Feeling the Gloom in Full Bloom

Put on music and tap ur feet

Get up, lift ur hands, swing to the left, right, turn...

Close your eyes, throw your neck back, SMILE.

Swing some more, sing some more,

Music was made for you and me :)

That Sweet Little Corner

In the corner

Is where it resides

Is where it hides

Is where it opens up

Is where it weeps

Silently, in the corner.

That sweet little corner.

Only to me is it known

The depth and meaning

Of that sweet little corner

Its not what you see, you thought it was just a tear?

Its a song, a story

The teardrops that wet my cheek

And soothe my soul

In the warm summer it cools me

In the cold winter it warms me

Let that sweet little corner be, just let it be

Solitude

Empty spaces in your mind

Reflections and memories that come running behind

They sneak up and catch up with you

And you thought, time, had left them behind?

Solitude makes room

It takes you back and forth to it all- in full bloom

What you didn't make of it then

And what it means now

Is more than you would know back then

Sifting through time and broken memories

Is the not- so- pleasant gift of Solitude.

The Paradox

Ubiquitous creatures on the promised land

They are ALL around.

Some

Ubiquitous finders seemed alien here

With an agenda of their own

In no time, they became belonged here.

So comfortable they have grown-

Munching hurriedly,

Moving scurriedly,

Staring threateningly,

Perching decisively.

Irrelevant they seemed, but they were all around.

Almost like they were on homeground.

Most

Other ubiquitous seekers made their 'landmark' arrival.

Knowing for sure they were here to be ordained.

Some walked, some talked, some mingled, but, most meandered.

They tried so hard, they strove for so long.

They thought they had reached the promised land.

It slowly dawned, like the rising sun- like waking up in a reverie

They were still looking, they seemed lost more than ever.

Reality shone- They had burned many a calorie and their bank accounts.

They trudged on, to find a homeground.

The longstanding guardians of the promised land

Spelt out the irony on that ' not-so-landmark' way out-

"You came here a seeker and go out a seeker

You do not know what to seek

But you insist you do.

Your being watched, you ARE being directed and you may not know that too (like a myriad other truth). "

to be continued....

On the feet, and on the run

The glitz and glamour of the West, have it all be it all society is not quite what gets me. What did get me was the fresh clean air here, sans smoke & pollution, honks and shrieks. I love the leisurely walks on the all-pedestrian Locust Walk as much as the walks on any other street around the corner. Also, this longstanding (mis)perception cleared up since I came here a month ago.

When I see people running, running for a cause, running for fun, running for their health and mostly (it seems) running for their lives, I wonder about the commonplace (mis)perception of the 'Obese American'. I have been here for over a month now, and have seen only a handful of obese people on campus. At anytime of the day, I see people wearing shoes, shorts an i-pod and they're running.

Even at the gym, these girls and guys, keep running on and on and on, like they draw from a seemingly endless pit of stamina. They even read while spinning & cycling in the gym. The icing on the cake however, has to be the 60 year old lady who swam the other day for 45 minutes nonstop, spare a few breathers.

Its almost impossible not to be tugged by this air.

I want to write and write and write. Explosively.

"Calibrating Your Eyes"

Over the last one month, I have been lucky to meet some remarkable people at graduate school, some friends and others, Professors. I know I wont be wrong if I said, meeting new people is like seeing new perspectives and refining your own.

Sometimes, we get morphed into a singular vision that makes what and how we see- blur. And its probably looking at the way others look at things, that makes us 'resee' how and what we see.

Dr. Kenwyn Smith said something remarkable and very beautifully articulated to this effect- one of the things we're going to do is ' calibrate your eyes.'

New Found Meaning

There are words and phrases, words of wisdom and advice, songs, poetry and stories too that have new found meaning with passing time and phases of life. Some make more sense, while others cease to make any.

I last read 'If' by Rudyard Kipling when I was in school and jotted it down in my book of favorite quotes and poems.

Am reading this after a long time- and how different it sounds, how much more it means.


If by Rudyard Kipling


IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

PS: I dont think the poet meant to be chauvinistic. So the last line is free from gender bias. I would interpret it that way.

Why I hate comparisons...

I seldom use extreme language in the written word.
And when I do, its more to emphasize on something VERY CLEARLY.

I hate comparisons of any kind, flavour, type. Probably because its this comparison- drawing that kills individualism, more than anything else. It also leaves life long psychological scars that mar the growth of the unique U.

I've seen it as a kid, within family, uncles and aunts drawing comparisons- but thankfully, I have personally been very fortunate not to be in the receiving end. Even within my nuclear family, my elder sister was the stellar star who always performed well academically and held leadership positions in schools. It was the care my parents took that became an auspice in protecting me from the comparisons that others would tend to make. As I grew up, I learned to observe the point at which this heinous habit would take off- comparisons of grades, physical features, wealth, luck, fortune etc., and chose to shrug it off besides abhorring it!

The repercussions of being a recipient of such demeaning comparisons can be long lasting, especially on/ for a kid.

Its often hard to appreciate and nurture something that is not in our field of familiarity- be it a virtue, a habit, a culture, something that is not up to an expected mark, a personal way of thinking or an established norm. This either causes discomfort or creates a complex.

And that's why I think its best to immediately step back from the subjective mode to an objective mode when we begin to see ourselves getting into the mode of comparison-making, either with ourselves or for others. Getting clarity before making comparisons and conclusions and forming opinions- its all a thin line and we need to think clearly to see them.

Sometimes we tend to succumb to the mind's natural tendency of making comparisons. But its only wise not to do so- to protect ones own peace of mind and that of others. We'd rather celebrate the differences that make each of us unique.

PS: A conversation with a friend today, steamed this post from start to finish. Otherwise why would the other posts lay dormant, half-written... ?

A thought just struck as I was watching the demonstrations agains the G-20 summit in London. A banner read ' we wont pay for their crisis'.

Somehow, I wonder if all this recession got triggered off because of the war US unleashed. War entails huge losses, economic also being one of them.

Who really knows what's happening, behind the secret veils of power?!

There is so much to conserve

I was pleasantly amused to find this- The Endangered Language Fund

Ice Tea

Photo credit- http://www.pennysallamerican.com/pics/IceTea.jpg

Just a little than a year ago, I met my beloved dearest. Ever since, the 'I' has become 'we'. My world turned upside down, as I started a roller-coaster ride with him. It took him one day, and me two, to decide to live the rest of our lives with each other. Pretty quick for a self-confessed romantic atheist. (Whatever happened to that proud exclamation!)

In a month we were engaged. And in the ensuing 4 months, married. From the night he took me out to dinner until now... approximately 270 dinners we might have had. The first evening he said he'd have an Ice Tea. Second one, Ice Tea. Third one, Ice Tea and so on and so forth. The only other drink that he considered was Lemon Ice Tea or may be Peach Ice Tea. It didnt take me too long to know the guy was hooked on to Ice Tea, and that's something the cooking-apprehensive lass should learn. And she did.

Since then making Ice Tea has become pretty much a routine. Until now my only connection with tea, was the glorious tea gardens where I spent a huge chunk of summer holidays at my Aunt's and Uncle's. ( Another post on that has long been due.)

I brew tea this afternoon for the first time, the authentic way. As against the practice of dipping in the tea bag ( My Uncle, an expert in this field, says, tea bags are made from the worst quality of tea). I realised this would definitely give away the classic aroma ( We watched Bridges of Madison County over dinner last evening and Meryl Streep is serving Ice Tea from this huge jar, needless to say, the man's eyes light up :) ).

Some straberries were lying idle in the refrigerator so the lass went over and crushed a few of those and stirred them in with the fresh brew. The aroma of the crushed strawberries was simple exotic- earthy, divine and indulging to say the least. It tasted better with the Ice Tea. (Its another detail that Mr. hates strawberries.)

The man has been busy all day today. A few minutes ago (around 6.30 pm) I send him a mail saying I was sipping strawberry Ice Tea as I was working on a project. And he exclaims... 'Without Me!?'

So I told him, a pot was waiting for him. And Quesadillas for dinner, he boards his Fiesta and says, am going to come home and work. I say yes. In return for a game of basketball.

Sigh

What an uncommunicative civilisation we have become.
We have the speediest means, most inexpensive means, and yet we have become thus.

We have more of everything today, and less of the real thing.

Very few things matter to us, beyond our shrunk, selfish lives.

Sigh.

How absolute is Slumdog Millionaire?

I've been munching on this thought for quite sometime- On what parameter, is it justified that Slumdog millionaire portrays the real India?

I would wish for some statistical data. What percentage of Indian's live in the slums? Then we can conclude with the above statement.

I would not defy this so-called acclamation if it was said that this is also an aspect to multifaceted India. I think its absolute, and nothing really is absolute. And its not complacence that makes me defy that statement. There are just too many facets to India to narrow it down to slum-children from Dharavi in the streets of Mumbai.

Though, even to me an overall perspective of India is very gloomy, its too overriding a statement that Slumdog Millionaire portrays the real India.

Another way of looking at it...

Its been three days since, ants have been trying to make their way inside our new home.
As I was fast-pacedly jotting out thoughts, teary-eyed for some reason... I saw a string of black wiggly creatures decidedly making their way in, through my bleary-eyed vision. And then all was forgotton, until getting them out was done.

I didnt want to smash and spank them dead. And talking didnt help. I tried putting turmeric, that seemed to help, but little.

And this, in the room least used.

I asked my maid this morning, in my very fluent hindi :), 'yeh yahan kyu aaya? yahan tho kuch khaane keliye bhi nahin. AC ka hole se aaraha hain.'

She kept looking, looking, and she bursts into a laughter and says in her bengali hindi 'baaran manzil tak chala aaya, dekhno ko itna chhota, itna chala aaya.'

Though I cannot reproduce what she said here with its twang of humour, I think her thought silently struck me with its plainness.

I cant put a finger on it. On why I dont write as much as I used to before.

For one, it could be too many thoughts muddled and intertwined together. Am not really able to sieve it out and untangle them. But its definitely not about other things taking precedence, I've written in the crunchiest of days. Or may be there's so much happening and happened at the personal front.

But right now my mind is brimming with- slumdog millionaire, tonight's dinner menu for 12, absurdities of the world, setting up home- the great experience, waste dumping, consumerism, folk arts, fixing the istriwala for doing the sheets so shabbily, beloved's b'day hangover, baby showers for my dear sister, the li'l one on his way out :) eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, travelling (when have I not had this on my mind!!), the got milk campaign, apartment culture, friends- the real ones- and the real ones who got lost, maid matters and more...

Lucky by Chance...

I'd like to start from the end. The end of the film is a li'l flat. One is so used to Hindi films having those dramatic finales! And am really sorry, but I have to say this ( for those who haven't watched this, u'd be disappointed that am spilling the beans on this one...) One wud really expect that Sona ( K Sen) would go back to Vikram ( F Akhtar) or that F Akhtar would never really go back to K Sen guilt-filled and all.

Anyway, we missed the first half an hour of the film. Hmmm.... we got a li'l lost finding our way through the streets of Gurgaon, we were driving out by ourselves for the first time, to see the first movie in this new city, which I have christened, Mallgaon.

I also don't understand why the film is called Lucky by Chance, as the protaganist propogates exactly the opposite. Is it ironical? As his big break, happens, only by chance?

It was good to see F Akhtar dance in Bollywood style. I liked the film for the objective perspectives it throws. And what a product of sheer talent! Rishi Kapoor is great fun, as always. Such refreshing acting! And ofcourse I love the funky aesthetic set up, that is Konkana's home.

I'd still want to catch up with that first half hour, not that it would change my opinion on the film. I can comfortably sit through any F Akhtar film- he picks stories that are worth his time and ours.

i've wondered how my life is interconnected and interwoven with so many people.
how our paths have traversed and met.
and how these have grown into significant parts of my life.

Am beginning to wonder, if all that hype about globalisation stands justified?
Where it has got us, and where is it taking us?

Towel-wrap In Times Like These...

P was watching Filmfare Awards, I took a disinterested, but curious, peek.

I was short of being shocked at what I saw. Shahrukh Khan and Saif Ali Khan were dancing on stage- bare-chested and more. They were wrapped in turkish towels with shaving cream on their cheeks. I was like, what if a (planned) wardrobe malfunction happens? Just then, the two chimps turn around and protrude their back to the audience and lift their towels up! They were wearing half pants though... ( in a few years that's going to get shorter and then disappear, I bet!)

I went up to M beloved and said- can you ever imagine Tom Hanks & Brad Pitt jumping on stage in front of millions of viewers wrapped in a towel?! When I told him what I saw, I saw my reaction replaying in him.

In times like these, when we need a civic renaissance, here we have our so-called, supposed role models displaying their immaturity in this manner- showing their merit to the world, doing what they do best. I wonder why the adulatorised Bollywood can't do something sensible- first of, atleast make some inspiring movies- like- Yuva by Mani Ratnam- which not only portray the state of Indian politics, but also show the action that can be taken. And it has it all the elements of a Hindi masala film- the dance, masti, glamour, music, violence & romance in good doses.

May be their holding back from doing something constructive for the people being tipped off by the underworld. May be their too wrapped in their glamour, like we are in adulating them! May be it just doesn't matter as everything's fine for them- ever wonder how these people are never held hostage or get caught in such situations like terror attacks?

I'll wrap this post now. With another thought- in the front page of Deccan Herald today, a quarter of a page was clinched by a photograph of the 'Miss World beauties'. My reaction... In times like these?