A Phoenix Rises from its Ashes

 Dedicated to my friends, you know who You are :)

A phoenix is a mythical bird with a colorful plumage and a tail of gold and scarlet (or purple, blue, and green according to some legends). It has a 500 to 1,000 year life-cycle, near the end of which it builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again. It is said that the bird's tears contain healing abilities of pureness, and their cry is that of a beautiful song.-Source: Wikipedia

In the room beyond that door, which is just like the one I currently am in, I can see a marvelous crystal phoenix. The sunrays from the window, reflects various colors from its surface, not unlike a rainbow. It’s perfect, in every sense of the word. So perfect, it seems mythical, but it is right there, and I can see it, and so it must be real. Every move it makes, it seems to radiate, not reflect the light that falls on it. Every word of its song seems so beautiful to me, so precious, so true. A tear drops from its eye. Even that tear drop seems perfect, perfectly shaped, healing some wound, making things a bit better.

I’m sure if you step in my place, you’ll see it too. As you move, closer, away, as you sway, as you stand still, you notice it imitates you perfectly. It looks so perfect, yet you look for imperfections. It looks so familiar, and you can’t place it. Until, you catch the glimpse of light reflected from its eye, and you realize. It isn’t any crystal phoenix. It’s a mirror, and you are the crystal phoenix.

You, the one with the tear pouring down one eye. You heal the wounds of others with it, ignoring the wounds hidden deep within you, which time hasn’t been able to heal.

You, the one that even when you cry, it seems a beautiful song to the listener. The one that soothes, that calms, ignoring the chaos within you. Melodious, exactly what the listener wants to hear, answering life’s questions for someone, with no one to listen to you ‘crying’.

You, the one that is perfect, ideal. An example for others to follow. You, that is meant to follow a path laid out for you since before you were born. One that leads to things admired, sure, but one you may not have wanted. One you can’t stray from, even when what you do want, is right around that previous turn you should have taken on your path.

You, the one supposed to lead. The one that others can look up to. No guides or aides to help you, but you must lead towards a victorious end. You, that can do no wrong, not because you’re always right, but because you are not allowed to do anything wrong. Only your glories are to be highlighted, your failures, rare though they might be, punished personally, and unknown to a world that could learn from your mistakes.

You, the one that seems crystal to the world, so exquisite, so delicately put together. Everyone appreciates that. No one appreciates how little it would take to break you.

But it does take little to break you. You are that brittle. Maybe one little push, a shiver to the stand you’re perched on. That will be the end of you. You might survive it, but that gleam, that reflection from your own eye, that is what breaks you. You realize your imperfections, you realize your unfamiliarity. You realize them because it’s true. You cannot bear to look at yourself anymore, and that is why, when you do look, right into the eyes of your reflection, you break.

Crumble into fine bits, and finally ashes. They, who you healed, who you soothed, who you led, who you were an ideal to, spare you a glance or two of pity, no more. That, to them, is the end of you. The End of an Era they claim to say, as if they ever knew you. But man’s greatest fault has been his ignorance. They do not realize.

You are broken, you cannot be fixed. But your greatest strength was in knowing you were broken. And so you let yourself ‘die’ in their eyes. But really, you were only waiting, biding your time. What is broken cannot be fixed, but you are beyond broke, you are back to ashes. And only when something is completely destroyed, can something new be created in its place.

And that’s what you’re set to do. Rise again, rise from the ashes. Slowly, but surely. Some might realize it’s you, most won’t, but it won’t matter. What will matter is you. Because, once you're born again, renewed in body and mind, you will be everything you ever wanted to be, even if it is nothing what is expected of you.

The phoenix, reborn, will not be of icy crystal. It will be full of fire within. It will not travel along paths laid down for it. It will soar through the open skies. Flying, resting, soaring again. Never staying. It will lead by example, with its failures being celebrated as much as its victories, its right to its own share of mistakes acknowledged, accepted. It will sing songs, that will soothe, and answer, but they will be songs its learned from its life. Songs about its failures maybe, but songs it is proud of, not about its hurt. Its tears may heal, but they wont be tears of its own wounds that are still open. It will be tears of joy, of victories past. Tears that will heal much quicker, much better.

It will soar, into the open skies, so high, above anyone, anything that can claim the sky. It will fly alone, but that will be out of choice, not necessity. It will be perfect, maybe not to me, maybe not to you, but when that phoenix next looks into its own reflection, it will not look away from itself, nor will it crumble when it meets the eye of its reflection. The fire within it will soar further. It will engulf the phoenix, the mirror, the reflection and the phoenix will further flourish.

It is then that you realize, there is no ice, no fire, no mirror, no reflection. No phoenix. There is only you. Then, and now.

Note: The idea for this post came to me more than a week ago, and weird(pleasant) coincidence that it was, I noticed that a friend of mine had written a poem, titled 'The Phoenix Arrives'. Be sure to check it out. Great piece of work.

(More Than) Empty Conversations

Note: Another long one. Be warned.

I’d had one of those days, when everything was well on its way downhill, and going further down. It was late at night, way past the time I’d be allowed to walk into my hostel. ‘Guess I’ll just have to jump the wall again’ I’d thought, as I made my way down to the sea facing promenade. It was, as it always is, almost full of couples. I found a spot that was well lit and therefore relatively couple-free. I’d settled on the concrete and was blankly staring at the water, almost black in the dark, crashing onto the rocks. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them, and was sort of glad as it was finally letting me blank out a bit.

‘Those rocks’, (I’d jumped a foot into the air), ‘are sharp. They’ll bruise pretty badly. And the water. If the tide catches up, it could get real tricky.’ I’d been trying to get my breath back as he finished with ‘Could hurt someone real bad, but probably won’t kill’. With my senses (and my ass back on the concrete) back, I’d realized I knew the guy. Correction, I knew of him. He’d been one of those guys, that everyone knew, popular, and not necessarily in a good way. I had an easy way of categorizing people like him – Jerk. Great! And he has to be suicidal. Excuse me if I’m not out saving the world and its mortals tonight. ‘Not worth it, if you wanna kill yourself’, he smirked. I decided he wasn’t worth a response, gave him my best What-is-your-f-ing-problem? look and went back to staring at the dark rocks and water.

‘I almost didn’t recognize you.’ Yeah well, remind me to thank all the Gods there might be. As if he’d heard me, and yet, as though he was talking to himself he continued, ‘Your camera. You always seem to be behind it, you seem incomplete without it.’ Before I could think it through, I pointed at my back-pack and said ‘It’s in here. Not feeling much like taking pictures tonight.’ Now I wondered why I was justifying myself to him. And what the hell does he mean, incomplete without it? I’m without it lots of times… sometimes…occasionally. And how did he notice anyway? He’d have to be around to notice, and he pretty sure wasn’t., was he?

I’d never spoken to him, never so much as acknowledged or been acknowledged by him, and I sure didn’t want to start now, when I was at my anti-social best. ‘So, what is a girl like you doing here at a time like this?’ he asked. Two questions immediately arose in my mind. He wanted to be all chatty now? And Girl like me? Again, thoughtlessly, and a bit irritated, I answered ‘My boyfriend ran away with my best friend, so...’ As can be expected, I was greeted with silence. It was my turn to smirk when I looked around and saw his look that screamed too-much-information. Surprising even myself, I let out a laugh, and then laughed some more when he gave me another look that clearly said he thought I’d lost it. Between laughs, I confessed ‘It’s just a phrase my friend uses.’ His look didn’t change, and I explained further, ‘You know when you have a problem that seems to be bigger than the world to you, but insignificant to most people? This phrase is the mother of all such problems’. He nodded, but he still looked a bit unsure of my sanity.

We’d sat for a few more minutes in silence and strangely, I wasn’t minding the company. Even stranger, once I’d started, I wanted to talk more. So I continued. ‘It’s been a really bad day. Just had to get away from it all, you know.’ I didn’t know what I’d expected, but certainly not his ‘Yes, I do.’ I’d waited for him to continue, say something more, but right from the start he’d be the one who controlled our ‘conversation’, and he said nothing more. As time passed us by, and waves crashed at out feet dangling over the edge, we rifted in and out of conversations. Him doing most of the talking, me getting in a few questions, but not all the answers. Turned out, we’d both frequented this place often, but never bumped into each other. I’d thought that in my year and a half in this city, I’d been the most regular visitor at this spot, even counting the couples, but he’d beaten me at that.

Randomly he’d ask me a question like ‘So then what is your boyfriend-ran-away-with-your-best-friend-problem?’ that would follow a completely harmless question like, ‘what other places in the city do you haunt?’ Maybe it was that I’d had a crappy day, or just that I was expecting some deep introspection tonight, but I felt myself open up, like I hadn’t in ages. Maybe I’d sub-consciously known what was in store for the future of this conversation. More times than one, I was more than halfway through saying something, before I myself comprehended the magnitude of what I was telling him. Like ‘when I left home, I was so sure of myself, I knew what I wanted, and I knew I could never get that back home.’ He didn’t prompt, he didn’t assume, he didn’t judge. Maybe that was what made me continue, ‘I left everything behind there, everything. And now, I don’t even know what I’m doing, why I’m doing it or even whom I’m doing it for.’ ‘Sometimes you’re not supposed to. Until the end. But no matter what you do, there is almost always the time and concession to go back a few steps and correct your mistakes.’ While I stared in shock at the profundity in his words, it was his turn to laugh out aloud, as he said ‘that’s a phrase I read somewhere. Personally I think you’re screwed. Maybe you ought to jump.’ I’d almost pushed him into the water then.

Couples around us left, a few more came, but even they left before we’d moved. Mostly it had been just long periods of silence. Twice, I distinctly remembered, he’d handed me those small glasses of coffee. I’d never even noticed when he’d gone and come back. He’d probably got it from one of those vendors, which set up stalls for creatures of the night like us. To my question, ‘Why do you pretend to be such a jerk?’, he’d answered, ‘the same reason you pretend not to care.’ No direct answers. While I’d learnt a lot more about him; that he hated movies, just had to always listen to music (I could see his earplugs dangling beneath his collar, and some music blasting from it), and surprise, surprise, that he was actually well read, I still didn’t know anything about him. But even as I asked the questions, I didn’t push him for the answers.

We’d danced around the questions the other asked, at some point we’d gotten up and walked a bit along the promenade, thrown pebbles into the sea trying to see who could throw it the farthest (even though we couldn’t actually see the stones), none of the things I’d ever imagined I’d be doing that night, much less with him. Honestly, before I’d realized it, we noticed it getting lighter around us, the sun was rising. I’d taken out my camera, for a few morning shots, shots that I never would have gotten considering the unearthly hour for me. He’d got us more coffee, and as we sat drinking it, I managed to get a few candid shots of his, as he answered, or avoided answering a question of mine. ‘What is a guy like you doing here at a time like this?’ I asked. ‘Remember your phrase?’ he asked me. ‘Yes’. ‘I was the boyfriend’. Even though it didn’t answer my question, I thought that was all I was going to get, and went back to my coffee. Surprising me for the umpteenth time, he said, softly, ‘I cheated on my girlfriend, with her best friend’. Needless to say, I didn’t have a response, preferring to slurp at that last bit of bitter black liquid at the bottom of the glass. ‘So you see, I am a jerk.’ We sat in silence for a few minutes, till I heard and was nearly blinded by the flash of my own camera. ‘The hunter becomes the hunted’, he grinned. And a smile crept onto my face, as I looked at the picture. I hated pictures of myself, but this was a good one. Nothing pretty about it, just candid. Me staring out at the ocean, with some of it in the frame, and the soft light of sunrise.

‘Anyway, time for me to go’. Just like that. Abrupt. Just like everything the night had been. Weirdly, I didn’t find it awkward, or rude. ‘Yeah, me too. My roomie’s gonna …’ I stopped at his too-much-information look and smiled, as he stood up and turned to walk away. No goodbye. ‘Hey’, I called out, ‘what were you really doing here tonight?’ I don’t know why I’d asked him that. It wasn’t that he’d have given me an answer then. But then he stopped mid stride, turned around and said ‘Considering jumping down onto those rocks.’ He smiled at the look on my face and waved.

I saw him next a couple of days later in college. We passed each other along a corridor, him with those jerk friends of his, me rushing out. We looked at each other, but there wasn’t recognition on either of our faces, no acknowledgement of that night.

When I’d been uploading my most recent batch of pictures that night, I suddenly realized, I had none of those shots of his I’d taken. Mine, of course was still there. The only evidence.

That was the last I saw him.

That was two years ago.

A couple of nights ago, I happened to go back to that place, not unlike the several other times I had done since then. But that night, I saw him there. He was sitting there at the same spot, where we’d had our last coffee. This time, when we looked at each other, we acknowledged it.

As happens sometimes a moment settled... and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped… for much, much more than a moment. And then the moment was gone.

Note: Credit to my friend (who doesn't want it), for the phrase 'My Boyfriend Ran Away with my Best Friend' as a categorization for earth-shattering problems :-p

Inspired by that phrase, and a dream, and reality

Jump!

I read this somewhere:

(or something to this effect)

Sometimes, when you’re at the edge of a cliff, you just have to jump.

If it works out fine, you may fly.

If it doesn’t, you fall.

At worst, you realize it was just a dream and you’re still poised at the end of the cliff for that jump.

The Greatest Game Ever Played

She decided, this time to win the Greatest Game Ever Played.

She knew the perfect opponent to pick, the player who never strayed.

He owned the game and she’d been hurt at it,

It wasn’t a situation he would forfeit.

And so when she asked him ‘What the rules for the Game may be?’

He said ‘Whatever you want them to be’

He thought he couldn’t lose at a game invented by him

And she thought she couldn’t lose if the rules were hers.

His only condition: ‘No one knows about this but you and me’

Hers: ‘You can’t fall in love with me’

The rules and conditions were quickly agreed upon,

Coz it fit what they each wanted right from the dawn.

And so the Game started, and for sure it was like no other.

No candlelit dinners, no long walks and surely no promises of forever.

Such an easy relationship they had never known,

where regrets and emotional burdens were never borne.

She cherished her little secret; glad the world didn’t know every bit of her life,

He loved that she didn’t cling, and that to pamper her he didn’t have to strive.

So ‘blissed’ were they in their assumed victories approaching fast,

Neither realized the day either should have won was long past.

Alas! As happens often, when things are going too right,

Reality hit them right in the face with a light shining too bright.

While they still followed each of her rules to the book,

The conditions, they both seemed to have let off the hook.

They both wished to share their joy with a world so down in sorrow,

They each had started to wish a little more for tomorrow.

But he still thought the game was his,

She thought she could still bend the rules slightly and still win.

Until one day he could take it no more,

And said to her ‘This game doesn’t seem like mine any more. It has to end’

She knew she could take it either way now, maybe give herself another chance,

But she said instead ‘The rules are still mine, and the ball is now at your end’.

They both knew what had happened. She had given him the ‘trump’ card.

If he wanted to keep this game on, he’d have to initiate their steps on this boulevard.

He still thought the game was his, and could not let her win.

Even as he felt his heart break he said ‘Game over’ and left her in the din.

Neither had lost, but no one won. The game left at a stalemate. The pawns stuck in their places with no place to go

He was out wondering if the Game was ever worth his state. She sat writing her story so that the world would know.

Author’s note: Yay! Another try at writing a poem. This time with words that rhymed :) I find this poem extremely hilarious. Did you get the joke? My poem, my story ends here. But I told a couple of my friends I’d give them a happy ending at least once. If you wish to read, it, carry on.

A day passed, and then some.

They each realized the Game lost would not have felt so lonesome.

They bumped into each another one day, while their lives were still a mess.

At a romantic diner overlooking the beach none the less.

The irony not lost on them, they smiled honest smiles,

They fumbled over the first few words that seemed to lessen between them the miles.

Finally, he asked her ‘What the rules this time may be?’.

She smiled and said ‘Sill what I shall want them to be’

Authour’s note again: I know it should have ended ‘Whatever you want them to be’, but I couldn’t resist :-p 

And I feel like I’ve betrayed myself, but there you guys, there’s your extremely overrated ‘happy ending’.

One year and counting.

Like almost any day when something out of the ordinary happens, this day will be remembered for years to come. Maybe it will go down in history books. Earlier they’d think up grand names for such periods in history, like the ‘French Revolution’ or ‘The revolt of 1857’. Now since there are so many such events happening so frequently, it’s down to just dates like 9/11, or 26/11 for which I’m writing this post. When the attack happened last year, I wrote about it and my feelings/opinions on it. I won’t be doing that again. It’s tough, still, to go back to how absolutely frightening those 21/2 days were. It gives me the shivers. The bad kind. But another event that happened shortly after, gives me goose bumps for an entirely different reason.

They say it started with a blog. One post, by one guy, about the attacks. The post ended with ‘I will be standing outside the Taj Hotel on Wednesday, December 3 at 6 pm. Join me’. That simple.

And I did. As did (reportedly) over 20,000 others. Word spreads faster these days, they say. When I got there, I couldn’t see an inch of the road. All we saw was a river of people. The emotions I felt there, cannot be put into words, and I can barely try. I didn’t write about this then, and I wont write much about it now. Sometimes, memories are really sufficient, without having to be written down. But that is what I shall choose to remember each year on this day. It was supposed to be a peace rally, but it wasn’t a boring walk with lit candles. It was a huge, huge group of people who were angry, upset, hurt and humiliated what for what had happened to them. There were random bouts of slogan shouting, patriotic songs being sung, and placards flowing over peoples heads, passed from one to another. There were thousands of people, but it seemed, one soul, one voice. Hurt, tired of being quiet, wanting to be noticed. Asking for a change long due to it. The march crossed all the places where the attacks occurred, starting at CST station and ending at the Gateway, where people lit candles.

The march ended, people headed back home their separate ways. But that soul, that voice still waits for justice to be done to it. Will that ever happen? Call me an optimist, but if the world doesn’t end in 2012, like they claim it will, then it HAS to. It absolutely has to. There is just no other option, is there? The way I look at it, this event is the turning point, at least for India. There have been attacks since then, and I daresay they might be another or two. But in the history books, this like the revolution of 1857 will be the event that changed it all. It took us 90 years since then to be called an independent country. No great event has ever happened overnight and it won’t now. Hopefully, it doesn’t take that long now. Hopefully, the same generation can live to see the new independent India. Free from fears of terrorism, external and internal. Free from the forces that stop it from being the super power it deserves to be. Is that possible? If I live to see the day, then I’ll write about it. If I don’t, then maybe more than 90 years later, that soul and voice is finally paid heed.

Maybe it’s the voice and soul at fault. Maybe it needs to be more than that. One body. One person. It’s all that’s needed for a start. That simple.

Click

“All photographs are accurate. None of them is the truth.”

 ~Richard Avedon

Each day, or should I say night, as I travel back home from work, navigating through hundreds of vehicles,  cursing at traffic signals that just have to turn red when I reach them, and trying hard to avoid killing pedestrians oblivious to vehicles and moving as if they own the roads, I pass homes, lots of them. At the time I travel home, thanks to my oh-so-exciting job, the lights in most windows are turned off. Some windows however, still shine bright with light. My eyes seem to search for these windows, seek them out in the otherwise dark backgrounds behind streetlights. Over days, I’ve noticed a pattern. If you look long enough, closely enough, these windows seem just like paintings, the view seeming to be almost the same each day. I know it may sound perverse but the people behind those windows, their routines, seem mine now. For the fraction of a second (or a minute or two depending upon the traffic really), that I pass by these windows, I feel like I’m living those moments with them, like they are my family, away from family. Today, I decided to stop and take a picture of each of these windows. Life seems so uncertain; you never know what tomorrow holds. I want to treasure these few moments with my “family”, and what better way then pictures?

Picture 1: A man, old enough to be my father, sitting at a table, eating dinner. The light here is almost always candle-light, like it is tonight, and the soft glow of the flame, lends wonderful color to the image. He sits at an angle, and I can’t see if he’s alone but I assume his wife keeps him company. Oh, for companionship at that age and a wonderful home cooked meal to come home to!

Picture 2: A couple, cuddling together on a couch. The woman gazing up lovingly every few minutes at something the man says, and the man bending down to kiss her forehead or smiling down at her an equal number of times. Oh to be in love, and be loved, and want for nothing more!

Picture 3: A teenage girl, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, with headphones on, dancing away to glory. No particular dance form, but yet so graceful. Dancing without the slightest hint of self-consciousness, she moves from one end of the room to another, sometimes frantically picking up pace, sometimes slowing down to just moving on the spot, the tiny LED’s above her head casting her in various colors. Oh to not have the worries of a ‘grown-up’ world!

Picture 4: A boy, at his study-table, studying by the light of a table lamp. He seems to do it each day, with the same amount of concentration, even when I’m sure the exams have passed and the next one is far away. Oh, to go back to a time when all that mattered were exams or more importantly, the holidays that came after!

While I have several more pictures, these 4 seem to strike me the most. The ones I’ll treasure for years to come, because they represent people with whom I’d gladly exchange my life, if only for a day.

The view from behind the window:

Rate my work

I’ve added a tiny feature to my blog, that lets you rate a post.

At the end of each post, you’ll find the text ‘RATE THIS POST’ with the options:

‘Good’, ‘Average’ and ‘Below Par’.
All you need to do, is check the appropriate rating and wait for the checkbox to turn blue, and the counter next to the rating go up by 1. It's that simple!

While feedback in the form of words is still my favorite kind of feedback, this just makes it a little simpler for you as a reader. If you don’t have the words for a comment, this rating will help me know whether the post was ‘Good’, ‘Average’ or ‘Below Par’. :-p

Looking forward to being rated. (But do keep commenting)

And yes, it is anonymous.

Jai Ho

If you’re the kind that doesn’t watch movies in theatres, then you probably won’t know what I’m talking about, when I speak of the national anthem being played before every show. Now I don’t believe in forced patriotism and I’m not really a big supporter of the practice. But to me, like I am sure to many other proud Indians, the national anthem means something. It demands and deserves complete respect. And while some people might argue that standing at attention does not mean you are a true blue patriotic, it’s the thought that counts. It shows that you are taking a minute to simply give your attention to your country, think about it, salute it and feel that pride.

Besides the forced patriotism, what irks me is the different versions played in different movie halls. I think I read about it somewhere too. Some play the instrumental version, some play the sloooooowwww one that goes on for quite a while, and gets the little kids (and some not-so-little-kids) quite restless by the time it ends and some pay it like its on fast forward, with some words actually skipped over.

This brings me to the actual point of the post, which is people’s reactions when the anthem is played. While most stand up respectfully, you do get to hear the odd irritated sighs, like the 2 minutes that the anthem is played, is a huge waste of time; irrespective of the fact the next 3 hours may be a bigger waste. You see the few people, coming into the hall, not stopping looking for their seats, disturbing everyone in their row as they get to their corner seats. You (rarely) get to see a few idiots actually mocking the anthem (and that makes my blood boil). You get to see parents with young children doing some of the above, and it gets you to wonder, what sort of example they are setting for their children, and how dare they go about calling others bad examples for their children.

In a country where respect is often misplaced and overrated (my not-so-humble opinion), this to me is highly disrespectful.

But amidst all this, sometimes, like yesterday when I went to watch a movie, you get to see a guy standing tall and proud, actually saluting the flag on screen, and you go back to that feeling of pride for your country. The best part, once the anthem was over, the man loudly called out ‘Bharat mata ki…’, and the majority of the crowd in the packed hall (including some of the afore-mentioned), replied back, ‘Jai!’

My Jai Ho moment. :)

I haven’t, and yet, I have

I haven’t lived long enough to know if death could be more pleasant than life. I’ve lived long enough to know that what matters is to make each day  alive count.

I haven’t loved strong enough to understand two bodies one soul. I have loved enough to know I cant live entrapped with not even my soul to call just my own.

I haven’t read enough to claim to know it all. I’ve read enough to know that tomorrow I shall read something that amazes me more than what I learnt today.

I haven’t traveled enough to know every corner of the world. I’ve traveled enough to know only one place can ever be called home.

I haven’t been away from home long enough to know what home-sickness is. I’ve been away enough to know you  can never go ‘home’ again.

I haven’t lost enough to ever have felt I have nothing more to lose. I’ve lost enough to know I can never get back what I had.

I haven’t ever wanted enough to not want anything more. I’ve wanted enough to know what a desperate measure is.

I haven't done a lot of things I wanted to do, but when I think of it,

I haven’t, and yet, I have…



Something I found on my laptop that I haven't used in ages.. when I wrote it, it din't really appeal to me, and now when i looked at it.. it did,


This is sort of poetry right??




Note2: The line in italics(I haven't done a lot of things I wanted to do, but when I think of it) was contributed by my traveler friend and fellow blogger Angelo . You can look at some of the pictures from his travels here .

The More Things Change, The More They Remain the Same

The past week proved it!

Things that changed: For the first time, in over ten years, I had noodles, not any grandiosely cooked noodles either, the instant, put it into water, ready in two minutes kind. The ten years bit isn’t an exaggeration. I’ve always hated noodles for as long as I remember. But for some reason, this one day in office, when my stomach was grumbling for food, the noodles, slimy yellow little things, looked tempting to me. I had a spoon, liked it, had some more, din’t hate it, had some more. An hour or so later, I realized that I probably shouldn’t have given my stomach so much of something new to adjust to, but hey, I’m not hating it again – yet!

Things that remained the same: One of my friends, I’ll spare you my classification of friends and this person’s category in it, was leaving town, probably forever, maybe never to return. I’d known this for a while now, but I hadn’t really thought about it. Correction, didn’t let myself think about it. Besides, we’d drifted apart, weren’t that close anymore, you get it. But he’d been there for me when I needed a friend, and that accounts to deserving at least a goodbye, no matter what category of friend. But true to me, and (as a few of my family and friends put it) due to my utter lack of any normal emotions, I couldn’t do it. Never have been able to. I think a goodbye is the only reason I’d pick up the phone and call someone, only so I wouldn’t have to do it in person. The call would be short too, well within my 18sec call limit. Just a ‘Hey man, wish you the best for your future, do great things, make me proud’ kind of superficial talk that I associate with unwanted emotion. So, even after years of practice, even after making conscious changes in myself to at least pretend to be more social than I am, more tolerant, more normal(read: having normal emotions), I still can’t say a good bye. And I know, that even if I may regret it, if could turn back time, I still wouldn’t be able to say Good bye.

Reality is an Illusion

I thought I knew you. But I guess it’s easier… to see what we want, than to look for the truth. You think you know me but you don’t; and that means you don’t know what I can do.

‘Good morning’, said she one bright morning. For once when I wake up, I’m not grumpy, but happy. Who isn’t on seeing their best friend right? Now my friend, let’s not get into names, is seriously the bestest friend ever. No one gets me like she does, I know you’re thinking about me- she’s 15, what’s to get? But honestly, life is tough for a teenager. You don’t know the stuff we have to go through. And through it all, my friend’s always been there. Right by my side, always supporting me, always on my side, us against the world, you get the gist.

I’m a little surprised Mum let her in; she’s not too fond of my ‘best friend’. Can you believe that? My own mother, not happy I have such a brilliant friend. Not too fond, is an understatement, she practically despises her. I may be sounding a little too harsh but it’s true. Actually, its not so much Mum not liking her that bothers me, its just, well, how do I say it? Whenever my friend is around it’s like my Mum doesn’t like me. I’m not being jealous, she honestly doesn’t like my friend, in fact she seems scared of her. She won’t even look at me. And she speaks to my friend in a weird way. I think my Mum’s a little messed up in the head. Sometimes, when we race home from school, my friend reaches home before I do, and when I am looking in the door, before either of them realizes I’m there, I sometime notice my friend and her - and it’s like she’s her mum and not mine. But my friend’s smarter, like today, she probably got into the house without Mum knowing she’s there. Didn’t I tell you she was awesome? She knows the deal with my mum, but she is still my friend. Some kids at school call us freaks. They just don’t understand. Sometimes, even I don’t understand.

Like, I don’t remember how or when I met my friend. It’s like she was always my friend, and when I met her, it was like two long lost friends getting back together. I don’t remember what my life was like before I met her. It’s just like she’s always around me, part of my family, part of me. She ends up calling my parents mom and dad too, and I’m only gladder for it coz I’m an only child and who doesn’t love to have a sister? I’ve never even seen her parents, let alone met them. But from what she talks about them, they’re just like mine. Do all parents go to the same school or something, before they become parents? Anyway, back to mom, I told you she’s been a little weird lately haven’t I? Not just her, the whole world seems crazy to me.

Like she secretly took us to see this mad man! She dint even tell us where we were going, and she dint mind that my friend was tagging along. But of course, she seemed scared of my friend and wouldn’t talk to me. That guy seemed normal at first, even nice. His place was part office, part kid-heaven, with all kinds of toys and stuff. But of course, it wasn’t really a kids-would-love-it kinda place. It was too… grown up. So he and mom spoke for a bit in a different room, and then he spoke to us. Spoke more to my friend rather. Asked her lots of questions, some weird, some stupid and whole lotta crap about me. I mean HELLO!!! I’m sitting right there, ask me directly why don’t you? He did speak to me sometimes, but again, like I dint exist. He’d ask me a question and then before I could even say anything he’d act like I’d said something, and move on to the next question, like he was entertaining sum imaginary baby! I just couldn’t wait to get out of there. He sent us out again, and he and mum spoke some more, and she came out with a small paper bag in her hand and looking a lot more relieved than she’s been lately. For the first time in a long time, she smiled at my friend –a sad smile, but like the smile she sometimes gave me when I got hurt as a kid, that said, it’s going to be fine, you’ll be fine.

Like I said, the world’s going crazy. And all that craziness has started to affect my friend. She’s begun to act more like the rest of them. My mom seems to like her more every day and increasingly ignores me. Not just my mom, every one else. Some other school kids have started acting friendly with my friend, again not noticing me. Initially, I once confronted my friend. Asked her where her loyalties lay, got really pissed off and for the first time ever, and I swear to God this shouldn’t happen to anyone, my friend appeared scared of me. This is the worst! The one person who was the best in the world, acting like every one else! She broke down. She said she wasn’t trying to do it, this was just happening to her. She just seemed to suddenly forget about me. But she swore she loved me, and that she’d always be my best friend. I dint entirely believe her, I thought she was hiding something from me, but in the name of our friendship, I let it pass for now.

I am happy to see her. But she seems really different today. She’d been getting distant for quite a while now. It’s been quite a few days since we’ve talked AT ALL. Sad right? She seems serious, and all grown up like. I almost want to throw a pillow at her and laugh and ask her to cut it out, but I don’t think she’s trying to be funny. My mind is reeling, blanking out as she speaks to me. She tells me, she’s been really sick lately for a long time now. But she’s getting better. I’m her sickness. (I really conked out for a bit after that). She says she’s been getting better lately, taking medicines the doctor gave her. (What doctor?) And finally, ‘You’re not real. You have to go. I have to be normal. I have to get better, let my parents and real friends be there for me. I can’t let you ruin my life anymore’. I seem to have lost any or all power of speech. Tears are running down my face, she can see it and she seems pained too. I tell her it’s her mom, she’s been doing all this crazy stuff to her, and she mustn’t listen to her. Again she speaks and I’m stunned. She's almost in tears, and she’s really close to shouting out loud now. ‘No, stop it. She’s not your mom, she’s my mom. Stop living my life like it was yours.’

She pulls me to a mirror, and what I see there leaves me frozen. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘you’re not real. You have to go. Please go. Please leave me alone’ and she goes off crying. And while I’m staring in the mirror, all confused, wondering why I can’t see myself, I see her reflection running to door and opening it, and there is mom, no, her mom running in hugging her, both of them in tears.

I’m lost, I don’t know what to do anymore. But I know one thing. Just because she forgot I was her friend, doesn’t mean I’ll forget. I’ll wait right here, biding my time, because I’m sure one day she’ll remember. One day she’ll look into a mirror, and I’ll be there right by her side, and she will be able to see me.

Author's note: Woohoo! Finally did it. My first entirely fictional piece. Too long a read, I realize, but I just got carried away! If you’ve read till here, then I thank you just for having read this. Would really appreciate feedback and comments on this thing. This has been a WIP for a long time, an idea forming in my head that finally (according to me) took decent shape.

I dint intend for the post to end where it actually did, but the end I had in mind seemed to both trivialize the entire plot and to make it spooky. But if you’re still interested, read on:

But that may be a long time away. Till then, maybe I need a new friend. Someone who will appreciate me. What about you? You seem real nice. Will you be my friend? Look into the mirror. It’s not just you that you can see right? Look closer, I’m there, right beside you. Can you see me?

My favorite pictures

As you would have noticed, I've added a new feature to my blog. You should be able to see a slideshow of my favorite pictures right on my blog without having to go to my web-album. If however you do go over to the album, do put in your comments and 'like' your favorite pictures from the lot. I do intend to keep updating the album.

the link if you still need it is:

http://picasaweb.google.com/anupama.naik/RandomFavorites?feat=directlink

If wishes were horses

I don’t know if you’ve read it (I haven’t :-p ), but there is a book called ‘the seven habits of highly effective people’. Now you get why I haven’t yet read it, and quite frankly don’t intend to read it in the near future. Anyhoo, we had a “training” session in the office the other day that was supposedly related to the book. (Excuse the ambiguity, but like I said, I haven’t read the book) and while like all eight-freaking-hour-long sessions are, it did get a bit boring, but it did hit a few sore points. Well the session was about work-life balance and the moral of the story was that if your life is a routine of work-eat-sleep for the majority of your time, your life is monotonous, it sucks, you could go into depression and die... or something along those lines. Honestly, if you want to really know about it, attend such a session yourself and/or read the book.

So it got me thinking, what can I change in my life to make it interesting, exciting, meaningful and certain other adjectives that make life look cooler, what would I do? The answer came right back... not much, nah, I’m good.

However, there comes in the power of imagination, if you don’t know Calvin, you probably don’t understand this power, and I can’t help you. But if you do, read on. Now in my imagination I do not have a shortage of any sort of resources, I live in an ideal world; the world is my oyster, the only restrictions I face are ones I decide I want. And once I got to this world, the options just never stopped. While there were many, many crazy ideas I had, a few really stood out. In random order as they come to me now –

1. Get a vehicle that is road trip ideal- I’m imagining a Tata Xenon, but something more along the lines of a Ford Endeavour would be better. Now this vehicle as mentioned before would be my ideal (and I would prefer only) companion on weekend trips that I intend to take at least 3 times a month. The idea of ‘discovering’ India has always appealed to me, and with weekend trips I can at least discover my state if not the country. I do at some point in life intend to take time off, if not quit my job, and do go roaming for longer than just a weekend
2. Get a really good camera, think the Nikon D300, which would help me keep memories of these trips. I think nature offers the best ‘models’ for shooting pictures. Honestly what is more brilliant that a sunset at a beach?
3. Be my own band, which involves learning to sing, play the guitar and drums. I’m not too crazy about keyboards. Nothing is as therapeutic as music, and it isn’t always enough to just listen to it.
4. Seriously consider an alternative career option. For as far as I can remember I’ve either wanted to be a teacher or to write. I think I would suck at teaching, noble as the job is, but I don’t think I suck at writing, and even if I do, I wouldn’t be ruining someone else’s life doing it. Writing does not mean an author, more like a journalist but without it being a ‘job’.
5. Work with an adoption agency and help build more families. What’s better than actually getting to pick your child/parents? And sponsor at least a few kids' education because it is what is most important to a child’s development.

A few things on a lighter mode:

1. Go crazy with adventure sports- bungee jumping, sky diving, rafting, rappelling, you name it, and I’ll do it.
2. Get soooooo sloshed I don’t know anything at all.
3. Go tell some people what I really think of them (I know you think I already do that, but you don’t know what I’m hiding and it could be about you.. HA HA HA)
4. Go public about my superpowers- as in public public.
5. If I have to ever get married, elope and be on the run always.
6. Believe in ‘forever’.

And finaly, just for kicks, and I don’t know if its serious or not, jump off a high-rise J

What a way to go, huh?

Theory of relativity

Well, I’m no Einstein, but I have my own theory of relativity.

 

Notice how when you’re happy, the world around you seems a little bit brighter? You don’t mind the heat too much, you don’t mind being stuck in the traffic a little longer just because some idiot in front of you dint clear the signal fast enough (you don’t even call the guy an idiot!!), how nothing can seem to get you down, how you notice even the less fortunate seem to be happy with what they have, how even when you a total anti-romantic, you go ‘Aww’ when you watch a couple sub-conspicuously reach for the each others hands to hold while walking (even though normally, you would yell out to them to get a room), and the sunset at the beach is never more perfect?

 

Now notice when you’re sad, you notice all the flaws in the world, you notice all the unhappiness around, and should you witness some happiness, you get all sarcastic and irritated and even more depressed? Then you’re always stuck at a signal that just won’t clear, all kids in different variations of cute-ness just seem irritating, couples seem nauseating and happy couples with cute kids make you want to rush to the terrace of the nearest building-and fling THEM down? Ever notice how even the sunset at the beach… nah ... sunsets at beaches are never less than perfect, that’s one thing that can’t be ruined, come rain or nauseating couples J

 

 

Now there isn’t a corollary (I believe that’s the term for it) to this:

 

When you’re happy and someone tells you something happy that happened to them, and you happen to like this person, then sure… the world just got a little brighter.

However, when you’re sad, hearing about something even sadder about anything or anyone does not make you feel better. It’s like when you’re really upset about something and you cant finish the food on your plate and want to throw it away, and you’re mom tells you to finish it, and to think about the people who don’t get a single decent meal in days, not only are you already upset, but you get more upset cause you have to finish the food, and to add to that you have the guilt of poor ill fed people to add to your sorrow.

 

Dunno about the food, but a big fat tub of choco-chip ice cream sure found its last day of existence!

Hovering memories

While most of life speeds by at blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speeds (no, I don’t mean the long boring hours you spend in office every day), some moments make you stand and stare, not exactly at the same moment, but awhile later it comes back to you, and you can’t get it out of your head no matter how much you try.

This is based on two such memories:

 

Scene 1: It was Christmas time and I was on my way to meet a couple of friends for dinner, but stuck in the traffic and cursing it. So I was waiting for the signal to turn green, and the auto to move, when along comes one of those street-vendors who had these toy - bikes and cars. Like most of these vendors do, he stuck the bike in my face trying to sell it to me. Now, I’m not normally rude (If you laughed reading this, well, I’ll deal with you later), but the bike made a really annoying noise and I told him that I wasn’t interested. The auto driver however, had a different opinion. He enquired about the bike, wanted to see it “ride” on the road, checked for more of the annoying sound and finally asked for the price. I don’t remember what it was but it was obviously more than he could afford. He tried to bargain, but the price he offered was too low for the vendor. He went so far as to say it was or his little son at home, but the two couldn’t agree on a price. I was almost about to take some money from my purse and buy the boy (I won’t pretend it wasn’t just so I dint have to listen to the whrr-whrr of the bike), but the signal turned green, and vehicles all around started honking and we left.

 

Well I did manage to reach the restaurant on time, but needless to say some of the Christmas cheer was lost.

I wonder if the kid got a gift, I wonder if he had a Christmas miracle…

 

 

Scene 2: It was one of those days when I had to wait back late in office, one of those high work pressure days, when you’re literally at the edge of your seat getting work done, when coffee breaks don’t mean 30 minutes away from your system, where there’s no time for games to be played. Luckily for me, I got done with my work to take the last cab home. I was almost halfway home when the driver’s phone rang. Now it was only a one-sided conversation that I could hear but I got the gist of it. It was his daughter, calling to say she was feeling unwell. He asked her if her mother was around, asked to ensure that she ate her food, and asked her to go with her mother to the doctor. He told her to tell the doctor that he’d come by to pay him the money later, and to just take the medicines and come home. Like any child, she asked her father when he would be home. He answered that he still had a couple of shifts left and wouldn’t be able to make it home before midnight. I couldn’t hear what she said, but judging by his replies along the lines of ‘I’ll try and hurry as much as I can’, I guess she was asking for her father to come home soon.

He disconnected the phone, but drove the cab just a little bit faster, and you could see he meant what he said.

 

Don’t’ you remember when you were little and fell sick, don’t you remember calling your parents at working, pretending you were almost dying, asking them to hurry, but also asking for something to be bought for you? If they weren’t able to come home as soon as you wanted them to (and God-forbid without what you wanted), don’t you remember bringing the place down with your tantrums?

 

I hope the driver got at least one more of his pick-ups cancelled, and could make it home earlier. I hope his daughter got well quickly, but most importantly I wonder if she was able to forgive her father for not being able to come home immediately.

It's been a while...

Well it’s been a little more than a year since college ended. I never EVER imagined I wouldn’t realize when that would happen, but it did. The day came and went, and a few days later I realized, DAMN! It’s been a year since college ended. I also dint have a reaction. Well sure, a portion of my mind is always floating in eternal place that I’ll never have to go back, but besides that… nothing! I guess another part of my mind, the one filled with insecurities is still worried that something may go wrong and I won’t be as broken of from that place as I hope to be.

 

Well in the past year, I have not once gone back to the campus – a feat I am quite happy about. I have passed the road by the college (you can only avoid it so many times L and it is one the roads that leads to the beach), and every single time I have looked away. Well the little glimpse I got before looking away was enough to show me that the place was still the grim hell-hole I thought it to be for four long years. I guess it’s still full of money-sucking people who take perverse pleasure in harassing students. (Phew1 I thought I’d gotten over some of the hate, I guess not). Every so often, I happen to speak with someone who’s been to college recently or a junior still going to the grime and I can’t seem to thank enough whatever powers there are, for getting me out of there in an “almost” sane state. So a little more than a year ago I put up a post about college ending, and id wondered back then if I would really miss my college days. Back then I claimed my answer would always be a big resounding NO. Well a year down the line, the answer is still … NOOOOOOOOO. (I can hear my voice echo, I swear, can’t you?)

 

Well, I’m not being judgmental (HA! Who am I kidding? Of course I am), but honestly, what are people talking about when they say that? The boring lectures? The lecturers? The assignments that had absolutely no point to them? The EXAMS? The crazy preparations for the exams, the nerve-wrecking anticipation of the results where you wonder which prof will screw you less? WHAT?? I don’t miss any of it. I do miss the long hours spent with friends, I do miss the college-fest madness and I honest-to-God miss the frankies and sandwiches we got the consumer store (NOT the canteen, coz our college didn’t even have a decent enough canteen) but I cover that up by ensuring I’m in touch will my friends from college, and by finding newer places to eat. (P.S: This place at Lokhandwala has THE most amazing frankie’s, do go there and you’ll be biting your fingers off)

 

well if you’ve had a college that you really really miss and wish you could go back to, I am glad and also slightly jealous that you have such happy memories of days that should have been just plain old fun. As for me, my few happy memories from college will ahev to tide me over.

 

I’ll end with another question or two for me to answer next year.

1. Would I go back? (Right now: Not if someone offered me All the money in the world and then some)
2. Have the nightmares stopped yet?

Let's see what the answers turn out to be 

Let's meet up

Sound familiar?

I’m confused. I know they say English is a funny language, but I thought I had fairly gotten the hang of what some simple words would mean. However, in recent times, words have ceased to mean what they were originally invented for. So lets meet up has somehow over the years, translated from, ‘you-know-its-been-a-long-time-since-we-met-and-we-have-a-lot-of-catching-up-to-do’ to ‘I-really-have-no-interest-in-being-here-talking-to-you-and-I-can’t-think-of-a-better-way-to-get-away’. Ok, maybe it doesn’t mean that, but its sure gotten around to the being the new, ‘got-to-go,see-you-around-OR-NOT’.

I dint realize id fallen pray to the new lingo, until quite recently I happened to meet up with an old acquaintance (not a friend, hopefully I’m still above using such phrases for friends), and was really in no mood to sit and chat, not that we’d have a lot to chat about. Luckily for me, a friend happened to call at just about that time, and I got my excuse. “I’m sorry,”. Said I, “but I really need to take this call. But you know what, we should all meet up sometime, do some catching up. See ya around”

I’m ashamed and shocked at myself. I should go drown in my self pity, but honestly, we- you and I- should meet up sometime soon, don’t you think?