writ·er's block (r t rz) n.
"A usually temporary psychological inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing"
That’s the dictionary version of my experience over the past few months. I have been facing a writer’s block. My inability to spew out words captured adroitly and I was praying, hoping, wishing, that this block would disappear true to its meaning. But it wasn’t temporary at all, and that’s when I thought why not to write on my inability to write. Hmmm … I was proud that I had outsmarted my own weakness. I was gloating and basking in my glory. Alas I never realised how fickle these moments can be !!
Yep, you guessed it right, I still had the block and the words were refusing to flow, or should I say even ooze or drip out. My river of thoughts had run dry, not that it was ever flowing in profusion, but this droughty spell was a bit too long for my liking. I cried out for inspirations, like the Indian farmer’s do for rain during drought. I prayed to all gods, across all religions but was never blessed with an idea.
I wrote a sentence, erased it, shook my head, bit my nails bare, nibbled on my collars, wrote again, deleted again, a never ending process some would say, and mostly I was rewarded with an empty white screen. Bare and devoid of alphabets, however much I wished otherwise. The screen was bare and empty, mocking me, challenging me and teasing me at my inability to write.
They say, its better to have tried and failed, than to have never tried at all. I drew solace from this fact. I had tried and no one could blame me for not trying, or of being a lethargic, disinterested writer or an insouciant. Well what more could I say ? It’s hard enough to write decent stuff, without having people turn up their noses, and add to it the writer’s block; I was kayoed from the start.
I rest my case, my time to write will come and I will wait for that day.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
FEAR
In India the popular saying goes, “he who is afraid, is dead”, but then the other side of the saying goes, “he who is scared, lives to tell the tale”. But I feel, that we have nothing to fear, but fear itself. All our actions and reactions are driven by fear. I feel that fear is the driving force, the reason and the impetus in our lives.
Since our childhood days, our parents control us by instilling fear, “ don’t do that/ this.... or else …God / Father will punish u”. The childhood curiosity is quelled and controlled by use of fear. A child’s imagination is snipped at the bud, using fear, never reason, because fear is so easy to instil and invoke whenever needed. Our child-like curiosity scares the hell out of our parents ('But mum, I just wanted to see what would happen if I used the phone in the shower'), which is why parents then try to scare it out of their kids. How? With stories about curious children who insist on prying into things that are best left alone and who end up getting turned into things, shoved into ovens or eaten by wild animals.
Even the Holy Scriptures and epics do a good job of instilling fear too. You'll find the Old Testament a rich source of this stuff: God says to the human race (the two of them) 'Listen you crazy kids, do anything, go anywhere but keep the hell away from the tree of knowledge... eat not of its fruit or you're history.' Well, you know what happened next - Eve got curious and God does some pretty heavy smiting. You can imagine God as a Robert DeNiro type... 'Are you listenin' to me? Are you listenin' to me? I'm askin' you if you're listenin' to me? Huh? Well BAM! How do ya like that?')
The good book makes the penalty pretty clear - mind your own damn business or the entire human race will be damned to live and die in pain.
Every culture tells the same story - a forbidden thing, a curious spirit, eternal damnation and death. These stories serve to keep kids at home and men & women in line... and by and large, they work pretty well.
The Indian epics and beliefs also instil this fear in abundance into the masses. Personally I believe God is man’s greatest invention. God and religion, the tools, invented to make the mankind compliant and obedient. “God is everywhere, God sees everything, and God is Omnipotent, Omniscient & Omnipresent”. The concept of heaven & earth, of liberation, mukthi & niravana, all invented to make people feel guilty. Guilt!!! The realisation of ones sins, the best tool used in conjunction with repentance, to harness mankind. Great were the minds, who realised the Fear Factor and invented the tools to make man subservient.
We as humans are scared about everything. We are afraid of what others think about us. We are afraid of making a fool of ourselves, or being laughed at. We are afraid of being hurt, we are afraid of losing our near & dear ones. Well, we are afraid of fear itself. Fear rules and governs our behaviours, actions and beliefs. Couple, fear with guilt and it becomes too potent a mix to handle, Heady & dangerous.
We love someone, with a fear of losing them; we work, fearing a life of joblessness and hardship. We do things, fearing what would happen if we didn’t. We have fun, but with a feeling of uneasiness involved. Always with a nagging thought or two we move ahead in life.
Cant we do things, for the sake of doing them and not because of the fear associated with it. Can’t we live our lives not having to cringe, whinge and complain? Can’t we live for the sake of living, without fear to cloud our thoughts and actions? Can’t we just BE??
In India the popular saying goes, “he who is afraid, is dead”, but then the other side of the saying goes, “he who is scared, lives to tell the tale”. But I feel, that we have nothing to fear, but fear itself. All our actions and reactions are driven by fear. I feel that fear is the driving force, the reason and the impetus in our lives.
Since our childhood days, our parents control us by instilling fear, “ don’t do that/ this.... or else …God / Father will punish u”. The childhood curiosity is quelled and controlled by use of fear. A child’s imagination is snipped at the bud, using fear, never reason, because fear is so easy to instil and invoke whenever needed. Our child-like curiosity scares the hell out of our parents ('But mum, I just wanted to see what would happen if I used the phone in the shower'), which is why parents then try to scare it out of their kids. How? With stories about curious children who insist on prying into things that are best left alone and who end up getting turned into things, shoved into ovens or eaten by wild animals.
Even the Holy Scriptures and epics do a good job of instilling fear too. You'll find the Old Testament a rich source of this stuff: God says to the human race (the two of them) 'Listen you crazy kids, do anything, go anywhere but keep the hell away from the tree of knowledge... eat not of its fruit or you're history.' Well, you know what happened next - Eve got curious and God does some pretty heavy smiting. You can imagine God as a Robert DeNiro type... 'Are you listenin' to me? Are you listenin' to me? I'm askin' you if you're listenin' to me? Huh? Well BAM! How do ya like that?')
The good book makes the penalty pretty clear - mind your own damn business or the entire human race will be damned to live and die in pain.
Every culture tells the same story - a forbidden thing, a curious spirit, eternal damnation and death. These stories serve to keep kids at home and men & women in line... and by and large, they work pretty well.
The Indian epics and beliefs also instil this fear in abundance into the masses. Personally I believe God is man’s greatest invention. God and religion, the tools, invented to make the mankind compliant and obedient. “God is everywhere, God sees everything, and God is Omnipotent, Omniscient & Omnipresent”. The concept of heaven & earth, of liberation, mukthi & niravana, all invented to make people feel guilty. Guilt!!! The realisation of ones sins, the best tool used in conjunction with repentance, to harness mankind. Great were the minds, who realised the Fear Factor and invented the tools to make man subservient.
We as humans are scared about everything. We are afraid of what others think about us. We are afraid of making a fool of ourselves, or being laughed at. We are afraid of being hurt, we are afraid of losing our near & dear ones. Well, we are afraid of fear itself. Fear rules and governs our behaviours, actions and beliefs. Couple, fear with guilt and it becomes too potent a mix to handle, Heady & dangerous.
We love someone, with a fear of losing them; we work, fearing a life of joblessness and hardship. We do things, fearing what would happen if we didn’t. We have fun, but with a feeling of uneasiness involved. Always with a nagging thought or two we move ahead in life.
Cant we do things, for the sake of doing them and not because of the fear associated with it. Can’t we live our lives not having to cringe, whinge and complain? Can’t we live for the sake of living, without fear to cloud our thoughts and actions? Can’t we just BE??
Friday, March 05, 2004
The Broken Mirror
I was on my way to college, the streets were overflowing with the rush hour traffic and I just couldn’t help but remember India. Though the blaring horns and the enraged drivers weren’t present, the melee did resemble India’s normal time traffic, though a lot more organised. There were lotsa cars parked on the way and I happened to glance at one such car’s rear view mirror.
The glass was cracked and I could see myriad images of myself in it. Each image a part of the whole, but also consummate in itself. Every image telling it’s own tale, but not big enough to make up a whole picture.
That’s when I realised, how that broken mirror reflected us humans. All of us have these images / experiences stored within us. Each one consummate in itself and still a part of the bigger picture. Each experience telling us different tales, ones of sorrow, of grief, of happiness, of joy, of every moment that makes our life complete. Each experience a story in itself but not big enough to make up the novel, namely our life.
Our whole life would be incomplete with any one piece missing, but then would it be complete if the mirror weren’t to have cracked at all. Would we have been better off without these cracks??? Or do these cracks, these pieces enrich us?? What would we be if we weren’t to have these broken pieces in us at all?? How would we behave?? How would we think?? Would we be happy always and ever after?? How do we find a balance, i. e how do we decide how many pieces to have, do we have a choice to decide?? Which pieces to retain and which to forget?? All of us are scared to have the cracks that causes up pain. We try to hide them, run away from them, and anything but acknowledge them. Can we ever outrun them?? Should we run ??
The questions to which I have no answers, however much ever I delve into it. It amazes me, that we as humans fight against all odds, but are never really able to fight or define the cracks within us.
I was on my way to college, the streets were overflowing with the rush hour traffic and I just couldn’t help but remember India. Though the blaring horns and the enraged drivers weren’t present, the melee did resemble India’s normal time traffic, though a lot more organised. There were lotsa cars parked on the way and I happened to glance at one such car’s rear view mirror.
The glass was cracked and I could see myriad images of myself in it. Each image a part of the whole, but also consummate in itself. Every image telling it’s own tale, but not big enough to make up a whole picture.
That’s when I realised, how that broken mirror reflected us humans. All of us have these images / experiences stored within us. Each one consummate in itself and still a part of the bigger picture. Each experience telling us different tales, ones of sorrow, of grief, of happiness, of joy, of every moment that makes our life complete. Each experience a story in itself but not big enough to make up the novel, namely our life.
Our whole life would be incomplete with any one piece missing, but then would it be complete if the mirror weren’t to have cracked at all. Would we have been better off without these cracks??? Or do these cracks, these pieces enrich us?? What would we be if we weren’t to have these broken pieces in us at all?? How would we behave?? How would we think?? Would we be happy always and ever after?? How do we find a balance, i. e how do we decide how many pieces to have, do we have a choice to decide?? Which pieces to retain and which to forget?? All of us are scared to have the cracks that causes up pain. We try to hide them, run away from them, and anything but acknowledge them. Can we ever outrun them?? Should we run ??
The questions to which I have no answers, however much ever I delve into it. It amazes me, that we as humans fight against all odds, but are never really able to fight or define the cracks within us.
VROOOOOMMMMMM
I have to confess that I am a humble devotee, an ardent worshipper and a zealous fan of F1 (Formula 1 for the uninitiated). And I have had this unique privilege to watch it live today. A day I shall remember for the rest of my life, not as much for the sound and the furore the cars create, but for the guts, strength and will of the drivers to race at such breakneck speeds.
My father would have termed such racing as lunacy, almost bordering on insanity. I mean, who in their right mind would hurl down a road at nearly 300 Kmph, and take corners at 100 k’s, I could totally understand my dads feeling. But then the same madness of hurling down the tight corners attracts me to this marvellous sport.
This game typically personifies the glorious uncertainty of life. The drivers do not know what lies behind the turns or for that matter whether they would live to see another turn, or whether they would finish the race, as they compete for supremacy. The odds stacked against the competing drivers, equally, and the adrenalin rush being the only prime motivator. F1 is such a treat to watch, as much for the technology and glamour associated with it, as for the sheer audacity and temperament of the drivers. Each twist & turn testing the mettle of the driver, prodding him, cajoling him and daring him to make a mistake and every driver pitting his wits against the fellow driver and the track itself, makes for a fascinating & eclectic mix. The cars are really a piece of art every car unique by itself and a technological masterpiece in its own right.
They say seeing is believing and today I saw the spectacle that I have always been dreaming about.
I have to confess that I am a humble devotee, an ardent worshipper and a zealous fan of F1 (Formula 1 for the uninitiated). And I have had this unique privilege to watch it live today. A day I shall remember for the rest of my life, not as much for the sound and the furore the cars create, but for the guts, strength and will of the drivers to race at such breakneck speeds.
My father would have termed such racing as lunacy, almost bordering on insanity. I mean, who in their right mind would hurl down a road at nearly 300 Kmph, and take corners at 100 k’s, I could totally understand my dads feeling. But then the same madness of hurling down the tight corners attracts me to this marvellous sport.
This game typically personifies the glorious uncertainty of life. The drivers do not know what lies behind the turns or for that matter whether they would live to see another turn, or whether they would finish the race, as they compete for supremacy. The odds stacked against the competing drivers, equally, and the adrenalin rush being the only prime motivator. F1 is such a treat to watch, as much for the technology and glamour associated with it, as for the sheer audacity and temperament of the drivers. Each twist & turn testing the mettle of the driver, prodding him, cajoling him and daring him to make a mistake and every driver pitting his wits against the fellow driver and the track itself, makes for a fascinating & eclectic mix. The cars are really a piece of art every car unique by itself and a technological masterpiece in its own right.
They say seeing is believing and today I saw the spectacle that I have always been dreaming about.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
THE MAN – A LEGEND
“Steve Waugh …. Steve Waugh … Steve Waugh”, chanted the crowd. And was it a boisterous reception at that. I was nearly deafened by the roar and enthralled at the support. Here was Steve Waugh walking onto the cricket field, whose exploits had made him folklore. A man, who has become a legend in the annals of Australian cricket.
I absolutely adore this man, as much for his grit and determination as for his simplicity. A man who batted like he lived his life, always straight from the heart, unflinching and unwavering like the rock of Gibraltar. A leader of unusual character, who led by example. He always thrived on and relished challenges. And has never shied from one.
I had this unusual privilege of watching him play in his second last match at the MCG. The atmosphere was electric and the big man looked nervous a bit. He was on his last tour and India had surprised everybody, including themselves by being ahead in the test series, a spectacle the Australians rarely get to see. It was the Boxing Day test match, a tradition in Melbourne, and the stadium was jam packed, bursting at the seams. All of them there to pay tribute to this great man, well, almost everybody. India had a cracker of the first day but then on the game belonged to the Australians. All of them playing for one thing, to save their great captain from ignominy, such is the power of this great man that he drives his team to achieve greater heights.
A man, known as much for his ruthlessness on the field, as for his humility off it. A man with his association with charities in India and the world over did his bit for the society and quietly at that. A person who took both victory & defeat as they come, with grace and humility.
At the end of it , I am proud that I had this unique opportunity to watch the great man play on his last tour. This memory will always be etched in my mind. And I wish this man all the very best that life has to offer. Hats off to a true legend.
“Steve Waugh …. Steve Waugh … Steve Waugh”, chanted the crowd. And was it a boisterous reception at that. I was nearly deafened by the roar and enthralled at the support. Here was Steve Waugh walking onto the cricket field, whose exploits had made him folklore. A man, who has become a legend in the annals of Australian cricket.
I absolutely adore this man, as much for his grit and determination as for his simplicity. A man who batted like he lived his life, always straight from the heart, unflinching and unwavering like the rock of Gibraltar. A leader of unusual character, who led by example. He always thrived on and relished challenges. And has never shied from one.
I had this unusual privilege of watching him play in his second last match at the MCG. The atmosphere was electric and the big man looked nervous a bit. He was on his last tour and India had surprised everybody, including themselves by being ahead in the test series, a spectacle the Australians rarely get to see. It was the Boxing Day test match, a tradition in Melbourne, and the stadium was jam packed, bursting at the seams. All of them there to pay tribute to this great man, well, almost everybody. India had a cracker of the first day but then on the game belonged to the Australians. All of them playing for one thing, to save their great captain from ignominy, such is the power of this great man that he drives his team to achieve greater heights.
A man, known as much for his ruthlessness on the field, as for his humility off it. A man with his association with charities in India and the world over did his bit for the society and quietly at that. A person who took both victory & defeat as they come, with grace and humility.
At the end of it , I am proud that I had this unique opportunity to watch the great man play on his last tour. This memory will always be etched in my mind. And I wish this man all the very best that life has to offer. Hats off to a true legend.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Friends
Friends, my bane & boon rolled into one, the cause of plethora of joys and a deluge of miseries in my life. But then, I should say that I have been blessed with friends. I have been lucky that I have always uncannily found the right set of friends thru out my life.
One calls himself OAO (one & only), though we have found other flowery expansions to the acronym. I met him on the first day of college. Both of us alien to the class while the people around us were having a gala time, meeting with old friends and being glad that they were in the same class. We were the square pegs in the round hole in that class. A look at each other and an instantaneous acknowledgement of our friendship, the feeling to belong drawing us together. Well we have never regretted that decision till date. His amazing sense of humour was the bond between us, which we both understood and laughed at.
Another’s a lanky & wacky character. An enigma in himself, which I believe he himself cant decipher. Resembling HOBBES in Calvin & Hobbes. A devious mind with a satirical sense of humour, both ironic & comic, which he can use to great effect. Gifted with an unique sense of prose. His prose, not know for eloquence, but for the simplicity, which I absolutely adore, for the message he gets across. Grudgingly I have to admit that he’s been my inspiration to write. So if u don’t like what I write, u know whom to blame.
Another a gifted Sagittarian who masters all the sports he plays instantaneously, and if he gets his mind to it, almost does any thing instantly. A gregarious person, who’s shy at heart. He’s a unique amalgamation of character, a traditional at heart with a modern outlook. A lover of animals, with a soft interior but a rough exterior for all to see, which hides his feelings & protects him from the world.
Another a PJ master, again lanky and reed like, with an arcane sense of humour that shifts from the absolute absurd to the extremely hilarious. A true giver and a trier. Who’s always worried about the other guy than about himself. Ever helping and smiling, hiding his feelings adroitly. A person who bores you to death with his PJ’s, but then someone whom u can always look up to in times of distress. A person who laughs his grief away, a quality rarely found.
Last but not the least, is my new friend, about whom I have written before. Smiling, gregarious and cherubic. Immature and innocent in a childish way, ever willing to help anyone in need, personifying the true friend quote. A quality, which causes him more grief than good. A person who tries to hide his inner feelings with a laughing exterior, with success.
In retrospect, I can say yes, I have been blessed. Been blessed with “All Weather Friends”, who I know are there for me and for whom I will be there. Always
Friends, my bane & boon rolled into one, the cause of plethora of joys and a deluge of miseries in my life. But then, I should say that I have been blessed with friends. I have been lucky that I have always uncannily found the right set of friends thru out my life.
One calls himself OAO (one & only), though we have found other flowery expansions to the acronym. I met him on the first day of college. Both of us alien to the class while the people around us were having a gala time, meeting with old friends and being glad that they were in the same class. We were the square pegs in the round hole in that class. A look at each other and an instantaneous acknowledgement of our friendship, the feeling to belong drawing us together. Well we have never regretted that decision till date. His amazing sense of humour was the bond between us, which we both understood and laughed at.
Another’s a lanky & wacky character. An enigma in himself, which I believe he himself cant decipher. Resembling HOBBES in Calvin & Hobbes. A devious mind with a satirical sense of humour, both ironic & comic, which he can use to great effect. Gifted with an unique sense of prose. His prose, not know for eloquence, but for the simplicity, which I absolutely adore, for the message he gets across. Grudgingly I have to admit that he’s been my inspiration to write. So if u don’t like what I write, u know whom to blame.
Another a gifted Sagittarian who masters all the sports he plays instantaneously, and if he gets his mind to it, almost does any thing instantly. A gregarious person, who’s shy at heart. He’s a unique amalgamation of character, a traditional at heart with a modern outlook. A lover of animals, with a soft interior but a rough exterior for all to see, which hides his feelings & protects him from the world.
Another a PJ master, again lanky and reed like, with an arcane sense of humour that shifts from the absolute absurd to the extremely hilarious. A true giver and a trier. Who’s always worried about the other guy than about himself. Ever helping and smiling, hiding his feelings adroitly. A person who bores you to death with his PJ’s, but then someone whom u can always look up to in times of distress. A person who laughs his grief away, a quality rarely found.
Last but not the least, is my new friend, about whom I have written before. Smiling, gregarious and cherubic. Immature and innocent in a childish way, ever willing to help anyone in need, personifying the true friend quote. A quality, which causes him more grief than good. A person who tries to hide his inner feelings with a laughing exterior, with success.
In retrospect, I can say yes, I have been blessed. Been blessed with “All Weather Friends”, who I know are there for me and for whom I will be there. Always
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
A STORY GONE AWRY
Words fail me and thoughts elude me. I have been staring into space trying to crystallise my thoughts to pen them, but success eluded me. Every one who has read my blog has commonly complained that I do not write about myself. So I decided to give it a go. And here I was trying my best, chewing the pencil, writing down my thoughts.
Being the modest person that I am, I wanted to write down my life in black & white. But then no one would be interested to know the bland details of my life, and being the vain person I am I wanted this to be my pièce de resistance, a coup de grace. So I had to be a hindi film hero with his demure failings who gets his girl in the end.
Girl … there again I was stumped. I haven’t been as promiscuous as some or as innocent as others, none the less I have to admit the failure I am. My first crush, hmmmmm, I still get those goose bumps when I think of her, was my neighbour. A beautiful, intelligent (as intelligent a girl can be) and an amazingly wonderful person. Who still manages to tingle my emotions, whenever I think of her!! . A person with such a rare enthusiasm and vivacity for life, that she smote me. How could I resist her rustic and earthly charm? Me an earthling, with this heavenly beauty around, how could I be safe. And I fell head over heels in love, but then I was too tongue tied to tell her. I was ogling at her and talking to her everyday and secretly wishing that I could go up to her and tell her what I felt. But all along, I thought it was a crush and like all crushes I thought it would wear out. But I was wrong and it grew on me. And one fine day she come up to me in her charming way and says that she’s engaged. Thud & shatter went my heart. A thousand fragments splattered across. I managed a weak smile and wished her all the luck. She got married and unfortunately I went to her marriage. There she was in the most gorgeous red dress and I was agape. I rue my decision still, cause that image of her is still with me and haunts me. I used to wish that she gets a divorce and comes back so that I could marry her. But it never happened. And in the mean while I finished college and moved on. I met her when she had her kids, two of them a boy & a girl and as cute and bubbly as their mother. And the third time I met her my world broke around me. She wasn’t the person I was in love with anymore. The world and its cruel people had got to her. She had lost that joy for living, and she was a shadow of herself. I was shocked and happy at the same time. Sad to see the ravages of time and life on a dear friend, happy to be rid of the demons that had haunted me for so long.
So there I was again beginning with a clean slate and a slightly troubled conscience. I met other girls and came to know them and understand them, but none matched the first crush. I always ended up comparing the girls to my first crush and I was never satisfied. Like they say u only fall in love once and rest is a compromise. I guess I was personifying it to some extent.
So there again my story fell flat. How could I continue and paint a drab picture of myself. For my blog to be a success I need people to read it and say how good it was and return back to read more. This story never could ensure me that. A paradox really as to how could I spice it up?
Sleepless nights, gaunt looks and tons of caffeine later I decide to write about some funny incident about myself. Bang I thought that I had hit on the secret formula to make my blog a secret and to address everyone’s needs. Sadly being the joker I am, I never realised how hard a task that would be. It was like looking for a one eyed fish in a shoal, whilst u didn’t know how to swim. I mean my life’s been a joke in itself. My parents can vouch for that, or for that matter my umpteen relative’s and friends too. Of no fixed address and of no sound moorings, I am as lost as a drunk in the desert most of the time. Why drunk??? Don’t ask me. I just feel like a drunk most of the time, never stable and always whimsical. I have been called names all along my life depending on the then current situations. “Bhageera” in line with the panther in Rudyard Kipling’s “Jungle Book” a take off on my surname. “Hyperactive”, my teacher’s coinage, describing my high energy levels, along with other inane and mundane ones. The most recent one being “pookie”. Garfield readers would be able to identify that with his pet doll, but believe me it’s not as flattering. Pookie means a fart in “Tulu”, a language spoken in Managalore in south India. And that exemplified the chatterbox that I am and a person who sweet-talks his way around. So kindly do not take it in the literal sense.
But again I was facing a blank wall. Who would want to know all the measly names I was called. I was back where I belonged and I needed to do something, to begin somewhere. I needed to take off somewhere and I decided to do it the typical Hindi movie istyle. I wanted to begin on a tragic note, and say how I emerged unscathed out of it, just like how gold comes purified out of fire; I wanted to show how I came out of tragedies. How I contemplated suicide, how I became an atheist, how I rebelled?? But would anyone want to know that?? Aren’t people burdened enough with their grief’s and sorrows, without me having to add to it?? I wasn’t looking for sympathy here. I was looking for viewer ship.
So that’s when I decided, like all good things in life, my idea of writing a coup de grace, had to end. It was a tragic painful and an ignoble death of a great dream.
Words fail me and thoughts elude me. I have been staring into space trying to crystallise my thoughts to pen them, but success eluded me. Every one who has read my blog has commonly complained that I do not write about myself. So I decided to give it a go. And here I was trying my best, chewing the pencil, writing down my thoughts.
Being the modest person that I am, I wanted to write down my life in black & white. But then no one would be interested to know the bland details of my life, and being the vain person I am I wanted this to be my pièce de resistance, a coup de grace. So I had to be a hindi film hero with his demure failings who gets his girl in the end.
Girl … there again I was stumped. I haven’t been as promiscuous as some or as innocent as others, none the less I have to admit the failure I am. My first crush, hmmmmm, I still get those goose bumps when I think of her, was my neighbour. A beautiful, intelligent (as intelligent a girl can be) and an amazingly wonderful person. Who still manages to tingle my emotions, whenever I think of her!! . A person with such a rare enthusiasm and vivacity for life, that she smote me. How could I resist her rustic and earthly charm? Me an earthling, with this heavenly beauty around, how could I be safe. And I fell head over heels in love, but then I was too tongue tied to tell her. I was ogling at her and talking to her everyday and secretly wishing that I could go up to her and tell her what I felt. But all along, I thought it was a crush and like all crushes I thought it would wear out. But I was wrong and it grew on me. And one fine day she come up to me in her charming way and says that she’s engaged. Thud & shatter went my heart. A thousand fragments splattered across. I managed a weak smile and wished her all the luck. She got married and unfortunately I went to her marriage. There she was in the most gorgeous red dress and I was agape. I rue my decision still, cause that image of her is still with me and haunts me. I used to wish that she gets a divorce and comes back so that I could marry her. But it never happened. And in the mean while I finished college and moved on. I met her when she had her kids, two of them a boy & a girl and as cute and bubbly as their mother. And the third time I met her my world broke around me. She wasn’t the person I was in love with anymore. The world and its cruel people had got to her. She had lost that joy for living, and she was a shadow of herself. I was shocked and happy at the same time. Sad to see the ravages of time and life on a dear friend, happy to be rid of the demons that had haunted me for so long.
So there I was again beginning with a clean slate and a slightly troubled conscience. I met other girls and came to know them and understand them, but none matched the first crush. I always ended up comparing the girls to my first crush and I was never satisfied. Like they say u only fall in love once and rest is a compromise. I guess I was personifying it to some extent.
So there again my story fell flat. How could I continue and paint a drab picture of myself. For my blog to be a success I need people to read it and say how good it was and return back to read more. This story never could ensure me that. A paradox really as to how could I spice it up?
Sleepless nights, gaunt looks and tons of caffeine later I decide to write about some funny incident about myself. Bang I thought that I had hit on the secret formula to make my blog a secret and to address everyone’s needs. Sadly being the joker I am, I never realised how hard a task that would be. It was like looking for a one eyed fish in a shoal, whilst u didn’t know how to swim. I mean my life’s been a joke in itself. My parents can vouch for that, or for that matter my umpteen relative’s and friends too. Of no fixed address and of no sound moorings, I am as lost as a drunk in the desert most of the time. Why drunk??? Don’t ask me. I just feel like a drunk most of the time, never stable and always whimsical. I have been called names all along my life depending on the then current situations. “Bhageera” in line with the panther in Rudyard Kipling’s “Jungle Book” a take off on my surname. “Hyperactive”, my teacher’s coinage, describing my high energy levels, along with other inane and mundane ones. The most recent one being “pookie”. Garfield readers would be able to identify that with his pet doll, but believe me it’s not as flattering. Pookie means a fart in “Tulu”, a language spoken in Managalore in south India. And that exemplified the chatterbox that I am and a person who sweet-talks his way around. So kindly do not take it in the literal sense.
But again I was facing a blank wall. Who would want to know all the measly names I was called. I was back where I belonged and I needed to do something, to begin somewhere. I needed to take off somewhere and I decided to do it the typical Hindi movie istyle. I wanted to begin on a tragic note, and say how I emerged unscathed out of it, just like how gold comes purified out of fire; I wanted to show how I came out of tragedies. How I contemplated suicide, how I became an atheist, how I rebelled?? But would anyone want to know that?? Aren’t people burdened enough with their grief’s and sorrows, without me having to add to it?? I wasn’t looking for sympathy here. I was looking for viewer ship.
So that’s when I decided, like all good things in life, my idea of writing a coup de grace, had to end. It was a tragic painful and an ignoble death of a great dream.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
KUDOS TO A FRIEND
I stifled a yawn … hmmmm … it was getting late. I dared to check the time, and my watch read 3 am …. Yawn ….. I was tired, but I still had a long night ahead. I had to complete my assignment at all costs … yawnnnnn … there I go again …Mercifully my friend drops in and invites me for a cup of coffee, he was a life saver.
I stretch myself on my way out and my joints crunched under the effort. I made my cup of cappuccino and he brewed his usual strong tea. I needed the caffeine to keep me awake. We start to chat, at which I am adept, in the students lounge. It was that time of the day when u tend to be a bit melancholic. The tone was just right to discuss LIFE. We start talking of a recent class assignment we had done, where we talk of our life in detail and all the phases we went thru.
The sleep, the melancholy and the time led us to drop of our individual façade’s and be ourselves. The rampart, which we build around ourselves to protect us, was broken. Rid of the pretences we shared our life. And suddenly I realised how much grief my friend had in his heart. Ensconced deep within him, shrouded from the world. The magnitude of the suffering, know only to him and for me to guess. A shudder ran thru me as I tried to fathom his grief. If you knew my friend, such grief could never be attributed to him. He’s ever smiling, cheerful & gregarious. I was awestruck that someone with so much grief could be so outgoing, smiling & ever helping.
I guess that showed me the true strength of the human spirit, the will power. An entity never considered nor given the due it deserves. Our inner strength helping us overcome all difficulties and soldier on in life.
We as humans have this amazing gift to rebound from failures. The tenacity, the courage and a never ending flow of optimism, which drives us on. An obstinacy to defy life and demure failings underline the paradox that we are. It showed me that we could choose the way we want to be, and not let situations govern us. I realised that it is up-to each one of us to plot the course we want to travel.
Like they say “if there is a will, there is a way” and my friend exemplified this adage. And thanks to my friend, i will never wallow in self-pity or grief ever again, because I know that tomorrow is always there. And there are people who grieve more than I ever will.
I stifled a yawn … hmmmm … it was getting late. I dared to check the time, and my watch read 3 am …. Yawn ….. I was tired, but I still had a long night ahead. I had to complete my assignment at all costs … yawnnnnn … there I go again …Mercifully my friend drops in and invites me for a cup of coffee, he was a life saver.
I stretch myself on my way out and my joints crunched under the effort. I made my cup of cappuccino and he brewed his usual strong tea. I needed the caffeine to keep me awake. We start to chat, at which I am adept, in the students lounge. It was that time of the day when u tend to be a bit melancholic. The tone was just right to discuss LIFE. We start talking of a recent class assignment we had done, where we talk of our life in detail and all the phases we went thru.
The sleep, the melancholy and the time led us to drop of our individual façade’s and be ourselves. The rampart, which we build around ourselves to protect us, was broken. Rid of the pretences we shared our life. And suddenly I realised how much grief my friend had in his heart. Ensconced deep within him, shrouded from the world. The magnitude of the suffering, know only to him and for me to guess. A shudder ran thru me as I tried to fathom his grief. If you knew my friend, such grief could never be attributed to him. He’s ever smiling, cheerful & gregarious. I was awestruck that someone with so much grief could be so outgoing, smiling & ever helping.
I guess that showed me the true strength of the human spirit, the will power. An entity never considered nor given the due it deserves. Our inner strength helping us overcome all difficulties and soldier on in life.
We as humans have this amazing gift to rebound from failures. The tenacity, the courage and a never ending flow of optimism, which drives us on. An obstinacy to defy life and demure failings underline the paradox that we are. It showed me that we could choose the way we want to be, and not let situations govern us. I realised that it is up-to each one of us to plot the course we want to travel.
Like they say “if there is a will, there is a way” and my friend exemplified this adage. And thanks to my friend, i will never wallow in self-pity or grief ever again, because I know that tomorrow is always there. And there are people who grieve more than I ever will.
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