Ordinary

Things are happening. I can feel the winds of change blowing, fast and furious. I don't know what I am doing or will it be OK. All I KNOW is that I am doing this for something has snapped. Somethings you can't undo. Somethings are are not meant to be undone. They happen to push you into another zone. A zone that you would have never chosen ordinarily, but then I am not ordinary.

Extra ordinary things happen to extra ordinary people. Maybe that is why I was not supposed to have it the ordinary way. I wish I was ordinary. I wish I was that woman that could just give and give, not snap at all. But I have snapped, at first it felt like I had snapped into two pieces. Broken into two. It was so tough to make sense of it all...why me...why me...why me...that's all I could ask God. I don't deserve this I said.

The one day I got the answer from the man above, WHY NOT YOU, he said?! Why expect the ordinary when you are so extra ordinary?!! Why makes you think others deserve this but you will lead an ordinary privileged life?! Yes, my master I said, for the first time I will not fight my fate. For this is how it was meant to be. I shall love and will not allow hate to seep in. For 15 years of precious loving has great and profound meaning.

I will not lose the meaning of loving, giving, hoping and changing. I will not fear ordinary emotions like fear. Fear freezes you to the ground. You are immobilised with the feeling. You don't move, you don't breathe, you don't live, for fear has cut you off your knees. I have been on my knees for a while now, time I got up and felt my feet. Time I put my feet on the ground and ran barefoot...feel the grass blades on the soles of my feet. Its time I ensure that BOTH you and I LIVED an Extra ordinary life... We share extra ordinary love that nothing will fade nor charr or burn away. Its time we cast away the fear we fear! Why fear loss when the only thing we have gained is LOVE..

Its time...

Breathe

Breathe - The Prodigy


Breathe with me

Breathe the pressure
Come play my game
I'll test ya
Psycho-somatic addict insane
Breathe the pressure
Come play my game
I'll test ya
Psycho-somatic addict insane

Come play my game
Inhale, inhale, your the victim
Come play my game
Exhale, exhale, exhale

Come breathe with me
Breathe with me

Mates

The other day some one asked me what is your idea of a Man. Lets be clear here, its not about a "Perfect" man as no such thing exists. No one is and should be perfect. Our allure and charm lies in those small imperfections that we have. That's what makes us stand apart in the crowd. Perfection would be so boring. Every snowflake is different. Every snowflake is beautiful. These different snowflakes come together and form breathtaking glaciers.

Why are we constantly obsessing about what an ideal man should be. There is no ideal. What could be ideal today could be totally a mismatch tomorrow. Its situational. Some one's reaction to one thing could be ideal and a reaction over something else could be utterly wrong!!

Surprisingly when ever you do ask some one about their ideal mate the usual responses are almost always physical. Ladies will FIRST say "I like my man to be tall, short, dark, fair, deep voice, muscular, skinny, clear skin, black hair, brown eyes etc etc". Then the women will most likely say "I would like him to make me laugh...he should be funny, he should be entertaining etc". Then will come the last bit which is " he should be deep and intense or sporty and outdoorsy or nerdy and bookish."

Then once we have the physical aspect put together, the entertainment part taken care of and lastly a loose characterisation of nature.... the women go hunting. Please note by now she has a rough sketch of THE man in her head. For example, THE man is tall, fair, clear skinned, muscular, intense AND yet my lord he makes me laugh! Now these very traits will take me through life. We don't care much about the person he is UNDERNEATH. Rather we never really care to explore the person as long as the list is matched and all boxes ticked off.

I shall be happy as a Lady bug on a sunflower for I have found my phantom match. He is a mystery to me but I don't really care. That's how mad most of us women are.

Come on people...is this how it goes?!! THIS is how a mate is found?!! How the hell is an intense man going to make you laugh...ever thought about that woman??! How is his masculinity going to help you feel better when you are sad and depressed?! What will his fair skin do for you when you need some one to stand by you in your tough time and he is no where in sight??

Over the years my idea of A Man (NOT THE man) has changed. I am thinking my wish list would go like this...

1. Someone who appreciates my flaws. Its easy to love anyone strengths


2. I earn my living. I don't need your money. I can buy my self anything I wish. I CAN buy YOU anything you wish. I can't buy Love and Loyalty.


3. I need togetherness and sharing. If I can't touch your laptop, phone, be part of your social networking site then maybe you don't understand what togetherness is.


4. I know how to give space. I also know the difference between giving space and living in two different continents. My MBA does help me decipher such things.


5. Honesty is non negotiable.


6. Until or unless you and I agree on an "open relationship or marriage" chances are that I will expect loyalty. I don't understand why you would want to be with everyone else WHILE you are with me...it confuses me!!


7. I want you to stand by me STRONG. Life is tough. Its gonna challenge us. I will be annoying, needy, weak, weepy, insecure and then there will be the days I will be the DIVA, strong, successful, confident. You have got to be able to handle all the avatars.
8. There will be days when I will need you to be my net that I can fall into and you better know that I have a spine of steel that can carry any burden for you. You cant pick and choose when you will be there for me and when you wont. YOU HAVE GOTTA BE THERE ALWAYS.


9. I don't know how you look. I guess it doesn't matter. Brad Pitt cheated on Jennifer Aniston. Did it make her pain less coz he is the worlds best looking Dude?? I think not. Handsome is what handsome does.
10. Like all women I look absolutely scary in the morning...can you love that?? Never agree with me when I say I am looking fat, ugly, terrible...NEVER ; )

Have you noticed that the most important decision we take in life of finding a mate is based purely on the physical aspects. While to buy something as basic as a car, we go showroom to showroom looking at various cars, we test drive them, check the colour, see the engine, compare the mileage with other cars. Looks is just one aspect of the whole package of buying the car. We don't settle for anything but the best within our means, needs and desires.

Do we NEED a mate or should we WANT a mate?!! Seed for thought for those who don't know better...

Vanity Insanity

Them zits. I hate them. To give a brief back ground, I have always had super clear skin. No zits, no marks, just clear skin. The only thing that I have is a massive birth mark on the right hand side of my face. It goes over my right ear, spreads a bit on my right cheek and then all over my neck. Very few people who know me have even noticed it. But yes, let it get Hot, Sweaty or if I am pissed off...the birth mark goes stark raving mad and gets a life of its own. I can feel it burn up and turn bright Red. Though its has been bang on my face I have never been conscious of it. Maybe that's why people don't notice it much, as I don't notice it much my self.

So life was cruising along just fine with me and my birthmark, then suddenly one day 2 years back I saw a bunch of zits/pimples sprout up right on my cheek bones. So every time I laughed or smiled, they would hurt. Not only were they nasty hurtful, they also were full of gunk that you and I don't need to talk about. I ignored them for a few weeks. Thinking I am going through a rough personal time so maybe its just stress. Then a few months when the pimples had pretty much taken over my face, I had no choice but to contact a dermatologist.

One fine evening I found my self sitting in a seedy basement of a well known skin specialist. While I was waiting at his reception I was asked by his assistant if I would be interested in either Botox or Restylene. So I got a bit nervous. Here I am talking about something as basic as pimples and there she is talking about Botox!! It annoyed me a bit, is this a ploy to totally destroy any self esteem I might have left?!! So while the Dr is busy attending some one else, the assistant is pushing me to have more luscious lips with Restylene. Or I could remove the "Age" lines on my face with Botox. Lines...I have lines on my face?!! I hadn't even noticed!!! Ok agreed I might not have the worlds most perfect full lips or flawless "ageless" skin but getting some thing injected in them was just up my ally. Then she pounced on my birth mark. Did I know that I could get it lasered off??! Why in God's name would I want that, I asked her?? Its been my identity for my entire adult life. I love my birth mark!!

I was so psyched by the time I met the Dr that I just couldn't wait to get out of there. I went home and inspected my face for at least an hour. Are these lines so ugly?? Hmmm...my lips are thin but they seemed to have served me fine. No one had ever commented on their thinness up till now. Or did I have very polite friends who over the years omitted to mention my thin lips?!! Awwww.....where did these lines come from?!! Why did I not notice them before?!! It felt like just yesterday when I had line less and zit free face. Why is GOD doing this to me??! Does he hate me in particular that I am rolling down the lane of total "Uglydom" after years of "Divadom"

So the next few days were spent in total concern of me looking old and needing things to save it from total destruction. I had just stepped into my 30's and it seemed that life was over. I might as well retire to the hills and live with all the old women with hundreds of age line on their faces. Who would notice them there??!!

Miraculously my pimples were forgotten. I had bigger problems now of Age lines, thin lips and my birthmark.It such a sucky situation. No one wants to age willingly, but we do. That's just the way nature planned it so. I have got to learn to wear my Age lines with pride. I love my birth mark. Its been my identity for always. What am I getting stressed about? Hair will grey, skin will wrinkle and birthmark will remain on my face. I realised how Vanity is total Insanity. People can feed you junk and you can actually get sucked into the madness of Vanity.

Luckily good sense prevailed and I went back to stressing about my pimples ONLY. 2 years later I still get pimples, I have massive acne marks on my face. I moan about them now and then and sulk about them. Luckily I made peace with my Age lines and thin lips. I am back in love with my birthmark. Its special. No one else has it but me!! : )

Why is the Society so concerned with looking a certain way only?!! Do we put undue pressure on insecure people and get them to do things that they might not need at all?? Every one ages, then why do people feel alone in the journey of aging?! Why is aging such a bad word?!

A Seed for thought for us humans who start aging from the moment we are born!!

Reclaim

So much has happened since 1st Jan 2009. I usually do a lot of thinking in Goa while bringing in the New Year. This year I had other things on our mind. Suddenly life took over and I was no more in control. I had plans and they were BIG Plans. Things were gonna be perfect…just perfect. I was doing a true “Small Miracle” to my life. Past was miraculously gonna go away and future was to be bright and cheerful. Well, that’s how I planned it. My BIG Ego and I were not gonna have it any other way. Failure of plans was NOT an option. The writing has been clear on the wall for a long time but I was never gonna read it. NEVER…then one day the writing would fade and my plan would be so successful.

Now I have no plan. No clue what is in store for me? I am sitting in a limbo. Hoping that some one will get here and resolve my life. I am sitting in this room buzzing with people, friends, family, colleagues and other noises. I can’t see any one, everything is a blur…but strangely I can read the writing on the wall very clearly. I can read every damn word of it. I tried to rub it off…I tried and tried. This time the writing is not going away. It’s right there in front of me…in Permanent Ink.

This has made me reflect my life and who I am. I last went through this painful phase of “Who am I " when I was 17. Having done that and defined myself, I thought the job was over. Now that I knew who I was and my value systems were addressed, I was set for life. I am Small Miracle. I KNEW me more than anything else and I knew my life. I didn’t know where I was going in life and whom I was going with, but I knew ME. That was good enough, wasn’t it?

1999

1. I was working 12-15 hours a days. Slogging it and LOVING every moment of the slog. I look like a hag but felt like a princess.

2. My self-esteem was High. I was great at what I did. Loved by my people. Popular at work with colleagues and client.

3. I had a very close set of friends with whom I had spent past few years, growing up. We were there for each other every step of the way. We just didn’t allow each other to fall. I was always the problem solver that every one came to. I was there for them 24/7, emotionally, financially and mentally.

4. I went all over Delhi heat, rain and cold in buses and autos. Never complained a day.

5. Dating this perfect boy who loved me unconditionally. Our life revolved around each other. We did everything together and loved every moment of our togetherness. We were so TIGHT that there was no place for even air…forget another person or thing.

6. In spite of everything being great I was burning out very fast. I could feel it in my bones. The burn out was round the corner. I was exhausted ALL the time. I was working my self to the bone. For months I had no day off. I was going round the clock all the time between work, friends, family and my boy. I was not ME any more.

7. One day I woke up and gave it ALL up to go to America. My family was going there on an assignment. I needed to save my self from self-destructing. I just got up, resigned and sat on that plane and left. It was not easy but nor did it kill me. I left behind a great job, closest friends, security of Delhi, all of my material possessions and most importantly my Boy. I was allowed to take a suitcase of clothes and that’s all I took.

2009

1. I work 8 hours a days. Maybe not slogging it but certainly LOVING every moment of what I do. In spite of it, I have a burning desire to leave. I have a great sense of non-accomplishment that no one understands. I don’t look like a hag but I feel worse than one.

2. My self-esteem is at the lowest. I am great at what I do. Loved by my people. Popular at work with colleagues and partners associated at work. But, I am defined by why the boy didn't love me the way it shd have been. Love of every one else that I get doesn't seem to matter.

3. A very close set of friends with whom I hardly ever share my life. We see each other fall but can’t seem to do a thing to stop it. I am still the problem solver that every one comes to. I am NOT there for them 24/7, emotionally, financially and mentally. I can’t even remember when I last gave some one a gift…a small gesture that made them feel loved by me.

4. I have a lovely car and I don’t even drive. Shame on me.

5. My man grew up to be some one I didn’t expect. There is a lot of love yet enough space that a world has resided between us. The no of people is growing and growing…

6. I am burnt out emotionally. I can feel it in my bones. The burn out is here, it NOW. I am emotionally exhausted ALL the time. I have over worked my emotions to the bone. For months I have had no day off. I am going round the clock all the time and STRANGELY I hardly give that kind of time to work, friends, and family. It’s ALL about the BOY who never was…

7. I am waiting to WAKE UP….

What does one do when you lose your self?! For some one who grew being taught that selfish is a very mean word, to give and give is what we are born for. Today I am spent. I have just reached a half way mark of my life and I am SPENT. I want to reclaim in my life. What can I do to love my self and my life?!!

A Seed for Thought for me to solve my quandary.

Pitter Patter

Its breathtakingly beautiful outside. Its been raining since Friday.

I have a very soothing relationship with the rain. My rendezvous with Rain started in my 5th grade. We had just moved form Jodhpur in Rajasthan to Shimla in Himachal. So right from the dessert and dry dust storms to lush green hills...what a contrast to get used to. I used to cycle to school in Jodhpur. School was a few kilometers away but I loved cycling. It was so liberating to be able to go to school without any supervision. My fathers Sepoy used to follow me with my brother on his cycle, almost every single day I would cycle far ahead and wait for them to catch up once reaching school. He would come home and complain to Dad every single day. Then we moved to the mountain where cycling was certainly not an option. It was packed away and put in some army godown till next posting.

It is here in the massive mountains I had my first experience of torrential rains. It would rain so hard that in spite of being dressed in gumboots and raincoats we used to reach school absolutely drenched. Water would fill up in the boots and we would be running with water in them. Making splotchy sounds. Then on reaching school, the kids would all huddle near the Angethi/fireplace and try to dry up. Wet hair, water in boots and the raincoats piled up in the corner. I can still feel the teacher wringing the water out of my two plaits.

Our school had tin roof. As soon as it would start to rain the sound of the beating rain on the roof would take over and drown the teachers voice. Many times the teachers would stop the class as one couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. I would just trance off. My mind would be wandering outside school. I would imagine me walking over the clouds. Sitting on the top of the rainbow and then I would just jump off...the flight off the rainbow was amazing...I had seen my dad do that so many times...seen him jump of the plane while Parachuting. It felt so easy. So right.

Rain in the hills also always meant that it would be cold and we would sit with hot glasses of chocolate milk around the fire place at home. Chatting nine to a dozen. My brother and I could hear the flying fox settle into her nest right next to our window. The wind would be blowing...some time it would be eerie and at times it would be so magical. Rain had a hypnotic quality to it.

I loved it best when it rained in the night. I always found the sound of the rain on our tin roof so soothing. It was better than any music one had ever heard. Raindrops have this magical quality. I would wake up and listen to it till it lulled me back to sleep. Rain left the earth so clean, washed up and ready to start another day. Next morning we would find a victim who would be standing under a low branch and all of us would jump and pull the branch and the water would fall like rain on the unaware victim.

Every time it rains, I almost always take some time off to connect with it. I need to feel one with it. I need to let it sooth my nerves. I need for the rain to wash away all the garbage. I need the rain to connect with my soul. I need for the rain to hypnotise me and talk to me in the language that only I understand. I need for it to connect me the girl in Shimla...

A few drops of the wet wet rain for the dry dry soul?!!

Raw

I have heard that when a person goes the unfortunate misfortune of amputation, they continue to feel the lost part as if its still there. The part lost was there in their life for so long that the nerves still send the signal to the brain that that the lost part still exists. Its like the body has lost a part but the brain wont let go. Its still sending all the signals that the body part is still there. Then over the period of time pain sets in. The loss of limb is now a stark reality. Its gone. Forever. The body and mind both mourn the loss. Together.

Sometimes dying relations are like that loss of limb. The brain is still sending the right signals to the mind and heart. Its all there. Nothing has changed. Though the shift has taken place. Its happened. But the nerve endings still feel it. The acceptance of loss is not happening. Then slowly pain sets in. The pain is real. It lets you know that you are suffering. You are suffering the loss of emotions. Emotions that have been amputated, cut out of your life.

Amputation of emotions is a sad business. Its sad but happens to the best of us. Some go through it with childhood best friends who outgrow friendships, some go through it with their siblings unfortunately, some go through it at work where they have been too long, some go through it with their lovers where love doesn't actualise, some go through it with their life partners when things have gone so wrong...all in all every one goes through the amputation of emotions, sometimes or many times in this life.

People say emotions are feelings and one cant touch or feel emotions. One doesn't have A body part where Emotions live. It could be heart, it could be mind?!! Its not like you can do a heart surgery and repair a broken heart. Still our emotions exhibit behaviour every bit like they are physical part of our body. The pain of amputated emotions is as real as a body part. The raw nerve endings of the emotions keep sending you signals even after things have ended...

Which part of our body does emotion reside in? Why does sorrow manifest it self physically in tears? Why does Joy get expressed in the form of laughter?!! Why are emotions such a mystery??

A Seed for thought for the emotions amputee

Badly Good

"Bad things happen to Good people"

I have been hearing this a lot in the past few days. Its got me thinkin...is it really true. If it is true that means that there are good people and bad people. Being a very open minded person, I have always lived my life as " I like you" and " I don't like you". Its never been about good or bad. It was always about who you got along with. Looking back I see a lot of my Friends are similar. The women are nearly all alike. They all are Strong women, making a difference in their own way. The stand apart in the crowd. They can hold their own against anyone. These women are a deep vessel of emotions. They feel and emote. They all are special. The men Friends...hmmm. I can't seem to put a single thread through them that I can say ties that one quality together. They all are different as different can be. The only thing common I guess is that if I even need them, they will be there, no matter what or where! Maybe that is that common link. They will be there...

I think judging some one is such a terrible thing. I hate it when I get judged, which is a lot, trust me in the Industry that I work in. We all get judged. That how it works. It the damn judgement of people that get society talkin about "good" or "bad". I grew up with this phase that Anna repeated very often and still does, "One mans food is another mans poison" yep, its true. We can't have the same rules of the game for one and all.

All I know is that people who don't wish harm to the world and are sensitive to the world, are the ones who are called good. They feel the bad that happens to them much more than a person who is not sensitive enough. It doesn't mean that good stuff and bad stuff is not distributed equally amongst us all. Its just the judgement of the situation. I know I am too damn sensitive. I also know that I have never gone out knowingly to harm the world. I have my boundaries, once crossed I guess I am bad. I like to be left in my own space, doin my own thing. It could be office or home. I live in Small Miracle Land and its my rules that rule! That's me. Does that mean that my ability to feel searing pain makes me Good?! Or my inability to fall in line with others makes me Bad?!!

Amazingly for a person who doesn't judge the world. I judge my self too harshly. I am always never too good to me. I am almost always too harsh on me. Well, all that is changing now. I am finding the balance within me. I am striving hard to be good to me. I am reaching out to repair me. I am thinkin " bad things happen to everyone one" and not just me.

Do bad things happen to good people. Think about it people? Does the bad escape bad people, or is that they juss don't feel it as much as others? What really is good or bad?!

A Seed for Thought?!

Striped Tigress

Today is one of those day when I woke up knowing that it gonna be fine. I am gonna make this my day. Some times you just have to do that. Some times you have to wake out of the long slumber you have been in. When you really wake up to life one realises so many things…

It’s all right to feel things. It’s all right to have failed. It’s all right to be wrong. It’s all right to be me. Its alright to show emotion. Its alright to feel despair. If people don’t want to be with me then it’s all right as well. I can't and wont put my self through this anymore. I will be Me…I have always been me yet in the past few years I was embarrassed to be me. I could do no right it seems. Me was all wrong. It was me that attracted you all to me. I have an Ego. Yep, that’s right, I have it. So, it was always there…it was always a part of me. I am me. That’s it. No more apology. No more "I am Sorry" for being me.

I come with my faults…and that’s what makes me. My strengths and weakness both are a part of me. I am proud of my strengths and I am going to STOP apologising for my weakness. I am me with black and white. The white I will keep happily and the black I will not be scared of anymore.

I am a Striped Tigress with both…and that is OK with me. Its not easy being a striped tigress amongst zebras but that’s how God and I both intended it to be.

I love my stripes. I wear them with pride. I wake up to realise that how I have always been. I CAN’T BE A ZEBRA…that just won’t be me.

I have always been me…so lets just let me BE.

A seed for thought for the awakened me...

Memory Box

A few days back I was cleanin up some junk at the basement with the family. After years I opened up my college Memory Box. This box holds so many wonderful memories in it. Hundreds of small bits and pieces that puts those absolutely wonderful 3 years together. I have about hundred Salman Khan pictures, post cards and other stuff. Mostly gifted by friends. I was mad about him in those days. He was my dream man...muscles and all. I guess even at 17 I had a thing for well built men.

Pictures of us looking like rag dolls...in tiny shorts and unkempt hair. Stuff that I had on my study table. Looking back I realise that I ALWAYS loved fashion. There are these awesome pics that I have cut out from phoren magazines bought from shankar market. They reminded me of the lovely collage I had made for Chetan while passing out from school. How much he got ragged in IIT coz every one wanted to know who this girl was...as a true artist I had left a big signature on it.

I have my favourite Jeans in the box. I bought that pair from FU's. In good old days that was the ONLY cool store in south extension. My jeans were torn...two massive gashed in them, patched with star and stripes. I loved those jeans. I wore them when I won Miss Fresher Hostel along with D. It was and will remain my favourite pair for life.

I also have my mama's denim jacket. I had stolen it from him. Cut it up...and made the dhobi wash it so much that threads were hanging from all over...and it was completely washed out. In those days denims were to be really washed out. I was so fond of that jacket. I am also so glad that I kept it, coz now that he is no more...its even more precious to me.

The memory box also had this Mat made by my Granny and me. We had made it from strips of left over plastic bags and knit them into a lovely mat. That is the mat that D used to sit on every night, while makin tea or maggie for the gang. It was her favourite mat and dare any one else sit on it!! I pulled out the mat from the box and it was frayed from the edges...the lovely recycled plastic bag mat.

The most important bit that came out was Anna's mini skirt. I remember she had given it to me very proudly while I was leaving home. She wore it at Miranda House Hostel when she was there as a student and then deemed fit to pass it on to her daughter on going to her college. I wore that short short skirt so much in MHH that its all faded now. Maybe if I ever have a daughter I will pass it on to her...till then it will sit in my memory box.

Last but not least came out my diary...I had written this poem on passing out of MHH. Here goes...

Ode to Miranda

Red brick walls
old teak wood doors
L-shaped rooms
a room meant for 2
it all looked so dead
the first time
I saw u MHH..
after 3 long years
sheltered in the
L- shaped rooms
I realised it wasn't
a dead, lifeless building
It was a place where
I grew, matured, made best friends
learnt to care, to give
to take & be what I am
now I feel the need
to sat THANK YOU
for making me who I will be tomorrow

I LOVE YOU MIRANDA
3rd OCT 1994

Isn't it strange that we only get the first 20 yrs of our life to be innocently young. Based on those very 20 years we spend the next 50 odd years. Every thing that we do, behave, think, act, desire is based on those very formative years. We then proceed to spend the next ENTIRE life time enacting that behaviour. I often look back and draw strength from what I was then and find the will to move on. Looking back I was priceless...

Seed for thought for the ageless mind?!!