For Writing's Sake

As children we all have that one favourite place that we love going too; may be that's because it makes us feel secure. I believe it's every child's way of recreating the 'womb experience' where no one or nothing can harm it; a comfort zone of sorts.

 

I'm a single child with working parents and I didn't really have many friends to play with before I started going to school, just one to be precise. I vividly remember the long walks with dad, mom and my childhood bestie which more often than not ended with chocobar ice cream; bliss! The walk was preceded by a heart-pumping session at 'horsy' garden; the only garden in the vicinity - a big open space with lots of sand, a slide, two pairs of swings, a seesaw and yes a magnificent white horse that stood in the middle of the garden.

Though the sands of time have pretty much blurred the memories of the fun times my friend and I had in this garden there are a few things that I will never forget. Sometimes we'd spend hours among the creeky swings, the yellow slide with blue stairs that took us all the way up, the blue see saw.. and not even realise when it'd be time to leave! Childhood was defined very differently then. The 80's-kids were the last generation that grew up smelling the roses if I may, the last generation that managed to strike a balance between life and everything else; most 80-borns would agree with me. School was more than grades, football was larger than laying the foundation for future sports scholarships, dance classes went beyond competing with other aspirant dancers and there was a life beyond computer games and hi-tech gadgets.

We hear today about so many cases where young children succumbing to peer pressure and materialism resort to satisfy their wants immorally and antisocially. Of course we cannot blame them for they are born in a different time. That said we as the past need to keep the present grounded in their roots no matter how much they grow toward the future. for progress doesn't spell annihilation of origin and modernity doesn't lead to doom for tradition. Yes, change is inevitable and definitely good alright but somethings, somethings are best unchanged!

For Writing's Sake

There are sights waiting to render their beholders breathless
If only one were open enough to look out for them...

Just the other day I was whiling away my time on Facebook when I bumped into a  really thought provoking photo-share; it spoke of how there aren't just seven wonders in the world but that in the eyes of a child everything is no less than a wonder. I couldn't help but think of whether the innocence in us is still untouched enough to spot the extraordinary in the most ordinary.

A few years back I was on a holiday in Bahrain and my mom and I went for a stroll in morning. We were just wandering away from no where when we walked across one of the most beautiful things that I'd ever seen. I stopped in my tracks visually gorging on the beauty of this non-wonder of nature. Nature is a strange woman and has an uncanny knack of doing the unexpected. She creates beauty out of nothing and that's what best describes this haven of sorts that I beheld in front of me. Was mother nature trying to teach me something? May be we too as her children can bring out the best from the worst of situations; create something worthwhile out of naught. On second thoughts is naught just an illusion?

As I stood under the sun admiring the 'climber haven' my first thought was what a fabulous wedding tent it would make! I've always nurtured a fascination for beach weddings with flower-arches..the works. The climber veins so beautifully entwined the fragile structure beneath them and in doing so supported each other so well. How symbolic I thought! After all a man and woman come together in marriage pledging to be each others' support.

As I'm typing this post I'm reminded of a beautiful quote that I'd written for one of my closest friends, a soul sister I'd say. One evening we unexpectedly had this intense conversation and realised that we had more in common than we knew. Listening to each others' inner most feelings made us stronger as individuals.

In life we are faced with so many opportunities to be a shoulder to someone. How many of us are willing to take a cue from these feeble climber veins and be that support for another? After all service to others is a platform for self actualisation; we never do it for others, we do it for ourselves.

"Two climbers inching on a common wooden beam; some how they are destined to entwine. And now, though dependent climbers, they are stronger in each other, in each other they are rendered independent..."

Shadows In The Closet

Part 1

‘Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new…’ Mikhail read as he scrolled down his smart phone screen. Quotes transported Mikhail Eli into a completely different world; he loved reading those written by others and he loved writing his own. He smiled to himself as he remembered a quote by Oprah Winfrey, ‘Here’s what my love affair with quotations has taught me: the more you focus on words that uplift you, the more you embody the ideas contained in those words.’

Mikhail couldn’t wait to get home. The local train was barely crawling and after what had seemed like ages the familiar feminine voice blared out of the compartment speaker, ‘Malad’; music to his ears.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the air as it ruffled his hair and caressed his face. The serpentine Mumbai local slowed down at the station. Keeping one foot on board and tightly clenching the metal rod he looked ahead contemplating his next move. He squinted and contorted his face breathing deeply as he sensed the soles of his red Converse shoes grate against the granular finish of the station platform. Placing his left palm on his sling bag he let go of the metal rod jogging for a few seconds before coming to a halt which synchronised with that of the rusted gents’ compartment.

It was ten in the night and life had just begun; that is Mumbai; a city that never sleeps. Mikhail fell in love with the place within a month of staying in it and had never looked back since. He believed that love was a one way road with out any U-turns. Even with Maya it was the same. They weren’t dating but they both knew they weren’t ‘just friends’.

He turned the big silver key to the right as he pushed the veneered door ahead. The silence cushioned within the four walls of the living room was broken by a ring tone. He threw his bag on the couch and hit the green key on the key pad. “Hey you,” said Mikhail. She loved the baritone voice that greeted her each night. “How you sugar?” she inquired endearingly. “Stop calling me that,” he fought back. “Long long days yaar. I’m dead tired.” Plonking himself onto the grey couch he stretched to drive away his fatigue in vain. A short spell of silence ensued and Maya sensed what was coming. “Want to talk tomorrow,” she asked dreading the reply. “Hm-mm no it’s fine,” he said but she knew she’d lost him for yet another night.

Maya still remembered the first time she had spoken to him. It had been a bizarre online type chat. She had added him on Facebook thinking he was the brother of one of her college friends. “What!” he had exclaimed. “I’m Mikhail, we were together in high school remember?” Maya’s stomach had churned; it had been scary to realise that she had been talking to someone she apparently knew but couldn’t remember knowing. “Bloody chipku despo,” she had thought to herself. “I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve any more and I’m not going to let some random jerk woo me, sway my heart and then turn around and say Maya it’s not going to work.” She believed all men were the same or at least she hadn’t met someone who was different. After a week of random type chats he had asked her for her number. Being relatively new to the city Maya had preferred to remain apprehensive of his intentions and so had thought it wise not to ask for his. That said she had given Mikhail hers; strange, but that was Maya, an emotional fool and advocate of benefit of doubt. Surprisingly the subsequent weekend call had been magical from the moment he had said hey. She had sensed a deep connection in their first serious type-chat but hadn’t paid much attention to it. Talking to Mikhail was like looking into a mirror. They were different on quite a few levels, like mirror images are different in terms of right and left; but then they are mirror images, they did have a common ground.

“Why so quiet?” Mikhail asked stifling a yawn. “Nothing, just,” she replied coldly. “Chalo, I’ll get back to my book. Bye.” Maya hung up as she picked the blue book near her pillow. An indulgent reader, Maya loved her books. She read anything that she could relate to given her life circumstances and this book had come to her at such a right time. ‘A Woman’s Worth’, a self help title of sorts having feminist undertones and Maya, a bra-burning feminist lapped up every letter in the book. She turned a leaf and stopped as she reached the end of the page. Taking a deep breath she thought of how her experiences in life had transformed her from the girl that she was to the woman that she had now become; at least was in the process of becoming. The emotional journey in the recent past had been instrumental in this metamorphosis of her character and her eyes gleamed as she stared at nothing thinking of all that this experience had been worth.

‘A princess is a girl who knows that she will get there, who is on her way perhaps but is not there yet. She has power but she does not yet wield it responsibly. She is indulgent and frivolous. She cries but not yet noble tears. She stomps her feet and does not know how to contain her pain or use it creatively.

A queen is wise. She has earned her serenity, not having it bestowed on her but having passed her tests. She has suffered and grown more beautiful because of it. She has proven she can hold her kingdom together. She has become its vision. She cares deeply about something bigger than herself. She rules with authentic power.’

Author Marianne Williamson was Maya’s newfound diva and she smiled as she found herself getting lost in her world of words for yet another night. After what had seemed like ages she jolted forward half asleep. Her foot hit the laptop next to her and she woke up with a start. It had been that dream again. Maya always dreamed that she was falling down; falling down a flight of stairs because she missed a step or falling down a mountain or just tripping and falling down. Nothing really explained those dreams despite her constant efforts to remember them, analyse them and try and link them to any memory in her conscious or subconscious mind.

‘She was walking with him, hand in hand, and he had slid his right foot in her path on purpose. Playful that he was he had intended for her to trip but not fall down; he had held her as she jolted forward.’

Maya’s eyes welled up as she remembered her dream which brought back memories so painfull and yet so beautiful. Life had moved on ever since the episode though it had been more of a ‘force quit’ situation. Maya believed that she had made her side of the effort, though passive to progress but there was always a swarm of thoughts that tortured her soul. It was as though she was swimming upstream. She was trying to move at her best pace but the strong currents were moving at the same pace rendering her stationary. She always found herself at the starting line and the very thought of it had begun to frustrate her; rather scare her. Would things ever change?

******

“Strange how we make our choices,” said Philamea sipping on her cuppa. Philamea was Maya’s soul mate. They weren’t sisters by birth though both of them believed that destiny had caused their paths to intercept making them sisters by heart. “On the one hand there is a man who is willing to give you the world. It may take a while, nevertheless you know for a fact that he cares. On the other hand there is a man who doesn’t really care. What are you doing Maya?” The rain was pouring outside and Maya’s gaze was fixed on a tiny water droplet that slid from top to bottom on the glass wall that they were sitting next to. Coffee shops were a haven for Maya especially the one below her home. Maya turned her head to face a couple, in the corner of the shop, fighting over cappuccino and croissants. A tall and lanky girl passed by their table holding her red umbrella close to her as she tried to rid her hair of the rain water with her right hand. Philamea picked up the silver spoon on the saucer and tinkled it against her broad mouthed coffee cup. Maya smiled as she looked at her. “What are you doing Maya?” she repeated her question. “If it’s right then it’s right Phil,” said Maya. “I need to be convinced about what I’m doing and nothing is going to happen until then. After all every purpose under heaven has a time doesn’t it?” A phone ring interrupted their conversation. Bold and blinking, the name flashed across the 4.3 inch screen of the smart phone on their table, ‘Mikhail’.

Let It Be...

"Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant, it's best not to stir them." - P. G. 
 Wodehouse

I've lost count of the number of times that I've used this quote by the synonymous to humour Wodehouse. Perhaps it's because of the priority that memories enjoy in my life. I once asked one of my close friends if there was anything that he loved collecting and he had replied saying books. I'd love to see his collection someday. That reminds me of another of my friends who owes me a session with his collection as well. Anyway, when the former asked me the same question I replied saying memories; I collect memories!

The Bible verse that I read this evening (Romans 12:21) led me to associate it with memories. St. Paul advises the early Christians not be overcome by evil, but to overcome evil with good. The undertones of the verse point towards building a tenacity of sorts. One needs to be able to endure in order to live in this world; after all 'tis a bad bad world. One cannot allow evil, a bad experience to overcome one. Rather, one needs to, through prayer create goodness enough to help one overcome the trauma.

It's been over a year now and like many of you I too am dealing with a broken heart. I wake up each day to put the pieces together in vain. The bitter memories have an uncanny knack of blending into our happy thoughts. I wonder if St. Paul is trying to tell us what he told the early believers in Christ. Are we exercising the choice that God has given us? The choice to put the bitter memories behind us rather than be over come by them and stop dreaming. I'm reminded of what Patrick Swayze said in his autobiography 'Time of my Life'. Swayze was a national icon and we've seen his red carpet moments. The book though takes us through his worst experiences and despite them all he is a believer that the most unfortunate of persons in the world is one with a broken dream who cannot dream again. Dreams break and Swayze advocates that one needs to find another dream to replace it in order to continue to live. How profound!

Overcoming is a process and nothing is going to change overnight. That said we need to make a start somewhere. The first step is realising that we're hurting and that there is something we need to overcome. The next step is realising that we cannot hold onto certain things or people in our life and that as the Beatles so beautifully put it we need to 'Let it be'. Lastly, being patient enough to endure the process no matter how long it takes and believing through it all that He will come and so we must wait for Him.

Lord, give me the grace to accept the things that I cannot change and the courage to change what I can..

Lessons learned..

Suddenly I have all the time in the world and I can't get more of movies, reading and blogging. Just last week I perusing a friend's blog when I bumped into one of her Valentine's Day special posts. The blog spoke of the evolution of love over time; how one feels the same emotion differently as one matures in life. The blog reminded me of a book that I'd half-read three years back - 'Rubbish Boyfriends' by Jessie Jones. I'm sitting here thinking of the few frogs that I've kissed..

Puppy Love
Puppy Love is an amazing feeling. It's ecstatic the first time you feel those butterflies in your stomach. Sleepless nights and rose tinted panoramic views of a lifetime. We did have our share of fun. The best part was we were best friends (we're still friends!). Young and crazy that we were (still are?) we embarked upon a never-to-forget stomach-churning roller coaster ride. Our escapades ranged from visiting museums and botanical gardens, attending award-winning movie screenings and participating in anti-smoking 'walkathons' to sucking on golas (ice popsicles) at Chowpatty, going crazy in salsa dance workshops and cooking together. All said, the best five years of my life. Were there tears, hollering and fights; hell yeah! That said amidst all the heart break and heart ache they qualify to be a never-to-forget phase in my life.

A lesson that this experience taught me was that love is not the comforting feeling that one experiences when one is dependent on someone during an emotional security crises. Love is strong and stems from confidence..lesson learned.

Hero Worship
Let's face it, haven't  we all had those parent like or older sibling like figures whom we adored. The sad part, we mistook the adoration for love. Thankfully for a few of us the adults in the deal ensured that sanity prevailed and our feelings were kept on tab.

When we realise that we're still too young to make a vocational decision, that realisation my friends is called maturity. Until then we may keep telling ourselves that we're 'grown-ups' in vain. This experience took its toll on my emotional fabric as well. Never in my life have I written such creative diary entries. In fact I even owe my blogging to those few months of being inspired by someone I adored so much. Today all I have left for the person in question is respect; lesson learned.

The First Time
..and just as I was beginning to learn how to accept solitude and be truly independent, he came along. Tall, dark and handsome the man swept me off my feet and there was no looking back. I felt like a woman for the first time in 23 years and each day I nurtured the dream with raw emotion and before I knew it my life was tethered to his.

Women never learn that men do it tortoise style when it comes to commitment. May be if I'd have read 'Why Men Marry Bitches' by Sherry Argov back then things would have panned out differently. Well I'm guessing the pressure got to him and in a 'poof' he was gone. I mourned his loss for over a year; I waited for him to come back failing to understand that he was never there in the first place. He broke my heart and I hated what he did. I hated myself more because I couldn't get myself to hate him. I saw his actions as a violation of my trust again failing to understand that he was young just like I was. Well, today when I think in retrospect I'm happy that I have nothing against him. He did what any normal man would; lesson learned.

Something Like The First Time
Thanks to my past experience I swore never to wear my heart on my sleeve; but as I said women never learn!

When he pinged me for the first time I thought he was some kind of 'chipku-despo' and that all he wanted was to explore. I believe that men are like toddlers; they want to explore their world. They pursue the subject only to pacify their curiosity and not because they want the subject. This one too I thought would woo me, sway my heart and then turn around and say "Hun, it's not going to work" and guess what.. I was not going to let him do that. I was as rude and as cold as I could be initially. Over time we did getting chatty but it kind of ended before anything began. Why that happened is a blog for another day! Well, lesson learned.

This morning I learned that one of the frogs is on his way to priesthood; makes my stomach churn and it undoubtedly feels weird even though there is nothing left even if I were to go back there. Well, c'est la vie I guess. As they say, it's better to have 'loved' and lost than never to have 'loved' at all!

Reference links:

• http://sliceofmylyfe.wordpress.com/?s=love+in+30s&submit=Search (Thanks Anita Menon!)

Evolution...

Oh Evolution thou has kept the world revolving...

No, this is not yet another science versus religion blog and neither am I an atheist. That said I do believe that evolution is the carrier of existence and that which chooses not to evolve ceases to exist sooner or later.

Evolution to me also means progress; an inevitable change that brings about the realisation of a higher state of existence. I'm saying all these things because I believe that I've just stepped into phase two of my career. Fresh out of college I knew that I had to get into a boutique firm. Small time organisations have a holistically hone our skills thus rendering our core competency a sharp sword ready to slice the task at hand into two.

My stint with an agency, my first proper work stint, is coming to an end and its a cathartic experience to have gained so much in the past nine months. There has been tremendous learning thanks to my inclusive and never exhaustive job description. My learning from the work I've done and my observations of my superiors' and colleagues' work has helped me get trained across an extensive range of media activities - most typical public relation tasks, events management, integrated marketing communication and print journalism. Apart from technical knowledge I've been blessed to have learned a lesson or two about survival in the bad world. With all this under my belt I'm set to take the plunge after a short 'battery charge' period.

The evolution or progress comes in here because now when I look for the next break my priority would be pay-pack, benefits and allowances, promotions and learning in contrast to my priority before my first stint - only learning. At this stage I find myself seeking to settle in a big corporate where there is scope to climb the ladder in monetary terms and otherwise.

Well at some point I hope to get my dream phase two job opportunity. For the interim I have a bucket list ready. I jwas reading a book off the local library shelf few months back and I bumped into a sentence that paralysed my senses for a few seconds. I realised that soon I'm never going to be in my early twenties again. I've got three months more and I can't help but promise myself to live the last bit of my early twenties to the fullest - read, explore and write. How exactly am I going to execute this plan? Well that is a blog for another day!

'Coming home' is watching who are from the outside..it's becoming yourself all over again..I'm coming home!

Chaddi Buddy

Friend's are siblings God didn't give us...

That was what Del had said to me as we'd chatted one late evening months ago. As I further ponder over the idea I can't help thinking what would we ever do without friends.

I'm one of those people who has a lot of friends but few F.R.I.E.N.D.S. if you know what I mean! As a child too (I have no siblings) I had just one imaginary pal. As I grew a little older she sublimated in thin air and for the next few years, actually practically two-thirds of my childhood I spent time with Sameeha - the girl downstairs.

Sameeha a.k.a. Sana and I weren't really the best of friends; but we were all we had and so we derived cheap thrills from the craziest of adventures. We'd wrap curtains as sarees and wear her mom's pencil heels. We'd fight over who got to be Akshay Kumar's wife; being the more submissive and compromising one I was forced to settle down with Sunil Shetty ('yuck'). We'd prepare dance sequences for an imaginary audience or for Christmas get-togethers at my home. We'd record songs after learning the lyrics on the tape recorder (we were the cassette generation!). Kitchen toys, dolls, lipsticks, earrings...

*******

Sana's baby girl turned one last week. As I sat on the pale brown couch in the party hall I smiled to myself as I realised how we'd grown together; grown from being girls into beautiful women. What amused me even more was how the girl I'd fought with, laughed with, cried with...was now a complete woman - career, motherhood and all. It's beautiful how individuals who were once naive and carefree suddenly (or gradually) become mature and responsible. Though our basic personalities remain the same we are pushed through a phase that renders us more polished as we move out of it.