The road taken...

There is a road that reminds me of you
A buzzing place teeming with throngs of people
The road were we found each other in the middle of the crowd

There is a road that takes me back in time
The bright blinding lights that would gradually give way to the certainty of silhouettes
When I saw myself a little more clearly

We thought that road held promises of spring flowers
But reached a little too late...
Our wheels crunched through dried autumn leaves

That road that seemed endless, a new route to existence
Yet ended abruptly as we turned the corner
No detour in sight

Today I went down that old familiar road
A road that stands for me and you
A road that we have traveled together many a time

Today I passed the known sights, the familiar lights, the predictable turns
And realized they have all become strangers.
And I've lost my way.

The Butterfly Effect

What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger they say.

I beg to differ.

When, over time, you come out of a fucked-up situation, are you really stronger? Or is it just a euphemism for saying you're now even more of a cynical, hardened bitch than before?

After all, it's not like you come out unscathed. What about the burn marks - which then harden into unseen scabs? What about those occasional jabs of pain? Is that a tougher, more resilient you? Or someone with a more tightly walled-up heart?

Do you really learn your lessons? Or do you then make a slightly different mistake at another time, another place.

They say don't wallow in self-pity. But no-one tells you anything about self-doubt. They say no one can disrespect you if you don't give them the opportunity. They never warn you that trusting someone is opportunity enough.

They tell you that time heals all wounds...they never tell you that the ripple effect of that one memory in time has the power to shape so many of your moments to come.

You come out of a fucked-up situation thinking you're wiser and smarter. You can be that...if you agree to be infinitely more foolish...time and again...

Fool's Paradise

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel―Maya Angelou

Life comes a full circle

When you break your own rules
When you let down your guard
When you open yourself up
When you act like a fool
When you speak out your mind and heart
When you give in to momentary madness
When you let yourself care
When you dare to cross the circumference
Just once...just a little...

Life comes a full circle...

And you end up where you started
Face-to-face with a whole new side of you
All your lessons unlearnt
Resigned to start the journey once more...all over again...
In an endless rhythm that's gone out of tune

I beg you… to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.

Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.

Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Saturninity

I'm writing without knowing what I want to write, putting words down without having any idea of what is going to come next.

I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to think. Truth be told, I don't even know if I want to feel or think at all at this stage.

If I let myself feel I might not be able to stop. If I let myself think I might not be able to sleep. 

I've never really been inarticulate. Yet ironically I find myself with just one thought stuck inside my mind...on an infinite loop. And a pointless one at that.

And I need to dwell on something besides that, anything. Just to fill the silence in my head. And the stillness inside me.

Until the moment the stillness stops being a cocoon of suffocation - and becomes the blissful state of detachment it once used to be.

Mad Girl's Love Song

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed. 

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. 

(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

- Sylvia Plath

I think we over think the concept of soul mates. We spend so much of time searching for 'The One' that we miss out on the special moments in between.

I've had the perfect date - flowers, candlelight, perfume and holding hands
I've had the perfect kiss - the close-your-eyes-and-feel-your-heart-stop kind
I've had the perfect love letter - simple, heart-felt and raw
I've had the perfect proposal - honest, romantic and overwhelming
I've had that perfect moment - When you can't look away from each other 

Only from different people. 

And that's more that what a lot of us will ever have. Because sometimes our dreams are impossible. And no one person or one relationship can ever do justice to it perhaps. It's a mighty long climb to the top of that pedestal.

So I've learnt to recognize those heart-touching moments in everything I live.

I've found my identity in the pages of a good book.
I've heard my words put to a rhythm in the crash of rain and thunder
I've tasted the perfect moment of contentment in a cup of coffee 
I've witnessed my soul's abandonment on the dance floor, uncaring who's watching
I've understood what love is amidst the laughter and hugs of my best friends

Our soul mates are scattered. As are our desires. 
We only need to know how to celebrate them in these isolated moments. And then see them last us an entire lifetime.

My ideal man

Listens to Pink Floyd
Dances to Bollywood music
Drinks scotch on the rocks
Whips me up a mean Mojito
Gives in to my tantrums
Takes charge in bed
Cracks the craziest jokes
Takes me seriously
Loves to travel, read, write and sing
...the rain, winters and dark nights
Has a devil-may-care attitude
And a sweep-me-off-my feet kinda passion
Adores animals
And has no patience for stupidity
Can sit quietly with me for hours
Have conversations about anything under the sun
Harbours a million secret dreams
And a firm grip on reality
Is just himself
And just let's me be...me

Comfortably numb

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music - Nietzsche 

I say there's something wrong with us
You call me a drama queen

I fight so that I can get a reaction
You think I'm a nag

I desperately search for some passion
You complain I live in a dream world

I say, let's travel, see the world
You say my priorities are mixed up

I feel scared that we are running out of time to live
You act like we have all the time in the world

I dance like a maniac, laugh with abandon
I see you wondering why I'm not ladylike

I live for myself - to hell with conventions
You keep worrying - "What will people think"

I struggle each day to feel alive and free
You go through your moments not reacting nor expressing

Until, finally, we just let each other be...

The obituary of waves...

Nobody ever writes them. 

No one stops and thinks about how they come to an end, using up their dying breath to sometimes crash passionately against the rocks and sometimes kiss the sand tenderly before disappearing. I wonder if the waves know they are rushing towards their end? Or maybe they think that what lies in front is a whole new destination.

But we all sit by the shore and watch them. And listen to the sound ages after it dies out. And think about their beauty long after the white, foam-tipped water melts back into nothingness.

That is how I want to go. 

Suddenly, in one moment. Without any long-drawn out meaningless drama that makes others suffer.

Not knowing I'm going to. So that I don't spend my final moments regretting all that I didn't do.

Beautifully. Perhaps in my sleep. Because my love for control is something I cannot let go off.

This is how I want to go. Like a wave. That rushes on till the end. That doesn't give up. That people don't mourn...but rather say - "Oh. That was a beautiful existence."

The day romance got it's heart broken...

The king of romance passed away. As much as I hate cliches - I think this is one I'll have to agree with.

Yash Chopra was, to me and countless Bollywood obsessed, fantasy-focused Indians, the creator of chivalrous love, muted passion and chiffon-clad romance.

He redefined love - and he did it so well and artlessly that we forgot it's just the movies and that there's someone to say 'cut' at the end of that heart-melting moment when the guy looks at the girl and says everything in a glance. You forget that he's probably practiced for hours to get that 'you're mine and no one else's' look and you turn around expecting your man to match up to those impossible Mills and Boon standards as well.

In his movies, your love was always reciprocated, the girl was always the centre of the guy's universe, the girls were gorgeous, the men ever charming, love was born amongst snow-capped peaks and expressed through the most poetic ways. Groceries, bills, petty fights and screaming kids had no place in those 35 mm reels.

Mr. Chopra, I wonder if you did a good thing or a bad one? You gave people the respite from humdrum reality with three hours of magic every few years - but you spoiled the days in between for some of us. At least a bit for me...

I grew up on Yash Chopra romances. I believed that love had no barriers. I believed in soul-mates who would eventually find you no matter what. I believed when he did he would tell the whole world how he felt about me. That he would profess undying love to me...in poetic words and phrases that would make me go weak in the knees. I believed in fairy dust.

I forgot I had to grow up.

Some time back I was watching DDLJ - and I was wondering why I never grow tired of this movie. Why, even though I probably know the dialogues and scenes by heart, I can keep watching it. Over and over again. I realized it was because it was my only connection to the hopeful little girl who had fallen in love with this movie - and had fallen in love with love. It perhaps spoiled realistic, day-to-day life for me for a while...but it was my connection to magic, to that intense, all-consuming, unreal, fictitious thing we call 'happily ever after'.

Today I've realized that kind of love only exists in movies, books and the lives of a very lucky few. I've realized I might want to be swept off my feet - but keeping my feet on the ground will serve me better. I might want to be kissed breathless - but having full control over my heart is much safer. I might want to live inside the kind of fairy-tales Yash Chopra's leading ladies inhabited - but I live in the real world where sometimes I laughably end up being the sidekick of my own story.

Yash Chopra passed away - and so did a bit of my rose-tinted, silly, stupid dreams...

But somewhere, sometimes, a fifteen year old me still sits and waits - for her knight-in-shining-armour. Knowing he can never find his way into her world.

And for that, sir, I hold you responsible.

And I think so do the men in my life...

Knowing each other...

The best relationships are the ones where you don't know each other too well.

Know each other just enough to understand the vague references, unfinished sentences and tangential jokes. Don't try to read between the lines.

Like each other just enough to not mind the silence between conversations. Beyond that, the silences will become the conversations.
 
Care about each other just enough to not hurt the other person - but not so much that you run the risk of hurting yourself.

Trust each other just enough to share your dreams - but never enough to talk about your vulnerabilities

Be familiar with each other just enough to laugh at the other's silly traits - but not to the point where the silliness starts irritating you.

The best relationships are the ones that don't have a name
a structure
an end

The rest are not relationships. They are expectations.

I logged in to write. Then found this. And it said so many things I've wanted to say over the years. 

http://me-myself-and-i-divyanambiar.blogspot.in/2012/10/listen.html

Regards

The old me...

Figuring it out...

No boundaries - except those dictated by the daylight
No limitations - except those decided by society
No expectations - except those highlighted by insecurity
No commitments - except those nurtured by jealousy

Stories...and some

Some of my 55 word stories...

Language

1. You made me feel like poetry – one without rhyme but beautiful. You turned us into a love letter – unreasonable but passionately true to heart. With you I exploded, like graffiti on the wall – bold, chaotic, rebellious. Our conversation ended and I remained – a jumble of unsaid words, unexpressed desires– waiting for the story to end

2. Our eyes met, held, danced. Our fingers entwined – spoke volumes. The chilled pints of beer we shared created an intoxicating story. The words swirled around us on the balcony that night. Fate whispered a challenge….and we fell. Into each other, out of reality. Moments silently stolen before sunrise came – speaking the language of the mundane.

Clandestine

The darkness of the night accentuated the sparkle of anticipation in her eyes. Their union would be magic – she knew it even though she was a novice to these things. Finally, gathering up courage, she lifted a trembling hand – and her mother’s kohl pencil secretly met her 16 year old eyes for the first time.

Monsoon

It was time to reveal his true colours. He had been sober way too long. He had skills he wanted to show off. Woo the ladies with. He knew none of them could resist his style. This rain dance was the perfect time to strut his stuff. Decision made, the peacock stepped out, feathers unfurled.

Letters
 

The kids crowded together, giggling, sticking their tongues out to catch the last raindrops. ‘Let’s, make paper boats!’ exclaimed one. Seeing them hunt for paper, Samay handed them a crumpled sheet – and watched as the tiny boat floated down the storm drain. His first love letter, scorned by her, had at least found some purpose. 

Gods and Demons

Everyone loved him. A well-respected doctor, his was a story of high birth, valuable connections and a spotless life sans secrets. Or so everyone thought. They never knew about nights like these when he let his dark side take over. Gulping down the potion, Dr. Jekyll smiled at his reflection in the mirror and waited.

Job/Work
 

Married for three years, they seemed the perfect couple. But their lavish home hid a story. Of her torrid affair with his best friend; and the bitterness of betrayal he carried within. They executed the motions of marriage perfectly. But this relationship was now a chore, to be ticked off on their daily to-do list.

Cafe

She was worried. He had never been this late before. Everyone always said you could set your watch by him. Plus he loved his Sunday morning dates with her. He had to turn up. And so the corner seat in that small café waited for her 70 year-old companion. She never heard about the heart-attack.

Poison:

She had grown up dreaming about love and Mr. Perfect. But years passed and all she had to show for it was a lonely existence. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, she took matters into her own hands. “I really hope fairy-tales come true,” was her last thought as the poisoned apple did its work.

Space/Spaces

“God! I can’t stay here. It’s a dump. What kind of a house does not have a balcony?!” She walked out in a huff, her husband scurrying behind her. Her high heels clicked down the stairs and out the door, crossing a wizened, old man sleeping curled under the staircase. His home for three years.

 

"Sex is more exciting on the screen and between the pages than between the sheets anyway. Let the kids read about it and look forward to it, and then right before they're going to get the reality, break the news to them that they've already had the most exciting part, that it's behind them already."

- Andy Warhol

Ladies and gentlemen of my acquaintance...

Ladies and gentlemen. If I could give you one tip for the future, passion would be it.

The long term benefits of passion have been proved by artists, authors, dancers, musicians and lovers whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own chaotic thought processes. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the turbulence and mess of passion – though you will not understand its value until discipline and rules set in. But in 20 years you will look back on your achievements and recall in a way you can’t grasp how many opportunities you let slip away because you did not give in to your desires – you could not give expression to your imagination

Stop worrying obsessively over consequences. Or worry. But know that worrying is like trying to solve the rubiks cube blindfolded. The real problem lies not in the consequences, but in the inability to pack your bags and leave for an unplanned weekend at a moment’s notice.

Do one thing every day that scares you

Be reckless.

Say something to someone you would regret not having said later.

Stop measuring your thoughts, or your laughter. Or the duration and number of those kisses.

Wear ratty pajamas. And that black satin nightgown. Smile through those killer heels. Get drenched in the rain

Don’t waste time in conforming, life’s too short.
In the end it’s only you who has the right to judge yourself.

Remember the rules, break them – sometimes you will get rewarded, and sometimes your world will crumble.

Pick up those pieces and put them together haphazardly, marvel at this new design in your life

If someone comes and kicks your castles down again then hit them right back.
If you can forgive and forget instead, tell me how.

Sleep. Dance. Drink. Travel. Read.

Learn a new language. And a new dish. Have an opinion

Don’t keep your old love letters. Create new love stories. But take lots of pictures – of everything.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what to do with your life. But don’t stop trying to do something. Ever.

Maybe you will find your soulmate, maybe you won’t. Maybe you will fall in love - and then lust. Maybe you will have that perfect kiss, maybe you will always be searching for chemistry, maybe you will grow old together – but whatever you do, do it with madness. Enjoy your chaos, don’t be afraid of it or what others think of it. Your craziness is the greatest strength you’ll ever own.

It’s those trees that bend with the storm but still stand tall in the face of turbulence that paint the most arresting pictures on a cloudy horizon

Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room, with yourself.

Forget maps, take the road less traveled. Get to know the people around you. You never know who will turn out to be the perfect partner. Or the perfect jerk. Learn from him/her. Understand that lovers and friends can come and go – but enjoy them completely while they are there. Don’t do half-hearted relationships – your days are already too cluttered with acquaintances.

Live in a hostel once. It will help you cherish bonds. Live in Calcutta once. It will help you nurture your soul.

Accept certain inalienable truths. Your skin will get lines, people will backstab, you will meet the perfect partner when it’s too late, traffic will increase, so will your workload, you won't be able to hold your drink, there will always be someone better dressed than you, your dreams will seem more and more illogical.

Carry on. And depend a little less on some people, a little more on your awesomeness. Things will always change. But your belief in yourself never should. And another person’s inability to live up to your faith shouldn’t change your ability to trust.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

And you can’t have that. Because no matter what anyone says, you’re not a lost cause at 40. You’re still fabulous.

Always be prepared. Wear waterproof mascara - and long-stay lipstick. And after-shave.

Be careful whom you give your heart to. But cherish those who give theirs to you. Love is a form of dependence. Giving it away, a way of reinforcing your self-confidence. You polish it up for the next buyer, hoping it will fetch the right price – it hardly ever does. So love if you want to, or don’t.

But trust me on the passion.

The song that inspired this post, original lyrics here



“So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us--that's snatched right out of our hands--even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence.”

― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

Monsoon in my city

I love Calcutta when it rains...

When the skies get cloudy and all the dust and pollution gets swept away, infusing that hot, humid Calcutta air with a lightness.

When doors and windows start banging and you can see women scurrying around on the neighbouring rooftops pulling down those about-to-dry clothes, their saree pallus and half-undone hair making life impossible - but painting the most poetic picture of home life there is.

When kids run to the window, hoping it will pour so much that the streets will fill with water - so that they can make their paper boats and see them sail down the lane outside their doors.

When school kids wait for a rainy day - and failing that, make sure they travel back home through the most water-logged streets, taking care to jump into every puddle and get drenched from head to toe.

When you are hopelessly stuck in the downpour - in a car, bus, tram - and you know you will never get anywhere on time. But you don't mind because everything around you seems so lazy, so sleepy, so Calcutta.

When the kitchen starts filling up with divine smells of khichudi and begun bhaja - nothing else goes as well with the pitter-patter of rain on your window pane.

When you wake up on a weekend to realize it's rained all night - and you curl back under the blanket with a good book and that must have cha...or in my case, coffee

When the man of the family goes running to buy that perfect ilish for lunch - it's rained after all.

When the maidan goes all green - looking like a blanket that's been freshly washed and laid down on the ground. So that youngsters can play muddy football while the pristine white Victoria Memorial looks on.

When the old city becomes new again - a lilt in her steps, a nip in her attitude, a freshness in her soul.

When opposites attract

I realized something in past few weeks.

Detachment and insecurity can actually go hand in hand.

You could be perfect at the art of controlling your emotions...well nearly perfect. You could tell yourself you know what you are doing. You could tell yourself you don't care...or that you can decide how much to. And perhaps you are not even pretending. Perhaps, over the years, you really have become rather good at drawing the line, compartmentalizing, not really caring too much about too many things anymore.

And then, while you are busy not caring, you realize you forgot to account for just how much of the 'not caring' is really a part of you, just how much of indifference can you really be ok with.

You happily traipse along life, wrapped in a secure cocoon of your detachment with people and relationships, actions and consequences. And then your bubble of smug confidence, of the conviction that nothing can really bother you coz you don't really care - is burst by one small incident, one phrase, one look - that you misread, perhaps.

You might still think you don't care. But the realization that you don't like the fact that the person in front of you might not care as well - and that it bothers you - puts paid to that self-deception. And the irony, your seeming control over your feelings and actions is probably what attracts those like-mined people in the first place.

Two detached people should make fantastic partners isn't it? Rather strange then, that detached relationships can sometimes be the ones that make you doubt yourself the most. That the absence of interest can sometimes stir up the most intense emotions. That the lack of feelings can lead to the most unexpected desires.

Placeholder

Middish post coming up about stuff that has been going on in my head. Till then...

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”

― Marilyn Monroe

Should I be writing this post because I'm suitably drunk - and hence don't really need to bother about my thought processes?

Or should I not be writing this because I'm drunk, can totally mess up sentence construction and grammar - and then spend several painful minutes trying to clean it up.

Should I think about things? Because right now all my thoughts seem to be so crystal clear?

Or should I not let my thoughts wander at all? Since they are sure to trespass where they should not?

Should I let myself dream...because it's such a welcome relief?

Or should I stick to reality...because in the end...

These are a few of my favourite things...

The smell of rain-soaked earth...or as I recently learnt...petrichor

Thunder

Walking on the beach in the rain

Sitting with a chilled beer in a pool submerged bar stool while it rains

The smell of a new book and freshly baked bread

Sleeping late on Sunday mornings

Staying up late on Friday nights

Dancing……to Bollywood music…with friends...in the rain

Finding that perfect black dress

Black lace sarees

Traveling to a picture perfect location

Looking at old pictures

…and stupid videos of silly things you did

Baby girls

The perfect cup of coffee

Musicals

Cute boys with dimples on their cheeks

Boys with run-your-hands-through soft hair

White shirts and blue denims

Men in sherwani’s

Sharing secrets

Holding hands…under the table, in the dark, just like that

Kissing

Kissing in the rain

Getting lost in the kiss so you don’t want to open your eyes

Men who can sing well

Sitting on the terrace on a moonlit night

Stories that inspire me to do something different

Bombay – for its vibe

Calcutta – for its soul

Hot-air balloon rides at sunrise

When he can’t take his eyes of you

Fresh sheets on the bed

Wedding gowns

The first phase of a relationship

Puppies

Having total control of the remote

Group chats with your best friends

That one friend you can be yourself with

Men with salt ‘n’ pepper hair

Thick eyelashes

High heels

The smell of aftershave...and cologne after a shower

A song on loop

A beautiful poem

Paani-puri and KFC chicken

Re-runs of classic sitcoms

The song 'Ab Na Ja' by Euphoria

Andhra meals

Laughing so hard that you stomach hurts

When someone gets what you are saying without you saying it

A good hair day

A big, tight hug that goes on forever

Long weekends

Reading in bed

You

The dots that make a circle

So I complete a year at my current job today.

And I could say this year has been crazy, unpredictable, turned my life upside down etc. etc. And all of that would be true. But it would be no different from what my life has been for the past 2.5 years to be precise.

Not that my life has ever been easy. Or dull. But the past couple of years seems to be someone’s idea of a bad joke. Or a really maddening amusement park ride.

Let’s push her up, then throw her down, then suspend her mid-way, then swing her around. Until the head starts spinning and you cannot make out the sky from the earth and walking upside down seems normal.

Perhaps that’s why I have been doing things I don’t normally do. Things that go against my character – and who I thought I was. I have at least been pretty solid when it comes to work. Even when my personal life has been behaving like a Rubic’s cube. Yet I seem to be dropping the ball even on that nowadays. Smaller mistakes, then bigger mess-ups degenerating to complete inefficiency – with no answer as to why it’s happening and how do I make it stop.

Yet take control I must. And I am good at doing things without having any clue how to go about it. Of jumping right in and figuring my way out. And dealing with the consequences.

Coincidentally, today, I came across this piece in NYT and this part caught my eye – “Life is, in effect, a non-repeatable experiment with no control. In his novel about marriage, “Light Years,” James Salter writes: “For whatever we do, even whatever we do not do prevents us from doing its opposite. Acts demolish their alternatives, that is the paradox.”

(You can read the piece here )

Think it’s time to look at the alternatives that I am demolishing one by one. Simply by not thinking about anything. And no – again I am not talking about my personal life. Which is on its own crazy ride right now. But one that I wouldn’t change for anything. I am talking about something that even my personal life has always taken a back seat to. My work.

Think it’s time to take control of my life again. To buckle in that seat belt and tie up my hair so that I can see straight. And get down to it. Because I have a sneaky suspicion, that when the lights are out and the rides are cooling off…my work is all I will be left with. And these anniversaries the only ones I will mark in my life.

Conditions Apply

What are your expectations from a relationship with no expectations? What is your investment in something where you can have no returns? How detatched can you be from someone you are involved with? Or have been?

I have spent the past week playing host to my ex - and the current love of his life. I have faced varying reactions to this. Incredulity from my friends, resignation from my folks and a certain level of amusement from my 20 year old self who pays me random visits at times. None of it makes any difference to me - because that relationship makes no difference to me anymore. Its run its course...and so have the expectations that came along with it.

But what about relationships that are supposed to go somewhere - but somehow feel like they are worth nothing?. Or those that should not mean anything - and feel like a new lease of life?. Is that the product of warped priorities? Or just a reality check of where your life's heading?

I have recently become so proud of my ability to detach. To not really let anything get to me beyond a point. To have things happen around me, participate - and yet not really care a damn about where things are going. But I'm not so sure that is a good thing. A sensible thing - yes. Gives me peace of mind - definitely. But is this who I wanted to be - perhaps not.

My complete non-reaction to my ex - now that's a normal reaction after so many years. Because the years in between have taken control. But my disinterest in current relationships, in what people expect from me is reaching an extreme that makes me wonder about myself sometimes.

It's ok when the person who crosses your path has no expectations either. You are in sync. But when that person thinks differently, when they feel and want and dream - then isn't dumping my baggage of 'I-don't-give-a-damn' on that person actually expecting too much from them?

Irony is, the reason you stop caring is because perhaps at one point of time you cared too much. And you met someone who didn't. And you learnt to re-set your expectations. And now you are doing the same thing to someone else. Your lack of expectations means you will fail to understand theirs, or live up to it. Or you will simply not be willing to walk that extra mile. And you will break their heart. And perhaps they will then break someone else's.

But somewhere along the way you stop thinking about it. All you think about is how not to get involved. How to tuck every little thought and emotion and relationship away in its own little corner of the mind. Where it can't mingle with the others and mess up your emotional balance.

And you walk into every relationship with a tiny little * in the corner of your mind. And hope to god the person in front remembers to read the fine print.

This and that

Pink - 'Coz that's what a little girl begins her journey with. Candies, frills, soft toys, and a bubble-gum life.

Yellow - 'Coz your world is opening up to new possibilities - friends, promises, secrets, adventures, sunshiny, happy, worry-free days

White - 'Coz you feel anything's possible - that life's a canvass were you can fill in any colour you want, draw any picture and sign off on it with a flourish. Where you can say, "Look! I made this. This is me."

Blue - 'Coz promises break, dreams turn out to be illusions and reality sets in.

Grey - 'Coz  it's so important to realize that life is not all black and white.

Purple - 'Coz the passion of red always gets coloured by the finality of black.

I feel purple sometimes. Mostly. 

Matters of the heart...and other inconsequential things

A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left -  Marilyn Monroe


She got it right, that lady. And most of us get it too...unfortunately by then the damage is done. In most cases. You have foolishly let your heart make decisions. That idiot has gone and superbly messed things up. And then you are left with some sort of emptiness. Undefinable. A niggling, annoying pain somewhere inside that dances around the corners, only to slip away when you try to catch it and figure out what it's all about. Figure out what you are all about.

The root cause of all dissatisfaction seems to lie in our bid to attain our heart's desire. Yep, there is that heart again. When you think you have it, you realize it's not what you wanted at all. And what you want is now forbidden. Rendered untouchable by what you already have.

Which is why forbidden fruits are so attractive. An unfulfilled longing is better than a satisfied desire. Satiation has a way of making your needs lose that element of mystery and therefore its charm. Longing for the unattainable on the other hand, is so all-consuming. Pointless, heart-breaking, but taking-over-your-mind kind of powerful.

Someone once told me - don't be with someone out of a sense of companionship. Be with them out of love. But what I want to know is...what kind of love? Is loving someone what matters or being in love?

For example, I love you with all my heart. But I am no longer in love with you. How does that make you feel? Do you still want to be with me? Is that what companionship is all about? Isn't that doing things half-way? Would we rather do some things in halves if the alternative lies in not doing anything at all?

Is not doing anything an equivalent of emptiness? Does emptiness scare you? But don't you think that you can fill that emptiness with so many new things? Or will it turn into that annoying, niggling pain again?

So to come back to my question---love or companionship? Doesn't the first naturally fade into the other in the course of toeing the line of life?

Which is why passion trumps love trumps companionship. Or perhaps it's the other way round. Depends on what you want from life. Do you have what it takes to turn everything you know upside down, question the order of things, and build things up all over again. How badly do you want to define your life? Enough to blow it up in your face?

Do you want to exist? Or do you want to live? Really live?

Snippets

He: I wanted to take the road not taken
She: Why didn't you?
He: I ended up taking a detour
She: And the road not taken remained ignored

He: Who are you to question me? You don't own me?
She: No. But I thought we belonged to each other

She: But I love you, even if you don't. I cannot imagine walking away from you
He: This conversation scares me

He: Did you see that? What are those? Solar flares?
She: Nope. Just flashes of my blinding brilliance

She: I want someone who can be my best friend and my boyfriend
He: That's not possible. Those two are mutually exclusive

She: Why do you want to be with me
He: I don't know. I guess because I can tolerate you


She: You are my soul mate
He: No I'm not. Soul mates are big things. What we have is small and too insignificant.

She: I am not made for fidelity
He: Infidelity is not a bad thing
She: Yes. But it's so sad


She: I don't know how we got here
He: How does it matter?

It never really does, does it?

Is there pleasure in pain...?

Lying in bed

Waiting for the alarm to ring

So that I control the shrillness

Before it shatters the silence of the moment



That's what I seem to be all about

The wait. The silence. The chaos thereafter.



I wait

For the light to peep through the curtains

For the darkness to go from black to grey

Dreading the end of this fragile moment of peace



I wait

For the silence to speak

Because words have failed me

Mundane expressions that are meaningless at the best,

mocking my thoughts at the worst



I wait

For the chaos that is to come

That always follows this deep stillness

That disrupts the mundane -

I await my moment of ruin...


I await my nemesis
And masochism wins.

Nothing much to say...

Is intoxication the best way to escape reality?

The reality that unsettles us? Or the reality that disappoints us?

Alcohol, passion, lust, obsessions, wanderlust. They fill you up, consume your thoughts…provide you relief, if only for a little while – from what your life is, lulling you into experiencing what it could be. So that when you wake up to reality it is a strange mixture of exhilaration, from having lived your dream – and a gut-wrenching pain, from realizing dreams shatter.

But what stops me from going after what I really want? I keep asking myself and I throw up no answers. Except for the fact that somewhere, deep down inside, I know my desires and dreams will be frowned upon. Somewhere, deep down inside, I want to fit in in spite of wanting to stand out. Somewhere, deep down inside, I am afraid of the strong possibility that I may be afraid.

Imaginary voyeurism is my poison of choice.  World’s that I don’t inhabit, a life that is not mine, stories that I want to live and the furtive manifestation of desires that I ruthlessly suppress otherwise.  

And then I wake up the morning after and I wonder…does intoxication help me in getting answers?

Not really. It does something even better.

It helps me in forgetting the questions.

Momentarily.

Mercifully.

To be or not to be...

I seem to have led half a life...all my life.

So many things that I wanted to do. So many things I will never accomplish. Does that make me pathetic - someone incapable of going after what she wants? Or does that make me passive - someone disinterested in going after things?

I keep hearing about how lucky I am. Did well in studies, got a great job, settled down - everything by the book. Apparently that's ideal and rare. But is that true for all of us? Even for those who don't want to do things by the book but would rather write their own stories? Currently my story seems predictable. And I am just waiting for that twist that turns the story from 'oh ok' to 'oh wow!'

I don't want a job - I want an occupation that is driven by my passion
I don't want to be in love - I want to be driven to distraction by my feelings
I don't want to have an average life - I want to go crazy, experience every single exhilarating thing

I wanted to travel the world, write a book, be a voice-over artist, a travel show host, bake the perfect cake, sing on a stage, be a professional dancer, play the piano, live in Bombay, go bungee-jumping, get the perfect proposal.

Some of this I hope to still do. For some, I have to wait for another lifetime. A thought that makes me incredibly sad.

For what did Calvin say - "Happiness isn't good enough for me. I demand euphoria!"

Serendipity

This 55 word story on Twitter got me thinking...and writing....

And since writing is something that I used to find so cathartic, something I haven't done in a while...I thought I'll take off from some of the older words in the 55 word blog and make my own stories...

They are not in 55 words. Given to over-the-top expressions, I have never done well with brevity...so these are just my thoughts...as they come

Serendipity
You always had things easy, your own way. You knew you would just have to ask - and I would say yes. You just had to look - and I would close my eyes to everyone else. And I? I thought it was meant to be. That you and I were destiny.

Turned out, you just wanted a bit of me. And when you were done, you threw that part away and never looked back. It was a happy coincidence then that I had already been in pieces when you had first walked in.

After all, you always liked things easy.