Dil Maange More

All my life I have been surrounded by really nice people, be it family or friends. A downside to this is that the amount of niceness sums up to a really overwhelming figure which makes moving away from it to lead a comparatively solitary life not a lot of fun. A virtual, digital world is gaining cognizance over a real one and while on one hand I am thankful that it lets me place one foot of mine in a life I have been used to but had to leave behind, it also makes me realize that if it had not been for the super-connectivity that reigns over the entire world, I would still be back in Bombay savoring the company of my near and dear.

Company is much more that getting to hear their voices or have a look-see at their faces. It's about the minuscule things that get stringed together to define our daily course of life. Like a good morning kiss on a grandmother's forehead, or a squealing endearing manner of address to a doting grandfather, sharing the day's work with a friend, ribbings at the dinner table, and badgering and teasing a mum and seeing the look of pained reproach on her face. It need not even be something that marks or demands ubiety or a somatic touchy feely kind of token. It is something that has grown to be so much an implicit part of your life and has blended so efficiently in your routine that you might not even notice it till its cut loose.

Technology sure plays as a sop to my conscience by replacing the palpable bonus bits of my life with a virtual cosmos of propinquity. But although my life sustains even after plucking these guileless nexus away, the kernel of longing is so deep-rooted that it does not show any sign of ebbing away. For which I am grateful, for they elucidate my past, present and future. 

Mums The Wor(l)d

Her smile is all that takes

To make me feel alls well,

There is not a worry in this world

That cannot be put to rest.

A heart so kind, a hand that helps

Heedless of night or day,

Eyes that well to woes of else

Her own she brushes aside.

Buds she nurtured to tender blooms

By showering them with her love,

Owe their entire being and happiness

To an upbringing that's compassionate to all.

Fostering the frail though not in prime herself

Her dedication undeterred,

She tends to her garden of efflorescence

With the patience of a saint.

I wish I had it in me

Only if half her strength,

It would help me be a better personage

One that I can be proud of with a clean conscience.


P.S: A vain part of me wishes I had an iota of her looks. Wouldn't have hurt to be a tad pretty! :)

2000 Leagues Across The Seas...

...is where my home is.

R's grandmother passed away the day before yesterday, rather suddenly. No one from his immediate family was around. Scattered across the globe, the rest of the family could at least make it to the funeral to pay their last respects. Everyone but us.

He sits there sad and brooding, reminiscing over the childhood moments that he spent getting pampered, with his great grandmother and grandmother at his beck and call. The loss is unfathomable even if the days spent in their company were not many in number. No child who has ever known its grandparents cannot not be crazy about them.

People will offer condolences; social protocol demands that they do. Its polite, anthropological and indifferent. They all say that the grief shall ebb away, that there is nothing that time can't heal. Over time the voices of the departed will grow faint in your head. Everyone knows what you feel because its not a complex emotion. But what the relationship meant to you is what only a few will appreciate, understand and grieve with you.

Inexorably, there were days when we did not once summon their existence into our mind. The presence of the extant is always taken for granted. It's the insurmountable that we chase, that we crave for. Life is short, capricious and unpredictable.

Right now my mind is turbulent as can be seen in the disjointed tone of this piece. I am where I am not needed, I came here when I was not needed though I would still want to believe otherwise. Some day when my thoughts are more linear will I write a post that will observe the occasion coherently. Right now my mind lies where my heart lies and that's a 7000 miles away! :'(

In memory of R's great grandmother (who passed away last year at the ripe age of 107) and grandmother 

Insomnious Insights

Back in pre-school, one of the first essays that we had to write, even before we knew what the term essay meant, was 'Me'. It had a standard pattern and began with My name is so and so and I am so many years old. The parent's names and occupations followed. If you owned a pet then its name and breed would be the next in line. And one would conclude with ones likes and dislikes. In all 6-7 sentences construed our existence. Life was uncomplicated enough to fit into a single sheet of a notebook and to be defined by a simple template. At the moment, I would need more than a sheet of paper and a template to outline me.

I am told that I love creating lists, which is so true, and so I shall fashion my essay accordingly (I wonder if there is an -ist term to define this; that ought to go first : ) ). I am (Disclaimer: limited to cited situations only) an/a-

• Escapist: An ostrich with its head buried, I tend to turn a blind eye when in knotty situations hoping that providence is playing a trick and that it will all boil down to nothing (as expressed in this earlier post).
• Perfectionist: No, I am not blowing my own trumpet. I am this ONLY when it comes to an assignment/job. I am meticulous and fussy and neat and compulsive to a point that it gets maddening. And it has its highs and lows. Like in school it proved to be a huge bummer when it came down to taking notes. My handwriting is pretty when I write at a medium pace and with an ink pen. But while trying to keep pace with the teacher's dictations, the uniformity that I so loved went out of the window and I ended up tearing those pages and rewriting the whole piece leisurely at home. It worked well for me at work though. One compliment came from a client who used to bypass the established protocol of assigning work and assign me work directly. On being notified the correct procedure, he confessed that he was aware of the process but did so just because it was a pleasure to have the issue and the resolution documented the way I did (Yay!!! even if it was just flattery :) ).
• Optimist: I believe that there is always a better tomorrow. I believe that my Ammu who is suffering from an acute form of dementia and has the memory span of a goldfish (It's apparently an idiom  which has now been established by some as a myth) will some day go back to being the grandmother I have known, I believe that when it comes to my next job I'll have the good fortune to be surrounded by as wonderful friends, peers and bosses as I was in my last job (I couldn't ask for any better; they were the best), I believe that things that are broken will get mended if they are meant to be and I believe that my reticence to partake in a fight will only bring me peace.
• Pacifist (in an extremely meek form): I hate fights, even being a spectator to one. I usually bite my tongue because I know my retort would only hurt someone and do no good whatsoever. My couple friends do not think it untoward to have disputes when in company which leaves both R and me feeling extremely uncomfortable. We, exchanging glances, offer a silent prayer that neither of us would subject the other to even so much as a contradiction in public.
• Fascist: To my amnemonic grandmother, I am apparently a fascist with a tyrannical disposition who orders her around.
• Opportunist: To my mum I am one because I barely lift a finger when at my parent's. So much so that I'll wait for someone to make a trip to the kitchen just to get me a glass of water.

More on me without the -ists; I couldn't find any more to describe me ;)

• A few near and dear are my established weaknesses. I would do anything and everything for them ( Like Psmith would say "Psmith will do it, Crime not objected to) :)
• I love writing jibber jabber as much as I love reading (Not jibber jabber). Nothing I write is profound or comes close to being intellectual. I write just for the love of it.
• I am a decent cook although the end product is not what it looks like in my head when I first picture it. I tend to get impatient by the end of my cooking spree so I skip the part where I plate the dish :)
• I love dancing  and would have been all Miss Twinkle Toes if not for my two left feet. And I have, in all my life, only had drinks on two occasions. I would like to take a shot (pun intended) at both the next time; Shake an inebriated leg! :)
• I love travelling and visiting new places. I am fond of adventure sports and am looking forward to sky-diving and bungee jumping in one of my future trips.
• I have a decent memory. I am 'A handful's envy, Mumma's pride and a vexation to the rest'. :)
• It's also my biggest weakness that I do not forget. Or even let the other party forget. It's like I am a constant thorn in their flesh :(
• Though I thoroughly enjoy satirical humor, I am not a big fan of the use of sarcasm in general altercations. I find it to be a form of mockery almost as if it is meant to hurt the already wounded and beaten. It bothers me so much that although I know Ammu can't help it and that it's her ailment that makes her resort to sarcasm, yet the barbs that she directs at my mum never fail to tear me up. At that moment, for a jiffy there, I actually resent her for it :'(.
• I am an extremely bad conversationalist. Maybe that's the reason I end up writing jibber jabber.
• A friend pointed out that my hypocrisy was one of the reasons for our sweet friendship turning sour. 
• I am also told that I am a tad manipulative when it comes to conversations; I happen to steer them, to leave me holding the trump card.
• I tend to consider my side of an argument "The gospel truth" :)
• I could fare as just about passable looking with a touch of kohl and lip balm. Without them I am worse than plain Jane. High cheek bones with remnants of appalling acne, I smile with my eyes wide shut =)
• Tall, dark and need not be handsome works for me. A salt and pepper look in a two piece suit with a tie in the boardroom should transform to one in tee and shorts on the sports field. That's how I read my romances. :)

I think its time I put a stop to my pompous ramblings. I have enough material here that would put people through five dates and also enough to make sure there isn't a sixth date; the prospective boyfriend by now having made a run. So the title of Miss Swollen Head of the year goes to I, Me and Myself. I would like to thank all those who contributed their mite to this 'insight' by not mincing matters. And its now time to add Narcissist to that earlier list of ists! Ciao :)

P.S: This post was written at 3 am yesterday, hence the title. I appear to have got bored with my own verboseness and fallen asleep before publishing it!

A Walk To Remember - II

I have run out of practice of making friends. I have been so dormant socially for so long now that I come out as a tongue-tied, awkward oaf when in company of people I am not friends with. The reality stared me in the face on a recent excursion with R's friends; I could barely string together a couple of words to form a sentence. That evening I felt beaten down. Left me wondering if I was ever going to be good at things that I had let slip through my fingers. Has time taken a toll on things that I was genuinely good at, that maybe even defined me! Maybe it's too late. Maybe it's not. Only time shall tell. The one thing that I have been improving at is watercolors. I am nowhere near being proud of or even satisfied with my end results but I am going to try and get there some day. So here is my latest. Philadelphia, a city I am quite fond of and lingers in my wistful memories from my office days. One of the walks to remember!

Philadelphia LOVE Park - Officialy known as John F. Kennedy Plaza

A Walk To Remember - I

I forgot to post a picture of the painting I had mentioned in my earlier blog. It's a copy of a painting by a Polish artist whose works I am in love with. And although mine doesn't hold a candle to his painting, I hope someday I shall be able to realize at least a fraction of his flair and his finesse that I so admire.

(Click pics for larger view)

Its a beautiful alley; makes me want to take a walk down that road, skipping across, alternating between the warmth of the blazing sun and the awnings that the quaint little brollies are furnishing. Here, I could walk for hours. Its looks like a place which speaks of romance. Inured to European tales from my earliest reads I can only set it to imagination yet. I would now say I shall love living here. But living here would dampen the enchantment. We are lured by the elusive, so I think I would leave it at a tarriance and make the fascination a reality by walking 'that walk' some time soon.

P.S: Another one of my recent works, unrelated to the post, but I thought of sharing this one too.