Written to write

Have a drink on me.

2012-01-24T05:53:00.002-05:00

Adding frank thought and care to approvals and admirations? Finding yourself silent to forced wit and random exhibits? Take a bow. Have a drink on me, please. You are rare :).

P.S:- And I am falling short of company. Lets party soon.

Hedda Gabler

2010-02-16T05:20:00.006-05:00

What I really want to do is fine-tune an article at work and then write about my first-ever Goan experience BUT my fingers have involuntarily found their way to this blog and have impulsively titled this post as “Hedda Gabler” already. This is perhaps what Hedda would have done too had she been in my shoes.

Hedda Gabler torn between such small and big conflicts is the protagonist in the play by Henrik Ibsen aptly called as Hedda Gabler itself. Having heard quite a bit about the nature of the play and more so Hedda, I postponed my trip to Goa by a day and watched it last Friday at Rangashankara in Bangalore. Boy, have I learnt to make the right decisions or what?! Like you care, anyway, huh?! :-)

Also, after a fortnight of self-grill at one of our mega-exhibitions last month, I spent one full weekend doing nothing but watching mostly all period movies. I was particularly glad to have watched Ijazzat, ‘Mandi’, ‘Bhumika’, ‘Salaam Bombay’ and also ‘Before the Rains’ and ‘Blue(The french movie)’. Characters like Maya in ‘Ijazzat’ and Smita Patil in Bhumika had traces of Hedda-ism but ofcourse minus all manipulativeness and the nature of societal issues et al. A few friends I watched some of the movies with found characters off-beat and very complex to understand and portray which led to a discussion (thankfully not an argument) for I felt that the characters were true to life, natural and hence only labeled complex.

For instance, by far, most of the Shyam Benegal movies that I have seen portray humans as humans with a fine-mix of good, bad and ugly qualities. The actors come across as un-predictable for humans really are and definitely not as predictable as seen by us in regular commercial movies. Plus, we have our own idiosyncrasies, deep secrets, unexplained likes and dislikes and what not. We even have an unexplored self – at any given point of time in our life. A character in Comm movie is mostly tainted with all good, all bad or all funny plus-minus a few minor traits to get it remotely close to real human-character. I mean how easy is it to define someone in real life? Anyone. How easy is it to define yourself? It is the same thing which Benegal attempts to bring forth, so much so, sometimes leaves it to your prerogative to label the character for you emit sympathies or loatheness towards the same character based on a situation – just like life, which is but a sequence of varied situations. Not being simple or normal is as a matter of fact very simple and normal when it comes to human portrayals. Is that not so?

I can’t place exactly where but somewhere I read that Hedda is a neurotic. I protest quite a bit at terming her so. You can call her interesting or highly volatile and to an extent above average in normalcy or not entirely comprehendible or acceptable to average mass of people with similar patterns of thinking and behaviors perhaps but certainly not purely neurotic. Atleast on the stage, Hedda portrayed by Sheeba Chadda did not come across as a virgin case of neurotism.

Alright, if you insist then perhaps Hedda was “partly neurotic” but she cannot be entirely eaten up with neurosis. Hedda is an intelligent woman who is handling three men at one time – for one ! LOL. Intelligent with lapses of real wisdom for she can do anything but is actually wasting herself, is drifting with no anchor to the needs and wants in life and keeps complaining of being utterly bored in life! What she perhaps wants is to outlast life and I guess in way she accomplishes that to fill the void with a bullet for good. But honesty tell me, in subtlety how many of us don’t experience these fits – only less intense with a hue of objectivity and a better recovery period?

I personally loved Hedda (as a character) even though I wished her to be a little less manipulative, little more kind and likeable but I then that is whole attractiveness of her. Hedda is Hedda. Period.

I must compliment Sheeba before I close this post. I did ‘see’ Hedda in Sheeba and she was marvelous. All the other actors unfortunately lay flat and soft in comparison but they gave audience their own moments of truths to experience at times. Besides the very interesting dialogues, the scenes where she unleashes her wrath on Mrs. Elvsted in a whirl-like commotion, her child-like and sometimes vagrant walk across the stage, the flamboyant postures, the stage kiss with her husband - Jürgen Tesman and romance with her x-lover- Ejlert Lövborg , passing of the cigarette case between her and the judge, the act of setting the manuscript on fire (visually very appealing and a great stage business), the very hysterical, brief and natural laughs and two close to perfect stage falls by Lovborg were amazing. I also thought Aunt Rina was very endearing a character. I liked her.

Oh ! I forgot to mention that this is the first-ever play where I witnessed characters never going off the stage for scene changes and so on. There did not use the green room; instead, all the props and costumes were on the stage and characters changed and used them in front of the audience! There was no production team helping the actors with it. The cast did it all by themselves. Surprisingly it was not distracting at all and the operation was silk-smooth. And boy, did they have all the liberties or what? In a few scenes the cast was smoking away to glory (as a play demanded so ofcourse) and foot-crushing the lit bits of cigarette on the wooden stage of Rangashankara. Many times, I went all “awww, c’mon now!” but ofcourse given a chance I would love to have such freedom to project the trueness of act. The play was 2.5 hours long and yet Hedda managed to keep the audience riveted.

P.S:- Hedda, I wish you weren’t so bored or scared of scandals or insecure and that you lived instead! "Yes, courage... if only one had that... then maybe life would be tolerable, after all...".

One liners

2010-01-29T03:45:00.001-05:00

My one-liners this week:

1. Manic Pixie Dream Girls are awful better than idolized doormats and manipulative bitches.
2. Rub all the dirt you can. My soul is a flowing river.
3. When in love, the dirt looks the neatest.
4. You can’t be caring for the fruit without caring for the tree.
5. Souls mix like colours you can’t separate.
6. Blindness surrounds me and I am lost in an insight.
7. Sex up my soul. The bodies are not my type.
8. Blonde Mannequins and Mama’s Boys: Muses governed by opposite sexes. Funny, ain’t it?
9. You lobby to take my credits away. I debit you out of the window. Let us keep it in the house, okay?
10. Yes, I am mad enough and that is your good fortune, sanity.

Fireflies and Avatar

2009-12-23T01:09:00.001-05:00

I can’t stop singing Fireflies (owl city) and I refuse to let go of the world of Avatar (the 09 movie). Both are so refreshing and breath-taking. And then there is a connect. :D

I love this song and movie. Every time I feel it, I feel new.

It is not very often that we hang on a “feeling” long enough. We are thinkers and our experiential journey starts more in the head. Feelings are only a deliberation or an eventual outcome. Could we not think and feel in the same precise moment. Could we not elevate? It is said that we are all born with this ability but we lose it as we “grow”; forgetting that growth need not only be forwards.

A head to think and A heart to feel. We have the distinctions taught like we are surgeons operating every issue in our life with “that” necessary objectivity and composure. It is but occasionary that the two dissolve and give in to each other.

We live in a world where let us say… Ummm…Hugs are hugs. Body to Body. Thought to Thought. Greeting to Greeting.

Perhaps, in closer relations, even heart to heart (minus adequate feelings to reach the soul). Well, yes there are connections. Connections with purpose, definition and manner rather than genuine, innocent warmth and plain empathy and a huge value to human life. Reasoning and logic to follow a set guideline weighs more than sighs, signs, insight and intuition falling into the gamut of nothing but plain goodness.

We live in a wired virtual world of networks and chat boxes and the network of souls stays dormant. Avatar, for example, had a world of human network and which is how it was meant to be. The rights and wrongs are felt and then dealt and the moments of truth arrive with perfection to just the right effect.

You see me?

Consumed by the love of mercury.

2009-12-02T02:11:00.004-05:00

Holding my laptop at a certain steep angle with my arms tangentially placed and my fingers struggling to reach the right buttons of the keypad, am I attempting to write. That is how much leg space (and other proportional spaces) this plane allows me. There is certain narrowness all around. Narrow seats, narrow passages and narrow allowances et al. I don’t seem to have anything specific to write about. Narrow thoughts? Well.

Perhaps, I should leave you here and read the book called “50 ways to reduce cholesterol” that I picked for my Dad Or may be master Suduko or try sleeping but parked on a non-reclining seat, it doesn’t seem to be a good idea afterall. Perhaps, I should carelessly blabber and you should forgive me. Perhaps. It is only a blog for heaven’s sake.

Allow me to do just that. Ah ! May be I can talk about the strange dream I saw this morning. There must be a point in pointlessness, afterall. :-)

May be a song would tally more. Abstract suits abstract.

Love of Mercury

A reason to live before she would die, came and passed by
Seeping fugitively like a wayward mercury no matter how hard she would try
Impervious, she longed to consume this farewell in disguise, not letting him bid goodbye

Playfully dancing in the pale palm over the venom tracks of her veins, he set her alive
Fluttering as a frenzied butterfly, sipping the spirit, feeling the feel was she safe in his heavenly hive

Love had them merrily seized; foot on foot, arm in arm; even the callous world broke into a smile
Far valid than reality, they cared less and embraced more, though only for a while

A whisper echoed into the smoke of the dance floor:
“ We are so meant to be then why isn’t he mine?
After all that I have become, just to keep up promises under thin bridges of rhine.
What shall I make of some voices which meet his, in a private whisper and take his eyes off me?
How do I hide my tears and reality and let it be?”

Retaliated, the smoke thickened in a blind protest:
“How may times will you lay the same reservations on me, honey?
In love you have always been, no matter against it what you hear or see
How can I help when you are already consumed by the love of mercury.”

Peace sells and I am buying.

2009-10-05T04:45:00.013-05:00

Recently, I was on a look out for a bigger and better accommodation to lodge my newest needs and long felt desires of others.

With the aid of brokers and internet ads, I checked out plenty of houses. The houses that I found livable were too expensive and the houses that I could afford resembled terrorist hide-outs with fancy interiors. There was also a special category which allowed adequate space but no scope for natural light or ventilation. What happened to common sense and elementary building and architecture guidelines?

So, despite meager savings, I convinced myself to live out of current salary and pay more than double the amount I am currently paying.

I tried: Long breath in, long breath out x 5 times. I recalled: The power of now. None of it really helped but then what is to be done is to be done.

The whole experience of house-hunting was quite a revelation.

Initially, I dedicated 30 mins each day to shortlist internet Ads placed by owners (half of who were infact brokers posing to be actual owners.). None suit my wallet and taste. For the lack of time and patience, I gave in and hired a broker. The news spread like raging fire and within a few days, the entire broker community was calling me to make business out of so-called ‘hot’ properties. Multiple brokers asked me my area of preference and I indicated some. I specified my budget, space, security, even the ventilation and light requirements. Most of these terms I now conclude were incomprehensible or un-necessary for them. They would show you what they have and not want you really want. They will also try and make you believe what they have is infact what you must opt for.

“Look Madam, it has one window here in one of the rooms and lies in such a ‘posh’ locality, the 60ft drainage next to the house will be fixed someday, don’t worry about that. There is a hospital at just 1 Km. The security guard is not really needed. Nothing has happened here in ages”.(Why don’t I consider living by a river in depths of African jungles?)

“ Madam, look two rooms, kitchen, bath and a hall. Windows: Umm, no one working wants it these days for they will hardly be home and it will suit your budget. There is an exhaust fan though. Plus, don’t worry about security, see the two doors on each side, they belong to neighbors. They will know everything about you without your introduction.” (Why to even have those doors I ask, why not build walls of transparent sheets. Privacy is so prosaic, right?)

“Madam, I have a perfect place for you: 2BHK at a wide area of 450sqft with a parking for a two wheeler at no additional cost. The landlady despite being a Tamil Brahmin has no problem you being a non-vegetarian but if you could only have eggs, she’s appreciate that even more.” ( Why not get a bunch of pigeons for that pigeon hole and she can party with them over egg scrambles?)

“Madam, this has all that you want. It’s a steal, a luxury. Take it madam, just for 18Kpm . I can convince the owner to allow you to pay only 9 months advance and you are lucky for he stays in Dubai. Even the security guard has never seen him” (Why don’t I instead buy a house and pay an EMI? And how does him being in Dubai make me luckier? What if the security himself shoots him someday?)

“We can rent out this house but we first need a letter from your company stating what you work as, what your work timings are, who all are there in your family and a list of your friends expected to visit you. A copy of passport will also help. How soon can you submit this along with the advance?” (Have they been victims suffering from xenophobia or something or is it CBI in disguise?. Is there no minimal level of trust they ought to have?. Give them a blue pill.)

And so on.

The visits sometimes were hilarious and sometimes disappointing but definitely a sheer waste of time. There was one thing, however, that was very interesting and that is what I actually want to talk about.

Though I have been in this city for over a decade, I had never looked at the city as these brokers did. I thought I lived in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in India, so much so, that I never felt the need to learn the local language or adapt to anything. They took me to certain areas and there was something rigid and defined about each area. For purposes of this blog and like, I change the names of these areas.

“Madam, this house in BUTIN town may be good except that there is a huge population of Christians here. They have their own understanding of things, you know.” (own understanding?)

“Madam, there are houses in KINMOND and MAZER town, very close to your office, however, these places have a lot of Muslims staying around. I am not sure if you will like it in long term. You never know what happens”. (Who knows that, anywhere, anyway ?)

“Madam, would you like to check out DHAKTI nagar, though it is full of Brahmins and Pundits. If you take early morning and late night flights, we are not sure how they will react to these timings. Madam, do you have friends from other religions? They would only prefer singletons or family. There was a widow staying here before and the landlord found it to be inauspicious for them so they asked her to leave” (Is there a benchmark of conservatism and superstition? Do you sacrifice your social life for crazy fancies of your landlord or locality? )

What’s with this city? What’s with our country?

I never thought that “culture and religion” could be a perceived obstacle. Nevertheless I checked the houses irrespective all this.

There was only one pleasant discovery in this rummage - that too at the place where I least expected it. When I visited such areas which were very “regional” in nature, barring 10% of the houses, most houses had a pretty bad design, space, structure and dwelling style. The present residents of these houses seemingly belonged to lower-middle class and generally had big families.

Every time I visited such a small but very busy and cosy house, I was welcomed by someone : a child, a mother, a grandmother, a father and so on. You would just need to step in the house, take a step or two more and you have seen it all. The tours were hardly 15 secs long. However, those few steps were guided by someone with a humble smile on their face. Many of them treated me like a guest offering beverages and exchanged pleasantries. The fact that I was surrounded by humble, down-to-earth people suddenly made me very comfortable. I was in no hurry to leave. Unlike brokers portrayed, they also did not seem all that crazy or conservative though I did witness traces of it.

On the contrary, my visits to big bunglows, houses and apartments in the same area or other swank localities were for some reason more hurried. Most of the current residents hardly cared to smile but talked very articulately about how many balconies there are and what kind of wood the cupboards are made of and so on. The talk was mostly commercial in nature and there was hardly any warmth in their tone. There was pin drop silence but not the kind that clams you and imparts a certain peace. There was something too hollow, empty and camouflaged about these houses like the lives of people living there. These were well lit but only with a hidden darkness. Something very repulsive lied at the core of these big houses. Brokers kept asking me to pick one such house for “its peace of mind”.

“Madam, here people are a little more liberal. Infact , no one will even come to talk to you. You will have a fair amount of independence here. That is why these places are expensive. Buy it for your peace.”

I liked the sound of “independence” and knew that I will eventually land in one of the toned-down versions of such a house and place somewhere with borderline independence.

On the other hand, I found the hustle-bustle of the small houses in small localities so bright and real. (Someplaces had it a little too much though :-D). The dark rooms were so full of life and strangely inviting. There was a certain positive energy there. There was love and happiness. There was a hidden light. Even though they lived in small houses with small rooms, they would somehow make space of everything – even you. And this was true irrespective whether these belonged to a Christain, a Muslim or Hindu or Other religion(s). People of this category or class behaved the same across religions and boundaries. It was heartening. I wanted to sit there as long as I could and cherish the moment. I felt like preserving it. Deep down, I feared that one day their generations may live in a ‘high-society’ and the whole essence may fade.

I dream that these lovely people shed their conservative notions, move to beautiful houses, remain unaffected by high-society fashions and spread happiness and love, for others so badly need what they posses.

Take Light.

2009-09-23T04:42:00.005-05:00

I always keep my promises. (Well, ‘almost’ always).

I did earlier declare that attack of Bed Bugs (on me) and their subsequent massacre (executed by me) deserved a separate post. So, here it is : all about the war, blood and gore and some realizations that the unwarranted vagrancies and forfeitures of those days brought.

I realized it far too late that my house was infested with Bed Bugs. About 5-6 months late. My house was more theirs than mine for I hardly stay home. They had hidden themselves in skirtings of beds, suitcases, clothes, even in electric sockets. God! Are they shock proof as well? They remained out of sight but they were closer than I could have imagined. They live only on human blood. Considering their population and size, their DNA must bear closest resemblance to that of a King vampire.

Anyhow, one night I discovered one of their communities on the skirting of the bed on which I was sleeping! Then I checked skirtings of everything around and found them at most places. They were everywhere they should have not been. They were on and inside everything that was important in terms of value – cash or kind. I discovered them around 2 in the night and threw out all the bedding and whatever I saw them on. I moved out of the room, went up to the terrace, not knowing what to do next.

I made call to a friend and told him what I saw. How these nasty creatures looked and where & how they concealed themselves and so on and he introduced them to me as “Bed Bugs”. We organized a conference call with another friend and three of us spoke about various scripts that could be developed on this until 5 am.

I spoke about it to everyone I could, hoping to find a quick solution, read wiki throughout the day and watched several videos on Bed Bugs. By the end of it, I could easily qualify or challenge any zoology professor on this subject. I read about their origins and sanitization methods and tools used worldwide but I under-estimated our country for having any such things. I learnt that the gestation period of these characters is a week and if you “bagoned” (used Bagon Spray or like) them well for seven days, they would be extinct and I could save my possessions.

So every evening, I bought half a dozen Bagon bottles and liberally sprayed (rather laundered) every nook and corner with it. I bet all the unglamorous advertising Bagon creative directors have ever done or contemplated. I put on MJ’s “Beat It”, my Vietnamese scarf and then Bagoned. What’s life without a little style? It’s a different matter that all the dancing and tender-veiling only encouraged the ‘passive’ inhaling and I came out slumbered each time.

I have been binary in nature for far too long and it still shows. Each day, I took out something severally infested to dispose and it was tough. It demanded to have heart of a stone to throw away my clay idols and their clothes. Tough grit to let go off fragile gifts that some very special people had presented me.It wet my eyes to throw the cocktail umbrellas I collected during those pub-hopping sessions with special-most people. I had been keeping far too many clothes, books, souvenirs and what not...Zillions of documents, scribbles, big and small things. Someday if someone quietly stole them, I perhaps would not realize that they don’t exist any longer. I realized that I am living with far too many “things” and “memories” than “People” behind those things and “Sanity & Reasons” behind those memories. Each time, I gave up something I labeled of being some value, I felt light.

I stayed at my friends’ during this time and I could barely sleep well. I would strategise against these creatures all the time. 7 days passed and the beg bugs lasted. I was devastated. On the weekend, I called 4 strong women to take out everything that was in my house, sanitize it with the best phenyls and insecticides. I gave away over 50% of all my belongings to them and most of these things were of “value”.

At the end of the day, with half the number things in my house, I felt quite peaceful and lighter than before. It suddenly felt so good to part with it all. It was like closing on the past and looking ahead. I continued bagoning for a few days but all in vain. Beg Bugs continued to hail.

Distressed enough, I decided to shift to another house and leave the current house all together but then came the big realization. If I shifted with whatever was left in the current house to another place, the bed bugs would get shifted too. And I said to myself I can’t stay at my friends place like this indefinitely, I will need to move out of my house and I will need to discard all that I ever possessed. It’s only losing things, not memories, after all.

And the search for a new house began.

While this realization dawned on me, I also realized that all that I had with me would have actually stayed with me forever had these bed bugs not attacked. These bed bugs actually ate away a lot of my burden and things that I was perhaps hooked on to and after a point had even stopped thinking why. It made me re-evaluate the real essence of what was around me. It resembled like a parking-lot of my sub-conscious. Looking for a new house figuratively equaled looking for a new life, a new journey. And when you do travel, you must travel light. Imagine so much of baggage and a long journey. It steals the fun.

Clearing my house helped clear my mind. Giving up on things was like giving up on those parts of the past that didn’t mean much any longer and were actually not healthy to live with. Like traveling light helps a journey, taking things light helps the mind.

But I did not find the new houses to my liking. In the meanwhile, someone recommended (a better zoology expert than me) calling the Pest Control of India. I called them and two of their heroes arrived in bright orange jackets. They sealed the windows and doors and inserted “Gas Bombs”. It was quite an adventure. The gas bombs were lit and any living organism in there was lit to heaven too. It worked. The massacre was a huge hit.

What’s more? I even got a guarantee card against re-occurrence of Bed Bugs for atleast a year.
I moved back in and continue to stay in the same house free of Bugs that were in my bed and in my mind.

“Take light”. :-)

"Rinku-Ra"

2009-09-22T04:03:00.004-05:00

There has been too much on my mind. So much that it’s all getting fused. Like one big ball of troubled neuron that would just explode.

I am so damn overwhelmed. Sorting has suddenly become such a difficult task. You find a categoric array, you keep it aside to deal with and while you are at it, a new assembly of issues comfortably positions itself besides it. Like two rivals who will have to meet only to make war. I could publish the skinniest book in the world titled “Collected problems of self” and it would just have one blank page inside. Too much can leave you with nothingness.

Anyhow, this post is not about making of such an exceptional Pulitzer winning book but about "Rinkura".

"Rinku Roy" is a 6 year old boy who calls himself "Rinkura". Yesterday morning Rinkura and I boarded the same flight. He was traveling with his mother and grandfather and they occupied the three seater in front of me. Rinkura happened to be very talkative and had an annoyingly shrill voice. I could not manage to pay a deaf ear and had to overhear his gibberish (for I could not even understand the language he was talking in). My head was already full of chaos and aches and it could barely handle Rinkura’s whimsical tunes.

Intermittently he would cry out and I would see him jump and sway above and in between the gaps of the seats. This would challenge his mother’s yelling skills and she would call out: “Rinku, idiot” ! which would offend Rinkura a great deal and he will defend himself with a louder cry.

Rinkura was whitish, skinny with deep black eyes and dimples. He looked cute. Very often, after a faint slap, he would be voraciously kissed by his mom who would lovingly whisper ‘Rinku beta, idiot’ during the kissing episodes.

Then followed a brief period of silence which allowed me a light nap but happy times don’t last. A loud shrill wakes me and I find Rinkura stuck in middle of his somersaulting adventure. Rinkura was about to drop in any of our laps (me or two other passengers sitting next to me) and was screaming for help. His grandfather was fast asleep. He had perhaps learnt tricks to forget about his existence when necessary and his mom was surprisingly not around. And so, we all got into position to protect ourselves and him. A crew member saw this and rushed to rescue four lives. Rinkura in all respects managed to kick the crew member on his face and fell on four hands (two of which were mine). And then he cried. Perhaps, he wasn’t happy about his hand-landing. Our hands were hurt but we behaved like strong adults and gave him all the attention instead. By this time, his mom came back, apologized for his behavior and asked him to return to his seat. Rinkura refused to go back to her. We asked her to relax and we decided to host Rinkura’s arrival. Since I was on the window seat, Rinkura chose to sit with me to watch the shapes of clouds and colours of skies. This is when I asked him what his name was and he said “Rinkura”. He also told me that he liked “cricket”. I asked him whether he had specific interests in athletics to which my co-passenger laughed and Rinkura remained silent. He kept himself busy attending to my co-passengers phone and my sun-glasses.

Within minutes, his mom called him again and he denied her the pleasure of having him back. Out of a certain feeling that suits such occasions, she called him “Rinku , idiot” again.

Rinkura got all violent; hitting the tray-table with both his hands and told her something in a certain language. We asked her what he said. She smiled and said “he says if you call me an idiot again, I will jump again and you will never find me.”

It is then we all realized why Rinkura somersaulted in first place. At the age of 6, his sub-conscious was directing him. His mom promised him that he will never be called an idiot again, took him back and kissed him.

At that point, I felt for Rinkura. I felt for myself. I felt for all of us.

The flight unlike Rinkura landed smoothly. While I was getting off the transfer bus, I overheard “Rinku, idiot!” followed by a loud cry.

Such is life. :-)

Light Years

2009-09-12T07:21:00.007-05:00

“Light Years” : The first time I heard this song, I liked it for reasons that merely stimulated my senses. The song evolved with life and its experiences and got more and more meaningful.

The God of this song has always been one of my favorites’.

So, here’s Pearl Jam for my Gods…my lost loves:

Light Years:

I've used hammers made out of wood

I have played games with pieces and rules

I’ve deciphered tricks at the bar

But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why

I've come up with riddles and jokes about war

I've figured out numbers and what they're for

I've understood feelings and I've understood words

But how could you be taken away?

And wherever you've gone

And wherever we might go

It don't seem fair...today just disappeared

Your light's reflected now, reflected from afar

We were but stones, your light made us stars

With heavy breath, awakened regrets

Back pages and days alone that could have been spent, together but we were miles apart

Every inch between us becomes light years now

No time to be void or save up on life

You got to spend it all

And wherever you've gone

And wherever we might go

It don't seem fair...you seemed to like it here

Your light's reflected now, reflected from afar

We were but stones, your light made us stars

And wherever you've gone

And wherever we might go

It don't seem fair...today just disappeared

Your light's reflected now, reflected from afar

We were but stones, your light made us stars

Three days too late

2009-09-09T06:07:00.009-05:00

Blop. Blop. That’s the new sound (of trickling posts) of my blog. I think it’s the weather and the world in general that is getting onto me. With that, I admit, I suck at making excuses.

The fact is that I have been dealing with a whole lot of non-sense, the un-necessaries and brutal realities of life and I have been awfully busy. Past three months have been incredibly eventful and disturbing. I will leave you with the highlights of past three months. Alert : It is not a pleasant read at all.

June – The Bed Bug
My concern for life goes beyond humans and reaches the depths of other forms of living creatures. Don’t believe? Neither did I; which is the reason why I did not know that I was living with bed bugs and nurturing them (with B+ RBC’s) from past 5-6 months. Had to stay out of home like a gypsy and then eventually call Pest Control of India to sanitize my house. Had to also most reluctantly sacrifice some precious possessions that were severely infected and over 50% of such substance was disposed off my house. Parting with gifts and cards in particular seemed so unreal and it all happened so unceremoniously. The unacceptable losses and nightmares lasted over 12 days. Btw, there are far too many learnings that I have of this experience which I will share in a separate post.

July – The Septoplast
In July, I had the first ever surgery of my life under general anesthesia – The Septoplasty. I had to fix this deviated septum and operate the sinus infection(s) which had become essential. This consumed another fortnight of my life. I thought since there is a certain percentage of mortality associated with GA for people with low BP, perhaps, this first surgery will also be my last and I actually spoke to many people I wouldn’t have considered speaking all my life. I even left notes. Interesting, huh?. This also deserves a separate post in itself. Thanks to Nav for her Purva , 800 movies and what not. Thanks to all the friends for all the care and even clothing (yes, I was kinda short on everything: even my senses). Thanks to Mast-Kalandar for awesome “khichidi’s” that nourished me well. Thanks to endless list of friends (specially the doc friends) for all the TLC and tips. Special thanks to Maria. What will I do without all of you? Love you so much.

Aug – The Cluster Head
I hadn’t even finished all my post surgery follow-ups with Mr. ENT, that the most horrid pain that I have ever experienced landed in my right eye and slowly spread over randomly piercing the entire right side of the head and face. “Piercing pain of extreme intensity appearing at very frequent intervals” – this is all I kept repeating to all the docs ( from my ENT to Opthomologists to Neurologists) who found me with the right eye already reduced to half its size and crying on its own all the time. They initially thought of it as an acute migraine attack and started treating me for it but none of the medicines / injections worked . The pain never subsided and I had not slept for 3 straight nights and 4 days. Then came a day my body withdrew food so I was advised to be admitted in the hospital. To cut the long story short, after all the tests, CT Scans and MRI’s of the world and having subjected my body to supremest of painkillers and yet having found no evidence or reason of pain and failing to bring down the pain – after two days, they concluded me to be a “Clusterhead”. I realized that I belong to 0.1% of world population suffering from Cluster Headache which apparently does not respond to medicines in most cases. Well, no surprises there. I always knew I was rare.

Anyhow, I managed to survive it by the fourth day and have been under medication ever since. This is a new challenge that life has presented me with and I shall embrace it. It would mean a lot of changes in lifestyle, a lot of strength and caution but well, whatever ! Love will keep me alive! There will only be two consequences: Either I will kill it or you know what. One thing is clear: I shall not give up or sign any MoU with it. I shall rake and wake the bloody medical science gurus of the world and fix it.

So basically since it was my maiden cluster attack, I had to be home for about a week to do the honours. I worked from home and about a fortnight was dedicated to Mr. Cluster. I resumed work shortly thereafter which meant 18 hours of work a day and have been doing just fine. Oh ! I forgot to mention, I even pulled through our two theater presentations, which I think, went quite Ok. And yes, I even faced the camera for the first time – I do not what will become of it though.

Sep
Last weekend, the clusterhead flew at a very high altitude, much higher than 4000 and survived. We had a business meet at Kuala Lumpur and it was one the most emotional meetings I have ever attended. We bade farewell to one of the best managers I have ever worked with. He is someone I really look up to and thank my stars for having had an opportunity to work with him. He has and always will be an inspiration. Where will we find someone as democratic, wise, experienced and human, again? It was a farewell in more than one way. I will soon write about it and tell you why.

While all this and more was happening with plenty of work on hand, there was one thing pending on my agenda : To visit my Massi ( my Mom’s sister) or spend as much time as I can or do something that can remotely bring her any kind of joy. I love my Massi as much as I loved my Granny ( my first love) who left me seven years ago. My Massi has had been terminally ill with cancer from the past several years. I did visit her a few times this year and had scheduled an official meet in Delhi on Friday, 11 Sep, thinking to spend the weekend in Delhi with her and my parents. On 8th morning, while I was boarding a flight to Chennai , I got a call from my Dad. I heard the words that I most feared : “She is no more”. I thought I will collapse but nothing really happened. I survived this as well and I felt ashamed. I stood there not knowing where to go now? Board a flight to Chennai or Delhi instead?. I was lost. I almost said to my Dad, “Hey, I was going to see her in three days”. My dad said they are going to cremate her in Solan and they were already out of Delhi and that I can carry on with my official travel. I went to Chennai. I worked. I don’t know how. I surprised myself. I think the fact that she atleast died little painlessly was little comforting. I told people who I conversed in the day about it in a rather causal manner and I loathed myself every time I did that. I wanted to talk about it and not talk about it at the same time. I came back to Bangalore the same day and I kept questioning my priorities in life. I felt like a total looser. A piece of shit. I was three days too late. Three days too late. Three days too late.

Life goes on and I will be in Mumbai tomm morning and Delhi day after as planned but I won’t be spending the weekend there ...for she's gone ...for I still havent got some things right in my life...for mediocrity has sunk in so deep... for I am three days too late. Three days too late. Three days too late.

Thank you for listening.

2009-06-01T03:42:00.002-05:00

Fred narrated a real-life incident to me this morning and asked me to write about it in my blog. This post, hence, is special as this is first time my blog will be studded with an on-demand post :-).

So, here is the story:

Fred and Kamat have been cronies since their college days. Kamat lives with his father( Babu) and elder Sister (Sujata).

Babu is 90 years old and ever since his retirement has been home with a permanent ennui. Babu has been a thorough professional who worked with some of best multinationals and held various celebrated positions. Life after retirement for anyone is not easy and for someone like Babu it had to be exacting. For Babu, the world was a smaller place for not the right reasons. His universe had shrunk to a house with more things and less people. Gradually he settled in his new “TV-Books-Bed-anybody out there?” life and found ways to deal with it and embrace it.

Recently, Fred went to see Kamat. While Fred and Kamat were chatting in the living room, Babu happened to pass by. Fred paused the conversation and went up to Babu to greet him. Babu reciprocated with all the warmth, shook his hand and sat beside him. The pleasantries lead to Babu narrating some old events from his working days, personal life and so on.

The old age amongst many things has caused Babu a new mannerism which is of repeating himself and a dysfunction, which is of not being able to hear properly. This establishes a criterion for the other person to being considerate and patient inorder to continue the conversation. Fred fortunately fulfills both the criteria’s, which explains why the conversation lasted over an hour.

Babu was talking his heart out and Fred was only acknowledging and appreciating Babu’s anecdotes with a few remarks. Babu spoke about various things, some of which, even Kamat did not know of. Sujata who joined the tete-a-tete session later, was equally astonished on the fact that her father had not told few of the stories to his own children. Fred kept acknowledging and at times both Kamat and Fred moderated the session. All four of them thoroughly enjoyed the time.

Kamat thanked Fred for enabling Babu to talk and said, “You have a gift of gab and getting people to talk”. Fred replied, “It may appear as though there was a dialogue but you know that I hardly spoke. I don’t know how Babu opened up.”

While Fred was leaving, Babu went up to him, looked at him through the wet eyes, gave him a smile that accentuated the wrinkles of his face and said in a tender tone, “You listened. Thank you for listening. ”

Ratan Grant

2009-05-19T08:14:00.018-05:00

Ratan runs a theatre troupe called MISFIT (Which apart from being so in all positivity, also stands for ‘My interest firmly stays in theatre.’). We used to have theatre classes in the evenings followed by long tete-a-tete’s and fervent discussions (of theatre, our performances or otherwise) which would easily sprawl into mid-night or even sunrise. During such after-class hours, Ratan sometimes would inadvertently put forth very experiential ‘moments of truth’ while talking to actors one-to-one in a rather casual but affirming manner. Those were some unique learnings’ stretching beyond theatre. It was like being analyzed by a psychologist who saw you from the eyes of a theatre guru urging you to look at your core and use it to create that magic that gives the audience and everyone around you goose-bumps.

We had numerous rehearsed and improvised performances which were immensely engaging and rewarding. At work, I have been labeled a work-alcoholic several years ago and have been subjected to the typical anti-stress workshops which shout in your face, “Go, get a life” !.One thing I always found impossible to do was to get into a state of temporary amnesia and meditate.
There have been only two upshots to my attempts of meditation: a) I fall asleep , sway and gradually collapse on the floor b) I think of my to-do-lists, marketing plans and everything else outside it, at a maddening pace that could invite a neuronic explosion if the meditation does not get over fast enough.

Finally, there were a few hours of unadulterated theatre after work. It was the closest that I have got to any meditation. I for once have practiced pure mindfulness. (outside work). It is as addictive as writing. Prehaps, more.

Anyway, so there was a lot that we learnt about acting, stagecraft and most of all – ourselves! ( our individual actors magic, the perceptions that others carried of us and why ,our mannerisms, gestures and ticks and how to switch these patterns on and off and so on).
We got our mind, soul and body ( which includes sexuality :-)) together, into the characters we played. Really. Without any inhibitions - which is what we were taught in the very first class.

The several classes on practicing the five emotions, voice projection, pantomimes and mimes, the trust and fall exercises, the struggles to do “nothing” without a purpose, fighting shuffling and blocking, remembering levels, adding uncertainty and creativity, exploiting stage business, establishing the fourth wall, refusing to be ass-fixed actors, method acting, balancing caricaturism with realism, staying high on energy , being in the possession of the character when you are in backstage itself , adjusting the eye-level to the third or fourth row, having no split focuses, the cold readings and the script writing, the recall and substitute memories, riding the laughter, posture angles and cheating, using props to enhance the character, Stage kisses and falls, sticking to humour while improvisation ( Ratan if you are reading this, I know you are smiling and quietly whispering to the monitor :‘ “From an actors point of view my dear! From an actors’ point of view. :-D) and so on…WOW ! It feels so good to recall it all in one breath. So very good.

Many of us were put through a series of re-do grinds and brought out the best in us. I so love that. It works for me like a steam bath. Post a performance, he would amaze us with his feedback which would actually be so much in your face and obvious but you somehow do not notice or realize it.

Towards the end of the workshop, we had the grading. And me and my partner had to go first. I will not forget that weekend for a long time. We had just 3 days to do the script, rehearse, get props, set the stage and all this, admist work. We must have practiced over 15 times that Sunday, for an eight minute skit. Thankfully, it turned out to be worth every effort. We got 10++/10. We were obviously happy but Ratan was the happiest of all. I vividly remember him telling our seniors and everyone who came post our grading as to how good it was and how good he felt. He even turned bullish on the fact that some batch mates did not applaud as he would have expected them to and was quite disturbed with it. I totally loved him for these genuine mood drifts. I slept the best that night. I had such a sound sleep two years ago when I won a significant award at work. He was a content teacher that night. You could see it in his eyes.

While we were trying to place our props, Ratan was noticing at what angle we had placed the furniture, whether the bed-sheet and the chair colour matched, whether the table-cloth was hanging perfectly square and straight or not and so on. Thank God we passed that criteria as well.

Then came the day when our entire batch of over 37 actors was to make a public presentation – which was a 1hr 45 mins play. We all worked at setting the stage – our batch of actors and many of our seniors. ( who I must say are MISFIT loyalists and very nice people who btw directed our plays). It was an open air setting and we were hence working right under the scorching sun and sweating it. Most of us dressed in khakis, shorts, sleevelesses and like were out buying the props, doing the carpentry, fixing lights and some were still rehearsing. Arbitrarily you would hear ppl screaming “where the hell is that bloody nail”, “that damn double-sided tape”, “that scissor”, “those garlands”, “the coke” “the rope” and even “the wig” ! LOL

Thank God for no “where are my lines?” shrills!

And in the midst of all this is Ratan. The central character of this real-time act, throwing the , “Stay Calm. Relax. Stay Calm. Relax” mantra and practically working with all of us. And in between, he would loose it and yell, “What happened to these KEB people? Who is fixing the power issue”? and in the same breath ask, “Oh, you also did not have breakfast? Go eat, you will fall sick. I am here”. Sweet combo. J. He had not eaten the entire day that day except for a few gulps of pulpy orange (Thanks to Mallika). We did not realize how the time flew and by 5:00 p.m. everything was ready. The set was up and looking nice, the sound and the lights were tested and we had even placed the mats for people to come and park themselves. The make-up man had arrived. We now just had to chill, decorate our faces, get into personal props and respective characters.

Around 6:00 p.m., it starts getting all cloudy. Actors (both sexes) cross their fingers against rain. There is a sudden, “Oh my God” “What if” “Oh No” “Why today” …cacophony in the air. Seniors experiencing a certain déjà vu make comforting comments while passing by, “So what if it rains?. It has happened to us as well when we performed last year. We performed in the rain and the audience did watch – in the rain. It will be fun”. For the first time, I thought rain was the worst thing on the planet. And Ratan endorses their view with , “Yeah. It will be fun. Don’t worry.” We try to relax. But soon enough it gets all windy. Next thing, you feel those damn little evil drops of water on your skin followed by a loud “Oh, Shit” in Chorus!

And it rains. We all are putting fake smiles and ‘acting’ brave and unaffected. ( atleast I was). I behaved the weirdest I think. (so, whats new?). I was so angry and nervous that I began strolling around in no particular order and breaking into a hysterical laughter at anything that was remotely funny. That perhaps raged the nature and Gods of wind and rain even more. It started pouring cats and dogs and it got bloody stormy. Strong winds as if set on war front shattered our set. The structures started falling apart and broke over 40 hearts at one go. Sigh. We ran to set it right and Ratan sent us all back saying “ Don’t panic. Let it all fall. We will still perform. You guys just get in and relax. Don’t fall sick. You have to perform tomorrow as well.”
Mr. Thakore stands right there on the set under the heavy rain along with one or two seniors and tries to protect the light console, parcans and electric fixtures.

Ratan is all drenched and yet at it BUT in a very composed and serene manner. There are over 40 people around him – 90% of who are a atleast a decade or two younger than him and are shamelessly and safely watching him from the windows of the rooms . It was as if he was the only warrior fighting against this mini catastrophe and we were in some arena watching this live play. He refused to take any help from anyone and managed most things alone right from covering things with poly bags to using the umbrella that was given to protect him, over the console instead, until the damn rain stopped. Having watched him, something transmitted in me. It was like getting wired. It was like having touched Ratan’s aura of immense passion and oomph and getting highly charged and inspired.

I remembered how during the events, I have sometimes behaved exactly the same way and brought back to my mind the memories of some people who I have known and who have been as passionate in their area of work.

Once the rain stopped, we all came out like little rats and tried to help and set the stage right again, placed benches instead of mats and by which time the audience had arrived. Ratan asked us to rush and get into our costumes and very soon we were ready to rock. It was still drizzling but it was manageable.

And we did rock.

I am so looking forward to next month when the next level of action and inspiration will be exchanged.

Ratan: You had asked me to give you a feedback. You deserve an Ode, not just a feedback. And I have just made the beginning. Thank you.

Whatever.

2009-05-09T04:58:00.010-05:00

Random things I don't know why I want to mention:

Laptop Raiser :
Yesterday was a very productive day at work. I marathoned with my TDL and felt relieved scribbling ‘done’ ( in docs handwriting) against all items with a thick red marker. In the evening me and a friend of mine went to Inox to watch a movie which wasn't running there. (they dont teach us how to refer to schedules in engineering colleges or theatre or MNCs). Our arbit walk post that lead us to Staples and guess what? I found the 'Laptop-Raiser' there. Ya, ya, it is the same laptop thingy that I was looking for. It is this black plastic thing which serves as a platform for your laptop and gives you three adjustable angles so that the monitor adjusts to your eye-level. For those with computer induced back-pains, this can be quite helpful (and its just 400 bucks :)). I will try it on Monday and tell you whether the perceived value matches the real value. :-)

Rajdhani and Gujarati Thali :
Day before yesterday, I had this awesome "Gujarati Thali" at a Restaurant called "Rajdhani" in U.B. City on Vittal Mallaya Road. Arjun and Sudi who have ‘been-there and eaten-that’ before, were highly recommending it. Considering the size of the "Thali", I was highly speculating. Plus, I had a bad stomach. Thanks to repeat AVs. But it was worth every paisa (250 bucks). It was nothing like what I thought a Gujarati thali would be. It wasn't all sugary and stuff. Infact, it was real healthy and delicious with a lot of variety – a lot of which I hadn’t had before.

Guwahati and the Thali:
Talking about food, I must mention that I had a scrumptious lunch (better than Gujarati thali) at Guwahati at one of our clients’ homes. Hospitality is one good thing about our industry - and one of the best hospitalities at that. I hardly know of industries as ours. I think I am lucky. Touch-Wood. You must try it. AND I had three new dishes there : the cheeta fish, ( excuse the spelling) the sweet karela and the green saag. It doesn't sound all that fancy and mouth-watering but it IS just that and more.

Yahoo:
Is it really worthwhile to mention? But what the heck ! So, did you know that "Yahoo" is an English word? I did not - until yesterday. I grew up singing "Yahhooo" from the movie "Junglee" and always thought the word had its origins there. A yahoo employee (who is also my friend) bullishly announced that. My ignorance came to him as a shock so I am giving it some importance here and I also made this nice yahoo-jingle for him (there has to be a shock-absorber). :D. Infact I went to Yahoo's office in U.B.City. It had all internal branding with rural Indian faces and places (and yet?). Nice branding though. Interesting and fresh. I have not been to many IT offices except for Infosys and Wirpo. Impressive campuses ! I also like the IIMB campus which in turn reminds me of NID's ! I had been to NID, Bangalore last month (Yes, NID does have a branch in Bangalore as well). Nice campus and interiors. God lies in details.

Tattoo:
I got a new tattoo done (on my arm) at Garuda mall last eve :) Ok, its a temp one but its looks w-o-w. It felt like it belonged to me so...and just 40 bucks. It's in Chinese and its big ! So, lotsa head-turns and questions since last eve. I love to raise the curiosity. So princess will be essentially found in sleeveless’s for the next one week or so. The girl's gotta flaunt it while its there.

Ludhiana and the Benz:
You oughtta know this ! Ludhiana - is the city of Mercedes. Really! The maximum number of Mercedes-Benz’s in India are in Ludhiana AND apparently they launch all their ‘b-o-m-b-astic’ models in Ludhiana first ! One of our clients who I was interviewing and in whose Mercedes we drove around ( Tee Hee) told me this so- so casually like we were discussing toy-cars or something. And what did I think Ludhiana was?! ( Ssshhh…)

f&b:
Oh, back to food talk. What's with me? Don’t get me wrong. This is ridiculously coincidental. Im not a foody. Anyway, yesterday, I had my lunch at f&b ( Friends and Bacchus : what kind of a name is that?) at St. Mark's Road. Very good food and a nice ambience.( quite expensive though). I am glad I found that place - its really close to my office. Was actually going to Nandhini to have my standard curd-rice but the que there was never-ending so tried f&b. I see myself frequenting it but for the money! :). Try it.

This is perhaps the most boring post I have ever written but well, whatever !
I am convincing my friends to perform a 30-sec dance with me and am so hungry too. Dakshayini Ma has prepared something for all of us and Im going to hog now.

brb.

Mother's Day

2009-05-09T02:30:00.002-05:00

So, its Mother's Day. :-)

For the ones who have experienced a mothers' true love and have an identity of their own, I dedicate "Mumma from the movie Dasvidaniya" ( I do not know of a better song). For mama's boy's and like, I dedicate "Mother from Pink Floyd" ( Guys, Mommies of this category - Won't you consider changing?) and to those with so-called mums, well...I send your way a big hug and an angel who will get you what you always deserved for you 'are' the chosen ones for a 'larger' cause. Hang in there. You are special. Very special. You will shine the best. Trust me. >0<

The white ring.

2009-05-06T08:56:00.006-05:00

There is so much to write but for time :-(. So much has happened and so much should be said. I have been traveling for almost a fortnight now, on work (barring one or two halts back home in transit). Tonight, I will be home.

Before I board my flight, I quickly want to put on record my most recent memory. Last night, I met an old friend of mine after a long time. We had some dinner and plenty of AV+CJ which eased her into talking.

Unfortunately, she put before me another snippet of a heart-break. I share with you a part of this story which disturbed me all night and got me thinking about many things.

My friend is in touch with her ex and they meet when they can. The flame of love is still burning despite the separation due to societal reasons. (How small I find such reasons!)

The last time they met, she was naturally very excited to see him. They had planned to meet in one of the restaurants of a hotel. He had arrived before her and had ordered a drink. She hurriedly entered the restaurant, occupied the chair next to him and dragged it the closest she could, to sit as close to him as possible. Before she could settle down, greet or say anything, he stretched his arm to pick his drink. Her eyes followed his movement and settled on his ring finger that wore a thick gold ring.

She instantaneously had a select-black-out which allowed her to see nothing except for the ring. Pain and anger engulfed her but she had to pretend that it did not matter. Thoughts of what it means and what else must be happening with him and the woman who gave him that ring tore her nerves within. That ring was like an endorsement against all that she thought he was and all that he claimed he would always be. She struggled to hold her tears back and ‘act’ normal. Having failed, she rushed to the restroom, cried her heart out, gulped a drink from the adjoining lounge restaurant, prepared herself to deal with it and bravely enough went back to him. In an attempt to not to look at his hand or him, she started to look away and develop interest in IPL which was running live on the LCD inside the restaurant (Like me, she too hates cricket and men running after one ball, so imagine the effort !). She tried to watch the funny game but for how long?. Her eyes could not miss him entirely and she unintentionally again happened to see his hand. And this time, the gold ring had disappeared ! (It had obviously dawned upon him that, that he had missed to hide his ornament and that it was just not the time to flaunt his most precious possession.)

Finding the ring disappear got her, her life back. She stared at his finger long enough to live that ring-less moment but immediately discovered something, that almost chocked her. There was no ring but it had left a distinct and deep white ring mark on his finger. The gold ring had discolored the skin that it occupied to white. Now it was like him wearing a white ring instead. The ring could not be hidden after all.

She thought to herself that he must have been wearing the gold ring far too long which tells underlying stories, and how it is a part of him - so in his skin. There was a white truth in the white ring. She saw the white ring all the time, took its pictures from her phone camera and kept thinking.

While she narrated this to me, she showed me the picture(s) she had taken and wept the entire time. I did just the same then and several times after that.

Got to go now. More later.

Appreciate - in the light.

2009-04-17T23:51:00.007-05:00

I have a feeling that this post will end up as a piece for one my anonymous blogs for I have nothing consequential or pleasant to say so all that “objective-talking” goes out of the window. Too many thoughts are racing in my head and the most infuriated thought may find its finishing line here.

*Umm…Okay, raging thought number 1:

Why do many people only “appreciate in the dark”? Why this Vampirish withdrawal from the light?

Tell me, why do some (many?) people continue to “appreciate in the dark”? Okay, I haven’t explained what that means. Damn ! I will “have” to speak objectively now ! What life ! Why can’t we be familiar with everything untold? Anyhow, while this phenomenon can take place anywhere but I think it’s most found in populated environments like large social circles or giant companies with complicated hierarchies or large families and so on.

You find people appreciating you for who you are or for being different or for standing up for your beliefs or for the recent issue you were contended with or for generally being this very nice person that you are – when they are talking to you in person. (Only in person.) This appreciation will never repeat itself when there is a scope for human witness and public acknowledgment. Those wonderful regards will never see the light of the day. They expire on the arrival of any living entity and exist only in the dark.

Funny. Sad. Okay, ‘Dark comedy’!

It gets worse when you find them say just the opposite to someone else. Sometimes they do it out of fear to please someone and sometimes they do so in order not to offend or loose you. They believe in having the best of both worlds. Many a times when confronted, they may beseech, “We live in a society and have to be nice to all. We never know who we need when”. And I go “Whaaaaat?” Opportunists! They obviously look at people as mini insurance schemes or security policies.

I think all these “play-it-safe” categories are basically an insecure, low-self-esteem, parasitic lot. I can understand telling a lie or two, once in a while for a good cause or a lover choosing not to use his/her intelligence and saying anything that will please the Mr./Ms.beloved, I even think the customary “mutual-admiration” is kind of passable but duuuude, this is beyond it all.

You may find your boss patting you in your cabin with highest of praises, saying wonderful things about your sincerity and accomplishments and yet utter a very cold and bleak: “Good.” the very next minute during an assessment, in the conference room packed with the VVIPs of your company. ( who would, in a corporate idiom decode “good” as “damage under control”.) Fortunately, it hasn’t happened to me in a very long time now. Touch wood ! I know how the feeling though and know many people who are a victim of such appreciation.

Recently, I witnessed something similar. I went to see this play called “Butter and Mashed Banana”. I knew nothing of this theater group or the play until recommendations started pouring in. An acquaintance who had seen the play before and was heavy-praises , was the strongest of the recommenders’ . I saw the play and excitedly enough even wrote a short post on it, in this very blog. And I repeat, the play rocked! Later, I overhear the same acquaintance having an engrossing conversation with two people who seemed to not have liked the play at all. Here is the summary of what I heard him say, “I totally agree, this theatre group is just a little above mediocre and so-in-the-face. It is worth a miss” followed by an annoying hyena laugh.

I couldn’t believe that it was the same person who was so high on praises when he had spoken to me. I would like to believe that he was perhaps in a taut situation where he had to agree with them so as to save his life or to avoid something equally precarious.

Thankfully, he was not a friend so I was not “that" disappointed but he must be someone’s friend!

These acts of “appreciating in the dark” sooner or later certainly get blinded by the light, so why attempt these at first place?

Appreciation is such a beautiful act. Then why deprive it of candor, meaning, purpose and make it ugly? Why not build some courage to stand up for something or someone you believe in and if you can’t, why not just practice being quite? That will be so much better.

Don’t you think?

Butter and Mashed Banana

2009-04-13T14:56:00.007-05:00

“Bold.” – That was the first word I uttered in the appreciation of a play called “Butter and Mashed Banana” which I watched two days ago at Rangashankara in Bangalore. It had me impressed.

The name of the theatre group which presented this brilliant one hour satirically comic skit is “Harami”. (LOL) Well, that explains it. Bold. Ain’t it? :D. I do not yet know why they are called “Harami’s” but the play “Butter and Mashed Banana” gets its name from the incident when to an Indian hangman’s noose was applied butter and mashed banana, so as to minimize friction. (strange, eh?)

The play presents its take on freedom of speech and Indian paradoxes. The dialogues have the events and issues spilt wide open before the audience and presented as it is, in its rawest of forms. That I think, is one the key differentiators of the play. The script writer has allowed no ambiguity, no politically correct dialogues and no underplaying. The play, liberally and with-no-holds-barred talks of entities and issues. I am actually surprised as to how it hasn’t caused the obvious offense to authorities yet. The Harami’s have been running this play since 2005 and this was the 33rd show of BAMB. They have had acclaims to their credit but no oppositions yet. I so like that! :-)

Harami’s – you rock !

A quick little note about BAMB: The protagonist in the play is a result of a passionate but illict affair between a feminist-communist and a fundamentalist-right, and is torn between the idealisms and agenda’s of his parents. So much so, the boy ends up hopping around, for his father believes that his first step must be right and his mother instructs that his first step be left. The boy eventually follows his instinct and as an adult manages to establish an identity of his own as a world renowned author. The overt stardom, fame and even an Oscar follow him. His books are read and accepted across the world but encounter either neglect or opposition back home in India. Most of what he tries to say or do is a dare or an offense. The play factually and hilariously touches upon censorship, over-rated sexuality, media scramble, page 3, moral policing, politics and more. The writer tries to submit himself into politics as a way to regain freedom of expression and speech but it all goes vain owing to yet another untimely and illict affair between PM and the Leader of Opposition. That alliance causes annulment of every hope.

Well thought of personifications follow in the play. The dictionary is arrested and all words are mass-murdered. The lexicon helplessly and repeatedly screeching the last word “Free” dies.

Some laudable laughter’s of truth : The protagonist in the play sings and performs the much controversial song of 90’s (featuring Karishma Kapoor) called “Sexy, sexy, sexy, mujhe log bole”. He performs both the original and the edited version which has the word “sexy” censored by the censor board. The performance had me split into laughter! At the same time, they show a censor official defending the use of pelvic thrusts in songs saying , “Dry humping is a part of Indian Culture”.

With just three actors, one guitarist, minimal props ( a white bedsheet, a pink tub and two gunghroos), interspersed with music, graceful movements and songs, the play was brilliantly delivered and choreographed. The props ( specially the bed sheet) was very creatively used which formed various objects from scene to scene. Some songs were quite nice. I wish I had the lyrics. (anyone?).

Just after the play was over, I was sharing my initial reactions with two of my theatre buddies. Amongst other things, I was asserting the play being so bold and “current”.

My friends gave me this “do-you-even-know-anything?” look, and said, “Nothing was current”.

Not giving up on my limited GK, I said, “Well, it did show the bit on Moral Policing and Shiv Sena and so on and they said, “Oh! The current thing is not Shiv Sena. It is Ram Sena.”

And I said to myself, “Well, whatever, things are pretty much the same anyways, be it Shiv or Ram, the surname keeps the shades of trepidations flamboyantly intact and alive !"

Look at it from a metaphorical or a factual lens, the play puts before you snapshots of larger issues which the country is contended with, in the light of humour.

Nothing radically has changed. Has it? Sigh :-(

Did I hear someone say, “Don’t you dare say that?” :-D

C'mon, now ! :)

Move On.

2009-04-08T03:32:00.004-05:00

Life evolves and unfolds each day and you learn to unlearn and relearn.

One of the good things about being too busy is that you have little time to live a particular state of mind for long. This can work to your advantage specially if the disappointments in life are out-numbering the pleasures or if a single disappointment is equalling cumulative joys you have had.

Last month, I experienced a fair dose of success at work interspersed with a few societal disappointments. Before the sensitive me could rise to the occasion and react to the disappointments in a much programmed manner by sulking and hibernating, life had booked me for the next pursuit already. While watching your reactions, reacting appropriately and being responsible for your state of mind is one way to handle and look at it but then if you have no time to react at all, the stimuli misses to look you in the eye for you are already looking forward.

“Mindfulness”, “following the bliss” and so on are also good ways to help you stay positive and in the moment but if the patience does not support getting into the discipline to follow these, then being very busy may be very good. The upcoming events rob you of the time that you, in a normal circumstance spend trying to fix or fight things and deposits it in an activity which absorbs you into a new issue and temporarily sets you off the old issue. The aftermath is a feeling of having come back from a refreshing Spa to face the long day again. So, being quite busy is quite healthy. When I say busy, I mean “truly” busy, engrossed in back to back episodes. And if you have nothing but brooding coming up your way, then find the events or create them.

Sometimes you just cannot help managing issues in life and cannot let go of the past. You try to detach emotions or the intensity of the emotions from memories but you fail. (its great if you can).The past stays in your present and you get hung up. It’s like taking one step forward and then two steps back. If you cannot let go of certain memories, so be it. Do not waste time fighting it. But travel you must. Pack these memories in the best of your suitcase, carry them along, flaunt it and move. Do not get hung up.

If I had the time, I would cite appropriate analogies but at the moment I would digress from those and leave you with a summary of a conversation which even though is only vaguely related, is interesting.

I know of two very nice people , one of who has had a break-up recently. I would like to share their conversation for the benefit of anyone who also “chooses” to stay heart-broken all life. For the purposes of this blog, let us call them Miss Hung Up (the one who is heart-broken) and Miss Move On (a friend of Miss Hung Up)

Miss Move On : Move on. Do not get hung up.

Miss Hung Up: That is what people who don’t truly love do. They just forget it all and carry on. I don’t know how people can do that. They escape from the reality. I am not an escapist. I cannot “move on” and leave the one I love and his memories behind. I would rather stay as I am. I am in love and I always will be, irrespective it all.

Miss Move On: No one is asking you to change or stay out of these memories. Unless there is some joy in the pain and this reality of yours, you wouldn’t have stayed this way anyway. “Moving On” does not mean that you are leaving someone or someone’s memory behind. It means you take this baggage with you and move.

Miss Hung Up: Hmmm…OK. That is doable. But move where? I have no new place to go to and I am comfortable the way I am. I can stay companionless. I am living anyway, right? I want to live and finally die like this. I have planned it all.

Miss Move On: That is Ok. You do not have to change your plans. Live exactly like this and die exactly like that.(incase you really believe that even the death can be planned). In between, find something to do - Something that necessarily doesn’t make you happy but atleast keeps you sufficiently busy. Help someone or live any of your interests or take up a new challenge at office. And I repeat- nothing changes, your plans stay the same. You stay in love and your plans stay unaltered. What do you say?

Miss Hung Up: Yeah, in that sense, one can consider living a life doing certain things for a while but I really need to think what to do. May be, I will make pictures of him and put up a Gallery!? or Write a book about it so that he will read it when I am gone?!

Miss Move On : Though there are better things to do which are “NON-HIM” , yet, if this is what you are most comfortable doing to begin with, then do it and do it well. Go create masterpieces for the world.

Miss Hung Up : Coming to think of it, there is also this fest that is coming up, may be I will join that too, na? They had called me last week and I was to meet them today but was in two minds.

Miss Move On : There you go ! Go, meet them now and do it all. Do a lot if it. We will talk about it next when you have the time.

The meeting abruptly had to get over as Miss Hung Up decided to go and meet the fest organizers.

I do not know what happened later but I am hoping her to be very busy.

I hope the whole world Moves On – with or without our respective baggages. :-)

Cheers.

Thanksgiving.

2009-04-07T02:47:00.002-05:00

H-E-L-L-O there !

It’s been long since I blogged. Thanks to all of you who’ve dropped me dire-one-liners in chat windows and have virtually hit me on my head and called me names for not posting regularly (till you heard the story and got all silent. Tee hee.). I love attention of all kinds :-).

My whereabouts for the benefit of rest of the world: I have been really busy the whole of last month. There has been so much happening. Each day has been a series of professional, personal and social events, many of which have been pointless but then I did have fun :D! It’s like you’ve been rolling at such a maddening pace that the momentum tends to pick up some unnecessary and uncalled for, events on its way! So much so, I, at times have felt culpable of sleeping longer than a few hours. Sleep suddenly has become such a waste of time. If only my body would stop throwing these loud fatigue tantrums, would I love to be an insomniac! To add to that, my body is showing off it’s newly acquired upper back pain in its most accentuated of nags! Apparently, while working, I am to have my laptop at the eye level, sit in the right posture and get off from the PC every 30 mins and so on :-( which reminds me that I have to shop for the laptop support accessories. Now, shouldn’t the astute HRs and facility managers of the world get us these tech-tools as a precaution beforehand, huh? Point!

Anyhow, my primary motivation to stop by for this post was to get off the guilt trip of not having (formally) thanked all of you who responded to my last post on “Stem Cell Treatment”. So here comes the well-deserved and overdue thanksgiving speech :

Thank you all for those instant calls of concern and for the emails and links. A very special thanks for Dr. Saranya Narayan of Jeevan Blood & Research Center, Chennai for taking time to go through the reports and advising. Thanks GNR (Fred) for introducing me to Dr. Saranya. Thanks to Dr. Maria as well for caring enough to even follow up. Thanks Deepak for connecting me with Maria. Thanks MNS for the all effort. (I truly appreciate that. It is the effort that matters.) Thanks to Naveen Dhar and Rohini Dhar ( It’s so funny to call you guys by these names :-D) for confirming the sanity of some of my thoughts ;). Thanks to each and everyone of you who was with me on this.

Unfortunately, the final outcome of all our efforts is not very encouraging. At the moment, the Stem Cells treatment cannot be considered due to lack of resistance in the patient’s body but there is hope that the conventional treatment itself may better the person, post which one can revisit the whole thing.

That is it for now. There is a lot to say and I will be back sometime later in the day or tomorrow.

A big thank you again! Love you all! :-)

Stem Cell Treatment

2009-03-11T23:48:00.003-05:00

Someone very dear is terminally ill with Cancer (kind:bone marrow). The patient, from the past five years, is undergoing all the conventional treatments in one of the best hospitals in Delhi. The hope, however, is fading. I understand that “Stem Cell Treatment” which even though nascent in India, is available. If anyone has any information on "Stem Cell Treatment" (Hospitals in India / Specialists / Contacts of people treated with SCT and so on), please do share the soonest you can. Thanks.

(* DJ, Maria, Bro: Many thanks for the info that you have shared already. Do let me know incase you have any further updates.).

Chanakya Neeti

2009-03-09T03:33:00.002-05:00

Last week, work called for travel. Once again, it was one of those early morning flights which had me out of home at 4:30 a.m. I had a long day at work the previous day, followed by an ad hoc karaoke :-) (ain’t it supposed to be so?) at Casa’s with a few friends who had me join them on – ‘emotional atyachar’ :-). We had a fair bout of fun. We ate very little and sang plenty. I was back late night. A half hour chatter with a dear friend ensured a well deserved sleep. I was up again in three hours to pack, send interim replies to ppl and set my out-of-office. (Talk about discipline. Pat. Pat.).

I got to the airport quite quick and early. My left ear phone has exhausted itself to death and the right ear phone recently handicapped itself so no music :-(. I edited my to-do-list, browsed the book store, picked a mag and had a HC (hot chocolate) at the Cookie Man. The guy at CM could recall my order this time! Next time just to avoid being predictable, I shall order something else. This is how the world gets obscure. ;-). Nunno, on second thoughts, I would stick to HC. The world could feel like home one day.

We boarded on time and I slept off the moment I parked myself in the aircraft. Robotic. I had a dreamless sleep which is so rare. We landed on time – which is also so rare (oflate). Good start for the day, I thought, until we got into the transfer bus. For some reason it had more number of people than there were in the aircraft. Like it was some emergency get-away intermediary. I found no place to sit and stood with my spine supported by one of the lean pillars of the bus. I placed the two handbags I was carrying on the floor. Over five minutes pass and we get no-where. I try to look out and I see a never ending road. Within the next few seconds, a 'filmi' plot flashes before me: The bus is being hi-jacked and I volunteer myself to save everyone’s life – gallant and undaunted. I have this magic talk with the Don and he gamely surrenders. Still dreamy, I look around to check how many children, women and old ppl I need to rescue first. And I spot the first child right beside me – sitting on one of my handbags and spattering the liquid candy on it! His mom, standing right in the front and casually acknowledging his new found passion, gives me an apologetic smile. I smile back saying: “It’s Ok”. And in my head, I shriek just the opposite: “No, it is not Ok. He is a Kid but you are not. How could you just be watching? You and your little monster will now be rescued only in the end. I’m sorry but I think that is what I will do.”

With the event still lasting, I hope to get to the arrival lounge fast enough. Over fifteen minutes pass and we seem not even close. Two men comfortably sitting at two ends of the bus treat their hand phones like loudspeakers - like two warriors instructing their respective armies (which are cursed with hearing challenges). I see myself transforming into a goaded woman at the verge of saying or doing something-The making of Elizabeth- 232 (my flight number). BUT the other side of me fights me with the thought that while I am in it and cannot really do much, I may as well enjoy it. So, I forgive the Mommy and the two warriors and look at the whole thing again with red-rose spectacles. I start playing with the kid with his mandrake look alike toy and he gets off my handbag to demonstrate mandrakes tryst with some star-wars creature. THANK GOD. The warriors also quiten in a while. (may be they both lost to a common enemy). After twenty minutes, we are told that we are ‘almost’ there. Most passengers have clear signs of disgust on their faces. Suddenly, everyone talks and sighs united for they now have a common problem. (You should have seen them getting into the bus - like kids out of school - pushing and giving each other dirty looks while trying to find a place to sit or stand. And now united they stand (and sit)) .I try to entertain myself with what I see and wear a smile. I smile at everyone who looks at me in anticipation – anticipation to reciprocate their frown or sigh or the temporary misery. Yet, I stand smiling. Many of them intrigued and disappointed, start avoiding the second eye contact with me. My smile only grows wider with that and my eyes chase them. :-)
Finally, we reach! Everyone rushes to the baggage claim area. We all flock around the entire conveyor belt. The history repeats. For over five minutes, the belt stays static and baggage-less. I try to retain my relaxed cadence and utilize the time by doing whatever I can. I call my colleagues and agencies to check on work. I realize instrumental versions of Hindi movies songs like “Bombay” and “Duad” being played. The moment my ears heard the first note, I began recalling the lyrics and softly sang. My neighbors, most of who already think I am “gifted” ( you know what I mean) owing to my unfailing smiles in the bus, continued to look at me more astounded. I do not know when my head and feet movements began complimenting Remo’s “Hamma, Hamma”. A co-passenger cum an irritated lady, actually broke into a smile :-). Giggle. Giggle.

Over fifteen minutes.
No baggage.
People chaotic.
Me relaxed and engaged in music.

There was an exception though - A couple. They remained unaffected for they were so lost into each other and romancing (full-on PDE :-)) like there is no tomorrow (or no baggage :-)).

To whosoever I was visible, had taken a careful note of me like they were trying to study me. One thing was sure; I was at the very least, watchable. I wish I could have read their minds then. The baggage eventually arrived. I collected my favorite memorabilia; the little black beauty - 'Hush Puppies' and moved on to find my cab. I was at office in a hour and a half. On the way, the traffic was bad and the driver complained of fellow drivers and traffic police. He wasn’t upset though and projected the affairs in a light-hearted manner. He told me how smartly he handles some issues without offending the problem people. He said in Hindi, “Courage alone doesn’t always work; sometimes sweetness works better. 'Chanaykya Neeti' believes in conquering with sweetness.”

The day at office went hassle free (well, almost) and productive. I felt it had something to do with the 'Chanakya Neeti' which I had unwittingly inaugurated in the morning. :-)

Fakeeri

2009-03-07T00:09:00.001-05:00

As the time enters the seventh day of March, me gets into the “Shayarana” mood…Yet again...

Farmaya hai:
"Tu chhoota , Rab chhoota, chhoota mera peer
Par Haathon mai gadi padi hai, tere naam ki lakeer
Tere khayalon mai hi kar le hai jannat tameer
Tabdeel-e-soorat hai ke
Khoya sab, paaya tumko khud mai, banke fakeer
Ab jo paya hai kabhi chen na payega
Ek fakeer se koi kya churayega
Chaho to le jao humko bandhne wali ek purani tooti zanjeer."

Women Cabbies

2009-03-03T05:37:00.000-05:00

http://www.mybangalore.com/article/women-cabbies-for-the-ladies.html

Btw, Good Job, Su.

Readers/Friends : What do you think of this initiative? (would love to know especially from women)

Festivals of Music : Kabir and Fireflies.

2009-03-02T05:09:00.000-05:00

There is so much to write and so little time. I have work, which I enjoy as much, so. Let me take it one step at a time and share my most recent and worthy memory – which is of last night. I was at the Kabir Festival. The devout grin, while I write this is worth a watch.

“Koi Sunta Hai – The Festival of Kabir" – celebrated Kabir, the 15th century poet in an array of films and music. The fest lasted a week in Bangalore from 23 Feb – 1 Mar 09 and was organized by Shabam Virmani. Thanks to professional engagements and a very ‘responsible’ friend who missed out on the passes, I could only attend the last day’s musical performances. The thought of me not being there was slowly slaying me inside. To get my life back, I prepared myself to gate crash or plead for passes. Thankfully, without doing either, the organizers obliged me with a few passes on a sincere request. Pat. Pat.

‘Koi Sunta Hai’ means ‘Someone is listening’. And listen we all did with not just our ears but with open minds. Kabir’s dohas (two line verses) are so universal in their relevance; entwining love, philosophy and spirituality with supreme’s of wit and meaning. The musical doha’s once again demonstrated the power which urges us to get beyond the self and unchain the soul. Surrender to the truth and secret of oneness. Of the two groups which performed; “Firaduddin Ayaz and Brothers” had me entertained, touched and swayed between laughter and tears the most. What I witnessed in this merriment was incredible. There were people from varied walks of life – from different countries, states with different belief systems in an auditorium which to me personified the world. It was like we were transported into another planet where everyone is bound by one common religion of music and it is in purest intent of all to celebrate love and humanity. We listened, sang along and even danced together to the Qwallai’s. I found myself dancing with two young ladies amongst many who were as un-inhibited as me and were experiencing bliss. I dream of a dissenting world. I wish of it to come true and communal harmony and rejoice to be commonplace. In times at these, were uncertainties surmount and threaten; we somewhere let pass the fundamentals & essence of life. Such events make us halt for a moment to listen and reflect, and possibly bring in some change. Thank you so much Shabnam for organizing this.

Btw, I saw and heard Shabnam first at the “Fireflies festival of music” which is an all night long annual festival of music at Bangalore! In her session, we had Kabir and Sufi. It was brilliant and I instantaneously turned into an ardent fan.

Fireflies present a night of back to back music performances by various artists who follow varied genre of music. The stage lies under a large Banyan Tree/ Pipal Tree, overlooking which you find a lake. It is an open-air theater under and admist trees. On the 21st night, we had an opportunity to experience Sufi, Multiple Folk, Jazz, Rock, Fusion – Indonesian/ Hawaiian and more. My favourite apart from Sufi was Prakash Sontakke & Group who gave us some Hawaiian Guitar fusion and cared enough to dedicate a track to the fateful 26/11. Sontakke played some amazingly unique and authentic fusion which I have never heard before. Swaratma was another group who followed Rock and now I follow them. The group had some thought provoking tracks as well.

I must leave you quoting one of my friends who sent me an sms post Fireflies. It read: “Yesterday was one of my favorite musical evenings. The sufi music conquered my soul and the new tunes of guitar somewhere mend our own chords. An entire night passed by and in the patches of dust on my trousers, an insinuation was evident –you, my friend will never forget this evening. You now have a Firefly in your heart.”

With that, a standing applause to all you artists who make the world a nicer place to be in.

Kohl

2009-02-27T02:47:00.000-05:00

Rita was a no-make-up girl. She appeared like she did not care much as to how she was looked upon. Some days, she would nonetheless admit to faint cosmetics and a light accessory or two. A pair of ear-rings on her would approve of her being ready to grace any occasion.

I personally found her rather experimental. She had once pasted a distinctly large plain circular red ‘bindi’ on her forehead and another time had painted her lips in a strange earthy hue and so on. No wonder many thought of her as an artist.

One day, Rita wore ‘Kajal’ (A deep black Kohl). She had unusually long eye-contacts with people that day which mostly concluded in compliments. During the course of the day, Rita had seen or heard something fairly unpleasant which made her very upset.

“You look sad. Is everything OK?” : I ask her.

Rita: “Things are not too great.”

“Want to talk about it? May be you will feel better. Perhaps, we can fix it. ”

Rita: “Thanks for the concern. But I think I will be alright once I get home. I need to cry to let it out”.

“You get home only eight hours from now. Don’t spoil the day. If crying can help, cry. No one is watching, really.”

Rita : “No, you do not understand. I do not care if anyone is around. I have cried so many times in public. You know that. Today, I cannot cry though.”

“Why not today? What about today?"

Rita stares at me the hardest she can and pointing to her eyes, says: “Look! Can’t you see?”.

“See what?"

Rita: “I am wearing Kohl. If I cry, I will look like a part of a broken mask.”And in the same breath she asks, “Do you wear Kohl?”.

“Hardly”

Rita: “Remember, before going Kohl, try to gauge the day. In all probability, the day should be sunny”.

I couldn’t help smiling at her camouflage and irony.

Today, I wore Kohl and just when I began to anticipate clouds, I remembered Rita’s verdict and smiled again.

The Unassuming Ones.

2009-02-24T05:20:00.000-05:00

The virus has fallen for me again. It needs love too. C’mon have a heart. (Having the body for it is besides the point) :D

Yesterday morning, I was prescribed medicines and total rest to combat viral infection. I skipped office but worked from home. In the evening I did go out though and indulged in something close to my heart.Today, I came to office against doc’s advise. I am slowly and steadily undertaking the tasks at hand. Work is medicinal in a way.

While most of my friends and colleagues know of my sickness, my parents do not. I normally do not share information as this with them for they get too worried. Generally, once I overcome sicknesses as these and get better ‘on my own’, I am filled with a sense of pride and worth. Just today while I was drifting into the pride mode, I get this email from my cousin enquiring about my Dad’s hand injury – of which I know nothing! I get all jittery, worried and frantically call my Dad.

Dad refuses to tell a thing except that he is alright. “It is no big deal” is the statement he thinks I should deal with and forget it all. The persistent me, does not give up and finally he tells me that he has fractured his wrist. Mom later informs me that the accident happened EIGHT days ago! It was a bad accident at that. And because they thought I would get worried, they decided not to inform me.

Tears rushed in.

My first non-anonymous blog.

2009-02-19T01:25:00.000-05:00

Written to write : This was not what I wanted this blog to be named as. Specially because this blog is going to be my first non-anonymous blog. I am going to miss all the anonymity and indulgence here. On the brighter side, may be I will learn to write more responsibly. (You can leave your definitions of responsible writing in comments. Then we will take it from there :))

So, like I was saying, I tried labeling the blog with different titles but in vain. The blogspot kept alerting me of all those titles as being 'already taken' .I realised that I too can think like others. And the process had begun to invade into the time which I ought to dedicate to other events of my life. So, it was after all written that it be called nothing but 'Written to write'. Whoever said, "What’s in the name'”, brings consolation at the moment. Thank you, 'whoever'. Love you.