what passes off for news in indian media

I watched this clip on zoom (yes, my own fault) about Amitabh Bachchan and Rekha, and god is it ridiculous or what? Here is the breaking news: Amitabh Bachhan was at an award show, he was walking up to the stage, he passed Rekha, Rekha was looking at him as he walked her by and he walked by. umm... i am still waiting for the news.

What happened? Nothing? Then what was the big deal?

If one person is walking up to the stage and they stop on the way, they falter, they say hi to someone, they talk to someone, well even that is not news, it happens, but the fact that they were focused and kept walking in the direction they were going is most certainly unremarkable, every one does that.

If you are sitting in the front row and someone is walking by, you will have to look at them, it would take a lot of effort to look away, why would you bother doing that. So she looked at him, and he walked by, seriously, who cares? But apparently this is enough for some people to lose their marbles.

This passes off for main stream Indian media? This is journalism? By what standards is this news?
arghh!

Now the other part of the picture, let us for the sake of argument assume that maybe there is something between them. Let us agree that she actually has some feelings for him - no i am not saying that based on badly edited flimsy evidence the zoom people provide, i am just saying, for no reason in the world at all, let us just take that as a given. Even then, where is the news.

So one person likes another person, the second person does not reciprocate those feelings, the first person is unable to get rid of their own feelings, I am still looking for the news? They are not stalking anybody, they are not going out of their way to impose themselves on the object of their desire, they are just choosing to experience an emotion they have, and not bowing down to the fanatic societal pressure that tells them that what they feel inside their bones is wrong. Yes, it stands to reason that they are being self destructive, it is counter productive, and no good ever comes out of this kind of business, but still, it is their life to live, and their life to mess up. Leave them alone people. I do not know a single person, and I do mean a single person on the face of this earth, who has not experienced unrequited love at some point or another in their lives. It is as prevalent as human beings are.

The duration is immaterial, whether you suffered for two hours or two days, you remember what it felt like. You can extrapolate and imagine what it would feel like for someone who has been nursing this for two decades. No, don't tell me you cannot. If you have ever burnt your finger you can imagine the hell it would be if you sustained whole body burns. Yes, it would take some imagination, a whole lot of compassion, and kindness, but if we apply ourselves, everysingle one of us is capable of imagining what it would feel like to be in someone else's shoes, within an acceptable margin for error. So maybe we can stop being Mr. Lazybones and exert ourselves, and let people be.

And finally, the feminist in me is offended by the insulting tone this channel uses for Rekha. If a man nursed a wound for a woman for ages, he would be deified, and hero-fied. The woman would be made out to be a callous, calculating, cold-hearted B***h, who hurt him. But when a woman holds out for a man, the man is made out to be a decent family man being unnecessarily harrased by some female banshee who does not take no for an answer. They make Rekha look so pathetic. Oh my god! are you kidding me! get out of my face! seriously!

That's why I don't watch TV.

december books

So i had decided to start keeping track of the books i read, coz i find i am getting more forgetful lately, this list is to be irrespective of whether i liked them or not.

hmm..

what did i read this last month:

Anna Karenina
1984
Games people play


that's it? I have been reading all month, how is that possible? :( this memory loss is more real than i thought :D

उस हाथ का साया सर पर था
तब बाप का साया सर पर था
मैंने गलियों गलियों ढूँढा जिसको
वो पीर तो मेरे घर पर था
उस हाथ का साया सर पर था
तब बाप का साया सर पर था

the rogue data point... excerpt

here is an excerpt from a story i am supposedly working on, supposedly coz, i am not actually working on it. it is just sitting here...

To my happy place,

The source of youth, renewal, and forgiveness

To T,

For her receiver transmitter analogy

And

To Mohammad Rafi,

For singing so beautifully ‘tumne mujhe dekha, ho kar meherbaan, ruk gayi ye zameen tham gaya aasman’

(You looked at me, in kindness; the earth stopped, the heavens bowed)

Started: 17 March, 2009

Finished: not yet

Dr. Mahesh Dixit was at the clinic when the call came, a barrage of words that he is supposed to understand, but somehow do not seem to be making any sense. An accident, his wife, severe traumatic brain injury, subdural hemorrhage, the information does not sink in to the extent that he actually debates whether or not he should ask Patricia to cancel all his day’s appointments.

He drives himself to the hospital, all the time wondering if it was a mistake of some sorts, because shouldn’t she have been at work, what was she doing down at queen street anyways? It was only when he saw her, in the sterile hospital bed, surrounded by the low hum of equipment over which was the voice of this bright young thing, rehashing the very same words that Dr. Mahesh Dixit has himself fed to countless spouses and their families before, that a strange numbness spread down his arms. He glanced at the name tag, Gordon Smith, first year? He must have said it out loud because the bright young thing was now defending himself with medical jargon that doctors throw down at the simple folk. Dr. Dixit just stared at him, the numbness having now made its way to the rest of his body.

“Dr. Dixit! I have been waiting for you.” It was Janelle, one of his favourite nurses, from back when he was an attending neurosurgeon at this very hospital years ago. She glanced at the listless figure that was his wife, pursed her lips and looked away. Then with an effort that showed, she walked around the bed, and hugged him, “I am so sorry.”

Dr. Gordon smith had now stopped talking, it was the sheer helplessness of the young doctor’s expression that set off a cold bitterness cruising through Dr. Dixit’s veins, his stomach churning, and before he knew what was happening, he was throwing up in a bin.

The next few days are a blur. She never regained consciousness. He was never left alone. friends, or supposedly friends, they are all husbands of her friends, people who surround him, who look into the details of the funeral arrangements, and their wives who take over the home, filling it with so much unnecessary food. Women, when they don’t know what to do, they bring you food. And they say stupid stuff; like God’s will, and destiny, and she is in a better place; when they don’t know what to say why don’t they just shut up? He totally understands why Rohan has not come home, why he is staying at a friend’s place, and no matter what these women tell him, he is not going to call him until he knows what to say to a boy who has just lost his mother.

Sanjana was different, she came home, she cried, she hugged him, she went to see Rohan, she did the laundry, she did everything a sensible person would do, everything except she ironed her mother’s blouses and hung them in the exact color coded spot in her closet where she herself would have hung them. That was the only indication he had that Sanjana did not know what she was doing either.

These days he spends half his time trying to remember the last thing he said to her, it was something about a soap dispenser, it was not important at all, another one of those mundane conversations they have been having these past many years, only now, that conversation has acquired new meaning. What was it? He keeps racking his brains, what had she said? Somethigna about buying it on sale, what had he said? Something not nice, not intentionally bad of course, but he remembers having hurt her slightly, he had not meant to, and he knows that she knew that, she was not mad at him either. A lousy soap dispenser. This is nto what it should come down to, a twenty year long relationship ending with – not even an argument, not a fight, at least you could have had that, gone out with a bang, said something terribly mean and hurtful, something worth being guilty about for the rest of your life, but it was not that. Their last conversation was unremarkable, nothing stood out, no grand last words, no frilly promises, no instructions, no secret desires or wishes revealed, nothing, there was absolutely nothing in it that you could hold on to.

He had gotten her clothes, her bag, her shoes with a heel missing, and the remnants of what was her phone at the hospital that day. He has gone over the contents of her bag many times in order to make sense of what has happened. You see, he gets the old woman driving the car, looking away for a second, he thinks it is acceptable that Ipsita came out of nowhere, he understands the accident, the injury, and her subsequent death. All of that makes sense, the part he still doesn’t get, is just what was his wife doing at that place at that time? It is the kind of thing he cannot speak to anyone about, without making it look like he doubted her and he did not, it is just that it does not add up.

Her purse was full of junk you would expect, nothing out of the ordinary, make-up, wallet, cards, money, loose change, a couple of business cards – some investment banker and a nail salon, and receipts – a bag full of receipts, from all sorts of places, grocery, dry cleaning, gas. For all her organization, he wonders why she never threw out the garbage receipts, what did she plan to do with a receipt of bread bought five months back? You are not going to return it, why hold on to it? He has figured out that she had a dentist’s appointment that day, she evidently left work for it, her car was parked in the basement, why did she not drive? If she was not going to her dentist’s why did she not call to cancel? That was not like her at all; Ipsita was meticulous about keeping appointments, so why would she choose to miss an appointment she apparently left work for and then go in the exact opposite direction? It is the one fact that does not sit in with the rest, the one piece of the puzzle that stands out, the one question he would very much like answered.

It was almost a month after she had passed away that he noticed the coffee shop receipt from the day of her accident, and he didn’t tell anyone about it. He told Patricia to find him an hour’s break between patients and went to the place, with her picture, he felt guilty doing it, but he did not know what else to do. The girl remembered her, mostly because of the accident; she was sure the lady sat alone and did not talk to anyone. ‘She seemed thoughtful, pensive, you know, like she knew what was coming.’ This was said in a conspiratorial, half leaning into him, whisper. Dr. Dixit took in her blonde dreadlocks, the charms, her crystal bracelets; he realized he must have been staring at the pentacle on her neck, because she touched it and said ‘Oh! I am a witch, you know.’

‘Right. Right. Of course.’ He nodded, stepping back.

‘I can see you were related…’ it sounds like a question, takes him a few seconds to answer, ‘Yes, She was my wife.’

‘Oh I am so sorry.’

‘Thank you. But are you sure she was alone?’

‘Yes. But I am really sorry, I should have done something.’ He is perplexed what does she mean, ‘I saw her ethereal aura expanding, but I am new to reading auras and I doubted myself, I did not want to scare her, but now I know I was right, I should have warned her. I am so sorry.’

It is perhaps his professional training that reassuring people comes so naturally to him. ‘No, it was not your fault; don’t beat yourself up for it.’ He says. ‘Did it look like she was waiting for someone?’

The girl looks away, bites her lip, ‘Umm…. Now that you mention it, I think it was the other way round. I think she gave up on waiting for someone. Like she was finally ready to let go, to leave. You know.’ She expects some appreciation for this deep insight. Dr. Dixit has none for her. ‘But then, why would she come here? She had to be meeting someone. Was she looking outside? at her watch? Anything of that sort, that looked like she could be waiting for someone?’

‘No, not that I can think of.’ She is not happy that he was not grateful for her deeply perceptive observations, he seemed more hung up on obvious details.

‘Was she making phone calls?’

The girl really does not know. ‘I was working you know.’

‘How long would you say she stayed here?’

‘I don’t know, an hour maybe.’ There was a lineup beginning to form behind him ‘You shouldn’t do that you know.’

‘Do what?’

‘Think ill of the dead, it hurts them.’

‘I am not thinking ill of my wife.’ There was anger rising in his voice.

‘You are doubting her, snooping around.’ It is an accusation he cannot bear to hear, the audacity of this, this little chit of girl, what does she know what he is doing. ‘I am not snooping around. I am trying to understand why she was here in the first place, when she should have been at the dentist’s or at work. That is not doubting.’ He is almost talking to himself now. ‘In the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, why would she sit here, for an hour, alone?’

‘Oh I know you are hurting. But she had to come here.’

‘Had to, why?’

‘To die. She was meant to die here, so of course, she had to come here, she could not have been at her work or the dentist’s, this is where she was meant to be.’

‘Right.’ it is more than what he can take, he has had his full of this brand of philosophy. It is too much, he is walking out, this girl; he wonders if she has lost her brains, or never had any to begin with. She calls out behind him, ‘I am sorry for you, for what it is worth, she had a beautiful soul you know.’

‘Right.’ He waves his hand abruptly and steps out.

The freezing air hits him with a bang; he wraps his scarf around his neck, he shakes his head trying to get rid of the ‘witch’, no it still does not make sense. Why did she miss an appointment to do nothing and if she just sat here doing nothing, why did she not call the dentist? That girl is wrong. It is not like he does not trust her, twenty years of being together; she never gave him any reason to doubt her. It is just, it is….

anna karenina

I am just about finished reading Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, and I say I really enjoyed it. I had tried reading it a few years back, well, many years back but I did not like it at all, I barely got past the first page, perhaps it had to do with that particular translation; this time it really jelled.

My first reaction, after reading about three pages was that of utmost joy. I have not enjoyed anything this much since Jane Austen. So I was just unabashedly happy with the mere thought that I had War and Peace to look forward to. Yes, yes, it is stupid to think about the next book when you still have about nine hundred and sixty pages left to read in the book in your hand and that probably qualifies for another kind adultery, but, whatever. I was just so amazed that here is this wonderful book, this writer, that I have known of all my life, and yet, have never bothered to read, and there is not just what is in my hands but more of what he has written. An embarrassment of riches if there ever was one.

Now, having almost finished it, I am a fan of his writing style. He is able to draw each character in such detail, he is able to relate to them all emotionally and he is able to give the appearance of them all being very different from each other. That in my opinion is the hardest thing for a writer, at least that is what I think right now. I am impressed by how equally well he can describe what the women and the men in the book feel, think, and want. Being a woman, I always find myself wondering what the men think and feel, mostly because of this notion in popular culture that men and women are so different.

Personally I am intimidated by the though of writing about a political, socio-economic debate between characters. I feel severely lacking in such knowledge and feel I shall not be able to bring out cohesive arguments, besides I always find such arguments pointless. They are a bad waste of good time in my opinion, and I am often bored when I listen to men discuss policy and stocks and stuff at parties, mostly because either they are all saying the same thing, or they are not listening to each other and merely want to prove they know more than the next guy, or more often than not none of them have any idea what they are talking about. Most of these discussions that I have heard in my lifetime, between my dad and his friends, and now between my husband and his friends are sad attempts at paraphrasing yesterday's editorial in one's own words and passing it off for original thought! really! I read the paper too! so please, spare me the horror!

Now what has that got to do with Tolstoy and Anna Karenina? Well, this, that he is able to not only write these arguments in a convincing coherent manner, but he is also able to show that they do not really matter. It is the fluff that the real story happens around, but it also goes to give depth or depict the shallowness of certain characters. I think I can never do it myself, not without considerable to the power of infinity effort that is, and hence I admire him even more for being able to do that. And I love him, for showing one of his principle characters (Levin) as taking no interest in these discussions. Well, glad to know there are men who are equally bored of this nonsensical talk. And yes, I accede that the stuff that women talk about, food, housekeeping, and kids is equally nonsensical too. They are both means of structuring time in social contexts coz for some weird reason we cannot sit together and be comfortably quiet. We just have to talk. It's a part of the human condition.

What I did not like that much about the book was Tolstoy's failure to depict Anna's emotional state when she decides to finally give in to Vronsky's overtures. We see her resistance, we see she is aware of the downfall this will be, we see her pushing him away and then suddenly she has taken the plunge. Why? What was she thinking? It was especially disheartening for me to see Tolstoy evade that part, because I see him doing this astonishingly detailed description of her mindset just before she commits suicide. It was like I was with her, I was feeling and thinking everything that she was, I took that journey with her going to Dolly's home, feeling humiliated, lost, option less, and I was with her when she went to the railway station, I was with her when she stood beside the platform and imagined herself falling on the tracks. I can't say if I agreed with her about the hopelessness of her situation, but I know that I understood her. I got it. I got why she felt that the jump and the subsequent death could be her only means of getting out of the mire she was in.

So when he can write so well, that he can convince me that she felt helpless enough to jump, why did he not write to convince me that she felt equally compelled to commit the adultery. Which in effect was the same thing. I got the impression that Anna, from the beginning understood that adultery was suicide, in her social position. She understood that it was a one way street and at the end of it, she would be a fallen woman. But he never goes into her mental state at that time, he does not so acutely describe why she took that first step towards her ruin. She was smart enough to expect every single consequence, but Tolstoy does not describe it, why? Is it because it is impossible to keep the aura of the heroine if you go into such murky confused workings of the brain? And by the time he begins to describe her end, she has already fallen from grace and we can pity her as a once loved friend who has lost her mental balance, whereas in fact that balance never existed. It would be hard to love an imbalanced character from the start so he hides it? Because when i think about it, Vronsky was was just another young captain trying to flirt with a married woman. Anna must have met many of them. Why him? What was so special about him? Why does Tolstoy not write about that? At times I felt like the adultery had nothing to do with Vronsky. It was all Anna, and her own self-destructive streak. He just happened to be there.

Is that what is his "brilliance" because Tolstoy without writing it explicitly, creates her character as one that defies logic to make these grand acts of self-annihilation and self-loathing. Her committing adultery, her telling her husband about it to incite his wrath, her refusal of his offer of divorce, her insistence on going to public places and facing humiliation, and her final suicide. I don't know. Maybe that is his brilliance, but I felt cheated. I think these were such complex decisions that he being this great writer that he was, I wish he had tackled them. I wish he would have written about her mental state at each of these moments, when she took these logic defying steps. It if it meant she could no longer come across as a cool heroine then so be it. I would have still read that.

But, overall, he writes beautifully, and I feel a special friendship to Levin, which i believe is Tolstoy himself, and that is nice feeling, to feel like you and someone else this great think on the same lines :)

The adventures of Huckleberry Fin

I just finished reading my first Mark Twain book, i only remember reading that one chapter way back in grade school where Tom Sawyer hustles his friends into painting the wall instead of doing it himself, and I must say I was quite impressed with him. I mean it is not the kind of thing i could do myself, I would probably sit there very diligently painting the fence my self, but it is the kind of thing I can admire atleast.

My reaction:

Why is this book so famous? Why does it make to the 100 best novels ever written list? Why did ernest hemmingway call it THE book written in America? I have no idea....

It was funny, it was an easy read, and yes it was funny. Saying it again because there were parts in there that i just had to hold my stomach and laugh, so it was not a waste of time or anything, but it was in no way a grand treatise either. I am much more inclined to agree with Mark Twain when he says the book was just an accompaniment to the earlier Tom Sawyer book and nothing else. Forgive me, but I don't see anything remotely as magnanimous as what Hemingway says.

And I must say that Tom Sawer fellow, he's a numbskull! he ain't got no brains worth a dime! And aunt Polly has every right to beat the crap out of that fool. To imagine the grand scale ruckus just one idiot can create! argh!

cannot wait for the perfect moment...

Having kids has taught me that... that, you cannot wait for it to be just perfect, you have got to take what you have right now.

Like this morning... it was a beautiful morning, everyone else was in bed, I came down, walked around while my tea got ready, a bit chilly in the house so got me a little throw from behind the couch and i felt good, good about my home - no it is not as done up as I would like it to be, I have just never taken the time or effort to decorate it really, but it is nice; comfortable, livable, and i felt good - about this life that i have created for myself. I was about to sit down on the couch to have my tea in peace - every one else in bed remember -a rare rare rare occurrence in our home these days.

And i wanted more... I thought maybe I could carry the teacup and the little box of laddus (yumm) up to the guest bedroom and enjoy the tea and laddus with some warm sunlight coming through that nice window with the great view of the parks. It is the best view in the house and my husband and I lament often that that should have been the master bedroom view :(( but....

Well, that would have been perfect and I was about to do it, but then i stopped short.

As I said above having kids has taught me to not push things trying to make them too perfect.

I know from experience that it is highly likely that just as i finally settle down in a cozy corner of the rajai someone will call me asking for chai, dudu, or change a diaper, and what is worse I will find out that I have only myself to blame, beacuse i woke up the said someone in my attempt to procure a book/ laptop/ headphones hopelessly trying to 'perfect'ify my solitude and thus having ruined it.

So I have now come to the conclusion to not try to do that. To take what i get and ... yes... shut up really and not ask for more. Just enjoy your chai while it is still hot and not let it go cold trying to find the right 'बिस्कुट'. There, my brand of zen wisdom.

a new hobby

I just had another epiphany!

You know how women collect shoes? I collect hobbies :) okay fine, i collect shoes and hobbies :)))

My latest is making cards. I know every three year old does that but... well, i am having fun, and i guess i am glad to be married to someone who does not get mad at my million new ventures. I am especially grateful for the things that he does not say.

Like he has never reminded me of the box full of junk - paint stuff - that we have lugged around from house to house, from back when i was painting, because ofcourse I could not just paint acrylics I had to do oil and watercolor too. He did not ask my when in hell would i need to make my own laces when i took those bobbin lace making classes, and he especially did not utter a word the winter I would trudge through a mountain of snow to go to a bow making class. He never once asked me how much that bow was costing him or told me that people buy bows at the dollar store. He even patiently smiled, when i told him that the particularly large bow I had just spent an hour to tie was way too expensive to be put on a gift (you know how expensive wired ribbon is, besides nobody even looks at the bows anymore, which comes back to the original question of why bother making bows, which he did not ask me) and actually let me put three of my favourite specimens on a wall!! big sigh, yes, even I am wondering how I can ever fight with such a patient man, but... well he has flaws, flaws that may not be visible to the naked eye, but flaws that exist all the same. And, I do pay attention to the details :)

but, I digress... so yes, these are all expensive hobbies, I am sure there was a time when it was the frugal smart thing to do to make your own greeting cards or lace or bows, but once china flooded the market with cheap, cheap and I mean cheap stuff none of these make sense anymore. They are just fancies, stuff to do when you have nothing better to do.

This time around I am going to do something else that only the most "vellas" of all people do - keep a record of my progress in card making by chronically posting it on my blog - yes - stuff that you do when you have nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing better to do :)

hey!

I would like to say i am back, but, i am just not sure. there is a lot to do these days and i find i don't have the energy to sit down and write, besides i sometimes wonder why go through the effort. once i have already have had a thought, in favour of conserving energy, why sit down to write it, not like too many people are reading it. yes it is true on most days that is the best thought, i can write whatever the heck it is that i want and not worry, coz :) not like too many people are reading it, but sometimes it can also be a deterrent :) does that make any sense?

anyways...

i guess it is high time to start being more disciplined now, but i would love to get topics to write on, so the three people who are reading this, if that, please give me topics to write on, or questions or stuff like that...

ouch!

I just figured something, ninety nine percent of the people who come on this blog are looking for ram dhari singh ji dinkar's himmat aur zindagi. अरे बाबा रे, वो तो एक छोटा सा पोस्ट है, मेरा दिनकरजी के बारे में ज़रा भी ज्ञान नही है, मुझे उनकी बहुत कम कवितायेँ याद हैं, उनकी कवितायेँ अच्छी अवश्य लगती थीं, पर... मुझे लग रहा है कि जो लोग दिनकरजी को ढूँढ़ते हुए यहाँ आतें होंगे, उन्हें तो बहुत भारी अफ़सोस होता होगा, i am really sorry for the disappointment yaar.

चलो, मैं एक काम करती हूँ, मैं ढून्ढ कर कोई अच्छी सी साईट यहाँ लगाती हूँ, जिसमे दिनकर जी कि पोएम्स हों , तो आपका यहाँ आना व्यर्थ न जाये, समय लगेगा पर करती हूँ, ये काम भी करती हूँ.

अभी ज्ञान कच्चा है ज्ञानी...

i am pleased to say that that post below was a dark moment and i can already see day-break। i am feeling better. if there is anything i understood this time round it is that - अभी ज्ञान कच्चा है ज्ञानी.

when i think about it, one of the most important attributes in life is balance, lately i had lost that, as i have been screaming in the last few posts. Once I had it, and then I lost it, and then I got it again and i thought i would never lose it, and then i lost it again.... and this time i thought i could never get it back and .. yet, yet it looks like i just might.

it is cyclical. i am beginning to understand the whole idea of re-birth, may be you don't actually have to die. maybe the idea of death is an analogy to explain the concept. maybe when they say you have live many lifetimes to attain that 'ultimate true knowledge', they don't mean it literally, but figuratively. Grow up, learn, fall back, question your knowledge, learn some more, lose it, work again, and so on... if that makes any sense.

There is a lot to learn and the roads ahead are slippery, one false move, and you find yourself at the bottom of the pit. I guess it is some consolation to know that eventually if you keep at it, you will get out it.

So I start again, this time with hope and humility, with the knowledge that even knowledge is transient. That the curse of karna can fall on any one, at any time, especially on those who have been expecting it. That in the moment you need it the most, it just might leave you, your knowledge, your luck, your courage. That in spite of all that you collect for yourself, one of these days, you might find yourself all alone, flapping haplessly in the winds, wondering just what you had been doing all along.

a sense of failure

I feel like i am fighting battles on five different fronts and failing on each one of them. Everywhere i look there is a reminder of things i did not do, did not do well enough, or did not do often enough. My life is crumbling around me and i am helpless to anything about it.

I look at my kids and I think - should be taking the toddler out to museums, and science centers, and more field trips, should be reading more books to her, should spend more time teaching her things. She is bilingual, but i want her to learn french and spanish, and i want to do math related activities and plan science experiments and ... i could spend all twenty four hours with her, but i have a baby too. Poor thing, she gets the shorter end of the stick, she just gets fed, and bathed and i barely have any time to read to her like i did with my older one, or play with her or do any activity specifically designed for her. She has to be content with activities that are for the older one, so even though she does not know her A,B,C's she is learning how to read 'HAVE and THIS' because at this point in life, no, i cannot make two lesson plans, so I tell myself it is better, she already doing advanced stuff. The trouble is even I don't believe that.


Then i look at my home and i see i need to organize the garage, the shoe closet, and the baby has outgrown half of her clothes that need to be put away, but why put away i am not planning to have another kid, so may be i should donate those clothes, should find the number of soem place that picks up clothes for donation, when, don't have the time to make calls. And the toddler is outgrowing her clothes too, so i must put those away in a proper bag and label them with the appropriate age they are for, so i can find them in time when the baby is that age, which means when i put the bag in the basement the basement has to be organized enough that i can actually find the said bag at the said time. And since organizing the basement seems like such a luxury item on the to do list - luxury because who has the time to organize basements when dinner needs to be cooked - those old clothes lie in a heap at the bottom of the older ones closet and every morning when i open the closet they serve a reminder of the whole twenty four hours seven days the i probably should be spending organizing my home.

I walk outside from this mess, and i see weeds, weeds growing relentlessly in the grass, in the flowerbeds, in the nooks and crannies of the stones laid to make the pavement, the same weeds i had pulled out last week, some even yesterday, not that it did me much good, for here they are shamelessly thumping their noses at me. The flowers need tending, they need plant food, the jasmine plant is outgrowing its container, the poor thing had the forbearance to survive a harsh winter indoors and i have not had the time to find a new home and give it new soil, how bad a gardener can I be. I guess quite a bad one because i killed some petunias - forgot to water them for more than a week, I thought they would be as resilient as my grass, that i have taught to survive without water. Actually no, i did not forget the petunias, i thought of them all the time. I looked at them as i stepped out of the house taking my daughter to the soccer class and sighed, i looked at them as i brought her back and promised myself i would water them right after i had fed her and the baby, and then i thought of them late at night in bed, bone tired as i kicked myself for not having watered them yet again and not finding in me the strength to rise, disarm the alarm, and risk waking the baby up, i instead chose to stomach the guilt and loose sleep over my petunias. So, no i did not forget about them, and yet they died, so it is a worse degree of failure because perhaps their death could have been better explained if I had forgotten about them, at least it would have reflected better on my resume. Yes, the petunias would not have cared either ways, do you think in their last dying breath they would have forgiven me, for at least i had good intentions, i meant to water them? No, neither do I. And did i ever tell you of the time i almost killed a mint plant, almost, because it takes a real genius to kill mint, it survived, and that has been added to the list of one more thing I am not good at.

Oh and I didn't tell you, I have a full time helper. See that makes my failure worse, because how many stay-at-home moms get to have full time nannies. But that is another failure in my cap, because I don't know how to manage her, I feel like she is judging me, wouldn't she think why is this person making me pickup after her why can she not do it herself, and i can, I am perfectly capable of cleaning my washrooms, vacuuming, and all the chores that are on her plate right now, only i feel like i should not have to do them now that she is here. And now that she is here, i feel like I should be more productive, I should do soemthing with my time, especially because i have help so as to justify hiring the said help in the first place, and that is the source of stress like nothing else. So my husband does not understand why i don't call my friends, or why i don't go and get a massage, or just window shop at the mall and relax when i have a full time nanny? I cannot tell him why I don't read books like I used to, why I haven't written a single sentence of the stories i was supposed to write once i got the nanny, or why i don't even write on my blog any more. But I can't, because all those activites seem too frivolous to justify paying someone so much money to look after your kids. Who in their right minds would let a stranger bond with their kid, when they are getting their nails done? I can't. So I don't get my nails done, I cannot remember the last time I had a pedicure. So when i met this person on the street and she asked my why my eyebrows looked so bushy (which is not a polite question to ask really) i tried to mumble something about being busy with the kids and she so completely stared in me in the eye with the look 'I don't believe you for a second' (which is not a polite look either) and then she had the audacity to ask if I had gone back to work, and when i said no, she asked if i still had the nanny and i apologetically nodded,and she sighed. The sad big sigh of a woman with real work who did not have the time to soothe the made up problems of women like me. I almost agree with her, I don't know how other women do it, and i feel sorry for them, but to me, my problems are not made up, they are real very real.


To make myself feel useful, I am trying to do some work for my husband, it is the most garbage work of all, who likes opening mail and paying bills and keeping track of paperwork, but that is what i get to do in the name of getting away from housework. Sadly I want to do it, because really more than doing the paperwork, i want to get away from the above mentioned housework, which i am failing miserably at. In the beginning, i would end up fighting with him over processes and things that i thought should not be done the way he has been doing them and should instead be done my way, and then one of the kids gets sick and i cannot work for a week and then he has to take over and of course he does it his way, and now i cannot even fight with him about it, because it was my own fault to not have done it, he was picking up after me and you cannot yell at some one who is helping you. The trouble is that, this whole thing started as me helping him with paperwork, but now, when he does something it becomes like he is helping me, because i am the incompetent fool who cannot take care of a simple task assigned to them. And by now you will probably not believe me but - and i mean this with all due modesty - the thing is, I am a very, and I mean very, very smart person. I am. I know I have not made a good case for it so far, but I am, and you will just have to take my word for it, I guess.

So, the question is how can a reasonably smart person like me, be failing so royally at everything?

And i don't know. I don't know what i am doing wrong, how to stop doing it, where to get help, and who to talk about this to. My husband is too busy, I feel guilty burdening him with all this when he is working so hard day in day out to give us this life of comfort, it is mean to constantly make him feel like the comfort he thinks he is giving me is not so rosy after all. I cannot complain to my mother because she had a harder life than me, her kids were very close together and she took care of us single-handedly and life back then was harsher and more demanding by today's standards. Besides, i know what she will say, it is the same thing most of my friends will say, so i cannot talk to them too, the same wisdom of, stop stressing it, you are doing fine. I don't buy that, because I know i am not doing fine. If i was doing fine, I would feel fine, and I don't feel fine, ergo i cannot be doing fine.

So, i am in my own private hell. Today i almost cried in front of the nanny, and you don't do that, so i stopped myself, then she heard me complaining about something she did to my husband and you don't do that, that is so not right, so here i am hiding in the basement of my own home writing this blog, because i don't have the guts to go face her, because she will thing what kind of fool am i, and you are probably thinking what kind of a fool i am and i don't know, i don't know what kind of a fool i am, really. See, another failure, I don't know the word that describes me. What donkey does not even know the word that describes them.

It's not love

It's not love, it's Limerence.

Oh I curse the day I read that word and forever will. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, it often makes me want to die.

and now the cheapo poetry makes you want to die too.

hmm...

Ground-state.

I have not ranted in ages!! argh!!!
I want to scream.
May I?
How does one scream on a blog?
Write caps?
That is so bloody impotent. argh!
And argh is not?
tch, I give up.

Anyways.

I have a theory.

:0

Okay, I have many.

One of them is about excited states and ground states. I think everybody has an excited state and everybody has a ground state.

When I was younger, my ground state was that of chaos. Confusion, dilemmas, to-be-or-not-to-be jibber- jabber, that was my thing. That was what I did, that was what I was good at, if there may be such a thing as being good at being in disarray. You know that saying - one must still have chaos inside oneself to give birth to a shining star - hey! I lived for stuff like that.

The zen state of being was my excited state. The one where I was at peace, in control, where nothing absolutely nothing fazed me. And then, out of nowhere at all, I would radiate some energy and fall back into my ground state of hyperactivity. Boom. Done.

hmmm....

Don't tell me. You actually think it is better to have 'peace' for your ground state. Oh you poor darling. Here, let me prove to you why it is better to have a chaos ground state.

In theory, you would spend more time in your ground state as compared to your excited state. Agreed? The more time you spend with something, the more you get to know it, right? You learn to deal with it. So, in principle, if you live long enough you would get used to even an 'out-to-lunch' ground state - eventually. Then, randomness would come naturally to you. And every now and then, when something would push you over the edge and you suddenly find yourselves at peace - that would be a bonus. Because shanti is intuitive, everybody is okay with shanti, who doesn't want shanti, unless of course you try to name your daughter shanti and then all sorts of people start giving you dirty looks, so, don't try that, tch, anyways, point is, you would know what do when you were at peace, that part is easy.

But, and this is a big but, no pun intended, when you fell back to your ground state of pandemonium, hey! guess what? you still know what to do. Coz fool, that's your own state isn't it?

Moral of the story, win win. You are cool, in both states.

Now contrast that to a peace ground state, okay you are fine when you are there, no brownie points for that, but what happens when you get to the excited state? You are out of your wits, you don't know what you are supposed to be doing, seriously? you would willingly choose that?

Still not convinced? Look at me...for the past some time, almost years, I have learned to stay longer and longer in my so called excited state, I have actually been at peace more days than not. Theek hai, ho sakta hai, ki my peace is not the same as your peace and my peace actually looks like anarchy to you, all the same its my bloody peace and I am happy with it, so don't you go around bursting my bubble. In any case, today is not one of those, even-by-my-standards- peaceful day. Today is the day when disorder rules the roost. And I am thinking I should be okay with it, because that is my ground state, remember. I should know how to deal with this. Unfortunately, I don't. I have been away too long. And this is killing me. Today, when I am at one of my local entropy maximas, it is not even a global one, 'coz globally this function has seen highs and lows like you cannot imagine, and yet, yet I have absolutely no skills to deal with this minor hiccup.

Hence the need to scream. Above. And hence even more crest fallen at my inability to scream. On a blog! Can't scream for real. Folks at home are sleeping.

So I am wondering just what the heck happened here?

Has that whole 'shanti' bit become my new ground state?
Why?
That is so completely counterproductive.

last day

i just survived a major car crash. I could have died but i did not. and then came this question am i living like tomorrow could be my last day?

and i think, yes i am. mostly i am.

barring this lil day to day stuff that is never going to be done, i think i am okay. i am at peace with myself and my life. when i was in the car and if i had died the only thing that i think i should have done was to make sure my daughter had a list of emergency numbers on her person, so that if i was dead they could have gotten her home. because that was my biggest worry, if i had died, how would she have gotten home, what if some stranger walked away with her. how would they have found her? but then i tell myself, you can't help none of that once you are dead.

hmm..
oh and i have to make my will.

besides that i guess i am okay. and that thought gives me peace.

does that mean i am ready to die? i don't know. I don't want to die. i want to live. i want to see my kids grow up,a dn go to university. i want to go back to school myself. I want to read books and write them. i want to sit down with my friends and tell them how much i like them. but this is the kind of stuff that never gets done, you can do it over and over and over again and still want to do it.

but i did realize that if given a choice i would much rather die of an illness, that of course does not financially drain out my family, but that still gives me the time to say my good byes, because when i think about it, that is the only thing i wanted to do. i don't want to leave without saying my byes.

there are not even any major apologies left, coz i have made most of them. there is just one person, that i don't think i owe an apology to really, but i want to talk to her, so i already called her, and there is this other person, i really want to tell them something, but i am not sure if they want to hear it and i don't know if it is right to burden someone with information that they are not interested in carrying, that is an active act of himsa, so i am not sure if i want to do that, apart from that... hmmm....

sorry i am just writing as i am thinking and i am not thinking straight so...

you know what the worst thing is? the day of my accident, i left home right after writing this part in my story, where the protagonist dies. she dies in a road accident. i killed her. and then i had an accident. that was what was bothering me all the time. i killed my character and then i had an accident. how crazy is that? some karmic payback? shoot! seriously! can't get over that. should i let her live? i don't know? she was always supposed to die. from the beginning, since i started that story.

yes. i know that is coincidence. it is the human brain, looking for connections making up reasons, i was not wearing my lucky ring, i woke up from this side of the bed, i did not pray to such and such god. the poor helpless brain, always trying to make sense. hmm...

and the one thing that i am glad that i have already been doing again for sometime, ( i had stopped in the middle) is to not give a damn about what other people think. just do what i want to do, coz if i die tomorrow i cannot go around blaming you for not doing what i wanted to do. so if you have a problem with what i want to do, then well, sorry, but that is your problem, you deal with it.

i am as much a child of this universe as the sun and the stars, and i have as much a right to be here as you do, my thought is as valid as yours and i am not going to make myself smaller just to fit your ideas of my place in life.

and i am very glad for this blog, once i die, my kids can read this and know what their mom was like. i wish my parents had kept a log, i would have liked to get to know them better.

oh and for the record, yes, i am glad to be alive. very very glad.

besides it was not my fault, the other person ran the red light. no that would not be a consolation if i had died, but ... you know what, i am sorry that is a big consolation. even in death - we keep scores. :)

आँखों से ओझल भी हो
और साथ भी मेरे चलते हो
कड़ी धूप में पाँव जलें और
थक कर जब कुछ मैं रुक जाऊं
भर कर मुझको बाहों में ये
क्या कुछ मुझसे कहते हो
कैसे कहूँ मैं दूर हूँ तुमसे
मुझमे ही तो रहते हो

my old posts

I spent some today reading my old posts, and wow! I think I just have way too much energy, or had it back then, everything is so forceful and over the top, whatever was my problem?

I should ahve taken up a sport or something.

Anyways, I am not that much of an enthu-cutlet in real life. In fact, I have sobered up a lot.

This friend of mine who found me after years on facebook said the same thing, that I  sounded way too calm compared to what she remembers me - I hope she doesn't read this blog :) - and I liked that.

I like the person I am right now.

But then that is not saying a lot. I liked the person i was back then too. That is something that has not changed, barring those occasional days here and there, I have almost always liked myself.

am back!!

Hey!!

I am back! or so I think. or at least I can think about being back, coz for the last two months that was not even on the periphery of what i was thinking about.

humph.... What do I write about though?


Isn't it amazing how some ideas can get you all riled up at the time and later when you look back you go whatever, I don't care... only you don't know why you ever cared to begin with?

Oh this...

Has it ever happened to you, that you were standing in the middle of the stairs and then, just forgot whether you were going up or down? damn... that's one godforsaken place to be.

nah.. that's not a topic.

You know what, I still cannot believe that an entire human being can grow inside of you and then be expelled out and survive on its own. How can such a little thing know its time to push and come out of the only place it has known for all its life? I don't know what that is? Amazing or scary? I have still not made up my mind. hmm... i so wish I could remember what that was like...

Oh wait! I know. A few days back I had this epiphany of sorts. I finally figured out why I write a blog. You see, people, they say the darnest things. Half the time, I don't know what to say back to them, coz I just cannot believe they have just said what they have, so I just stand there going umm.. err.... hmm... And the other half of the times when i do open my mouth and speak my mind, well, they don't like it, it always ends badly. Apparently most people can dish it out, but not take it. umm... err... hmm... So i figure, its better to shut up and write a blog, 'people' don't have to read it, and I don't have to explode carrying all that steam inside me.

hmm...