Dear Universe

Is there such a thing as guilt-free, anguish-free, unsecretive, uninhibited happiness?
I think you owe me my fair share.

Sincerely,
Me

Unconditioned love

I am wondering, if it is fair or too much to be asked to be loved on all kinds of days.
Like when one is unwell, or having a bad hair day, or when a pair of jeans is making the ass look fat, or when one is cranky, or irrational or boring, or just not fun to be with. Like when you've had a bad day and are behaving unreasonably, not like your likeable self, is it justified to demand to be cared for the same. Or when you're depressed and looking like a mess, is it reasonable to want to be liked still.
Are we too demanding of our concepts of love and caring. Is it realistic or beyond-human?

Too bad if it isn't.

Torn

It's a tight line to walk
Pleasing different bits of you
You, wanting intimacy
You, demanding respect
You, trying to be free
And you, expecting, always
It's a tough, tight line to walk.

You couldn't turn your back to either
Without letting a part of you die
You know you can't please them together
You know you couldn't not try
But no matter what step you take
some would feel cheated, some stifled

So all you can do, I guess
Is fill each void a little each time
And letting a little be, hurting
Knowing that the sum of the parts
Will always fall short
For everyone
Especially for yourself

25.12

It's not the weight so much, it's the fat. Look at your pics from a couple of years ago. Rankles, but true.

Here, you're the only 16-24 friend I can recall. All rest are old hats. Ouch. Bad timing, or welcome to the club.

Meet her, she was my best friend in college. Past tense? Oh well.

25.11

Miss Five, I love you.
Miss Eight, you did great.
Miss Ten, it would be alright.
Miss Twelve, you did no wrong.
Miss Thirteen, you're not alone.
Miss Sixteen, don't fight yourself so hard.
Miss Seventeen, find yourself and let her be.
Miss Eighteen, let go of the guilt.
Miss Nineteen, just take the plunge.
Miss TwentyOne, ask what you need, don't need what you want.
Miss TwentyThree, watch what you're losing.

Miss Thirty, don't give up dreaming.
Miss Forty, don't tire out yet.

Miss of all ages, remember what we say: Smile. Come what may.

25.10

I don't have a true purpose in life. That's the biggest void.
But my fear is, if the void were to be fulfilled, do I have the requisite courage.
My question is, for me to muster the courage, do I have enough self-belief.
I wonder, if self-belief comes from strength of faith, how do I measure.
I guess, if faith is built with challenges of crises, I don't know if I have let myself be challenged enough.
I conclude, my purpose will challenge me.

I am ready. Waiting.

25.9

There's only one reality. Many appearances.

Hunting for the reality is not worth it. All truths are ugly in absolutes.

Holding onto reality is above everything else in life. Everything else in life is just a maze of half-truths.

We all tell stories. We all own stories. We all *are* stories. Not reality.

25.8

Love yourself.

Life's too short to wait for someone else to.
Life's too long to go without love.

25.7

Jeene ko hain pal chhin bahut abhi
Marne ko kai baar ji fir karega
Jo beet gaya woh kal bhi apna hi hai
Aane wale ko bhi dil apna hi kahega

25.6

Umr ke padavon par
Zindagi rukti to nahi magar
Mud ke dekhne ko peechhe
Kuch pal to chura sakti hai
Bigde hue ehsaason ko
Badal nahi sakti magar
Samet kar hatheli mein
Halka sa muskura sakti hai
Pal pal badti zindagi mein
Zinda-dilli mil jaye agar
Umr na ghate kabhi to kya
Zindagi ko to bada sakti hai

25.5

There's nothing in this world like friends. Especially old friends.
All the scientists around the globe trying to find ways to time-travel should explore the "being-with-friends" approach. There's certainly an invisible field that forms when old friends come together, seamlessly transporting them to treasured times.

And in that moment it struck me, nothing had really changed. We, all of us, were still us. Despite everything.

25.4

For you are my joy...

Bday Resolution: start losing weight. Can't stay so moti. Think it's time. :)

25.3

One reason to live:
The love in thy eyes.

More than good enough.

25.2

No reason to die.
No reason not to.

Life is suddenly illogical.

25.1

I'm not too young
To understand the pleasure
In staring in the eyes
Of my own fears.

I'm not too old
To get high blood pressure
From drinking the salt
Of my own tears.

Not yet.

Your F**king life

Questions, frankly, never stop popping - they're as big or small as you make them in your head.
Joys or sorrows don't come by as often, but it's still upto us how big or small they become, and how much we make them mean.
Doubts, just like hurt or pain, feel like those omnipresent entities who stay at the background all the time, and rush to the surface at the slightest opening or invitation. No matter what we do, they'll keep coming every now and then like unwelcome guests, but we can decide to be as rude as we like and kick them out of our homes sooner than later. They'd return soon enough, either way, but at least they won't build cobwebs in the guest rooms.
Point is, no matter what we do, life keeps happening. Shit happens. Good things happen now and then. Ditto for ugly. Still, to a large extent it is upto us what we make of all this traffic. What we impart meaning to, what we absorb and store, what we hold on to, and what we allow to manipulate us.
Life happens all the time, we can't stop it, sure. But I think that's what is meant by saying "It is f**king your own life. Live it your way!"
:)

Words you told yourself but probably shouldn't have

Let's go ahead and do it
Let's get our ass shit-kicked by love again.

Question

If the answer isn't yes, it is no, right?

बेमोल

आँखों में पढ़ लोगे, ये सोच के बैठे थे

आँखें धोखा दे गयी, पलक झपकाए
आंसू भी कोई काम न आये
तुम्हे दिल का सच दिखला न पाए
शब्द सैंकड़ों थे निकाले
इस दिल से तुम्हारे लिए
बे-मोल ही निकले
शब्द सैंकड़ों थे निकाले
इस दिल से तुम्हारे लिए
बेमोल ही निकले मगर -
तुम्हे खुद को हम समझा न पाए|

Playing games

Often I wonder
If I didn't adore the moon so much
Didn't gasp in admiration at its incredible beauty
And stare and recite odes mesmerised
Would it then shine brighter for me then
Would it give me a fuller view
Would it try to win my devotion
Would it care?

I would be less anguished, for sure
Wouldn't writhe in pain on amaavas nights
But I don't know if I would still enjoy
the charm, the magic, bliss of beauty
If I would still know this exaltation, of being shone and showered upon
I don't know if it would be worth it.

मर्ज़ ऐसा हमारा बे-इलाज ना होता

जान जाते अगर इश्क तुम से भला क्यों है|

Ink

Aasaan nahi tha khud apne dil ko todna
Aur har zarre se tumhara ansh nichodna
Fir sametna har tukde ko, lahoo ko
Dhona, sukhana, fir se jodna
Ek naya sa dil banaya hai magar
Dhadakna is ko sikhaayein kaise
Ye khaali dil fir se bharwayein kaise
Tumhare naam ki syaahi mitayein kaise
Jannat-e-khwab humein na mila to kya
Aansoo-on se bheega aanchal hi sahi
Mohabbat mein sab kuch lutane wale
Hum pehle bhi na the aakhiri bhi nahi

Clarity

Jatin pushed back into his chair, drinking his cold coffee, reflecting upon the events of the past few days. He was early, Isha wouldn't come for at least 20 minutes yet. Only three days ago, Jatin had escaped a major tragedy and a possible death. Now that the adrenaline surge had subsided and he had gotten over both feeling lucky and feeling afraid, he somehow sensed a new vigor in himself, a new streak of life. Lots of things looked more important, more meaningful than ever before. Isha, his girlfriend, had been there too, of course. It must have been far scarier for Isha and Neha, both of whom were far closer to death than Jatin himself at that moment. Especially Isha. He remembered believing they'd lost her forever. That memory still sent a chill through his spine.

The cold coffee didn't have enough ice.

Neha was Jatin's best friend. He'd known her many years, even longer than he'd known Isha. The two of them were certainly among his closest friends, though there were obviously more people. Still, losing anyone would have been incredibly painful. They were so lucky to escape almost unhurt in that accident, especially considering the injuries of the driver.

They were on a short vacation with friends. Neha, Jatin and Isha were in one car driven by a chauffer. The other two folks followed in a second car. On a tricky treacherous stretch in the hills, the left front tyre suddenly burst and the car lost balance and fell towards the cliff. Isha was sitting in the front next to the driver and Neha right behind her. Both were thrown out of the car, despite seatbelts. Jatin himself was squeezed as the car toppled, but managed to open his door. The driver was hurt and lost consciousness, so it was lucky the car stayed on the road. The other car was a km or two ahead, and jatin saw noone for a minute. Just warm blood trickling on his forehead.

He looked at the watch. Isha should be on time, as usual. He ordered her fav milkshake and a brownie for himself. She couldn't be more than 5-10 minutes away.

He heard her scream again in his head. And then saw neha. She was on a rock, just beside the road, trying to hold onto something. He ran towards her to help her lest she slipped. All he remembered was feeling so so scared for neha. And himself. He yelled, but at that time of the morning, there weren't many cars on this route. Isha was screaming louder. He saw her, hanging by a weak tree branch a couple of feet beneath the road. She was literally in the air with a deep valley under her. Maybe a thousand feet. Maybe more. Don't know. He ran to neha - she lay flat on the rock and jatin didn't know if she was fully conscious and stable. He gave her a hand, she held back. She was alright, a tough girl. He supported her back up on the safe ground. She was so scared. She held jatin so tightly, almost crying. Jatin wanted to cry as well. That moment, as he turned his glance to isha, he didn't see her anymore. The tree branch had snapped or isha had slipped. He was hearing her, but something inside him sunk. He'd lost isha. He pushed neha to sit and ran to see isha. He was shivering. But there she was. Only ten feet below was a landing of sorts where she'd fallen, and somehow managed to hold on. She was quiet, but jatin started screaming. For a couple of minutes no one did anything. Another car had come by now. The driver was a local, he pulled out rope from his car and guided and helped isha get back up from a safer angle. Miraculously neither one of them were seriously hurt. Neha found a working phone and called the rest of the gang. With some first aid from the local driver - his name was ramnath, such a helpful guy - all of them felt safe to travel. Even their driver was conscious, though quite hurt. The car was a wreck.

Noone spoke much on the way back home. Neha was still scared - even yesterday when he met neha, she felt emotionally overwhelmed. He spent almost the full day with her, and by the end both of them could laugh about it. He himself felt almost joyous by now - like he'd won a medal. It was quite justifiable though, they'd escaped a catastrophe.

He hadn't seen or even spoken much with Isha since coming back. She was a strong girl, she would've coped better. She had been very very quiet though all the time. For a second, Jatin felt worried about Isha. Then he told himself he would find out in a few minutes anyway. But where was Isha?

He called her but she didn't pick up. He dropped a text. The milkshake had arrived. The TV in the cafe was showing highlights of last night's match. Arsenal had lost from an unbelievable position. Just then isha walked in. He smiled and got up to give her a hug. But she wasn't looking straight at him. She just took the seat across Jatin's and said Hi. 

"Hey, how are you? I ordered your milkshake!"He started eating his brownie.

"thanks. how are you doing?"

"Great. I was telling neha also this yesterday, somehow after that accident, I think I found fresh meaning and respect for life and the things and people in my life...is that cut still hurting?"

"A bit. Yeah, I understand. I think that accident changed my life too. I am glad you're ok"

"I am so glad none of us got hurt bad. Even surinder is okay - I spoke to him this morning. He's out of the hospital."

"Yeah, I know...I needed to discuss something with you?"

"Hmm?"

"I think...that accident...I could have died...it made me see things around me more clearly"

"I know what you're saying"

"No you don't. I think we should break up"

"What? Are you serious? Why? What are you saying?" This didn't feel right.

"I am. I realized you don't feel the same way about me as I do for you. I am not as important, and will never be. I realized because I always knew this, I don't even love you anymore. It's ironic, I know. I must have just stopped loving you over time without knowing. But now I know. And..and hence we are over"

Jatin didn't understand what was happening. Isha looked like she would break down with hysteria any second, but she wasn't crying. She was just saying some crap like she meant it.

"So you don't love me any more?"

"No"

"And you're blaming it on me saying I don't think you're important for me! Do you know what I went through?" He was nearly yelling.

"I didn't say I wasn't important to you, but not in the same way. That imbalance..I can't live with it anymore"

"No"

"Yes. Think about it. When you saw me hanging at the tree, screaming for help...think of that moment. And answer to yourself. Who did you fear losing more? Who did you save first? Don't tell me. Just think. It is what it is. And life is too short to live on lies or even half-truths. You could have lived without me. You can. Knowing this, even I can."

"..but"

"..this is tough. I care a lot about you and this will be painful. But it has to be done. Trust me. Sorry"

Isha stood up and started walking. Jatin called her name but she didn't stop. 

Life isn't fair.

Jatin kept some money on the table and walked out as well, not knowing how one could have his front tyre bursting twice in three days. There were too many questions.

The milkshake kept lying there till it was warm.

Beauty

A silent, beautiful night had set upon the beautiful, lonely cottage. My escapade in the hills had just turned divine. For as far as one could see, there was not another soul visible. The sounds of the night, although clear and crisp, kept themselves to the background. There was a leopard somewhere in the trees on that hill, but he too chose to silently admire the peace for some time. There must have been some vehicles passing, every now and then, some 2500 ft below us, but up here one couldn't hear any of them. The fire in the fireplace, under an imposing, still-scary head of a hunted tiger, made an occasional noise, but mostly it provided luminescence and warmth to an otherwise lonely night.

Outside, the full, bright moon filled the valley. It hung like a halo on the top right of the frame, and the freshly bathed hills below gleamed at the treetops. There were a few lights strewn across the hills, but from here they felt like dew drops. One couldn't actually see the valley, blinded by the clouds that floated slightly under the peaks of the hills like a haze. The sky, above the clouds, was otherwise clear and strewn with thousands of stars. When was the last time I had seen so many stars? Cities are too busy soaking in the glitz of man-made stars and stares to seek cover under natural hoods. There were flowers near my cottage, I knew, that splattered color on the scenery in the day - right now, they contributed to a sweet fragrance, something that made me believe more and more this was just a dream. It probably was, for something this beautiful, this peaceful, this heavenly couldn't possibly exist on this earth. I shut my eyes, but it was still there when I reopened. I looked at the moon, and it seemed to smile at me. It also reminded me, painfully, how lonely this moment still was. How beauty has never managed to cure pain...

I shut my eyes again. There was a chilly nip in the air, but suddenly the warmth of an embrace had taken it away. Suddenly, I wasn't alone, and the moment felt complete. Music played in my head, and I felt content like I could die without regrets. I knew you weren't there, yet I knew you were. I knew you'd come to make me complete, just for that moment, to make me capture the beauty in fullness in my heart. And once the beauty made home inside me, I realized, while beauty doesn't cure pain, it certainly makes it easier to endure it.

PS Partly fictional, inspired by real-life, by this place. More on the vacation in other posts.

Mumbai

Today I realised what I love and miss most about Mumbai, or to be more correct, what it signifies in my life. It is a city I have grown to love, not as much as Delhi, and for not any of the same reasons, but in a very different way. For reasons that are at most 20% because of it being Mumbai and not XYZ city. But that's not the point. I love what being here, even for a day, makes me feel like. I am so much more alive today. And again, today was a good day...even for a "Mumbai day", so I am exaggerating (also I;ve been up for almost 24 hours now) but the fact is, this moment, this place, is making me feel much more alive than I've in some time now.

Perhaps the part I love the most is coming home at 3 am, because I want to or need to, without caring, without asking, and without being answerable to everyone. Walking back home talking to oneself, doing my own stuff, working hard, partying hard, living my own freaking life! Mumbai allows me to feel this way, like I'm living a longer, fuller life. Of course this isn't complete. There are things and people and feelings I want which I won't get here, and thus, netting off, I'd rather be who and where I am than this. 

But this feels amazing. Right about now. Thank you.

The easiest thing in the world to forget

...Is that our pains, troubles, problems, illnesses...that our life..affect those and their lives who love us as well.

The deeper their love, the deeper their hurt. Which may seem silly and weird and really small to us, absorbed in our own battles.
But it's really not.

And we never stop to think, even in saner calmer times, in retrospect, what they felt and lived through. How we behaved towards them. How they understood. How we should have.
It was never big enough.

But it was.
Of course, assuming we love them back as well.

Happens to most of us. True story.

Smriti

Yoon to tumhein bhool gaye hain hum

Kayi kayi mahine beet jate hain

bina tumhari yad ke

Par achanak kisi kisi raat

khud ko fir usi mod pe paate hain

Jahan tum bichhad gaye the

Aur fir wahi 'kyon' yaad aata hai

Fir wahi dard jaag jaata hai

Khud ko fir se solah ka paate hain

Kaaran dhoond dhoond khud ko samjhate hain

Fir wahi ladakpan yaad aata hai

Ab tak us dosti se naata hai

Kyon khoya ye jaane ne jaane kabhi

Kya khoya ye dil tumse behtar jaanta hai

Random thoughts today

Maana waqt nahi hai tumhare paas humein dene ko
Humne khud ko tumhe diya hai, humein to apna lo
Waqt khud hi tham jayega us lamhe ko niharne.

---------------------------------------

Mere lafzon pe na jao, zubaan pe bas nahi chalta
Dil ko bhi sach kaboolne ka haq nahi diya hai
Kaash tum nazron ki bhasha samajh jate.


------------------------------------


Chahkar bhi tumhe chahne ki chahat hi karte reh gaye
Na chahkar bhi chahat ko bhulana chahte hain ab
Kash hamari chahat tumhein yoon anchahee na lagti


-----------------------------------


Woh waqt kuch aur tha, masoomiyat mein dil diya tha
Tootkar fir sambhla karte the tere pyar ke behlawe mein
Ye waqt kuch aur hai, hum tukdon mein pyar pana seekh gaye.

Growing up

I was reading random pages from my diary from 8 yrs ago and all I kept saying every couple of minutes was "gosh! I was so screwed up".

I wonder if 8 yrs from now I will read this blog and say the same thing. :) I hope so, actually, because it can only mean I'm improving. And also because in those pages, every now and then I read a sentence that makes me smile today, or makes me feel proud of myself for having such a profound thought at 16. What better gift can I give the future-me! :)

Losing yourself aka test for love

Close your eyes, and for one moment, just one moment...imagine giving up all rights and control on your own life...a complete surrender...a deep breath that says 'que sera sera - let go' and prepares you, for just that moment, to leave yourself to destiny, beyond all ego and instincts of self-preservation, to someone else - their wishes, their being, their caring or not caring for you.

Take another breath, and honestly tell yourself, if there's someone you'd trust to give yourself upto like that?

Who?

Maybe your family, maybe not. But they have already proven they can do that when you were little. Who else? Your best friend. Your spouse. Your spiritual leader. Don't say God, imaginary friends don't count. The gamble is with fallible mortal real people.

Do you love someone enough that your faith in them can transcend your sense of self? Do you love someone enough to make them the Hero of the movie of your life - even if for just that moment?

Taleem

Zindagi ke khwab dekhne lage
Chhod maut ki ummeedein
Hum na jane kabse saayon ko bhi
Chandni kehlane lage.


Sab kuch kho ke bhi ji jo liye,
Ab darr kahan raha raahon mein
Jo mila bahut mila, maankar
Dil ko behlane lage.


Dard ki inteha pe pahunch kar
Dosti gehri kar daali itni
Hum to ab muskura purane
Zakhm sehlane lage.

Birthdays

There was a time, not that long ago, when I actually remembered at least 250, if not more, birthdays every year. This was also a time when I actually remembered most phone numbers I dialed, but that's another story. As you can guess, I had an above average memory and was proud of it to some extent. Truth was, it was also of some value, as this was before the age of infinite phone memories and social media. People actually felt nice when I remembered them on their birthdays, some of them people I had otherwise lose touch with and only talk once or twice a year. Of course I can go back to even simpler times when we actually got little gifts for our friends and classmates (as opposed to just ask for treats) and kind of made an effort to make it "feel" special, more than just an excuse to party. I am smiling as I remember how those days we'd complain that there are too many birthdays clubbed together in August or December, thereby depleting the small pocket money. But coming back to today, this age of social media, I feel as if those little personal touches have lost all significance. Maybe it is just me, but somehow Facebook and co discourages me from wishing people. Barring the 10 or 15 I care to remember, I feel discouraged to call. It's just like adding a little bit more ink on their wall. It wouldn't matter - to them or to me. It's not the same as remembering someone and dropping an email or a call. Yes, it is useful as most of the times we just forget these things, and we'd like to remember. Occasionally, I slipped up because I lost track of the date. But I could make up for that. Now...

This year I missed my best friend's birthday because I'd put it on a mobile reminder which somehow got screwed and moved to the week after, and on the said day I was too occupied with travel and getting myself a new job. I over-relied on technology, failed, and felt shitty. Far shittier than I'd have felt if I'd just forgotten. And that age, he would have called me to abuse me and remind me, which of course now he didn't. 

Maybe it is just me, but I don't feel like wishing acquaintances and old friends any more through this media. For close friends, I will remember. For others I care about, I'd drop an sms or call because I care, but I know it won't be valued as much. For the rest, I sorta assume it doesn't make a difference.

Or does it, I wonder.

As Rohan said, perhaps our new social, online world is pushing people away, as much as it claims to bringing old ties alive.

Camouflage -V

[[Realised that this is still lying incomplete in my drafts. I know the story is quite crappy and broken, but posting it nonetheless to end it. Continued from here]]

The funny part is, of course, that it wasn't even a real romance. Other than the thrill of being forbidden, of being so "wrong", it meant nothing. But still, I went against every instinct and indulged myself in it. The day I realized I was pregnant - the world slid beneath my feet. I had so fervently hoped it wasn't true - I had prayed, cried, begged to the Lords in the sky. But it was, and I had no clue what to do. As I said, I probably should have asked for help and I definitely should have been saner not to get there in the first place.

But I was just a kid myself.

And I really couldn't have asked for help - I really couldn't have told anyone. I told him, of course, and he disappeared. The fires of the hell that I lived through that month still burn inside me. Every night, I silently bled and cried. Every night, my guilt and my pain dissolved my ability to love, to trust, to heal. And every morning, I would wake up, smile, and be who I was expected to be. Because no one could know. Because every shade of that darkness was my own.

Because the camouflage was now me.

Still is, I guess.

What do I want anyway?

There's something I want - rather, I think I want. In fact, I only want to know if I will get it, someday, possibly. And this want stays at the back of my mind all the time these days. I don't even know if I want it badly, just that I keep thinking about it. To make matters more complicated, every time I ask myself what will I do if I had it, or if I knew I'd get it, I basically freak. I don't think I know what I'll do if I get it, how I'll handle it, and whether I will want it anymore or not. I will probably learn to deal with it, but when I try to imagine I always conclude I am better off now without it than I would be if I had it. Life is much simpler. 

And yet, I keep wanting it. 

Am I screwed up, or just my wish-o-meter?

--------------------------------------

I wasted many years of my life living pretty much in a hazy mental state of denial, self-loathing, and some random victim complex. I was not as fucked up as those words sound in English, but I was fucked up all right. Late last year I found a way out of the over-romanticised darkness. In the last few weeks, I found myself battling old familiar doubt and the new optimism seems to be winning. On my own. Reason I write this here is so that whenever future me reads these words, she remembers that it's possible to defeat darkness and she remembers that sometimes, she is better than she thinks she is. Give her a break, kiddo.

Kisi kisi raat...

Kisi kisi raat jee karta hai
Tumhe sab sach bata doon
Ro loon tumhari bahon mein
Tumhare hothon se muska doon

Kisi kisi raat jee karta hai
Ki sapne khuli ankhon se dekhoon
Mang loon tumse dil ki har chahat
Aur tum par khud ko luta doon

Kisi kisi raat yaad aata hai
Kitna tadpein hain ab tak is pyaar mein
Kitna chaha hai tumhari chahat ko
Kitna royein hain intezaar mein

Kisi kisi raat ye bhi jee karta hai
Ki har sawaal ka jawab main pa loon
Ya likh doon naam tumhare dil pe
Ya apne dil se tumhara naam mita doon

People matters

People will ask you
Who you are
Who you want to be
And no matter what you answer
They'd hate you for it
I can say it doesn't matter
But the truth is, it does a little
Because it's not as if we really have
Figured it all out
Or know for sure we're right
So every now and then
We end up looking out at people
We end up waiting to be judged
Every now and then
We just want to be sure.
We can see people don't matter
But the truth is, they do a little
Because it's not as if we really have
Stopped judging ourselves
And all measurements
are after all relative
And of course every now and then
You will turn your back on people
You will not really care
And do whatever you're sure of, just then
and you'd be surprised at your own joy
Until something goes wrong
Until you're ready to be judged again
Even if you don't admit.

And then every now and then
People will ask you
If you miss them
If you need them
And no matter what you answer
They'd hate you for it
I can say it doesn't matter
But truth is, it does a little.

It does matter...a little...

Definitions

As if it wasn't bad enough that the regular social constructs of our world - the need to introduce or refer to someone, for example - force us to some times define and name relationships that dont really have a name, the new ones are making it even worse. I have like a 1000 friends on Facebook. Friends? Really? Google + is asking me to define "circles" for people. Where do you put someone you've never met, but share the most intimate words and feelings with through blogs and emails? Where do you put someone you barely know, but spent a refreshing 2 hours talking to on the flight you met on and will likely never run into again? Where do I put someone who is my best friend, target of all barbs and bouquets, whose arms I hang by and also punch a dozen times a day (when he's not in godforsaken amreeka, of course)? And those who are brought close again by a phone call after months and years, that sounds as familiar, as continuous as someone you see every day. All those people who intersect with my life at random intervals, and touch it in meaningful ways, yet share unique relationships not like any other. And what happens when acquanitances "become" friends. Or vice versa.

Circles are concentric, but they're not all named.

I can of course stop worrying and call all of them "friends". Or I can create a circle called "undefined".

Camouflage -IV

[[Sorry for the delay for those who've been asking for this - continued from here...well, in some way]]

It's not very easy to hide pain - it dissolves itself in the eyes and gleams at anyone caring to look at your face. Guilt and shame are much easier to hide in contrast - they get spooked and disappear deep inside the dark crevices of your existence, yet they'd never let you forget their presence. They just eat away at you till you're empty inside.

I had erred, I knew, and I never let myself forget that. I had kissed a fool, I had been fooled by a kiss. In hindsight it is easy to dismiss it as an oversight of youth, as an emotional and hormonal over-excitement. Falling in "love" without knowing anything about the person. Love, infatuation, caring - all, as they say, vagaries of perception. Lies. But that's easy to say now, judge now. At that time it was just a stealth romance, something that excited me as a forbidden fruit, a happily ever after dream. It felt like happiness, exactly the kind of happiness everyone talked about. Brief as it was, it was my bright rainbow. Until of course everything went downhill, and I found myself in a deep abyss, all alone, struggling to portray normalcy to every watching eye.

I probably should have asked for help. I definitely should have been saner. Maybe, I would still be able to trust people then. Maybe, every relationship today wouldn't have had me under some camouflage, but the real me.

Too many maybes.

[[To be continued - last part to follow]]

I want to be

I want to be whoever I deserve to be - after I've tried to be whatever and whoever I want to be.

To live a simple, happy life

To live a simple happy life

you need to perfect

one of two arts

either learn how not to want much

or learn how not to hurt much

It's not so easy, however,

because you'd likely not get what you truly want

unless you want it bad

and unless it hurts bad

but then I am assuming

that to live a simple happy life

without much pain or heady exhilaration

You dont even need to get much.

Sometimes I wonder

looking around where I am

how I got here

The people around me

I'm not like them

or maybe I am?

Am I what I see in the crowd

or what I think I see in the mirror

or what I think I think I am

Maybe it is just who I am

when I do what I do

without even thinking or wanting

to do what I do

I'm not that shallow

or maybe I am?

Sometimes I wonder

which way I am going

why noone feels like a companion

why nothing feels like a goal

I'm not really that lost

or maybe I am?

Kasoor

Mausam ke sang badal gayi hain agar
Chahatein tumhare dil ki
Rang to akhirkar jahaan mein kayi hai
Tumhara kasoor kya hai
Rang jeewan mein sab ko hain pasand
Aur chahaton pe zor chalta nahi
Chahatein to mann mein har pal umadti hain nayi
Tumhara kasoor kuch bhi to nahi
Par yoon to na dekho nafrat se mujhe
Main to khadi hoon aaj bhi wahin
Bhula sakte ho kya har pal har ehsaas ko
Patjhad ka purana mausam hi sahi
Shayad asaan hai ateet ko bhul jana
Par mere to aaj mein ab tak ho tum hi
Maine to bas ek mohabbat hi ki hai
Mera kasoor kya hai

Confusion

First up, apologies for the few who have missed updates on this page the last 3 weeks or so. And apologies to everyone who is looking for a follow-up of the fairly confusing previous posts -I promise there's a story to tell, and I promise to complete the Camouflage drafts currently lying on blogger, on my phone and in my head. But not now, not today.

Today is the day to ramble and wonder without much purpose. This whole purpose and meaning quest is an overhyped one, methinks. "Be yourself and follow your dreams" is great to hear and probably great to do, but what do you do when you don't really know who you are and what your dream is. And since you're a confused, lost soul scampering about for some elusive meaning, and that's who you're also encouraged to be, there's bound to come a point where you go whatthehell. Read this for more. Anyway, what choice do we have sirji.

So anyway, my own wandering and questioning took me last month from consulting to investing. For a while it felt like nothing had changed. There I was, on a morning flight to Mumbai, talking about same old stuff with someone I've known for more than 6 years now. Cribbing about morning flights and airline service. Looking for the driver at the airport holding a placard of my name. Only this time, the company name was different. And since then, it has been starting from scratch all over again. Finding my place. Finding new people. Being judged. Finding comfort in my own skin. Trying. And wondering whether I like it. Wondering where I'd end up. Wondering how. 

Life makes me want to live in a limbo. 

It's too early to look for answers anyway. I'm only looking for questions. And hoping. 

Camouflage-III

Back in those days, I lived under one such dark camouflage. Bright and sunny by the sunlight, like a many-hued everyday-happy story but a simmering grey under the moon-light, one which varied in intensity depending on the lunar cycle, depending on how closely you went to look at.

Those nights I felt like a sinner, one who had been marked for life, repentance or no repentance. I did live as if in penance, at least in my mind, but it wasn't helping my guilt. I looked around and wondered how nobody else could see it in my eyes and find out who I was. A killer, a murderer. Some nights I felt justified about my actions; my mind argued for hours the rationale, the defense. Some nights, the weight of my deeds crushed my soul and tears couldn't wash away the uncontrollable pain. Most of all there was the weight of what I had hoped and expected myself to be, and what I now thought I had become.

There were moments when I felt grateful to be free, uncaught, yet sometimes all I could wish for was to be able to confess to someone, for someone to find out and kill me. I had taken more than one life - I couldn't be the same person I used to be any longer. Emotionally, I was scarred.

And yet, I managed to survive the phase perfectly well under my camouflage. It seems remarkable how my old self became my camouflage that kept the world at bay, that kept the mornings boring till the phase - and the war inside me - ended. Back in those days...

Who am I kidding - fact is I still live under a camouflage. Probably always have. So much that I don't know if there is a real me at all after all these years hiding somewhere beneath the multiple layers.

[[To be continued]]

Camouflage-II

It is misleading, how they liken happiness to multiple bright colors. While we may be conditioned enough to always associate palates of bright colors like rainbows and spring gardens with joy, the fact is, all joys have the same hue. Every fear and every pain, however, has its own hue, a different shade, a unique intensity. Notwithstanding the ancient labelers of the human civilization, if you looked close enough you would see that there is only one VIBGYOR and many many blacks; that all happy stories sounded the same and each tragedy was unique.

Happiness and sorrow, much like us, live in this world in a camouflage.

[[To be continued]]

Camouflage-I

It rained often those days. Actually, that wasn't true. It never rained during the days - only in the nights, as if the nights really needed to be cleansed. As if some kind of a sin sneaked in under the cover of darkness every night that needed to be dissolved, or at least hidden, so the morning could be bright and sunny for the world to see. It rained every night so that one could sob in the pillow and not be heard over the din of the drops of water lashing at the window, screeching to be let in, to dissolve the dirtiness inside. But I never opened the window. If I had, I'd probably have jumped off it as well.
I wish I had.

In a blink

I blink
And I forget
The passage of time
The pungence of lime
The long nights
And tearful sights
The tortuous streak
Feeling weak
Pain. Insane.
I forget.

Till I look at the scars.
Till I talk to the stars.
Till I notice how light I feel
Till I watch the layers peel
And I remember.
The promise I made
And the farewell I bade
Not wiping a tear
Letting go of fear
Overcoming desire
Dousing some of the fire
Fighting, losing, living, dying
Waking, working, smiling, lying
I remember.

I smile and rub my eyes.
A phoenix never dies.
Slowly, steadily
I clear the dirt
Piece by piece
I heal the hurt.
I make friends
with the pain.
Then I blink.
And I forget.
And life is good again.

W for Woman

I wonder what you wonder
And what you wonder I wonder about
And I wonder what the secret is after all
With you life itself was a wonderful wonder throughout

I wander in the wastelands, wondering why
I wander where we wandered together without clue
I wander in the wish of finding you again
In the wanderlust to wander lusciously inside you

I wither in the wait of wanting you whenever
I wither in the wuthering winds of withering weather
I wonder whether I'd ever stop wondering, wandering, withering
I wail in the wisdom of knowing this is forever

Undecided

I want too much
this and that and that and that
bahut saara, sab kuch
and I don't want anything either
Nothing, zilch, thank you please.
Maybe just what I have already.

Like a rising wave
in crests and thoughts
my desires these days
wax and wane, die and kill
I wonder what I want to choose-
red pill or the blue pill

Sometimes I want to live
like really really live, not just be
Sometimes I just want to die
Tired of the futility
Heisenberg is God
but Tughlaq is winning more
The perfect answer to every question
seems to be "I dont know" :)

The search

It's obvious, isn't it, that it is so hard to find love in life
After all, life is found in love, not the other way round...

Restless peace.

This is a year of quiet restlessness. So far. A year where things have been pretty damn good for pretty much everything, and yet have always come accompanied with a fidgety restless discontentment. This is a year where joy has come aplenty, with some grief, but mostly, a lot of detachment. A lot of not feeling strongly enough. A lot of happy calm at the surface. And restlessness. I don't know if this is permanent, transient or non-existent (only in my head!). And disturbingly, the next thought that comes to my mind is, in a very Ravi Shastri-kinda way, I have a feeling that something's got to give here.

Whatever that means.:)

I like wondering every now and then of change. The whats, whys and hows. I like to pick up a lens and see things, places, and most of all myself through it to understand just a little better. You can call it a hobby. Searching for analogies and metaphors is another. One of the changes in me in the last year or two I hate the most is how my words don't flow out of me as much anymore as they could. Writing used to be a lot more effortless, and cathartic to me. It wasn't good writing, but it was brilliant clearing for mess inside my head. It sorta takes away the impact of many good changes. I so badly want to write. I want to write my book. I want to write cricket. I want to write poetry and fiction. I want to dole out crap on the back of my notebook again - not mere doodles. But it doesn't come out. Not enough. What's wrong? I feel joy, lots of peaceful joy, but not soul-stirring teary-eyed happiness like I did, a few moments in life. Is there anything wrong?

Anyway, back to the restlessness. I wonder if I feel it more because I dont write about it enough. I wonder if  it is just quarter-life crisis. I wonder if it's just hormonal over-thinking :) But that's the sort of year it has been. Job satisfaction plummeting - the flaws in people so much more visible. Stress over not knowing the future was less than the confusion over my desire to not even try to know the future. And even now, disquietude. What am I doing with my life? Why have I never done enough crazy whimsical things like others? Am I too "safe"? Am I too boring? What will the new job be like? Am I deliberately not asking hard questions? Have I become too defensive, too non-confrontational. Am I scared of drama? Fatigued? Or is this drama still.

Why isn't peace enough?

And where the f**k are the words?

PS At least, I still have unanswered questions.

The magical night

The cup that counts!

They call it the one that counts - the cricket World Cup 2011, and as the tournament reaches fever pitch at the climax, it really does look like there are a few statements this one is making, creating a definite impact that will be felt in the time to come. 

The more debated one - 50 over cricket will stay for now, showing a potential for providing interesting, twisted, edge-of-the-seat action. However, for that to happen you definitely need pitches with something for the bowlers, because 20-20 is better at wham-bam-thankyou action from the bats. 

But most interestingly, all the sub-continental sides are there in the semi-finals, with no Aus, SA or Eng. Who could have bet on that?! With the exception of Bangladesh, of course, but they did themselves too many disfavors in the league stage itself. Which makes it important to highlight the caveat - this cup is played in sub-continental conditions, in a format most suited to ensure the hosts qualified to the quarters. And hence it was Bangladesh's spot to lose, in some way. But barring that, the final line-up has India Pakistan Sri Lanka and New Zealand. The last one is a bigger surprise than the other three, in some way, given how they came in to the world cup losing 4-0 to Bangladesh and 5-0 to India in these very same conditions! 

Somehow, this sounds staged. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but is there a better result at this stage the hosts of this cup could have asked for? An India Pak semi-final to go, and the fourth team in the fray one of the most beatable ones on paper. Extrapolating, the perfect result is an India SL final - both the co-hosts - with India winning - the biggest financial power in world cricket. Somewhere there throw in Sachin's 100th ton as well.

It's all perfectly likely, and possible even without any conspiracy at all, but somehow, even as I watch with bated breath and pumping adrenaline as a crazy fan the final three chapters unfold, I cannot help but wonder that if it turns out to be too good to be true, was it always meant to be that way?

Hmm.
 

Well, at least it is entertaining. Works for me. Go India!

Khaali

...there are these, and then, there are those conversations with not-strangers. With people you like and love and care about. With people you talk all the time - every week, every day, every few hours. With people you normally like to have conversations with - both intense and mundane. And everything in the

Some of those conversations with some of those people, sometimes, are empty. For the lack of a better word. When you can sense an urgency in the other person's voice to end a conversation you're keen to hanging on to. When you know the other person's attentions lies elsewhere, and not in the story you are narrating. When every word is far away, detached. When the eyes are focused on some stray thought, not on you and not on your expectant eyes. When every word is stretched thin. When you try to fight for every extra second, but eventually realise, this is not the right time.

We've all been there, in those conversations, on both sides.

99 out of 100 times, we forget them as soon as they happen.

Or we call it life.

1 out of 100 times, that stretched feeling lingers a few seconds longer.

That empty-handed moment, that really sucks.

Even though it is life. 

:)

Connections

Nothing and seriously nothing makes my day like a great conversation. And so often, the best conversations happen with "strangers". Or very old friends. It is a pity how rare these opportunities are, but whenever such a chance comes along, it is like a spray of refreshing energy rekindling life. I'm lucky I have this blog, which has over the years helped me cross paths with so many brilliant people who have made a real difference to my life, through their words, through their friendship and just by their generosity of being themselves and letting me be myself around them. You know who you are - thank you. 

You know, even though this world is awfully small, this life painfully long, and the billions painfully crowded, the communication and "networking" modes too intrusive - we are all too lonely still as individuals, too starved of connections with other fellow human beings. And then, there's something magical about connecting with strangers in fortuitous moments, who in their "real world" protocols are too improbable and unapproachable to cross paths with you. 

Thinking of recent time, few months back, meeting SS after months of a pleasing relationship with her written words was the brightest spot in a super-dark fortnight and how much I adore her for that! And yesterday, through a rare conspiracy of circumstances (getting upgraded to business class in a flight too full!) I met someone else, a total stranger, who in the "real world", given who he is, I would have never had the kind of conversation with that I eventually did over the 2.5 hour flight. 

And once again, over a conversation ranging from the battle between i-banking, consulting, private equity and industry to  that between India, china and the world, to that between romanticism and pragmatism, life and dreams, heart and mind - I once again realized how incredibly easy it is sometimes to open up to strangers and admit your deep fears and conflicts that you don't even discuss with yourself. It defies logic, how we can tell a complete stranger your secret guilt, your conflicts, your "story". I think it comes from the freedom  of not being judged, or not caring about being judged. I don't know if I will ever meet him again - so much older, senior, busier, so very much unlike me in the person he is - but those 2.5 hours were special just for the unique freedom that came with it, something that even the mirror cannot afford. There's so little to lose, so much to gain - esp a stranger's ability of reading between your sentences and in your eyes of what you're really saying. A stranger's ability of making you think!

And then the beautiful facet of discovering how all people are basically the same - suffering similar basic existential questions in their mind few years apart, going through the same agonies halfway across the globe, and alternating between the same few so-called philosophies of living.

It's beautiful.

It's official...

...looks are deceptive. Especially in bosses.

Their cuteness (and other such seemingly nice things, including apparent-coolness) has no correlation to their being jerks or not. :-)

Justify? Why?

I read somewhere today that one of the most important things we could learn from children is that they know how to demand with all their might that which they desire. It is amazing their ability to give everything without holding back for what they want, it is amazing the ease with which they know what they want. 

Why do we, while growing up, lose the ability to know what we truly desire - and not call it vague words like happiness, love, or purpose but something much more tangible, something we can fight for and get. Why do we struggle in the battle of heart and mind so much. Why is it sometimes so hard to hear what the heart is actually saying. And when we know, why does it take a nudge and a push to go all out and fight for it. Why is every argument a "yes, but.." or a "however". 

Words are such a handicap at times.

Funny thing is, even when we finally *know*, when we finally *hear*, when we *do*, we can't just go to sleep contented, because someone will have opinions, ask justifications and ask us why. Nobody does that to a kid.

These whys are such a pain. :-)

Sometimes I wish...

... that I was super attractive and super dumb.

Then I would not have to work and I could still be rich because all rich people want to be with me and spend money on me

And the best part - I wouldn't have any existential questions at all.

 

 

Sorry for being sexist and sticking to stereotypes, but I say - being a dumb blonde is super awesome!!

 

Sau gram zindagi

...and so, it was a longggg day.

Started at 4 am to face one of the worse Monday mornings, an early morning crib, a longgg flight, and a super hectic work day with non stop work from noon to 11 pm...

And then, at 11, I check into my hotel room - tired and hungry - and find beautiful flowers with a lovely message waiting for me.
Happy Valentines day, he says.

I'm not tired any more. I'm on the seventh moon. Or the ninth sky. Or the seventeenth cloud.

Touch wood, and thank God, for the precious little mercies of life.  For love.
For the do gram namak and cheeni in the zindagi ke sau gram.

Thank you. Can't stop smiling :)

No love lost!

Good morning, and welcome on-board what feels like a bad week coming. Or at least, the start couldn't have been insaner. It feels wrong to crib in the morning, but short of kicking myself (and including that), this is the best I can do. So here's what happened:

After the thought of the longgg flight to Chennai and the long day and week ahead made my sleep disappear over night, after I got out of bed at 4 feeling refreshed with a 2.5 hour sleep, there I was trying to get to the airport at 530 in the morning when the car broke down. Had Einstein been around and amnesiac, he would have probably rediscovered relativity seeing how long and short 15 minutes are early in the morning - the 15 minutes of sleep, too little, the 15 minutes of car breaking down, too much. And just as I managed to reach the airport 2 minutes too late, I realize to my horror that I forgot my wallet (with all my money, cards, ID proof et al) at home. The ah moment of taking out change at 1030 pm returned. The sleeplessness kicked me on discovering that the next flight out is only at 850, and the guilt of asking my dad to wake up early in the morning and bring me the fateful wallet has sapped all my energies for the week already. And hence, here we are, suited booted packed and sleepless, waiting at the airport for Dad to come and the flight to leave. For all the work I was supposed to do in two hours in morning getting pushed to late at night. For more sleeplessness.

Yes, you can go awwww now. And repeat that when I crib about working so hard on Valentine's day, with no one to swoon over. Double awww. 

And double yawn. Damn.

...and we're back

For anyone still reading, upfront sincere apologies for the vanishing act. Especially to those whose questioning comments and emails have been met with a puzzling silence. Yes, this is the longest I have stayed off the blog and that too without warning, but no, this is not a trend. Just something I have been doing, an experiment of sorts. Letting life come to me, pass through me and go by - without trying too hard to hold onto anything, without longing for anything present or not there, without thinking too much about it. And for the most part, I have been happier for it. Happier than I have been in a long time. 2011, as I wished in the last two posts, has been better so far. Not easier, but happier and better. Thank you.

Now that the disclaimer is in place and this blog has been prepped for a flood of posts in the next few days, short update on the latest headlines. Working out of Chennai these days with Germans, so expect some crib to follow :P Have been on the verge of a (relatively) big decision - quitting the job. Expect final outcomes in a day or two and more news, but for now I will say this - choosing between basically good alternatives that have long term (ok, medium term) implications on the rest of your life is a pretty hard task. :D


More soon. Much more.

Toofaan to aana hai, aakar chale jaana hai
Baadal hai yeh kuch pal ka, chhaakar dhal jaana hai
Parchhaaniyan reh jaati, reh jaati nishaani hai

Zindagi aur kuch bhi nahi, teri meri kahaani hai :-)

2011, here you are

Cool. Let's see what you have got.

Let's play!! :)