happy in hindsight

i have come to the conclusion that most of us are happy in hindsight. right now, this second, this moment in time i am unhappy. but ten years later when i remember this moment i will be so full of nostalgia that i will go all awwwww about it.

when i look back i airbrush the awkwardness, the pain, the complete non belonging and just see the good. or may be it is the other way round, right now, i am so focused on the bad, that i fail to see the good.

whatever the mechanism the result is the same - this adolescent belief that you were happy way back when.

you were never happy. happiness is a trait of a particular kind of mind and if you are not the kind of person who is happy right now, as it is, in this moment, then i will bet my bottom dollar that you were not happy ten years back in that moment, whatever it was and whatever you have made it up to be in your head now.

some of us, are just forever doomed, to be happy - only in hindsight.

forgiveness is inevitable

the following is in response to those two movies i saw recently - the women and sex and the city.

i believe that if you live long enough forgiveness is inevitable.

barring a few crimes i do not want to think, imagine or talk about - rape, murder, extreme physical torture - all others you eventually have to forgive and let go.

if a friend does something to completely shake your trust, what can you do? you can live in your indignation and walk around wounded, high headed, full of misgivings. but what more? if she is sorry for it, what else can she do now? she can kill herself and she still cannot take it back, it has been done cannot be undone. after a reasonable period of time, you have no other choice, you have to forgive her and completely let it go.

when i think about it, it applies to almost everything one person can do to another - someone ruins your favorite dress, is extremely rude to you, breaks a promise, or worse - as long as they are not sorry, fine, you go around yelling, screaming and playing the victim, but once they apologize - you are done. the way i see it, you only have two choices now. a) you forgive them and cut them off from your life, b) you forgive them and give them another chance. either ways if you do not forgive them , you will end up doing something far worse, you will end up turning yourself in to a bitter person. enh. won't be worth it in the end. and you will have only yourself to blame.

i don't know what that is. ironic, unfortunate, or just plain ridiculous.it is almost as if there is no such thing as free will, is there?

at the end of the day, when the dust settles, and all has been said and done - forgiveness is inevitable.

hum tum se juda ho ke

हम तुम से जुदा हो के,
मर जायेंगे रो रो के

झूठ है जी । बिलकुल मिथ्या है, गप्प है, कपोल कल्पना है। कोई ना मरता किसी से जुदा हो के । मैंने तो न देखा जी ऐसा नजारा ।

तो अब आप कहोगे की फिर क्यों चुना है यह गाना songs i like की category में ?तो मैं कहूँगी की फिर क्या हुआ ? अगर खुशी के आंसू हो सकतें हैं, तो थोडी देर के लिए झूठ मूठ की बात पसंद भी तो आ सकती है | अब आप कहोगे की ये क्या logic हुआ? चलो फिर, पसंद इसलिए है कि इस गाने में एक पंक्ति आती है, which happens to be a very powerful combination of words.

एक मौज किनारे से
मिलने को तरसती है

एक तस्वीर सी नही बनती? कि दूर समंदर के बीचों बीच, एक लहर है, जो बाहर आना चाहती है। उस अथाह सागर के बोझ तले दबी हुई - कैद । उसकी सांसो में समुद्र हिलता है। उसकी विकलता पर जहाज़ तैरते हैं। उसकी वेदना वाश्प बन कर उड़ती है - जिससे जल चक्र चलता है। वो धरती के गर्भ से ऊर्जा ले कर जल्जन्तुओं को पहुंचाती है, और जब वो खर्च हो कर सतह तक पहुँचती है तो उसकी आह बदल बन कर उठती है। चांदनी रात में वो जब रुक कर अपने साहिल को देखती है तो लोग समझते हैं कि समुद्र ज्वार पर है।

तो अब आप कहोगे कि लो भइया, बेगानी सादी में अब्दुल्लाह दीवाना। किसी और के तकलीफ पर तुम काहें कविता कर रही हो? तो मैं कहूँगी कि, कि,....

तो मैं कहूँगी कि भाई तुम सवाल बहुत पूछते हो। चुप चाप रिक्से चलाओ अपना। देर हो रही है हमें। चबर चबर लगा रख्खी है। हुंह ।

Aasmaan

I love the sky, in all its facets and shades and seasons. no matter where i am, in unknown cities, alone, cold, and lost, i can always look at the sky and find a piece of home. the sun,the clouds, the moon, the stars are friends who stay by my side, day in day out.

I started writing this poem in early 1999, and just left it there, and then i picked it up in late 2007. i did not really write a lot in this time period. just... well... i guess my muse left me :)

anyways,

here is the poem:

लाल, पीला, नीला,
सिंदूरी,
कभी कथ्थई आसमान

वो बादलों का घर
वो प्यार का मंज़र
एक खिड़की के कोने में सिमटा
खुला आसमान

धुएँ से भरा
मट्टी से सना
पिघलने को खड़ा
हो दर्द का कोई किला आसमान

सावन में घिरिआये
जेठ में पिघलाए
अब कह दूँ तो चिढ जाए
कुछ और आंखों में चुभ जाए
इक खट्टा
पीला आसमान

वो तेरी याद का आसमान
वो मेरी आस का आसमान
इक गीला
गहरा नीला आसमान

मेरे सपनों के दिए
अंधेरों में लिए
जगता है रात भर
इक चमकीला आसमान

है वही तारों की डगर
वही चन्दा के नगर
अलग
लगता है मगर
इक सजीला
मेरे देस का आसमान

the magic of storytelling

stories are these amazing creations that can make you buy anything.

if someone sat in front of you and told you of this boy who could make a broomstick fly, dish out a patronus strong enough to deflect an army of dementors and still worry about his O.W.L's you would more than likely not believe them.

but the right set of words can do the trick. if told properly you might be able to convince your self of the possibility of the existence of a place some where that housed a school for witches and wizards, of a train that leaves from a station you can only get to by walking through a wall and of a little boy who for some reason survived a deadly curse. who knows, it could be slightly true, or may be you like it so well, you wish it were true.

that is the magic of story telling. it plays a trick on your mind and your brain becomes the story teller's accomplice, helping her, covering up for her flaws, and filling in the gaps. your brain dismisses rational doubts and tells you to not worry about the small stuff, it's just a story - it tells you. you play along, and before you know it, the lines have blurred. you have fallen for it. you like these people now, you are worried sick for the hobbits, you are rooting for aragaon, and you can't wait to find out just how the ring is going to get to the fires of mordor. its not just a story. it stopped being that a long while back, it has become a part of you now. that is the magic of story telling.

written words, leave the plane of the paper, like a dreamcatcher - throwing out these shimmering silvery blue silken threads that float around the room, intertwining and weaving a fabric, a liquid wrapping around your head, invisible, light, and yet so real. an entire world takes shape, hills rise and fall, centuries fuse to a messy blob and a single moment emerges in crystal clarity. time stops, reason takes a back seat, and you willingly fall in to the black hole of someone's imagination. you cry, you laugh, you fall in love, you believe as if on cue. for those few hours, you transcend, you let go, and allow her to lead you, where ever she desires. that is the magic of storytelling.

i want to write a story like that. a story that would take you to a whole other dimension

of a miracle that would make you believe in god, and yet fall in love with the devil.

of a love so grand it would make you want to die, and be born again, and again, and again.

of the earth maiden and her sky lover. who for eons walked together in each other's embrace, his weight would have crushed all traces of life on her, so he hovers, forever close, forever apart.

as the wind blows on her face, she smiles and turns to look at him, her gaze of such porous intensity, it breaks his heart, and his tears fall, and the people call them raindrops.

he bends to kiss her and a part of his soul, stays upon her; as she withdraws a sigh escapes her lips, it clouds his eyes and fills up his lungs, and the people call it the mist.

he extends his hand to touch her skin, his fingers walk the length of her face, her cheeks, her nose, her open lips, and .... okay as i said, am going to write it, have not written it yet :) . eventually. some day. hopefully.

sanson ki mala

last couple of days i have been listening to this nusrat fateh ali song non stop.

saanson ki mala pe simroon main pee ka naam
apne man ki main jaanoon
aur pee ke man ki raam

:)

hmm...

goes without saying how masterfully it has been sung, and also that i get the theory too, of both those lines.

you would say it is easier said than done, this business of simroing (if there is such a word) of someone's name, but those who do, will tell you that it is actually the most natural thing for them. this is what comes to them on its own and it would in fact be a veritable pain to be asked to stop. ab kahan diljale ko sukoon chahiye? zunoon ke liye, bas, zunoon chahiye.

as to the second line, well, i get that too. that is how things need to be, what other people do, want, think, is their problem in life. it is between them and their god, none of your doggone business. you do what you have to do. simple. apne man ki main janoon aur pi ke man ki ram. if more of us could adopt this philosophy, there would be so much more peace around here.

ek ka sajan mandir me,
ek ka preetam masjid me
aur main? :D
sanson ki mala pe simrun main pee ka naam


i like this part the best

preetam ka kuch dosh nahi hai,
wo to hai nirdosh
apne aap se baatein ker ke ho gayi mein badnaam

hahaha, chalo, ye bhi theek hai.

and this last one too
prem ki maala japte japte aap bani mein shayaam

right! i guess that is a concept that bothers me, i have trouble getting that, i like the sound of it though, it sounds right. i need to think about it more i guess, or find someone who will explain it to me, one of the two.

ajeeb ajeeb se gaane

I met someone, no silly, not that that kind of a someone, that I met long long long back.

Anyways, I met someone who actually knew a lot of the ajeeb, songs, I thought only I carried around in my head. we were playing antakshari (yes! I know! but we were driving back late at night after having seen a horrible movie, we needed something to keep us awake), and it was my turn to sing with 'm', hesitantly asked her if she knew this song may se meena se na saaki se, dil behlta hai mera, aapke aa jaane se.....
Guess what?
She did?
We were both surprised how much of the stupid song we actually knew.... wow! and we even knew that this was a Govinda Neelam song! see, I did not think such people existed any more, I am very glad to know that I am not alone.

And then we quizzed each other on our knowledge of other ghatiya songs, she passed my test.

She remembered - naa jaane kyon main beqarar, dil me liye dard-e-intezaar, baitha hoon us raah me, jo teri manzil nahi.....

Kindered spirits indeed.

Only she actually has a sense of music. ahhhhhhhh.... where was I when god was distributing this sense of music?

zaroor bahar khadi rickshe waale se jhagda kar rahi hongi, paanch rupaye thode na lagte hain bhaiya, pagal samjhe ho kya....

the trouble with creation

let's start with an analogy.

suppose i put in a lot of effort and make kheer for my husband, and he walks in, wrinkles his nose, and goes, umm... i don't like meetha too much. ( he does that :) , speaking from experience ) how do you think that makes me feel? disappointed. of course.

and then a friend comes in and she goes, kheer, i love kheer. so i serve her the kheer, she relishes it, praises it. how do you think that makes me feel? of course i am glad someone is enjoying it. i wanted to hear those words, but this is not the person i wanted to hear those words from. :|

you know what i am saying?

oh and before you get me wrong, let me put this in writing, i love, capital L, Love, cooking and having friends over, making lots of food for people and watching them enjoy it, gives me this very "mom"ish satisfaction. unfortunately, cooking and feeding people is the only means i now have of showing people i care for them. when my husband is upset i cook him something nice to cheer him up, when he is happy, i again cook something nice, to celebrate. that's all i know how to do anymore. but i digress, i was talking about something else.

going back to the analogy, the question i am asking is: if i create something for someone in particular, and that person does not care much for it, does it give me any satisfaction to see someone else appreciate it?

its a consolation. did not all go to waste. but that is just what it is. a consolation. isn't it?

sometimes i wonder, that these poems, and songs, and stories that i love so much, that mean so much to me, that i cannnot get over, you see, they were not written for me. the poet wrote them for someone else, and i can be a fan all i want, but does he really care for my admiration?

did he get it from the intended target? and if he did not, how does he feel? was it all a big waste of time for him? i wonder.

then again, what do we care how he feels?

a beautiful poem was written, it is there for eternity, for the world to enjoy, take delight in, savour at its own pace, does the poet's personal satisfaction really factor in to this equation?

is the creation almost independent of the creator's ulterior motives?

is it fair for the creator to dictate his terms as to how and who is allowed to experience this creation?

is there any such legitimate claim to stake?
just wondering.

a disgusting sense of humor

the love guru, this movie is on tv all the time these days, and i cannot watch it.

i can see twelve year olds giggling about this stuff, i teach grade nines i know the way they think, but i fail to understand how grown men can put in so much effort to write, setup and make such a movie. why? is it really that funny to say these words, this double entendre, this innuendo? see, i don't get it.

i don't get this crass, really gross, disgusting sense of humor. what is the big deal about certain bodily functions - vomit, bowel moments, or certain body parts - that some people find so funny? seriously, we all have them. get over it. grow up already.

chotti si ye duniya

chotti si ye duniya pehchane raasten hain
tum kabhi to miloge
kahin to miloge
to poochenge haal.

i do not like this kishore kumar song because i agree with it, i like it because i so very badly want to agree with it, i want to believe that this is true, i do.

it is like that guy richard bach says meeting again, after moments or life times is only certain, for those who are friends.

hmm... is it from illusions P? gosh, i cannot believe you have made me read so much of richard bach! and for the record, this is her favourite bach quote, and that other one too what the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly. she never told me which one she likes better. there, another one of life's mysteries i do not know. :)

personally, i am a jonathan livingston seagull kind of a gal, from wing tip to wing tip, one great gull. :)

its getting cold

fall officially arrived on the 22nd of september 2008 at 11:04 EST.

why do i have this certifiably junk information in my head? good question. you are not going to be happy with the answer. deep breath.

well, for what it is worth, i tried to ignore it, i insisted on wearing open toed shoes, and walking around in my skirts. but apparently mother nature does not care for my approval. winter is here, whether i like it or not.

and even i cannot exist in denial any more. there has been a layer of frost on the grass these past few mornings, the tree in my front yard has lost all its leaves, and my car windows are iced.

right! i am depressed.

i need something to cheer me up.

good thing i know just what to do. plan a nice diwali dinner. :D see that will cheer you up.

that is exactly why human beings conjured up festivals. when you have met your basic needs, when you have taken care of life's necessities and things start getting to you, you need something to keep you going from season to season. what else are you going to wait for, look up to? life can get monotonous and boring in no time, the celebrations - Halloween, thanksgiving, diwali, Christmas - well, they keep us occupied, distracted, too busy to look at the real state of affairs. because that, quite frankly is depressing.

sorry if i it appears that i think there is a conspiracy behind all of this. i do not. there is a difference in being duped and in creating a self deceptive ruse for your own amusement. i fall in the later category. i know exactly what i am doing. these little little small things, these decorations, these preparations, this forced excitement, i know exactly the purpose they serve. they are not an end. they are the means to an end, and very dependable tools at that. i know what i am doing.

gosh, do i sound like an arrogant little blank. tch. deep sigh. it's just that i have a huge, and i mean huge, you can barely contemplate how huge, a circle of things i do NOT know, and just this very small, tiny, imperceptible circle of things i DO know. now if i start pretending, i do not know what i actually do, where will that leave me? i have so little. so this, i know, and i am sticking by it.

so i know, that the people out there who have got real work to do, do not worry about the change of seasons. you see they got real problems, real issues to deal with, they ain't gonna go round fillin their eads up with stuff they can't do nothing bout. shaking my head. you ask them, chances are a) they could not care less about fall, or halloween, or diwali, or b) they will tell you they actually like the winter. right. no one likes to shovel snow, but you can delude yourself in to accepting it only if you got bigger fish to fry. that's it. other wise, that is your entire life. that's all you gonna bitch and moan about. the snow in your drive way!! excuse my french.

so. it is with this nugget of self knowledge, that i am now, going to go and sulk about the oncoming winter. and go and busy myself up in diwali and halloween and christmas. actually i am going to skip halloween, too close to diwali, don't want to be ODing on this stuff :) what did i tell you, i know what i am doing.

:)

oh and happy diwali to you too.

payal ki jhankar

i was listening to this song, and there was a line
mujhe pagal kar de yaar
teri payal ki jhankaar

so i want to ask, do you know anyone, or if you are a guy then, to you yourself, has it ever happened that the sound of someone's payal made any sort of impact on you? not even a huge one, but did you ever, even slightly, for a while find it endearing?

most songs and poems seem to talk of it, but in real life, i think people find that payal sound irritating, don't they? most guys i know would a) not notice it or b) go like ye kya shor macha rakha hai?

so am wondering if the songs are out of sync with reality or there is something to the myth?

मुझे पागल कर दे यार, ये उल्टे सीधे सवाल.....

Manthra Karm

So there is this background story in Ramayan, that manthra provoked kaikai to send Ramji away in order to save his life.Long back when Dashrath was a young man, he shot a "shabdbhedi baan" and accidentally shot Sravana Kumar while he was trying to fill water for his blind parents. When Dasharath realized his mistake he apologized to Saravana kumar's parents but they could not be consoled and gave him a 'shraap' that may you die of putraviyog just as we are. Now, Manthra knew of this shraap, she knew that Ram was Dasharath's favourite son, so she made up a scheme to send Ram away from Dasharath so that the conditions of the shraap might be met without Ram dying. I have no idea if this is true or not, for that matter i have no idea if the entire Ramayan is true or not, but .... i find this such a poetic story. She earned the hatred, scorn and ridicule of history to save Ram. the one who must be thanked is abused, disgraced and ostracized. Ironic. So when someone does something really mean to me, for a second i wonder.... is that "Manthra karam"? Are they doing this for my good?

Not everyone can do that though. We all live so much in the eyes of other people that we rarely ever live on our own. I am not saying everybody is like that, most of us are though. If i can sing the sweetest song, write the prettiest poem, paint the nicest picture can I live long without sharing that with anyone. For most of us, our talent, ability, and skill seem to acquire meaning through the appreciation of others.We need credit, appreciation or at least some acknowledgment of our efforts and it is in that light that i find this story especially poignant.

brothers and sisters

i am watching brothers and sisters right now and every time i watch this show it makes me want to have a whole lot of kids, a huge bunch of them, six or seven at least.

i know, it is easier said than done, it is a huge responsibility - bringing kids in to this world, raising them right, empowering them to be all that they can be. it is the work of a lifetime. it is not to be undertaken in jest. i know that.

all the same - just the thought of all those kids grown up, coming home from university, sitting around the dining table having these vivid discussions (okay more like bitter arguments) gives me this warm and fuzzy feeling all over. I would love to be the mom, in the middle, mediating those debates, trying to keep them civil, giving up and joining them, adding my own two cents, being completely ignored or getting talked back to - with all due respect of course - see, i am already smiling. hmm... i would have loved that.

vo waqt bhi dekha

i do not know who wrote this, where it comes from or if it is a part of a bigger poem, but it has stayed with me forever, for as long as i can remember.

vo waqt bhi dekha taareekh ki ghadiyon ne
lamhon ne khata ki thi
sadiyon ne saza paayee

those moments when you take some decisions and then, you live to regret them.

coffee

i just found this nice little italian bakery near our home, i can walk to it in good weather. they have rows of dessert after sinful dessert, and the best cappuccino i have had in - almost ever.

now i have been trying very hard to get rid of my sweet tooth for a while there, and this is not helping, but i keep telling myself every once in a while is not a problem. right? and if i just go for a cappuccino then i am safe. right?

oh who cares, i can't wait for the morning, they open at eight. :D

lose something everyday

Nice poem. Again that false bravado thing, nah... i don't care, it doesn't bother me, as i said earlier somewhere it can be endearing if done right, too much and you just look like an idiot in denial.

wait, i have actually even liked idiots in denial. wonder why? oh, i know. coz on occasion i have been both of those - a complete idiot and in complete denial. :D

ONE ART by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.


I like this part especially:
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

dil ki vaadi me

I really like this poem narrated by yash chopra in Veer Zaara, I actually like his taste in poems usually so this is no exception...

its a pretty poem and i love it even more as Mr. Chopra's narration, there is something very rustic and earthy about his voice and diction. lovely.

एक दिन
सवेरे सवेरे
सुरमई से अंधेरे की चादर उत्तारे
एक परबत के तकिये से
सूरज ने सर जो उठाया
तो देखा
दिल की वादी में
चाहत का मौसम है
और यादों की डालियों पर
अनगिनत
बीते लम्हों की कलीयाँ
महकने लगीं हैं।

and then something.... i forget...

to..

हाँ वही जिंदगी,
जिसके दामन में कोई मोहब्बत भी है
कोई हसरत भी है
पास आना भी है
दूर जाना भी है
और ये अहसास है
की वक्त
एक झरने सा
बहता हुआ
चला जा रहा है
ये कहता हुआ
की
दिल की वादी में
चाहत का मौसम है
और यादों की डालियों पर
अनगिनत
बीते लम्हों की कलीयाँ महकने लगीं हैं।

want and need

it has been many many years since i figured out that i want is no argument, i need is no argument.

you can want something all you want and that is no reason why should get it. you can need something to death and that is no reason why it should be given to you.

needing to be cured of cancer, wanting someone to love you, needing that job....

and your point is?

:) exactly... bad arguments.

mind over matter

i was trying to put up some decorations this morning, and as i stood on this step stool, i felt queasy. which does not make a lot of sense. when i can stand on flat ground on just my two feet and not falter, why not on a wide enough step stool?

as i get higher, why do i start worrying about balance and wish to be closer to a wall, to hold on or something. i still only need that much space to stand, i know how to stand on two feet without holding anything, but just being high up in the middle of the room ... does something to my mind, it starts playing tricks on me, my muscles twitch, my heart rate goes up, i sweat more, i am all over the place. i start panicking for no good reason.

it is one of those reverse mind over matter problems. there is no physical threat, but my mind has created one, and now my body is reacting to it. if i can calm my self down, i should theoretically be able to stand on that stool for a very very long time, limited only by my stamina. but in practice i cannot, i can barely make it past a couple of minutes.

it is ridiculous. so i am standing there having a virtual argument with myself, while wondering, how do you argue with your own brain, how do you reason with the very seat of reason, would it even be a fair match?

kee gall hai

kee gall hai
koi nahi

the other day someone said to me that this should not even have been a song. and i am thinking, whoa, i actually like it. it is sweet, may be slightly suggestive, but not cheap. its not that bad

teri aankhon se lagta hai
tu kal raat ko soyi nahi
kee gall hai?

i especially like this line below, it is that false bravado, which if you can do right, can be quite endearing. its admitting vulnerability and yet going, but i am good, don't worry about me.

ye to meri himmat hai
main tadpi, jaagi, royi nahi...

it makes me smile every time i hear it.

kee gall hai?
koi nahi.

haathon ki lakiron

i like this song for its delicacy.

haathon ki lakiron me likha hai
tera mera dil ka rishta hai
har dhadkan yahi baat kahe
tera mera saath rahe.

i am not being nit picky, but i don't get the concept of haathon ki lakiron me kaise likha hoga ki dil ka rishta hai? dil ka rishta to dil pata hoga na bhai? khair, that's just me. as i said i am not feeling like being nit picky, it sounds nice and sonali bendre is a very gentle, exquisite person, so its pleasing to watch too. and i really like the way it goes up on har dhadkan yehi baat kahe, teraaaa meraaa saath rahe....

i like this song, mostly because it goes very slow, with an emphasis on each word, and that extra fraction of a second on each makes them so special.

aaj raat chandani hai
aur tum mere saath ho,
bas ye dua hai meri
aisi har ek raat ho

makes you feel like chandani was such a rare event or something. i guess if you only count the time in the vicinity of the full moon for chandani then it is, what 1/8th of the lunar cycle... or something.

hmm...

wait even otherwise, isn't the moon too close to the sun half the time and we don't really see it in the night sky in any case then. so chandni must actually be rarer than most people give it credit for.

ok, really hoping my students don't read this , coz they are gonna go, Ms. B, you don't even know this?

gotta get the numbers on this one. shoot, aur kaam kam hain mujhko?

an undo button

every once in a while, i very sorely miss the absence of an undo button in life.

i would have liked that very much.

or a do over. that would do too. how easily kids can stop a game in the middle and go, no, no, no, lets stop and start again.

i find that so spiritually uplifting it is hard to describe. i wish adults could do that. whatever nonsense, garbage, bad blood happened if i could let it go and you could let it go and we could just start from the beginning. tabla rasa. clean it up, get back the blank slate. there is a lot of good in that argument.

of course there are those other arguments of not making the same mistake twice, if someone fools you once, shame on them, if they fool you twice, shame on you. etc etc. i get them. it is hard to knowingly let someone fool you again, but....

see, that is why i was looking for an undo button. you can go back, and it never happened. i actually had thought this one out. i usually do. that's my thing. my pastime. i think.

aliens

why do we think life exists outside our earth?

because it would seem fantastic to suppose that such a lucky chance happened only once. statistically, even if an event is extremely unlikely to happen, it almost becomes a certainty if you ran an infinity of trials. so it is more likely to have happened elsewhere than not.

why do we think it is intelligent life?

well, same as above, we are intelligent so ...

why do we think they are more advanced? most sci fi books/ movies would like us to believe that.

not that they would be, but they could be, if they have been around longer or something, and have yet not destroyed themselves, seems to be a side effect of intelligence - self destruction :)

why do we want to meet them?

hey! i am stumped at that one. we don't seem to be doing too well differences on earth, i have no idea how we are going to assimilate a completely different life form - whether it is hostile or benign is immaterial. so why are we so in to this search for life in the universe stuff?

get rhythm

I love this Johnny Cash song, and I completely subscribe to the theory as well, when you are feeling down and low, the right song can put you back in the groove of things.

this is the part i like the best.

Little shoeshine boy never gets low down
But he's got the dirtiest job in town
Bendin' low at the peoples' feet
On the windy corner of a dirty street
Well, I asked him while he shined my shoes
How'd he keep from gettin' the blues
He grinned as he raised his little head
Popped a shoeshine rag and then he said
Hey, get rhythm when you get the blues
Hey, get rhythm when you get the blues
Yes a jumpy rhythm makes you feel so fine
It'll shake all the trouble from your worried mind
Get rhythm when you get the blues

smiley face erasers

i realized today, that i have actually grown up... i was at staples, which just has to be one of my most favourite places to shop. almost. and saw this pack of colored erasers with smiley faces, and i caught my self thinking. who would buy that. what do you care what an eraser looks like.

hahhh! deep breath in. did i really think that? a few years back i would have never thought that. i would have been the one buying those erasers. gosh. i realized i have hardened. or grown up. or something of that sort.

and i wanted to break in to a song hindi film ishtyle : kabhi hum ne nahi socha tha, aisa din bhi aayega, paani me aag lagegi.....

but i did not. looks around for some approval. i realized, that if i did that, it would prove that earlier - having grown up - theory wrong.

seeeeee, what did i tell you? i have grown up.

heels

i love wearing heels, but more than that i love to turn back and look at the small pecks the heels leave in soft ground.

as a child i was fascinated with older girls wearing pencil heels - and Chandigarh was full them - i don't wear the real pencil heels and i don't wear them all the time either, but whenever i do i feel good. so i do it more now, in spite of my bad knee. small pleasures. you gotta take them where you get them.

stilettos. they were called pencil heels back there, and i like the term, some people call them spike heels. same difference.

parallel or intersecting lines

this is in response to a question P asked me. here is her question:

What is a better state of a relationship?
Being like two parallel lines? Or being like two lines that are constantly growing towards eachother, i.e .... converging lines ?

Parallel lines .. never meeting....but staying together.. never intersecting....but allowing eachother's identity seperate and identifiable.....never influencing eachother....but not letting eachother influence eachother as well... just stay close.. but still not close enough?

Converging lines..that constantly grow towards eachother... with every single moment passing by.. till one day they meet.. and then ..feel the need of stopping the growth because.. if they dared to grow any further..they will intersect... and finally ........diverge....and the more they grew.. the farther they would get......and keep getting distanced...till they exist.....? So.... how does one make a choice to 'stop growing'? How can one stop to grow? This has been puzzling me since the day i ever got into a relationship.... really?

okay, i am actually going to answer this. why? because fools rush in where angles fear to tread. :D

let us agree to work with in the framework of this question and ignore the trivialities of why do we have to be lines, why not other geometric shapes etc etc. and more importantly, let us agree to stop pondering the absurdity of the question, because that is no fun at all. you are however free to question the logic within the given rationale. okay, now that we have established the ground rules...

i hope you would accept that geometrically a line is defined as such that there is no origin or destination so to speak. thus defined, the specific case of these two lines meeting at some point and thus stopping there, is not acceptable since, if they stop; they cease to be lines. mathematically we would then have two rays emanating from the said point and diverging into eternity. not a very pleasing scenario in this particular analogy. i do not believe you would like that P. philosophically either, i do not think stopping your growth in order to stay with someone is a very healthy thing to do. so that is out of the picture.

now we have the case of the parallel or the intersecting lines. considering the fact that you live from eternity to eternity, the actual time you stay at the point of intersection, would not be vastly satisfying, would it? so essentially, in both scenarios you spend the majority of your life time, not being together. you are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

which one of the two you choose is of mere academic interest and serves no practical purpose, apart from may be illuminating something about the way you think. now i am not qualified to say this, so please disregard my opinion, but i have a feeling that the more romantic bend of mind would choose to be parallel lines while the practically motivated individuals might say, hey! something is better than nothing, why not meet at least once? :)

which makes very good sense. eternity is a long time, would you not rather spend the first half anticipating this meeting and then the next half reminiscing. variety. that is as strong an argument, if ever there was one.

ahem.

yes, you got me. it's not my choice though. i choose parallel lines and here are my arguments.

1) there is something infinitely romantic about the idea that you and i could have the same inclinations (yes, slope, sick math joke) in life, the same value system, ethics, ideologies and yet since have different goals to intercept (ahhh....) we might not realize how similar we are. we could appear so different, we just might convince others, hell even ourselves, of our inherent differences. and since we never actually meet there would be no risk of us ever clearing up the misunderstandings. see, i find that immensely amusing. ironic even.

2) we could be completely aware of our similarities, and acknowledge that we have different life paths, we are not meeting. period. you would live for eternity, in the comfort that somewhere on this plane is another line / person who thinks just like you do. forever and ever, untiringly, the same. wouldn't that be a source of amazing solace? for eternity, to know, that you are not alone. come on now.... you are telling me you don't have one single romantic bone in your body? shoo, skitter, go, find it. go.

and,

3) this is my favourite argument, in all honesty you are probably not the only two lines on that plane now, are you? so you will actually have a horde of other lines intersecting you incessantly, you might actually grow sick of all the intersection. so i am thinking it might be a respite, to know that there is this one line that has absolutely no intention of intersecting you. ever . someone who likes you enough to just let you be. and then you can look at each other through that constant distance and smile, maybe even roll your eyes once in a while, at all the others constantly meeting or wanting to meet - could be your own private little joke at the world - could be. that ayn rand person when she said all love is exception making, might actually have been on to something. hmm...

wow, that actually sounds somewhat lucid, when i started writing this, i thought it was going to end up being an exercise in complete and unbridled irrationality :D

raat phir rooh

कल रात मैं लाइब्रेरी से बाह्रर निकली तो ओक्टोबर की इस हलकी ठंडी हवा से अचानक दिल्ली की कोहरे वाली सर्दी की सुबहो की खुशबु आई। इक गीली सी, सुलगी, बुझती हुई आग की सी । आँखें बंद कर लूँ तो लगता है की वहीं हूँ, उसी समय में, जैसे कभी छोड़ कर आई ही नही। वो सुबह सुबह कॉलेज जाने के लिए घर से निकलती, शॉल ओढे, कन्धों पर बैग संभाले, और इस दुविधा में कि किताब पकड़ने के लिए कौन सा हाथ बाहिर किया जाए? बेचारा बायाँ हाथ, हमेशा मात खा जाता। दायें को जा कर क्लास में नोट्स जो लेने हैं, हेकडी तो देखो ज़रा इनकी। अब प्लीज़आंटीजी टाइप सलाह मत देना की 'दस्ताने पहन लेतीं... ' क्या कहूं मैं, वो उम्र ही कुछ ऐसी थी, अक्ल से दुश्मनी जोकर रखी थी।

खैर, कहाँ थी मैं? हाँ, तो वहां लाइब्रेरी के बाहर खड़े मेरा बहुत मन किया की मैं उड़ कर के दिल्ली पहुँच जाऊं। मुझे वो ज़माना याद आया जब नया-नया ब्याह हुआ रहा हमारा, और हम हियाँ परदेस में आ कर के जम गए। घर बहुत याद आता था मुझको। रातों को सपने आते थे मुझे, की मैं वापिस आ गई हूँ। वो जगहें दिखाई देतीं थीं मुझको।घर, डिपार्टमेन्ट, वो सडी हुई ८८३ बस। वो गलियां, वो पेड़, वो सीढियां, वो एक एक जगह जिसने भूतों से बदतर मेरा पीछा किया। मुझे लोगों की आवाजें सुनाई देतीं थीं । और मैं सपने में कहती थी उनसे, की देखो, आज मैं आ गई हूँ, वरना रोज़ सपनों में मिलती थी। और फिर एक छट्पटाहट से नींद खुलती थी मेरी, दिल को धक्का सा लगताथा, कि वो फिर भी सपना था, वो अब भी सच नही हुआ था।

बहुत लम्बी भूमिका हो गई ना? sorry, अब इतना build- up किया है तो कविता भी सुना ही देतीं हूँ, कुछ ख़ास भी नही है, ऐसे ही कल यादआगई तो लिख रही हूँ।

रात फिर रूह
जिस्म की गिरफ्त से आज़ाद हो गई
साँसों की
वक़्त की
जगह की
हर कफ़स के पार हो गई
एक बार फिर
सात समुन्दर पार
अपने घर के आँगन में खो गई।

अब नौ बरस बीत गए, इनसान जहाँ रहने लगता है उस जगह को अपना घर मान लेता है, आदत पड़ जाती है। अब वापिस जा भी नही सकती, और शायद तुक भी नही है। क्योंकि ये तो एक nostalgia है , जिसे मैं जानती थी वो दिल्ली तो अब है ही नही, न वो लोग हैं, न वो बात। अब ये एक ख्याल है, एक याद है, जिसे सपनों में देखा जा सकता है।महसूस किया जा सकता है। ये कोई पत्थर यां कोई पेड़ नहीं जिसे आप जा कर छू सकतें हैं, और अपनी अह्मकतामें जिसकी तस्वीरें ले सकतें हैं , और अपने मन में सोच सकतें हैं , की बस अब मैंने कैद कर लिया। :) एक उम्र निकल जाती है ये समझने में, की जो कैद हो जाए, वो कैद करने लायक होता ही नहीं ।

अब मुझे वापिस नही जाना। अब मुझे कुछ कैद नही करना। पर ये कविता उस ज़माने की है, जब मुझे वापिस जाना था, ज़ुरूर जाना था। जब एक ज़िद थी। एक बचपना था, एक परेशानी सी थी की मैं कैसे अपना देश छोड़ कर आ गई। क्योंकि ये समझने में भी तो एक उम्र निकल जाती है की जों आपकी यादों में है, बस एक वो ही तो कभी आपसे दूर नहीं। वो ही तो एक चिर है, स्थिर है, अभेध्य-अमृत्य है।

unless of course, you get Alzheimer's and then you lose all the information stored in that little head of yours, gosh that just has to be my worst nightmare. :P

thirty something

so i am on page 40 something of the stone diaries, and we have the most promising character show up. a 33 year old single male professor of botany. i can see the potential for a story there. i can see the female students sitting in that class and drooling already. which is fine with me, well, it is nauseating actually, but fine, i am okay. okay i am not. you see it is troubling because i cannot get it out of my head what the story would be like if it was a 33 year old single female professor of botany. forget 1916 ( where the story is right now) but even 2008. i know, i know, a lot of the male students will suddenly decide that botany is actually a very interesting subject and show up to class on time, but.

see i cannot shake the feeling that life somehow is much better for a thirty something single man, than it is for a thirty something single woman, and it doesn't help your being brown.

and i don't like that. i don't suppose there is a lot i can do about it, but i am not happy about this. not that i expect that to matter much either. still...

oh and lets not even bring up what life is like for thirty something married brown women. we, are not supposed to want to have a life. we are to live through proxy. we are to take pride in our husband's career ascents, joy in our children's growing vocabulary, and find solace in endless loads of dirty laundry.

which reminds me... i should go and do my laundry. later.

...

रातों को उठ उठ कर जो जगता है
आंसू का कण कोई आंखों में यूँ जलता है
या बीता पल है शायद
अब काँटों सा जो चुभता है

picking a book to read

the following post is an exercise in descriptive writing. i am trying to describe the process of choosing a book, to see how well i can do it.

i am in the library trying to pick a book to read. i have an hour off.

i am going through a phase when reading is very hard for me, not just because of the physical constraints on my time, but also because i am not in the reading frame of mind. your mind needs to be calm enough to listen to someone else. and mine is not. it is a phase, i know, because i have been here before. i am already coming out of it.

i don't have the energy to look through the stacks. there in the front is a low rack called raves and faves, in a flashing yellow lighting bolt the ampersand is all you can see. all the book sleeves are marked with it. frankly i find it quite distasteful. why mar good books with garish stickers?

anyways i am not here to stress the absurdities of life, i am here to find a book to read, go to starbucks and relax for an hour. that's the mission, if only i could get past the first roadblock. it is not easy to pick a book, not for me anymore. what do we have here. the stone dairies, hmm.. chick lit? may be. the life of pi, ender's game, and some others i have read and actually like, so i guess i can trust their judgment. the others here might be worth reading too. i smile almost in spite of myself. i have a strange feeling in my stomach, an uneasiness, there is the voice in my head that says i should read, i will never have this much time again, the guilt is crushing.

books, so many of them, those that i should read, those that i want to read and time creeping up on me like a dark shadow in the failing twilight. how will i ever get through them all. may be i don't need to, but panic and reason do not go together do they? sounds of people talking, kids laughing, the low din of a library on a saturday afternoon. quick, i need to get out of here. i scan the titles, something, anything.

kiran somebody - kiran desai, a relative of anita desai? i pick the book, red cover, of course! south asian writers with their red colors, and mangoes and women in saris dying of repressed sexual tensions. prejudiced? sorry, i don't want to be. just not today. i put it back. the inheritance of loss. the name is beautiful, poetic, it seems like a lot of expectation for a book to be able to meet.

the other side of the bridge, hmm... i have heard of that one, i am trying to ignore the ones i have already read, hey not bad, i have actually read quite a few.what do i feel like? politics umm, economics no, diets nope, the stone diaries the cover looks good, to kill a mockingbird - i am desperate, no, don't do this, i tell myself, not yet. see, some books are an inevitability waiting to happen. i know that if i live long enough i will read to kill a mockingbird, but i have a feeling i cannot take it today.

i am convalescing, it is like the first day after a long drawn illness, you know you have left the worst behind you, but you are not up and running. now is when you would actually enjoy lying down in bed, it is no fun when you are sick. but i still need to eat something light, khichdi, something to calm my nerves, to nurse me, nourish me. i want to sit down and listen to a friend tell me the story of her life, and all i need to say is " ohhh no!!", " really? what happened then". and "oh you poor thing", or my favorite "how dare he?" :D men! i tell you.

the notebook, i think, where is that, i wanted to read that one, i am not seeing it here, i am three feet away from the rack, i am not moving. i can't remember the author's name, so i cannot look for it in the stacks. this guy is at the computer terminal, looks like he is going to be awhile. all the other computers are occupied too. its saturday, the kids are home, moms don't want them around, so here they are!! i could ask one of the staff, but i am not talking to any one. and i am not moving.

oh, love in the time of cholera, i want to read that, where is it, umm... tch... forget it , i am not moving. no, no, i am not promoting inaction over action, only, as i said earlier, some books are inevitable, its not an if but a when. the day i want to read a book it does not present it self and the day it shows up i might not want to read it. so i just wait for the right set of conditions to manifest, when we are both ready for each other type of thing, if that makes any sense.

okay, this is ridiculous, time's wasting . the stone diaries, it looks good, daisies on the cover, i love daisies. i reluctantly pick it up. pulitzer prize, umm.... not a big fan of that, but i can ignore that, vantage canada, oooh i am interested now. i flip open a page, born 1905. oh great! i am half sold already. old world canada, new immigrants, open fields, and this time women in hats dying of repressed sexual tensions. see, there is a consistency to my prejudice, it runs across all borders.

what is that, a phrase in the foreword catches my eye : i am not at peace. its like the words come alive, they hold me, like my nani's embrace. i feel vulnerable and strong at the same time. i feel like saying it out loud, me neither, i am not at peace either. i was once - at peace, am not now. i smile. this is not the day of my story, is it? come ms. daisy stone, let me take you out to coffee and you can tell me all about the demons that keep you up at night.

trying too hard or too little

life is amazing, things go wrong in a whole gamut of ways.

you can lose something by trying too hard, you want it so bad, you scare people away. they think you are some psycho. they don't get what you are trying to do. and you can't blame them, they are being reasonable.

and then you can lose things because you did not try hard enough. you want something but you will not show it. your boss did not even realize you wanted that promotion so she gave it to someone else. you can't blame her. you pretended to be so disinterested, you acted like you could not care less. what are people going to do? read your mind?

:D

I have made both of these mistakes. this is how it happens, first you make one kind - you try less, you hope things will work out, the universe knows what you want - you lose, and then you go ballistic and go ahead and make the other one :)

so what were you supposed to do? i guess you were supposed to use the right force, just the right amount of effort, neither more nor less.

which begs the question - how do you know what this right effort is? well, assuming you encounter brand new situations, you don't. you cannot know. you have never done this before, why should you know?

i know, i know its depressing to not know, but look around, more or less, we all did okay. we got it right in most cases, we figured out what this right effort was.

the few times we did not. well, those are the times we learn from.

personally, in my life, the times i got it wrong, were the times i was very emotionally attached to either the out come or the process. when i had one of those over confident or under confident moments, when i was tone deaf to good advice given by friends, i was so caught up in the situation, i had no perspective. and maybe that is what that whole hindu discourse on detachment is all about. to be detached enough to be able to decide what and how much to do.

now these are things in life no one can teach you, you can read the bhagwat gita at 16, you can go through the entire works of swami vivekananda by the time you are 20 and i am telling you from first hand experience, it will not do you an iota of good. ok, correction, did not do me an iota of good. only made me look like an even bigger fool ;)

which in a way i still am. i am still making these mistakes, i am 30 now, i was really hoping to become wise and sage somehow with age and the thing is i did not.

so what do i do? well, to quote the salsa teacher i met yesterday (thanks T) - you do your best. sometimes you try too hard, sometimes too less, but then every once in a while you hit the ball smack dab in the middle and score the home run.

but, to do that, you have to get out there first and bat. life, you see, is not a spectator sport.

implicit association tests

have you taken those implicit association tests? i have. and i disagree with them. okay, fine, who am i to disagree with a reputed psycho - analytical tool promoted by harvard? i don't know. no one. just my opinion here.

i disagree with the way the tests are structured, not at all with what they are trying to discern. for those unfamiliar with IAT's they are designed to measure a person's inherent bias towards race, gender, or age. here is the link check it out for yourself, and then you might see what i am talking about.

https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/demo/selectatest.html

when you take the test, you have to learn to hit e for a white american and i for a black american, the same for harmless objects and weapons. you make a couple of mistakes in the beginning. but by the time you learn this stuff, they change it on you, now you are hitting e for white americans and harmless objects and then they ask you to do the opposite e for white americans and weapons.

so now my question is: is the test even measuring a bias to associate weapons with black americans or just my brain in overload because you keep changing the rules on me? would the result vary if they asked me associate weapons and white americans earlier on in the test and not later? what if you first taught me to hit i for black americans and harmless objects?

this way i get the feeling that the test creates the very bias it is claiming to measure...

i am curious, let me know what you think.

when you say something

the other day someone else said this. let me say that again someone else said this. underline the someone else, coz boy am i glad to know that this happens to other people too.

what am i talking about? you know that feeling, when you say something and then kick yourself for the next ten hours.

you know what i am talking about? thank you, thank you for saying yes, even if you don't, i love you for pretending.

only when that happens to me, i kick myself for ten days, ten weeks, and some times ten years. oww, my foot hurts. from all that kicking.

opposites attract

you have probably heard this a million times - opposites attract. really? what does that mean?

I do not think that you could ever be attracted to some one who is the complete antithesis of everything that you are. when i say attracted to i do not mean just a random purely physical attraction, i also mean the completely asexual- mind to mind - i would love for us to be friends type of attraction too. both, both types.

i have never in my entire life been attracted to someone who was very shallow, cheap, or crass. that is the exact opposite of me but it does not attract me.

i have never been attracted to someone bullying someone else, making fun of them, humiliating them. not me but again no thanks, doesn't do it for me.

you could however be attracted to qualities that on the surface look opposite to your own but are inherently a manifestation of your own inner desires, something you would want for yourself but do not have as yet. so, it could outwardly be an opposite but is not actually against your internal value system.

now i have always been in awe of people who are quiet, calm, and very reserved. it is the opposite of the hyper, always excited, and jumping off the walls me. they fascinate me, i would love to be more like them.

or people who are very funny - see i cannot tell a joke to save my life. i have a pathetic sense of humor. mere jokes par kisi ko hasi nahi aati, in fact people get put off by my efforts to make them laugh so there is an opposite quality i definitely aspire to.

or those really mysterious people - the kind who if you ask how they are doing, they say surviving, and they say it in this serious or non serious tone that you can never figure out if they are saying it for effect or there is something majorly wrong with their lives. they leave you wondering. okay, when i was younger they left me itchy and crawling under my skin, but at least i went like: how come i don't have that effect on people? :D

so i guess opposites attract only as long as they are not really opposites, somewhere inside, deep down, you have to be on the same side for you to even want to get along and be friends.