Procrastination

the book i started still to be finished
the words still to be written
sometimes words fail
sometimes i fail

but i get up
to write and make sense of the confusion
sometimes i just let others scribble
let others inspire

i pick up to finish 
that book i started months back
reading the previous few pages
from the bookmark
and then give up

i hold the brush
and brush away the cobwebs
but the illustrations are still not done
my palette is full
the colours not yet right

i leave behind the unfinished post
the unfinished painting
an unfinished thought
a conversation is left hanging

tomorrow i shall complete it
yes tomorrow.

Noise of Silence

ख़ामोशी की आवाज़  सुनाई नहीं देती अब 

तो ख़ामोशी से डर लगता है 

I can't hear silence anymore

in the silence of early morning

i hear the sound of AC running

a child crying in the house below

a sound of a speeding truck

the hoot of the train from the station

the few birds having a conversation

i think about their woes

i hear the shrill of the whistle

the shouts and screams of people

the chaos of the city in day and night

and when i don't want to hear this anymore

i hear the evil look on a face

i hear the jealousies

i hear the scheming and planning behind the shrouded eyes

i also hear the pain of the scorned

i hear the agony in the distant call

i hear the hiding the pain in a smile

i hear the manipulation in the cry

i hear i hear i hear

i want the sound of silence

but even when every noise dies down

only a soft snore on my bed

the voices in mind wake up

i hear the past

i hear the future

no , i don't hear silence anymore.

An ass of you and me

Ok, Not an apt title for a post being written after a such a long time.  But what the hell. My husband once told me , never assume, because when you do , you make an "ass" of "u" and "me". And guess what? Every day i find that i live my life based on numerous assumptions and presumptions. Every thought, every action is a result of some assumption made , something presumed.

There was a person who told me i use a lot of "i" in my blog. So, i must be very self obsessed. Truth is, i am. I do not have the energy to make judgements on someone's ese's thoughts and actions and neither do i feel anyone else needs to carry the burden of mine. I have little faith in the collective thought. A collective thought is always a product of individual thinking and choice, even to become a part of the collective. So, i feel liable for noone, hence the lack of "we". I can be responsible only for myself, my thoughts and my action.

That brings me to my next idea. So, people judge. Naturally. I have heard various theories on this. The theory that i have most liked and cultivated is that, it is again an individual choice to judge, to assume. Also, if there is judgement on something or someone, at one level, it is always the desire to rationalise what you do not own or understand. Like what i am doing right now. I don't get judgement. So i rationalise. I need an answer so i make an assumption. But, to what outcome? Once the rationalisation is made, the assumption created, it is followed by a full stop. No seeking the truth. Just looking at something or someone from your own lens. Which, obviously, might be true. But , very obviously, might not as well.

Believe it or not, people have theories on me. Someone yesterday told me i should change jobs, because i'm not the person i used to be. Which again brings me to the next idea. Am i a product of circumstances or do i chose to become what i am in any circumstance. I believe it is the latter. I do not get too involved in circumstances . And as i am very "self obssessed" i feel like an audience to my own life. I look at what i think, how i act, what choices i make in those circumstances. But, very rarely is it an unconcious decision. Professionally, i might be boggled down by difficult people, by difficult situations, but how does it actually play out in my life, personally? I look at myself being difficult for other people as well. I do carry work home sometimes, but it's only the work. I don't feel obligated or responsible to anyone, except what in my mind, i've decided is my responsibility.

Personally, i do not have many friends. i might just say, i have none. I have zillions of "friends" who i share things with, i share some thoughts, i share some time, some moments. But that is all it is. They all might think that they own parts of me, and i'm sure they do, certain kind of importance at certain times. But after a point, no one owns me completely as i own no one. I do seek companions , but after a while, i feel bored or an intruder , a trespasser, i do not belong. I am , perhaps, momentary, if you could define a person like that. I live in fantastic moments. But they are moments. Some lasting seconds, like a familiar look on a stranger's face . Some parts of life are like long played out moments. I am,  at the same time an actor and an audience. Even with people who are closest to me, i find judgements and assumptions made by all parties involved.  I try to analyse if it is only me, if only i am an ant-society but i find everyone living in their own space and own time. For every action i make i am  judged by someone. But as long as i don't feel accountable, i am not answerable for the judgement based on whatver assumptions and presumptions that person has made.  Again, being close to someone is an assumption i make. It is in my mind. A person might tell you that s/he is close, you might think so, but in reality, what is the closeness but an assumption of the mind. Sometime's with the closest person, i get shunned or closed out, because i am not invited to share that moment, that space, that time. For that specific moment, i am a stranger to that person, however close s/he or i might claim to be.

But even after all the assumptions and presumptions, there's a torrent of new ideas, a breath of fresh cool air in a hot humid afternoon and I laugh internally at the assumptions i have made on different situations and have been proven wrong. I feel elated when i have to eat an humble pie because of something i had presumed. I feel cynical when something i had assumed is proven right. But even then, i look forward to the some times when i am wrong. It means, i still do not know. It therefore means, there is still hope. A reason to blog again, next time.

Broken Thoughts

Broken glass , china cups broken
And in the shards i look for an answer

to the broken dreams
the broken promises
the unfulfilled expectations

i blame myself and some more
for the broken silences
the broken dams

i look around for some glue
to fix the broken glass and the china cups

but the cracks show
the scars remain

Life

A dog died today.

The last thing it saw was me trying to make it drink some water, praying that it would live but knowing it's time had come.

Life is strange. Just a moment and it is gone.

My pink umbrella

good bye my pink umbrella

hope you are fine wherever you are

like many things in my life
i left you behind
my careless self

then i just moved on
like i always do
to other, important things

missing you
only when it rains
and sometime too sunny
i just wish you're taken good care of

i sometimes blame myself
when i think of you
of not remembering you
to have left you behind

why did i not heed my fears

that i would lose you one day
of not seeing you till the end

of not being with you
when you grew old with me
of not given you the care
that you deserved
at the time of need

i cared for you cosmetically
not because of you
but because of myself
you enhanced me
by being with me
and so i preened
in your beauty

now that you're gone
i sometimes miss you
good bye my umbrella

hope your finder is not an ogre
hope you live long
hope you grow old
as dignified as you're now

hope your new keeper
loves you
more than i did
i say keeper
because you cannot be owned
you're free, you're your own
you help, without asking
you give, without taking

good bye my pink umbrella
fare you well

31

If i had to find a theme for my year gone by, i'd call it the "year of trials and tribulations" .

I can't say it was good or bad, but one thing that stands out is the fights i have had.The fights with the world, with the family, with friends and with myself.

The fights of ideology, of long drawn debates, of the rights and wrongs.

The turbulence of shifting my home ground and creating a new home and hearth. The year of living away from my parents and developing small fears that haven't let me sleep nights. Of waking up thinking about my parents , my brothers and my beautiful small sister and not knowing what to do. Of staring at blank walls and seeing my life on it running on flashback.

The checks and balances of building a new relationship. The grinding of two opposites, the friction and attraction.

The cutting of my umbilical chord with my first place of work, my people , my karmbhoomi. And the wild fern trying to find a base in the manicured lawns of mumbai. Of breaking loose from a short stint at an NGO that was exactly opposite of what i knew and believed and then trying to fit in in another place. With unlearning my lessons and relearning. With changing my perspectives and getting a new perspective. Of trying to throw it all away and finding something even in throwing away.Of finding another karmbhoomi that i feel i can make a difference in and finding people who fight with me, argue with me, and still hold me when i falter taking my baby steps.

Of losing those friends and promising never to make friends again but falling into the trap of open smiles, dimples and soul-warming hugs..Of realising, it's never too sure with people and yet never too late to start trusting.

Of  losing a first life we created, even without realising we had created. Of not knowing how to react. Of hoping and losing hope.

The year of lonely nights, of tears shed. The year of confusion. The year of love. The year laughter of a new kind. The year of realising that you can win fights and arguments but still end up losing something much more important. The year of realising that it's sometimes better to be silent. The year of understanding that you are precious but not more than a lot more things. A year of realising that my life is based on little things, the small dreams. Of realising i do not want to win arguments anymore.

The year of realising that i've lived a life of the old woman long enough. It's probably time to live again.

Irritation

Now a days i get irritated very soon and as is wont, have been wondering what it means..

As usual, i start by writing what irritates me and then i'll come back to read it in a few days time to understand what it means..pick up Freud, or ask one of my friends who's an expert on these..

Lies. The first irritant. I can't stand it when people lie to me. This normally brings up the question, do i not lie? Yes , i do. I'm no Gandhi ji but i've had my experiment with lies. I have lied and haven't been able to carry it. It has weighed on me like a thousand stones and somehow, discreetly or indiscreetly , i've ended up confessing. And somehow, lies put me off like nothing else. I feel let down, humiliated and mistrusted.After that point i feel like getting back to that person with a lie overload, but i never can.

Holier-than-thou attitude: Yeah. You are holy. Much holier than me. Thank you. I don't follow your religion. Thank You again.

Manipulation: Someone had once told me human beings by nature are manipulative. There's passive manipulative, aggressive manipulative, coercive manipulative, hurt party manipulative, the list goes on. Of all manipulations,  the blatant, in your face, showing you my power and gloating over it manipulation takes the cake. The thing is you can't show them your middle finger even when that's all you want to do.

Taking advantage of the weak: Self explanatory. High irritant. 

Blissfully ignorant: there is ignorant and there is ignorant. When people wear their ignorance on their sleeves like a medal and take absolutely no initiative towards changing that status, well, it does get on your nerves. They can argue and argue for hours, sighting their ignorance every other minute but the expression of tone and face belying every sentence. They take pride in their ignorance . I'd at least go back, research, study, understand and then come back and argue. Yes, even if my point was right.

I don't know the exact english term for those people. in odia, we call them "galua". They hit back at you with the strangest logic. If you tell them, you don't like something, they come back say, on such and such date and situation "you" did the same. Or maybe, "what the heck if i did it, only people make mistakes, or i'm no god", and turn around to repeat the mistake.Yeah you know those people. Somehow i always want to stay away from those kinds but sadly they always catch up. Always do.

Being woken up after i sleep.Eating alone.: Both not in this context, but highly irritating nonetheless.

Bad body odour, stinking mouths and uncleanliness: For obvious reasons. The worst kind is when people do it and feel it is bohemian and fashionable to be dirty. I've heard this from a few, that tigers don't brush their teeth and lions don't have a bath everyday. But neither do pigs and and the horrible smelling he-goats,( no offense to the animals, that's their way of life, just not mine. love them , so as not to hurt them, but can't surely stay with them.) but who wants to prove a point. I'm disgusted and that's it.

People who do not stand by their words: The worst kind. Never believe them, but if it's a person who's currently an indispensable part of your life, well, you've had it. They are manipulative, self destructive and take advantage of you because they know your weaknesses.And if it's your work space, woohoo, BINGO!

Being a part of an injustice. All those things i stood against. All those things i put up a fight for. And now, i become a silent spectator. A mute audience. With bile burning my insides, turning my food upside down. Sadistic. Masochistic.

I am angry is obvious. But what is the solution. I know i need "something". I know it's the dissatisfaction. But then i question myself. Why? I wasn't so dissatisfied in not so distant past. And i question, if this is the life i want.

Interpretation: There is a lot of clutter inside that needs cleaning up. I need control over people, things and situation which most times shall not be so. I am currently in company of people who are breaking my beliefs and preferences and it's shaking my established rules, which is resulting in the chaos.

Yes, i do understand all this. But i still question. Is this the life i bargained for?

The witch...

I call her the witch, the sorceress,who entices you, incites you, allures you and then completely engulfs you.And you in the whole while have not realised that you've been bewitched.Yes, you've hated her when you came here if you came from outside..yes, you've called her names, you've been suffocated but you've slowly but steadily become a part of her..the witch..mumbai..the witch..

People normally lead two lives. One their personal, the other their life at work or a school or college if you still haven't started work. But if you live in mumbai, you lead a third life. The mysterious affair with mumbai. A life that's only your own, with its own secrets, fantasies, dreams, complications and those amazing moments like every affair..pre-marital or extra-marital...it's as guilty, as pleasurable, as angry, as the secret rendezvous with your beloved.

This city has been my city for a year almost now and i still haven't put up a blog on her. (even when people have been wondering out loud, that i've lost it..). The truth is, it's because it's mumbai. It's because paeans, odes, essays can be written about the city and still not be done with it. Because there are places you visit  in your life and when you write about it,  it barely makes it to a page...but mumbai? I could write an epic on just on one of it's aspects..thicker than an Ulysses..i could just create another blog that would have daily updates about the dichotomy of mumbai, or i could write an hourly journal on the people i meet and places i go..it's mumbai.

What could i write about ?

The local trains? That keep you on your toes literally. Where your time runs parallel to the mumbai locals. The daily fights and shouts in the compartments, the running over your feet, mausi whose legs are swollen with pus oozing out and still carrying a load a few times her body weight and girth..the designer wear clad fashionistas who cringe when someone passes them by, the kohl eyed eager college kids, the burkha clad women who tear off their naqaab in the safety of the women's compartment, the men who are courteous if you've accidentally gone into a the men's compartment(not really theirs technically but you know what i mean)   The locals where relationships are forged for lifetimes, having travelled are the same time, in the same compartments for years.

Mumbai, a country of it's own..it's neither india..it's neither maharashtra and nor can any community from any place in the world claim it has not a counterpart in mumbai. Mumbai is its own world.

Mumbai where nothing is still, nothing is static. It's always in motion. Mumbai is fluid. It runs, in trains, on roads, in cars, in buses, in rains and in your veins. 

Nothing divides in mumbai and then you lose count of the divisions.Whose mumbai? The Thackrey's mumbai, the migrant mumbai, the ex-pat mumbai. The night life mumbai, the morning of mumbai. When one life in mumbai goes to sleep, the other gets into action, scrambling to plays, to theatres, to cinemas, to pubs, to discs. And as they loiter back home inebriated in the wee hours, the other half rises, getting ready for another day in mumbai. Mumbai.

In mumbai every body who is somebody somewhere is a nobody and every nobody is the mumbaikar, it's soul. Where a bhaiya drives mumbai to its destination and a maharashtrian taxi driver may just dump you if you called him a bhaiya. The bais with their super fast time management skills could give many corporate honchos and our politicians a lesson or two. Mumbai where every community has a clan, where every clan moves with a pride and sense of identity.

The children who run away from home anywhere in india reach one destination. Mumbai. They sell books, combs, knick knacks and then they sell themselves. Looking up at models and role models in juhu, in taj, at nariman..they sport their style, the hairstyle, selling themselves bit by bit but the dream in their eyes alive. As alive as the fluttering clothes at dhobi ghat.

Mumbai , where houses are more precious than your life. If you have one, you're god. If you haven't, you dream of becoming one. Mumbai lives facing the sea and the creek..The west sea faces the rich and the famous, the west, the slum dwellers of colaba, BPT and Mankhurd, Mumbai. One side pays a million to get a sea view, the other half choses to stay away from the sea, the stink, the junk floating, the debris, the defecation grounds. Mumbai.

Mumbai where you spot a someone somewhere every other day, a filmstar, an activist and then they vanish into the cloak of anonymity. Where the children grow up in the schools of BMC where you fight for a  four hour slot, fighting for a place even to sit  or in a school like American School of Mumbai where you've an indoor airconditioned stadium , a cafeteria that sells coke at double it's costs.

Mumbai where a woman can chose to live alone. Mumbai, where she can break all rules. Live the dream of other women . Where a woman can travel alone any time of the day . Or Night. Mumbai, where a woman is safe and so walks with the confidence and poise of a tigress.

Mumbai where every story on celluloid in someone's reality.Where every reality is so unreal.  Mumbai where every dream is within your reach. In a mall,  just steps away.

Mumbai, where everyone is filled with so much of passion and mission. Mumbai where every eye has a dream, where every dream is shared. And in mumbai, i too dream, of being back, in my native land.

Mumbai where you suddenly look at the sky from the train at night and see a twinkle in the sky, you wait for it to move because you think it's an airplane hovering but laugh  at yourself  when you realise it's a star. You laugh because you'd given up hope of seeing a star in its polluted sky and you laugh at yourself for giving up hope in mumbai. In mumbai, it's life . And life is hope.

Dwand

i'm at a strange phase of my life..

i've been here before..and so i'm scared for myself..and for everyone around me..it's my phase in life where i've let my mind rule my heart..where every moment i am thinking and questioning..about the why's and why nots..about alternatives..about roads and crossroads..

i know i'll be reckless now, because i'm not afraid anymore..at least not regarding certain things like losing because i know there are a certain things in life that i'll certainly lose..and if i've to find, i'll find again..

i question a lot of things in me..specially where i've let people take adavantage of me..because i've been quiet when people have taken from me what wasn't rightfully theirs and i've taken from them a behaviour which i did not deserve..today, i still do not want to challenge other people when they do that but i question myself today why i do it? What is it that i let them..i let them wield a power to hurt, to pain..do they own me? not really, but i have let hem..do they own the pain and hurt they give me? No- because they don't even realise that.

i've made them too powerful..and that's my nemesis.

i question what is right. My inherent affinity to keep quiet when it comes to people i love..hoping that if i love them enough and if they love back, they'd understand without explaining. But i now understand love means different things for different people. You either understand that love or you move on..

I feel hurt and confused. But the time says i've to move on. 

There is a time when you have to realise that you are not the demon people say you are. It is not a sin to expect a hug, a smile, a patient ear, a look, a touch..It's not insane to ask  for a favour..And you have the right to receive too, a right to be cared for, to be loved..like you have..and for a change, perhaps, even when you haven't..Is it too much to ask?

( for all of us who're going through this with a loved one. You know it's for you. )

Speedbreakers...

Life has a strange way of surprising you..teaching you..and telling you..that all that you had all figured out and laid out on a platter..well, that wasn't all.life turns your life topsy turvy just when you thought you had found your rhythm, found your peace.Just when i was writing about patterns in life and fighting and arguing that i see patterns in almost everything, life surprised me again.

i lost my wallet day before yesterday during my travel..the daily mumbai local routine from lower parel to navi mumbai.traversing daily from western to central to harbour line.changing trains at the most crowded and dangerous platforms.it carried all my important documents: my passport, my identity cards from office,my debit and atm cards, my membership cards,some cash and my sodexo vouchers.

It has happened to me a lot of times..a pattern probably..but again , maybe just my ridiculous search for a sequence, a pattern. i digress. As i was saying, most times when something has gone wrong i get a premonition. I am a great believer of karma. I believe that if i do something that i feel is not right, it comes back to me, in a certainly certain way. 

I feel this happened because of a few things. The first was my arguments and my stubbornness in my trying to find patterns and taking an almost insolent stand with my husband to justify that. Even when i was doing that, i was in realisation of my stupidity but i went on with it anyway. The second was my role in firing someone in my new workplace. Even though i still did not know him much and my heart i believed that the decision seemed hurried, i did it because it was an organisational requirement or so it was justified by myself. The third, i was reading a book called "River Sutra" by Gita Mehta. There's a chapter that explained a billionaire renouncing his life to become a jain monk which had me thinking how i would feel if everything that made me comfortable was taken away from me. If i too was at a crossroad where i had to fight my lone battle. Where i too was faced with challenges that were too big for me. How would i react? How would i behave? How would i feel?

When i got down from the autorickshaw infront of my building, i realised i did not even have a single rupee on me, not even to pay for the rickshaw,. i borrowed money from the watchman, went home , got the money from my piggy bank and went back to my office, all the way. And as i did, praying that i had left my wallet in my drawer i was pushed, squeezed, stepped on, caught between a crossfire, an eternal wait for a train just 3 minutes from my office due to faulty announcements when i  just couldn't run anymore, everything that could go wrong, going wrong...walking till my office, in my heart knowing i wouldn't find my wallet anymore, coming back yet again , all in the rush hour from 5.30 till 10 pm not even sitting down for a minute, all alone..

The police station visits, the calls to banks, going to sleep at 3, waking up early to do the cooking for a long planned party, running to banks to get  duplicate cards, attending a session with friends and coming back home to finish cooking before the guests arrived. In the meanwhile fighting with myself and trying not to have violent outbursts and not succeeding at all.

There was life-smiling its mischievous smile..answering my questions, questioning my insolence..there was life showing me a mirror..telling me that i still am not that strong as i imagined.that even a superwoman can feel broken and feel like giving up everything. That most strong of people have their weak moments when you want to just let go and lean on a pair of shoulders.

i also learnt, i'm still the same girl i always was. I still accept my failures and take responsibilities for things i did wrong. I am still questioning myself. I am still changing myself.

I do not know what i will do tomorrow, but today a small incident has shown me that life is a mystery and i can just let it unfold.The wallet is gone. It may just come back. I may just wake up and find that someone's put it on my doorstep. Like many times when i have learnt my lesson , all things may turn out right..or maybe not..I today see it as a speed breaker..a nuisance in the fast lane lane but necessary to save you from an accident...

Patterns..Life..Life..Patterns..

Life ..patterns..

tick-tick..tick-tick.

in the dates, the days, the years..

in numbers, in colours,in structures,in structuring.

a pattern in sarees, in clothes,in trousers,in shirts,in the tiny stitches,in the prints,the cuts..

a pattern on the speed breakers, on the sidebars by the bridge, pattern in the zebra crossing, the police cordon, the street lights,the neon lighted advertisements,the flags of political rallies,the banners of an upcoming event .

the way the lights come up as the sun goes down, the pattern in the sun itself going down, coming up back again, day after day..night after night.

the pattern in birds sitting on an electric line, the pattern in flying birds,the pattern in their feathers,the pattern in birds themselves.

the pattern in stars, the shapes in the cloud, the ripple in the waves.

the pattern in leaves, in flowers, in trees, in branches.

the pattern in art, in madhubani, in warli, in picasso, in hussain.

a pattern in the way we walk, the way we sit, the way we arrange our furniture,we fold our clothes,we keep things, a pattern in how we cook, how we wear clothes.

a pattern in how we sleep,how we wake up,a pattern in how we like to travel,how we don't, how we pack, how we unpack.

the pattern in smiles, the patterns in tears, the tear drops.

the pattern in dohas, in sonnets, in couplets, in haiku.

the pattern in prose, the pattern in poetry.

the pattern in ppt presentation,a graph,a projection on it, the sensex.

the pattern in milestones, in distances, in minutes,in weights.

the pattern in lines in a face, the pattern in the eye lashes,in the arch of the eye brows, the pattern in the lips.

the pattern in the grotesque, in the stitches of a wound, the pattern of a scar.

the pattern in sounds, the patterns that make it music, the pattern in raindrops.

The pattern of birth, of growing up, getting old, dying.

In the things we have done, in the things life has done to us.

in the decisions we have taken, in the decisions we haven't.

in the things that we have carried with us, the things we have left behind.

the patterns in things we say, the things we cannot, things we do not.

patterns in people who we remember,people we forget.

a pattern in the things we see,pattern in things that we don't.

a pattern in relationships, a pattern in their making, a pattern in their breaking.

a pattern in the life you lead, a pattern in life you chose.

a pattern in doing, a pattern in not doing, a pattern in undoing, a pattern in being, a pattern in unbeing.

tick-tick..tick-tick.

life..patterns...

Who's life is it anyway?

Someday somewhere someone commits suicide. And one life ends. And leaves a lot of people whose life comes to a standstill. Living but not living anymore.

I have always wondered what it takes to end one's own life? What is it that sends the person to that brink of life, the point of no-return.One of my cousins had committed suicide a few years back and i had met her only a few days before. She was so cheerful, so happy and someone who loved life and wanted to live it to the hilt. To this day whenever i remember her it seems so unreal that she would kill herself. 

What is it that sends people to that insanity ? What happens in that moment that you forget all ties, all love, all hope? What happens that makes one take the most precious gift of life. What do they avenge and whom? Who gives them the right to banish their families into a life of regret, guilt, pain, hopelessness and unending pain?

I feel so sad, so deeply hurt.And then i imagine what the people who're near to them would be going through.  One of my friends lost his sibling the same way. His sibling is gone and for us, so is he. We can't find the cheerful smiling guy we knew anymore. And i doubt, if we ever totally will. The pain, the remorse, the hurt, the finality of death is etched on his face.

You want to lend your shoulder to cry on, to say a few words to sooth , wipe away the hurt and pain from those eyes..but the shoulders are hunched and the words don't come and you can't reach out to your friend . The family is hurt, angry, in pain, still not in mourning.  A part has been forcefully wrenched away and the gash is too deep and too fresh that no words, no touch, no one can soothe.

Everyone i know..Please do not ever think about ending your life. It's too precious. And there's nothing in the world that can't be solved. And remember, you life is just not yours. There are other people who love you more than you love yourself.

The City of Dreams

This is my home...

This is my home and not again mine..i live on borrowed land..but who really cares..this the city of dreams..my city..and in my dreams the world is mine..

But you do not yet know me..i was born a few days back..or maybe months..or years..dog years...i go once in a while to our public meetings..of our clan..you would have heard us sometime..i am sure you have..we create real nuisance with our howls , our demonstrations, meetings, and sometimes have had to be dispersed with pelting of stones..i am sure you have heard us..in those meetings we hear our folklore, about our past and our future..

once our ancestors told us about a time when man did not have to keep time..there was no time to be kept by a watch..no days of the week..no month..no year..and man just lived..the very thing they have forgotten today.but that is not my story.

today, i don't do much that gives me happiness..and i'm still very young to take up any profession professionally..i have been abandoned by my parents..so did not get much education..not even the basic life skills..but where life is the teacher you learn all your skills, probably, better than the most. i know i will be the best in whatever i do, i just am still undecided what..

i wasn't born here. i was born in a very remote village and was brought here, hidden in a bag, away from all prying eyes, with promises of a better world. i believed him, the man who brought me here. As if i had a choice or gave him one. But then again, i was the dreamer. My mother always scolded me when i would have a rhetoric for every situation, a dream for every dream. needless to say, i was looking for a new world. i was bored in that village. sometimes suffocated, because i was the unquestioned leader and i hated it. i was bored of leading and even though they said i was the best they  had, i wanted to give it all up.The man was only an excuse, i had already stepped out of my past world a zillion times in my dreams , in my future.

My dreams are all broken now. Yes, this city of dreams has loads of lights. It weaves many dreams in millions of eyes. I am not a leader here. I don't want to be. I feel happy being no one, being a face in the herd, following the senseless rules, living up to impossible unending expectations,. I chase the babies and school children in the rain, run after the bais who have come and settled in the city of dreams from their different worlds and come to work in my building,loaded in buses and trains..loaded with their dreams of a better house that does not leak in mumbai monsoons, a daughter who's married well, a husband who doesn't come back drunk, a face without beating and bruises..i bark at the well dressed men and women rushing off in the mornings with a noose on their necks and come back late, the noose tightening little by little  every night.. i imitate the watchmen who smoke beedis and share their stories from far away lands.. I eat exotic dishes, chinese, continental, indian, you name it, i have had it.i.. roam in the streets at night. i get into street brawls while imported cars and bikes zoom past in amazing speeds , killing men, women and children , smiling in their dreams,  on the pavement. We look at the mangled bodies, the brawl momentarily forgotten and then we start again. The lives are not that valuable here you know.

but the mirror is breaking...

it was a bane she had of reading thoughts of the animals. She shook her head clear of the thoughts  of the black ugly  dog,  that lay shivering alone, cold and wet in the mumbai rains amongst the false palms of their society garden..and looked away from its eyes that had kept her locked across the distance of fourteen floors. Staring at the blank wall, her blank life, she realised hers was the dog's life.

Turning Thirty

Turning Thiry!!!!

Sounds so catchy...

As i turn thirty, feel euphoric, i mean what more is there to be scared of ? 30 seemed an ominous number when you don't reach it..but now here, life is just raring to go...

30 things i promise myself to do in the coming year...

1. write that book
2. catch up with all my turned 30 friends, start a club where everyone's 30 and have 30 things on their mind
3. get a makeover..dye my hair white to hide the grey , or better still, turn it pink, or maybe 30 colours to celebrate being 30
4. loose weight, yeah yeah i know..
5. stop fighting with everyone
6. start loving cooking
7. not panic when i see dust and dirt
8. start loving the sun, well besides my sun...
9. stop being a workaholic
10. talk to people more often, reply to their calls and texts
11. become a little bit social, never know when you need them in this old age
12. stop acting like shaktiman..oops..woman, turn to iron man instead..duh..iron=Fe + male: Female???
13. start saving for old age
14. stop buying clothes and shoes
15. stop shocking people
16. start caring about what they think and act accordingly to their wishes
17. learn a few choicest swear words and use them often
18. stop getting wet in the rains
19. stop fighting for the things i believe in
20. join politics finally
21. stop being hurt by small things
22. stop being too emotional
23. stop being a cynic
24. stop being contradictory
25. stop being so passionately in love that i feel totally lost without him
26. go to the himalayas and go incommunicado for an undefined time
27. become more than just a graduate
28. take up a job, my current work is my life, so take up a job that's kinda job, that makes you unhappy, makes you angry, makes you hate mondays, look forward to weekends, colleagues to bitch about and learn the first ropes in politics.
29. blog regularly, use my camera more often, read up on all books i haven't..
30. stop preaching..

What the heck!!! Who cares....i am sure i'll probably go some steps in points 1, 17, 26 ,27 and 29.the rest shall remain as it were..but that's life!! That's moi..happy birthday girl..don't be too sad that you're 30...life's just started..(wipes the tears...takes the crown gracefully and pulls out the chit, clears throat....)

"thank you mom, thank you dad...thank you friends...."

oh..forget it...you know how it goes... the speech i mean..as about my life..it has always surprised me every year..and i am ready to open the surprise pack....

PS: This year is my first birthday with my first husband..so that's kinda special..isn't it...???  ;)

Transition...

 i am at a strange crossroad of my past, my present and a future where suddenly every one of them is different from the other..

recently i came to know that one of my closest friends lost her father...and she did not tell me..the reason she told me-she did not want to shock me in between my happy times..

and am thinking...am i really happy? are these really happy times?and is any happiness more than a friend's or a close one's grief..?

no, because i feel the same grief..maybe a little bit more that she could not tell me when she was craving to..and i wasn't there when she needed me the most..to talk..to hold her..

in the last few days i also came across many situations that  rather than make me happy have irritated me and made me sad..

i have lived by my impulses always..have been reproached, reprimanded by many at many times..but i haven't left being impulsive because i like being that way..i am good at mathematics, but i can not make calculations while living my life..and that is one of the things in my life i do not want to ever change..it is my choice..and the truth is i am very self obsessed..i really do not care much about 'enlightened , 'know it all' and great " people..again my choice..because there's not much i can do about their thoughts..i just do not endorse their thoughts and to everyone their own..nor do i need calculations to go up in the ladder of my career..or my life..

love being directionless..and undefined..how boring if i could be put into a type..forgot what it was called..but believe me i actually got typecast..and had to go through an analysis by various persons who went on debating on all sides of why that "type" was right..and wrong..as they couldn't reach a consensus, i didn't think i was any type..

some people came crashing down from their altar..some i had heard so much about..some people who i thought gave the impetus for workers like us..but to realise that was just an image..and it made me think what a mirage we live in..my need to find idols to look up to only resulted in creating ones without substance..and now i am again in between ..in transition..in confusion..in my need for answers..and a whole new set of questions...one day i was gushing that i would be meeting one of the greatest peoples in india..the other day, i was left feeling empty..having met the 'names"..no person..or maybe..i am too self obsessed..who cares? that i am..can't and don't want to look beyond my nose and what makes me happy..

another thing that strikes me very often these days..i am not a very private kind of person...i can  talk about anything, to anyone at anytime..that puts me in a fix many times..but i still keep doing it...and somehow my caring about those only makes me cringe and not very happy..so..what the heck..i'll do what i want to do..like i started talking  about Reproductive and Child Health as a worker when i was 18..talked about condoms in public forums just about that time..about pre-marital sex and moral sanctions , homosexuality too..i did the "Maya Story" as a trainer at 21..and believe me..no one, specially the oldies,even  looked me in the eye after that..they were that shocked...and i can hold hands in public, give away hugs to my close ones to a dozen, and smile at everyone who cares to give me a friendly look..but again..if anyone has issues they can very well find their solutions..not hear what i say..not accept what i think, not believe in my value system..and not read what i write..it is my personal space...my decision to write what i want..i am no torchbearer of bloggers..or of society...my thoughts..my choice to make it public...and the choice of  "public", including everyone to decide if and what  they want to say in it..but yes..wouldn't really probe on anyone's private space..that includes yours too..

meanwhile i have given up on all gods...in the last five years i had made myself a student of every religion  i came across and faithfully read all their scriptures and religious books i could lay my hands on, following every ritual i could that those books prescribed..following every stupidity...last two years i had stopped going to any religious place of worship as a place of worship..living a life without god and filled with every kind of puja and ritual and fast and trying to feel what one is supposed to feel ..my search for god finally brought me into an empty space..and i feel empty like the emptiness of those rituals which brought no happiness, no peace,  no bhakti..and definitely no god for having done them...

coincidentally,in those past few days, i have come across some really stupid people and very hurtful sentences..and my obsession with myself and my knack of relating every action , every word to my own are resulting in sleepless nights and short naps that are filled with dreams of transition, travel-by bus, by train, by fighter planes,  killings and suffocation...a dream interpreter is highly in order...

shouldn't i be happy? but i am not..

the only respite i find is in my work and my work has become my vacation..i feel myself pondering about my work...i know my work can live without me..there are many who'd fill my shoes as soon as i leave..but can i? can i leave my work, my need to be with my people, and still be happy? i don't think so..don't feel so..i was in mumbai for a week...trying to get used to the feeling of living there..and great though that was, building our home..i couldn't feel at home..it was like a transit house...somewhere i can go for a few days..but it never will be my home..at least not now..

add to that the comedy that has happenned in the last few days..juggling people's and places..and actions and rituals...trying to accommodate everyone's whim...for the great indian comedy show called "wedding ceremony", which makes me crave for once, that i wasn't in india bound by rituals and beliefs that do not bind me as an individual..now,like it or not ,  i find myself doing them..a first for me..but for whom? who will be happy? i certainly am not..my husband has a phobia of  too may people and him being the center of attention....Add to it..i find myself in middle of "your" side and "our" side..now  my  confusion is  whose side am i on? now i know what they mean by "dhobi ka kutta"... because i am detaching myself from my roots..and the new soil is still not mine..

The Silent Divorce...

Sentences spoken..
One word not spoken..
and a silent divorce..

of masters and lives
of being and unbeing
of zillion things done
just one undone
and a silent divorce.

a life lived
of relationships built
of moments lived
just one strike at heart
and a silent divorce

of lives lived together
of smiles and laughter
of togetherness
then the vaccum
and a silent divorce

of journeys made
of places visited
of people worshiped
just one road not taken
and a silent divorce

invictus

My most favourite poem..

Something i just found myself reciting...

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley

Severed...

Rootless lives...

parasitic existence of haustorium...
no beginning..no end...
the looks of disgust..
the angry words...discarded everywhere...


or loosened roots..that of a sapling...
a new ground....some new soil...a new maali..
a shifting of place..a change of weather..
and dried leaves....

or a xerophyte...
a cactus in the dessert... thorns..and wild...
now put into a shopping window..
 manicured..watered...withered...

The limits of dis-integration

No, you will not disintegrate
because there is no limit to you
because you are beyond
the known limits you know
because you are here
because you are now
because you are the past
because you are the future

You will not break
because you are a non entity
because your shape is not the body
because your thoughts are beyond boundaries
because you exist in everyone
and everyone exists in you

you will live even after you're gone
you have no choice
you will breathe till eternity
because your breath exists
from the beginning of the beginning
and will be lived by generations
till the end of the end.


You say you care for no one
can you stop everyone breathing
the air you just breathed out?
Can you wipe the slate clean
and undo your touch
in the many lives you've lived
in this one life?
can you stop the people loving you
can you stop the life around
how can you stop yours?

You say death is your goal
But what if there's another life beyond?
Will you live in torture
and set another goal for it to end?

I do not know how to reach out
because you will not let me
i do not know if i should
because my questions are still unanswered
i do not know if it is time
because my quest is not over yet