

Ishq mein sab bewajah hota hai...

Is the world really one big family?

Suppose you kill someone - any one random person, then kill everyone who would be grieving for them, all people who would be hurt or pained or angry or deprived because you killed someone, then you iterate and kill everyone still alive grieved by the deaths of everyone you killed. Hopefully you wouldn't have picked a well-loved celebrity in the first place, but nevertheless, you go on and on till there're no living people affected by the people you killed.
At the end of it all, you kill yourself, because a heartless inhumane mass-murderer like you doesn't deserve to live anyway.

The question is - how many, if any, people would still be alive? Half the world?


PS This morbid idea came to me when I was a kid and first learnt about over population (psycho-analysis, anyone?) Even then, I remember thinking about it as a sick, shocking but effective way to check the population of the world and all assoiated effects on the environment. Thoughts?

A tale of a few cities

Those of you on my Google Talk may have noticed oft-changing city names in my status over the last 10-12 days. Such is consulting life, and my brush with early morning flights and hotel-airport hopping has been tiring, but work-apart, also insightful in a few ways.

Delhi and Mumbai are both "home" now (yeah, I'm gonna give Mumbai-whining a break, this city has grown on me that much :) ) but Ludhiana, Ahmedabad and Hyderabad were refreshingly fun, even in the brief city. Ahmedabad felt good, modern and developing after all these years, even though my cab driver talked about the invisible parts of the city where poverty and discrimination were collected. Still, there was an energetic air in the city and in the people, in the smiling kids and buzzing households. Ludhiana was a completely different experience. The city has a lot of money, probably more than Ahmedabad, and definitely more per capita than Delhi (if you include "actual" and not "stated" income). Every home houses entrepreneurs, but sadly enough, the infrastructure is crumbling and governance seems to have fallen short on so mnay grounds it's sad. Education is a priority so low that an outsider will be surprised. 15-16 year olds in every home have taken to alcohol - the official figure for last year was 29 cr scotch/whisky bottles, up by 10 cr, not including Chandigarh (where it is duty-free) and only counting bottles actually bought offiially in Punjab. Even that, is almost 2 bottles a month per person. Holy shit. Over more conversations, I discovered most women in the city aspire to get married to an "NRI" and virtually very neighbourhood boasts of a few Amreeka, Canaida, London, Greece and etcetras. Marriage - sine it's easier if you have a degree - is the sole objective of most of the women who study, and the rest tend to move to other towns. The men run businesses, drink and make merry. It is a larger than life lifestyle for most of the happy, kind people of the town, and let, feels another country, another era altogether, in a few ways.

Hyderabad is a far more complicated place to make generalised comments about, even at a caveated opinionated level. I loved most of what I saw - it is no longer the sleepy town of the 80s, the infrastructure is pretty Goddamn good (awesome airport and love the roads, mostly!) and the people are nice, learned, hardwoorking and speak Hindi easily :) ! I was stuck in the curfew though, over the Telengana agitation, and heard mixed opinions while trying to find a way out of the city. It was almost painful, to see what I saw, but I admit I don't understand and appreciatew the full complexity of it yet.

Travellogues can be boring more often that not, but I was still amazed at the perspective I found in brief visits to three of the most important Indian cities the coming decade. Would love to know more.

Despite 530 am wakeups, some things are fun about this job.

The one where life feels utterly worthless to live in

*Crib Alert*

As time passes, I realize, I am liking life less and less.
Growing up is very confusing, very painful and increasingly lonely. Why the hell does anyone ever want to grow up?

Things were so much simpler when I was younger. And they just keep on getting worse - it's hardly worth complaining when I compare my life with a few other people around. Nonetheless, it's not worth it, this life.

Falling in love was so much simpler four years back than it is now. It used to be simple, joyous and strengthening - now it can make me feel weak and helpless, the same love. When did it become so powerful?
Deciding what to do in life was so much simpler. Limited options, enough time, and limited risk. One could just be good at what one chose to do. But now? What job? To study further or not? Where is the career headed? Where is the money gonna come from? My parents wanna know when do I plan to get married. Or why dont I want to stay in BCG till I make partner. Hell, I don't know where I am going to be next week.

Having friends was so much simpler. People just became friends, and stayed so. Now, there are colleagues, acquaintance, bosses, juniors, hangout gangs etc Old friends are as spread away and occupied in their lives as I am, many have simply moved on so far away from the lifestyle that afforded them the luxury of people like me that they're not even the same. Everything is so much more lonely around here.
Even family - they were around and wanted you to be around all the time. And then, somehow, in the struggle to gain some space and acceptance, suddenly there comes a point when my parents don't want me to take a transfer to Delhi office and shift here because Mumbai has better "career scope" and they're already used to this arrangement. And here I was fighting to get a transfer. I still don't know whether I am going to get it, but in Mumbai, where I don't like it alone, I am suddenly almost homeless with both my flatmates announcing they wanna move out asap and I certainly cant afford the rent alone, and back in Delhi, to be honest, what do I have to bring me back.
This when my job kills most of my waking hours and is making me travel all alone to random cities- airport to airport. And it's not as fun as it sounds.
All this is a mess, I know, with a hundred more complications, and I am supposed to decide all alone. Why the hell?

This life is getting lonely, confusing and too demanding. I'm out of energy.

I want out.

Because I'm not just one person...

I'm not just one person.

No, I haven't grown that fat, yet and no, I'm not schizophrenic (actually I probably do have a multiple personality disorder...I think...but not the point I'm making). What I'm trying to say is hardly anyone among us, is just one person. We are a composite of different behaviors and responses that become appropriate in different settings. And while there's nothing deeply insightful about that, sometimes the variations are so much that you wonder where you really belong, if anywhere.

Excerpts from couple of conversations today:

A: Excuse me, do you have some other bread, I don't like the croissant, it's not authentic.
AirHostess : (stunned) Let me check ma'am.
(To me) Hope you're enjoying your meal ma'am.
Me: (Smiling) Thank you, it's just fine, this bread.

B: So that day at the hospital, I ordered only a sandwich and coffee and I was charged 110 rupees!!! Loot hai! And that too, it was some paalak, and boiled corn. Yuck. Not even worth 15 rupees. Do you eat all that junk?
Me: Errr...may be they were out of normal options.

Again, someone today called me a heartless too practical woman, while only yesterday I was labelled a hopeless romantic by someone equally judgmental. To be honest. I had nothing much to argue. I often lose track of where I belong - in the world where you take the bus to avoid cab fare, or where you hop flights and chauffer driven cabs all day. In a world where love is the be all and end all, everything to live for and you could throw a tantrum for not remembering your fav color for the valentives gift or one where keeping the head above heart is necessary, where work comes first and love fills the void. I had an argument with my mother today over wearing a locket she thinks is critical and I think is just superstitious and yet...

I'm mostly a very blunt person, an excellent blunt bitch I'd say - something that would sooner or later get me fired even - and yet there are moments when I find myself too different in different scenarios in terms of how I respond. And while mostly it is convenient, once in a while I struggle to find myself somewhere near the middle.

I should write

What would explain a month of absence from something so dear to me as this page?
Frankly, nothing.

And yet, I have been away for far too long. A lot has happened in the intervening time, much for the good even, and I still haven't processed all of it. Rather, I don't want to. Which, as is now clear to me, a big part of the reason for not writing. Writing makes you think through, feel through and live through. I guess I was comfortable in just letting things happen and letting them go.

It's not such a bad thing.

However, it can't last too long. This morning, I ran into couple of my IIT profs at the airport. One of them is a jerk, but the other is someone most of us had respected. I got chatting, and he engaged me quickly in a refreshingly intellectual conversation about life, universe and everything that shot off from one of the books I really like - Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. I found myself articulating some of the things I believed in, and some of the things I now believe in and internally noticing the differences. That's the thing with good conversations - they make you realise parts of yourself that you didn't know existed. And the unprocessed inside you could sometimes shock yourself.

That's when I realised I should write. It keeps a reality check even if I write crap.

Apologies to anyone who cared. I shall be back.

PS I am on a new project, mostly Delhi and some city-hopping. Life at work is making me age quick!

Dirty Women

[[Complicated post; part fiction, part real]]

They saw the world from a different angle, the four of them. You could argue they were almost supposed to do that given who they were - they were meant, in a way, to have that unique enlightening view that common-folk of the planet would regard too obnoxious, unrealistic, disgusting, or well, plain dirty. But it went much beyond the call of duty and the hard-coding of genes. M, A, N and S, (henceforth referred as MANS collectively) were all brilliant, one-of-a-kind, delightful women living life wholly, but together they could effortlessly do the undoable and think the unthinkable - together they rose far above the world on the thought-deed matrix. MANS, in one of the most underestimated under-appreciated ways possible, were some of the most precious gems of the world.
Who got lost, but more on that later.

You may ask me why am I narrating this story today. To me MANS symbolised the breaking of conventional barriers and imposed moral obligations. To me MANS represented a continuous wave of delight, freshness and energy conquering the darkness. And each of them had an individual story because of which, and despite which, they became who they were.

M had lived a life where being sick wasn't a choice, it was a destiny. She craved for the confines and safety of the home, but time threw her out in an unkind world that cared only for money and forced her, in one of the more painful ways, to slave for it. A and S together had been the best of friends and the best of enemies all their life, but beneath their complicated relationship was an appreciation of what each had lived through before and after they got to know each other, and a mutual respect for their admirable spirit towards life. The devil lies in the details, but it would be fair to say A had experience bearing the vagaries of the weather of life, and that made her someone you could count on to step up in difficult situations even while being charming in her beautiful delicate feminine ways. When A was around, a smile was never far. S on the other hand, had grown in a wilderness where so-called modern civilization was largely absent, and a sudden transportation to this other far more complicated world had intimidated the little chirpy kid in her so much it was now only intermittently visible. Time continually moistened her eyes till she hardened her heart and by the time I met her she had learnt to be indifferent to most things around her and preferred to live in her own constructed world of incomplete moments and solitary walks. N I knew the least about - the vastness of her heart concealed a lot I could probably never imagine, and the rest was brushed aside in a warm omni-present smile. She was the most productive on most occassions, metaphorically speaking, showing a depth of perspective only S could occassionally match.
Four people so different yet connected not only by circumstance that put them in a battle together, but by a mind that refused to be numbed and by the refusal of the world to accept them for who they'd been made to become.

Again, why I am I going on and on about this story and these four complicated people. I don't know. These four were thrown together under strange circumstances, a time of crisis, but very soon I saw them discover each other and what they had in common. I saw them smile, despite their differences, their pains and despite the challenge the world threw at them. I saw the world crig and cringe because they were women, they weren't supposed to be "good", they weren't supposed to be bold and vocal, and because they weren't supposed to be "different" from the world. But they were. And that makes me admire them. And love them all. They had a lesson for the world - be true to who you are, and what you feel. They won, and it gave me a hope to fight on. Maybe that's why I'm sharing this today.

It was painful to watch them move away, but such was life - there are no happily ever after. A was snatched away by yet another cruel twist in her life, but then, there was other people and places that she had to spread her magic on. S grew to be more indifferent, more detached to the world and one day decided to just quit. M and N persevered some more, but eventually they all were back alone, fighting alone with the world, trying not to conform, being themselves. It was tragic, to say the least, but such is life.

People move on. But some of them teach us many important things. Even dirty women.

Pause

Every single time I watch your eyes
as they watch me leave.
They do not flinch -
they almost don't believe.
I pause, and look for a sign
something to stop me from going
Sometimes in the haze of your eyes
I see an old passion glowing
but too soon, alas, is it overpowered
by an angry, ruthless, indifference
and a hatred for what you see on my face
something you once held in reverence.
It pains me to watch you quit
on yourself, and on your right to me
It pains me the snigger with which you acknowledge
I'll come back tomorrow, wherever I be
I wish you would stop me, and never let me go
I wish too that I could just leave forever
I wish you could own me like you once did
or else I could just disown you forever
But the ice doesn't break.
You shut your eyes on me.
The pause is over.
It's time for me to leave...