The Little Things

“The little things? The little moments? They aren’t little.” – Jon Kabat-Zinn


Stolen glances that offer soundless reassurance, quick nods that convey more than words can, soft touches to let you know something's wrong, hushed sighs that imply not all is right, half smiles that imply contentment, winks to express amusement, a squeeze of the hand to comfort the restless and disgruntled mind.

They say these little silent means of communication are worth much more than any spoken/written word. They convey all the right things, and their application eliminates all need for verbal communication. “Actions speak louder than words”. And they aren’t wrong.

But sometimes, in addition to the silent gestures, one NEEDS to state in so many words what it is that they are going through, without having to be asked. One needs to share the little things that are on one’s mind. One needs to express what it is that is disgruntling them so much, what it is that is amusing them. The people who like and love us and care about us are not mind readers; nor do they have some insane sixth sense. They are, however, around to listen to all the things we have to say. And more often than not, they want to know what is on our minds.

So for god’s sake, tell them whatever it is that you are feeling. Vent at your close ones if you’re frustrated after a bad day. Feel like you’ve accomplished something at work? – celebrate it with them. Bored out of your mind? - let them know. Sad about something that happened at home? – cry on their shoulder in their arms. Got an incredulous life-altering, earth-shattering idea that'll probably never work? - let them in on the secret. Craving for a food item? - inform them, they'll be happy to accompany you in your quest for it. Happy because, well, JUST? – tell them you are.

Because that’s what they’re here for. Really. And don’t say “No, they’re here for more important things” – because while that may be true, they are also here for the little things. They are here to experience your little moments with you. Because those are what truly matter.

Remember that.

Radio Ga-ga? More like Radio Goo.

A = guy, B = ex-wife, C = some girl.

A is hurt and tormented by his divorce with B and can never fall in love again, or so he claims. C is in love with A, and B misses A and wants him back. C thinks love is all about sacrifice and stuff, so she tries getting them back together. B is aware that C is in love with A, and that A is also in love with C, only he doesn’t know it yet. And she also, to some extent, tries to pair them up. A knows C is in love with him. But because of the previously mentioned hurt and torment, he ignores it. Oh! And then in the midst of all this, C’s entire family believes A is C’s boyfriend and is arranging for them to be married soon, because of some misunderstanding that occurred a while ago and no one had the guts to rectify it.

Confused? Yeah, so were we. And we were actually watching it unfold before our eyes, without any analogy of this kind that I presented to you. THIS, ladies and gentlemen, in a nutshell is the absolutely messed up plotline of what has to be one of the most ridiculous movies I have seen EVER. There are bad movies, and then there is Himesh Reshammiya’s “Radio”. Not that I went in expecting any better, but it was so bad, it needs an entire post to trash.

Before I begin and before you guys ask me what possessed me to go for the movie in the first place, I’d like to say this – one advantage of dating a radio jockey is that almost every week we watch a movie first day-first show free of cost, so that he can review it on his show. Of course, this works as a disadvantage too, when he absolutely HAS to watch even the worst ones as part of his job. I realize that I am not obliged to go with the boy on such occasions, and that I am perfectly free to stay home. But then I’m a nice person and besides, we don’t get too much of free time to just chill and be anymore. So, I go along to spend some time with him and to give him company (misery loves that, apparently).

From the very first scene of the movie, we looked at each other with an “oh-my-god-what-IS-this?” expression. It starts with a ridiculous “it’s complicated” stamp like thing and a caption thing – “Chapter 1: Divorce aur Ganpati Bappa”. Yeah, the entire movie is told over many such chapters, with equally ridiculous names. The whole “it’s complicated” stamp made no sense to us at all, and neither did the problems faced by the characters. They weren’t real or big enough to actually be considered at all. The biggest drawback of Shanaya Dhingra (Shehnaz Treasurywala), according to the narrator (RJ Vivaan, played by Himesh Reshammiya himself) is that she’s a Facebook addict. Not her psychotic family, coupled with the fact that she has the ability to annoy you with the mere sound of her voice. Oh and the second biggest drawback? The fact that she says “bhot” instead of “bahut”.

Another thing totally pissing off about the whole thing? (Well, not so much to me since radio is not my industry. But it was still appaling to know how underhanded and cheap it was) – The fact that Ghanta Singh of Radio One was totally ripped off in Paresh Rawal’s Jhandu Lal Tyaagi. My boy was indignant - he was cursing loudly and calling everyone at work to let them know what had been done!

Acting is horrible by EVERYBODY, there is not a single saving grace. And brand placements are as forced and disconnected as they get.

RJ Shanaya (on air): ‘Love karo bhai, aur kuch nahi toh Kurkure khao’. Ex wife sitting in car listening to radio: ‘Gadi roko. Mujhe Kurkure khaana hai!’

Vivaan: ‘Yeh dish antenna badal dalo yaar! Paise main deta hoon! I’m not a dish antenna mechanic, I am a radio jockey!’


UGH.

Of strange moods and good souls who got me out of the same

So, I spent a major part of the last ten days feeling a host of emotions. Strangely, I don’t quite know why I felt half of them, but I did. There were many and none of them GOOD. They were as negative as can be and I did not feel like myself at all. I felt uninspired, bland, weak, neglected, unloved (even by me – which is saying something because no one loves me as much as I love myself), frustrated and alone.

The only ones from the above list that made any kind of sense to me are weak and frustrated. Weak – because I leave early without breakfast, get really tired by the end of the day and when I get home I’m too tired to eat. Frustrated – because really, running all around town trying to organize documents for my visa can hardly be considered fun. The lack of inspiration, blandness, neglect, unloved-ness, and loneliness were feelings that stemmed from seemingly nowhere. They were just THERE. And they refused to go away.

I wish I could say I did everything possible to make them go away, but I didn’t. Because I couldn’t – I had NO TIME. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to say that. Today, a friend asked me since when I rescheduled everything around Eid, that I was doing it this year. And she answered her own question – I JUST HAVEN’T HAD ANYTHING TO RESCHEDULE. Not since school got over at least.

Getting back to these strange emotions of mine, I did nothing to make them go away. I did not go for a bleeding long walk, I did not watch a feel-good movie, I did not reread Love Story (which, for those not in the know, is my feel-good book, even though I cry a little at the end every single time that I have read it), I did not listen to ‘Are you gonna be my girl?’ and dance around the room till I was gasping for air, I did not meet Tejas to vent my frustrations and get the hug only he can manage to give (really, that boy gives the best hugs) because the poor soul was super unwell and delirious. I did not even buy a bar of chocolate to provide myself with a pick-me-up (yes, it’s quite hard to believe, I know. I can’t believe it either!)

How did I snap out of it, then? Well, I’m still not sure I managed to completely do that. I’m still feeling traces of it. I wonder why it’s lasting so long. But today, at this moment that I write this post, I feel much better. For one, the visa papers are finally in order. Secondly, I got a tiny inkling of the aforementioned hug. Other than that, however, I have three people to thank, people who over the last few days have given me some form of inspiration and pick-me-ups in their own special ways. They are all, at some level I’m sure, already aware of what they have done.

• To Louane – For being there when I lose my mind and laugh insanely. For aching and paining after sweating it out at the gym, but always meeting me in my lunch break. For looking out for me at every step I take. For being one of the very few who manage to catch the sexual innuendos in conversations (intentional and unintentional). For knowing something’s wrong – at times before I know it myself. For very sweetly kissing my shoulder and saying “I’m so glad we’re friends again”. For being the only one, of the three people thanked, who will probably never read this post.


• To Sonali – For being my second mother. For being the calming factor in my terribly frustrating day. For being there always, even last year, when she was in far away London. For having amazingly long, intellectually stimulating conversations with me, ones that always leave me with a burning desire to DO SOMETHING. For being the person I can always share my food with. For stating quite plainly and simply, “I love reading what you write”. For being the one who, I know, is going to appreciate the picture accompanying this post.


• To Kyra – For Mappings. For writing the way she does. For being the kindred spirit that she is. For all the random ramblings back and forth. For being bossy, even though we’ve never met (‘this is for your own good’, she said). For forgiving my using her "you-know-who-you-are" trick. For her last post, which helped me recover from the writer’s block a little and type out a nice, long, necessary (?) mail to someone. For just being so yay.



To you-know-who-you-are: I’d like a reply or acknowledgement, please.

The Many Joys of Walking

Walking – isn’t there something in this act that gives a strange rush unlike any other? It’s not something you feel when you’re speeding on the bike or cruising in the car with the top (in my case, windows) down. Although, there is truly a fair level of rush available in both of the above. It is, after all, a personal favorite of mine to speed my beautiful Sleek Bleek when I’m angry or frustrated. Only, don’t tell my mom. Actually, you can tell her – because, really, who am I kidding? My concept of “speed” is not the same as everyone else. I’m actually mortally afraid of it. I am known to have scratched out skin from David’s sides, out of sheer fear, every time he speeds. So when I use the word, I’m talking roughly about 55-60km/hr and not more. That’s not TOO bad, I feel. But there are many of you who will laugh at me. Well, boo you. And driving has ALWAYS been my all time favorite thing to do – if not driving, at least going for a drive.

But, walking? That’s a whole different thing altogether. Plug in your earphones, put on some favorite music and WALK. To where, doesn’t matter! It could be to somewhere, it could be to absolutely nowhere. Of course, walking with a purpose always seems more worthwhile, but then again, not always. Sometimes, you just need to BE and not have a destination. Because then, when you REACH your destination, you have nowhere else to reach. But, without a destination, you have a whole world to explore. And exploring is always more fun on foot.

I must confess, I had forgotten the sheer joys of (and my own love for) walking places until very recently. I was reminded by a friend what it meant. I had forgotten that walking was my way of blowing off some steam, before I owned a vehicle. It was what I relied on to take me from one point to the next, especially on days when I did not have enough dough for a rickshaw but enough laziness to not want to take a bus. And on days when I had no one to hang with, and no book to give me company, I’d WALK. But then, distances became larger and procuring a bike was important, because there were classes in far off places to be attended, and parties and dinners at odd hours to be present at. And walking took a back seat. I mean, why use the power of foot when I have the power of fuel, right?

I was WRONG. Walking rules all. Firstly, when I walk, I manage to get so much more accomplished on the way. Things I would normally avoid doing, for fear of not finding parking. Secondly, I save A LOT of money that would normally be spent on fuel/rickshaw – because it’s free, get it? Thirdly, it gives me this sweet, throbbing muscle pain in my lower legs, typical of physical triumph and adrenalin pumping. And lastly, it gives me a sense of calm and purpose.

Kindred Spirits

As time goes by, we meet new people on an almost daily basis – through school, through college projects, through work, through friends, through every possible way. Most of them we acknowledge with a nod of the head or a simple “hello” accompanied by a smile. More often than not, we do not have much to say to them, because we all are basically private people, no matter how extroverted or gregarious we perceive ourselves to be. Eventually yes, some of them end up becoming your bestest friends in the whole wide world, but until that occurs, we don’t have much to say to them.

Of course, there are times (albeit very rare) when we find some people that we just click with instantly. It’s an unexplainable, indescribable feeling when that happens. When you meet someone for the first time and while conversing, you find they like the same things you do – things that most people find you weird for even considering liking; you’re able to completely ‘GET’ their humor; you’re able to share your point of view without hesitating; you’re able to understand their position when they’re explaining it to the project team head; you’re able to look at them while speaking and think to yourself “Wait a minute! That’s MY opinion from someone else’s mouth! No way!”, and then end up completing their statement for them! How does such a phenomenon occur? You haven’t spent enough time to develop the sort of compatibility required for such a thing! In fact, you haven't spent any time AT ALL! And yet it has happened. It is simultaneously the most wonderful and questionable feeling ever. And I am lucky that this has happened to me twice in the recent years!

Sometimes, this aforementioned experience occurs in such a way, that it leaves you wondering and questioning and, more than anything else, marveling at the fact that it can occur in such a strange twisted way. Like the true story of the two women from two separate continents who wrote to each other regarding the deaths of their husbands and formed a kind of kindred bond. They ended up meeting after months of exchanging letters, on Oprah’s show and it was a wonderful end to the long period of wait. They hugged and cried and laughed and had everything yet nothing to say!

But as far as life is concerned, it doesn’t always have to be a big special on Oprah. This sort of thing occurs normally too. There are times when you relate to a person through nothing but their style of writing, such as this or any other blog. And there are times when you feel like you know a person you have never met merely by how someone else close to him/her describes him/her. And that’s when you find what you call a “kindred spirit” – a term that was coined a while ago but I only heard being used recently.

And you’ll know when you find yourself a kindred spirit. I don’t know how you’ll know – it varies with different people. I knew because she's the first person in a really, really long time who used the very term “kindred spirit”; she's the only person who could tell where the term originally came from; the only person I know (well, to be fair, I still don’t KNOW her) who knows Anne-with-an-e Shirley the way I do; I knew because she writes about relationships and experiences that are mine, only they're not; she rambles off onto other tangents just like I do; but most importantly, I knew because she allegedly speaks the way she does because of Gilmore Girls which makes her the coolest person! :D

Happiness

It’s in listening to your favorite song; it’s in tiny drops of rain,
Sometimes it’s even present in the right amounts of pain.
It’s reading and rereading your favorite book,
It’s the thing that you feel when the one person you care about gives you the look.
The look that you love and adore,
And the one that you yearn to see a lot more.

It’s in meeting your friends and knowing that someone cares for you,
That someone knows something’s wrong without you having to give them a clue.
It’s in finding money in your pockets when you’re broke beyond belief,
It’s in letting go of rationality and giving your heart a chance to speak.
A chance to say what you truly feel,
A chance for the broken part of you to heal.

It’s in looking out the window and seeing the big round moon,
It’s in babies, rainbows, butterflies and the pleasant weather of June.
It’s in receiving that thing that you really, really wanted,
It’s in finally completing that seemingly impossible task, undaunted.
It’s everything you choose to be,
It’s everywhere you choose to see.

Lonely in a Crowd

She walks ahead with her head down, not knowing what to think. She’s had a long day so far, but the day has not been fruitful or productive. She’s tired – not of working but the lack of. Today was no different from the others, she knows tomorrow isn’t going to be either. And really, the time has come for things to be different. It has come for quite some time now, but it has started getting to her and she only decided this morning to actually do something about it.

There are people around her and the street is crowded (it is, after all, the middle of the afternoon), but she can barely hear them. Being alone in a crowd is not a new concept for her. People have stopped making any kind of sense to her for a while now – she doesn’t understand where half of them come from and she doesn’t want to either. She likes the solitude, and is many a time thankful to it. She prefers being this way, and can be quite emotionally detached from people and situations, even the ones that matter. This last point is the thing that worries her most out of the others that are mentioned. She ponders over it, not for the first time, and as usual comes up with no concrete explanation or solution. She shrugs to herself (another sign of detachment to a matter of concern) because all she can do is hope that this time is different from the others. It has been so far, but she hopes with every fiber of her being anyway.

Passion? Maybe..

Passion is sometimes the most overrated, and yet underrated, emotion that exists. The word just rolls off people’s tongues so easily, without them being aware of the true meaning behind the sentiment. I remember all the slam books we filled out as children had a question – “My passions are …” and we all blindly filled it in with music, movies, books, sports, and the likes. Because, well everyone thinks they’re passionate about those aren’t they?

But really speaking, how many of us are actually very passionate about the things we do? How many of us truly believe in it? Like, the stuff we do as hobbies or even the course we opt for in college and university. Very few, and that includes me. I say this with confidence because I was recently brought about to reevaluate myself. Meeting Tejas and Harry (and then reading some of Kyra’s work), has made me think again about what I am passionate about. I’m still on a sort of journey of self realization since then, because I draw a blank every time I start thinking about it. I used to think I was oh-so-passionate about a whole list of things, and I swear, I cannot say that anymore.

And that’s alright, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you people reading this post aren’t passionate. All I’m trying to say is that, never before have I met people this passionate about certain things. I have never heard ANYONE talk about his/her field (except I guess Sonali), the way I have heard Tejas talk about music. His eyes kinda shine, and the fervor and enthusiasm with which he talks, is unlike any other I have heard/seen. Same goes for Harry, although I’ve not had too many conversations with him. But again, you can see it in the way he talks about certain movies. And because of this, I think they are two of the coolest people I have met, because it adds dimensions to their personalities.

Yes, granted a lot of people are enthusiastic about movies and music. But how many of them would actually go into the details of how the score of a particular movie is made, or how the animation in a certain scene is accomplished? These two boys would. And that, I think, is awesome. I am one of those people who walk out of a movie saying “That was a fabulous movie, but I’m hungry now. Let’s grab lunch.” I wouldn’t wait to see the name of the animator, or the composer. Or one of those who finish watching a DVD at home and don't watch the special behind-the-scenes features. But lately, I have been doing that because almost all of the movies that I’ve been watching are with Tejas and he’s wanted to wait and see.

And you know what? It’s brilliant to watch the makings of all these magnificent movies because the sheer thought process behind them is incredible! Really. For example, the sound effects in Wall-E. Watching how the sound engineers work, was simply awing (is that even a word? Well, if it isn’t already, now it is). Any one who has the DVD at home and has not bothered looking at the special features; please do yourself a favor and WATCH IT. It’ll change your perspective on a whole lot of things (including your own interests whether or not they are sound related), not to mention also give you general information on the makings of these masterpieces.


PS. i realise Tejas' name has been an overkill in this post, but then again, it WAS inspired by our conversation on Sunday afternoon. so yeah. that's it.

At The End of The Day

It’s been a long day. It’s gone by mostly at work/college; some of it spent cribbing about being broke and some of it spent bickering with a close one. You get home tired, cranky and grouchy. Nobody’s home, and that means you need to prepare a decent meal for yourself, which leads to some more irritation on your part. It’s not directed towards anybody or thing in particular, but it exists.

You take your shoes off in a huff, wash your hands and face and enter the kitchen. You rustle up something for dinner, but because you’re in a foul mood, the food is only mediocre, if not really bad. They say that matters, at least that’s what your mother says. “Smile and cook,” she says. “It brings in a special flavor.” You figure it’s true, because your meal really does taste as foul as your temperament. Ugh. You can’t seem to do anything right.

You head in for a shower, maybe that’ll give you a fresher outlook. Once you’re out, you’re still in the same mood, only feeling much cleaner. You must put your towel out to dry immediately, because firstly, it’s just good sense and secondly, your parents will be home soon. If they see a damp towel lying around, it’ll give them something to talk about. And you’d rather they not ruin your already messed up mood.

Deciding to put the towel out to dry is one of the best things you could’ve chosen to do. You step out onto the terrace and are hit in the face by the coolest breeze that is possible for the current weather. The shock and unexpectedness of it, makes you stop and stare outside in amazement. And that is when you begin to take in the sound of silence the night presents, the black velvet of the sky, the big balls of gas stuck so strategically in place they appear to form shapes, and that big sometimes-round thing that, when looked at, seems to make all bad things disappear.

You sit out there for a while, absorbing the sights and sounds of Nature. They make you forget about mundane things, and just let you be whoever and whatever you want to be at that particular time. It brings about a strange calm within you, yet charges you up somehow. You return into your room, ready to go to bed and face the challenges of the next day. Work, broke-ness, and petty squabbles can come as much as they want – you know you can face them, as long as there’s a moon and some stars in the sky and a terrace from which you can view them clearly.

A Social Experiment to Test Resilience

I was the subject of a “social experiment” the whole of yesterday afternoon. Tejas was off on a total “I have this huge reserve of energy that’s just going to waste, so I’m going to take everything that Mehvash owns and not give it back” tangent. The aim of the so-called experiment was to test my “resilience”, he said. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure of the exact meaning of the word. I’ve used it many times, to do with plants and the whole vegetarian argument, but I honestly didn’t know the exact meaning. Once home, I referred to the dictionary. This holds true for a lot of English words. Some of you might say I should be ashamed of myself, English major and all that. But I say boo you. When you’re proficient in a language, ANY language, you tend to not know the literal meaning of more than just a few. That is not the point, however, of this post.

I’m not blaming the boy. I’ve been in this mood a couple of times myself. Nikita could testify for that. I know where he was coming from. I also know a whole lot of people who go through it on a regular basis, Michelle being one of them. My point is – what makes a person get purely sadistic pleasure out of this mood? Why must one ruin another’s frame of mind out of one’s own boredom? And where do the victims of this come from? They seem to be bored themselves, annoyed out of their minds, waiting to get out of the situation and go somewhere they can have peace of mind. But they don’t take off. They’re always willing to give the annoyer a chance, saying “Let’s just stick around, it’ll wear off” Hell, I stayed the entire afternoon, when I could easily have left, thinking the mood would wear off soon enough. Well, guess what? It lasted three goddamned hours! And I, like a fool, was there throughout. In my defense, I did almost leave but then my keys were taken away, and hung on a tree. Don't ask.

I have a high tolerance level, it has been tested over and over again – not in an actual proclaimed experiment, but by many people over the years. I am aware of the level of my “resilience”*, I could tell Tejas that without being treated as a lab rat. But if he still wanted to conduct an experiment, maybe he should have tried to answer the questions I raise in this post, rather than test something that’s already been tested – that would have been an experiment worth conducting.

[*according to the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary “resilience” is defined as ‘the ability of people to recover quickly from shock, injury, etc’, in case you were wondering]

Bye Bye Birdie

“Birdie, birdie in the sky
Dropped some white stuff in my eye,
I’m a big girl I won’t cry,
I’m just glad that cows don’t fly.”


A dear, old friend of mine left for Toronto today and I am deeply saddened by that. Yannick and I aren’t the best at keeping in touch. In fact, before his big accident six months ago, we had pretty much disappeared from each others’ lives. We’d just randomly run into each other at a party or a match or something, exchange pleasantries and then catch up on the previous months that we missed out.

His accident, put things in perspective, at least for me. When I heard from Louane that Yannick had fallen three floors and was in the ICU, my first reaction was, “HUH?” For a very long time, it didn’t sink in. I refused to believe it, because really, when you hear something like that it just sounds surreal (and not like the song.) The next thing I remember was meeting Rohit somewhere on the road and him confirming it. We went to the hospital not long after that. He was in pain, however much he wanted to be a cool, “nothing hurts me”, martial arts doing person. He also had A LOT of painkillers in his system and did not remember us weeks later.

The minute I realized that Yannick actually was in hospital, and that he really had had a near-death experience, I began to miss him and began to reminisce about our friendship. Beginning from the time I came into the SSU and met him, to where we began to talk EVERYDAY. I remembered that day at Adlabs after which he gave me LOTR, in the hope that he could get me to read it and become a follower, all the basketball matches that I watched just to show my support for a friend, dancing on his feet during Boy and Girl Forever and him saying “Hear, Hear” at the end of the scene. I remembered being named Daffy and him being Birdie. I thought about Irish Cream.

After the boy got out of the hospital, I decided I’m not gonna let that happen again. I’m gonna totally be aware of what’s happening in his life, and I’m gonna make sure he’s aware of what’s happening in mine. This friendship at social gatherings was definitely not my cup of tea. And I must say, we were pretty good at it, right up until the day I had to find out from a third person that his papers have come through and he leaves for Canada within the month. I was PISSED OFF. Not because he was going, but because I had to find out from an outside source.

But putting that behind us, I just have to say I’m going to miss the boy. It’s so weird knowing that he’s no longer going to be in Kalyani Nagar ready to chill whenever I call, knowing that there’s going to be nowhere to go on Christmas (not THIS one, because I just found out I might be in Edinburgh, but you get my drift), knowing that every 30th of September is going to go by without my supply of Irish Cream, and knowing that whatever happens I can call Yannick for his wit and charm, always guaranteed to make me laugh or at least groan in annoyance which will then lead to laughter!

All the best for your future, my friend. Do that stupid aeronautical engineering, get your bleeding degree and come back for a visit after five years. Till then, Bye Bye Birdie.

The Future

Last evening, it struck me I don’t have time. Last evening, I realized that I graduate within the next one year. Last evening, I realized I need to know what my next step is, by then. And that thought just completely threw me off balance!

I don’t know why the realization left me staggering. I always knew I’d be out of college soon, and that I should know well before that happens, what I want to be doing. Someone asked me a few weeks ago – “It is ten years from now. People are yelling your name in appreciation. What is it that you have just done?” I had no answer to give them. I could see the people, I could hear them screaming my name, and I could even picture a press conference of some kind. But what it was FOR, I couldn’t visualize for the life of me!

And just when I couldn’t feel worse about not knowing about my own future, I started thinking about all my friends and THEIR futures. Most of them already know what they want and are working towards it. Michelle has her Japanese, Lara has her Architecture, Nikita has Dance, Tejas has Music, David has Events, and Sonali has Design. All of them, have taken something they really, really like and incorporated it into their future plans. As for me, well, I still need to figure out what it is that I like enough to revolve my career around.

Why is this so difficult? Why am I having such a hard time figuring myself out? Isn’t the person who knows you best, you? Then why am I not able to answer the one question that only I can answer? I need to get my act together, I know. I need to figure out what I want to do, and then DO it. Enough of being clueless. I have a little more than a month to get started, get some money… and then get out of here. Maybe go to Bangalore for a couple of days. Or not. That’s not the point. I just need to figure it out.

Free Spirit

A free spirit, without worries. A free spirit, with big dreams. One that yearns to live life her way, without pondering over the mundane issues life presents to her. Every experience unique, every day different. Not afraid, to put herself out there and explore each avenue. Each opportunity to be grasped, each knock on her door to be answered. Whether it be good or awful, whether it give her a high or send her down in the dumps, whether she spread her wings and fly or fall into the ravine deep below – because really, what is life if not a bit of everything? THAT is how she will grow, not by people telling her what to, or what not to, do. She is her own being, she has her own interests. The problem is, you’ve never let her find out fully what they are. She now feels smothered, suffocated. People ask her about herself, and she draws a blank. This isn’t supposed to happen to her. After all, she is a free spirit, without worries. She is a free spirit, with big dreams. One that yearns to live life her way, without pondering over the mundane issues life presents to her.

Someone asks her, “What is it that you dream about?” She has forgotten what it is like to dream. Someone asks her, “Who is it that you want to be?” She has no reply, because once upon a time, when she did know, you told her she couldn’t be. Someone asks her, “Where is it that you want to go?” Again, she has no answer. “To go?” she repeats the question thrown at her. Her dreams, her aspirations, her desires lie deep within her soul – forgotten. It’s been so long since she expressed herself, because you did not let her. It’s been so long since she sang to the heavens above, because you told her she wasn’t good enough. She lost faith, she became afraid. She hears the question being repeated, “Where is it that you want to go?” She musters up her courage and tries to answer. “To go?” she says again, trying to buy time. “America,” says she, because it seems like a safe answer to give. Everyone wants to go to America, don’t they? There’s no way this Someone would be able to probe further. She is wrong. Someone is always curious. “America? How interesting. What for?”

She wishes, not for the first time, that she knew. She forgets that she knows, that the answer is embedded deep inside her. She forgets what she used to be, before you instilled this uncertainty in her. She cannot remember what it feels like, to know her strengths and potential. She has become accustomed to underplaying her desires, for she knows what happens when she doesn’t. You tell her that she is wrong, that she ought to know better than to waste her time. She wants to tell you that you are wrong, that she knows she has what it takes. And even if she doesn’t, she’s willing to find out for herself.

But again, that fear, that wretched fear, ties her tongue. She wants your approval, but wishes you would just approve of her as she is. She longs for the day, when you will look at her with pride in your eyes. Pride – not for what you made her, but for what she made herself. All she wants to tell you is, “I am a free spirit, without worries. A free spirit, with big dreams. One that yearns to live life my way, without pondering over the mundane issues life presents to me.”

She drags her thoughts back to the present. Someone continues to look at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Putting on the best smile she can, she says, “Medicine. It’s always been the plan, ever since I can remember”. And it’s true, because she has forgotten what life was like, before the fear of being herself was ingrained.

God

GOD – What is He? Who is He? Is He a person? Is He an animal? Is He half-man/half-animal? Is He a tree? Is He an indescribable being? Is He Rama, Krishna, Ganesha, Allah or the Father, Son and Holy Ghost? Even more, who says God, has to be a He? What if God is a She? Who’s to challenge the view and say He ISN’T a She? As far as I’ve been told, God has only been seen by the dead, and sadly the dead aren’t here for confirmation!

I’ve always liked to think of God as a divine force that has no gender, no physical form and a force that cannot be contained. God isn’t in a temple, mosque, or church, but within each individual. For the sake of convenience, however, I have always referred to Him as He. Having been brought up with the concept of God being a He, it never occurred to me until very recently the possibility of referring to Him as She. But by then I was set in my ways and continue to refer to Him as He out of habit.

Coming from a fairly conservative Muslim family, I was always told God forbade a whole lot of things including consumption of alcohol, nicotine and the meat of pig. He forbade the wearing of certain items of clothing. He forbade the ownership of dogs. And somewhere along the way I came to resent my religion, my caste, my community. I felt smothered. I, being a fairly free spirited young girl studying in a somewhat cosmopolitan environment, did not want to be told what to believe. I wanted to do things my way. I wanted to explore my avenues, I wanted to form my own views and opinions, based on what I experienced, and not something the previous generation had.

And one thing I strongly believed was that if I mess up along the way and do a few minor, forbidden things the God I believe in will forgive me. The God I believe in is fair, just and practical. I’m positive if I just stay true to myself and remain a fair, good-hearted human being, He will overlook the dressing sense, the occasional drink, and the rare puff of a cigarette. Because at the end of it all, that is what matters. Not whether I wear a mini-skirt along with a backless top to match, or whether I’m fully-clad from head to toe. Ultimately, all that matters is whether or not I’ve hurt another human being with my deeds. If I haven’t then, I’m sure my entry into Heaven is pretty much guaranteed!!

All I Ask Of You

All I ask of you, is a little patience. All I ask of you, is a little time. All I ask of you, is a little understanding. You say this is it. But what if it isn’t? There is a whole world of opportunity out there which we might miss out on, if we let ourselves succumb to the feeling now. I like you, yes. But I need to know what is out there. I like you, yes. But I need to be on my own for now, to rediscover myself, to re-determine my worth. It is something I need to establish on my own. Most of my teenage life, I spent with someone by my side. I used to think of myself as independent, but soon my thoughts automatically translated into “WE” instead of “I”

“We’ll be there at 7.” “We’ll go shopping.” “We’ll get you something nice for your birthday.” “We didn’t like the movie.” “We prefer Chinese food over Italian.” – Little things, but ones that had sharp undertones of the kind of person I was becoming. I slowly lost me. His likes became our likes, his dislikes turned into our dislikes, his interests developed into our interests. All this, involuntarily. I never planned on reorganizing my thoughts to suit his, or rearranging my likes to sit better with his. It just happened with time. And after it was over, the hardest part was losing the “WE”

There were so many things I couldn’t figure out for myself. From little inconsequential things like, favorite fruit to life altering things like, career, I found myself questioning my choices. I wasn’t used to feeling like this – incomplete and lost. However, this time round, I know I need time. Time to discover and retain my thoughts, my views; time to know what I want and how I want it; time to reevaluate and figure out if I really do like the things I insist I like. I realize now, that I need to know “I” better, in order to be a successful “WE” And I’m slowly getting there, I can tell you this much – I know now that I favor Italian food to most others, including Chinese. But in order, for me to fully accomplish my journey of self realization, I need you to understand my need for time and patience. Wait for me, that’s all I ask of you.