Me & Her

Her: how is he now?
Me: he’s there, as always
Her: btw, im still laughing at facepalm : D
*Her new status Message – Facepalm 10: 13 AM*
Me: its become an actual word which = slaps forehead
Her: that I understood duh!
Me: bangs head on desk has also become a word = headesk
Her: hahahahahah
Me: Really? U shd get on twitter.
Her: facepalm sounds like cyclopalm
Me: hahaha
Her: The Medicine that J takes when she chumms
Me: no she doesnt take cyclopalm she takes Meftalspas and i take it too
Me: its very effective
Her: no she takes cyclopalm
Me: arre… she takes Meftalspas, its an antispasmodic
Her: only we can disucss these things na, flit form one topic to another, one stupidity to another, and you’re getting boring also!
Me: :O

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Watching…

The newness of everything should have been engaging. But it isn’t so.
Yes it snowed throughout the first 2 months. At first, I loved it. 
For the first time I was experiencing a prolonged period of boredom.
I started watching stuff. It didn’t bore me. 
I watched people running to get somewhere.
I watched the snow slowly swaying in the air till it melted on a black jacket.
I watched white fluff enveloping everything like someone pushed down on a giant can of white frosting.
I ate different kinds of food, relishing some, disliking others.
I watched my weight remain a constant which did draw out an emotion from me – Anger.
I craved for the sun. The novelty of snowy, wet days made me ache for warmth.
I watched into windows and then into walls.
I stared into space.
I fell silent.
The chores at home feel burdensome. Eating feels like a task; “too much effort” a voice mumbles inside my head. Let alone dishes and laundry.
Gadgets, books, pencils, charcoal – nothing seems to change it.
Its disturbing. To watch yourself do nothing. To feel yourself feeling nothing.
My body refuses to move. I could lie in bed and not wake up. 
Maybe I’d feel nothing, just the same as when I’m awake.
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Halfway around the earth!

In chronological order, my life changed like this.

August was the harbinger of good news.
He had been transferred.
To New York.

September made us wait with bated breath.
The visas were expected.
They didn’t come.
They needed to be filed in a different category.

October brought much work.
Refiling the application.
This time, we were rewarded with a shiny page on the passport.
Permission to enter the United States!

November saw planning.
Lists of things.
To buy, to sell, to send, to give, to discard.

December – the day was soon arriving.
Packing, packing and more packing!
Some shopping.

When the day finally came, New York was experiencing a snow apocalypse.
Phone calls, emails & canceled flights deflated our enthusiasm.
Some more phone calls and emails later, we were on our way.
Farewells were exchanged with friends & family.

December 30th – 11:35 am Eastern Time. New York greeted us with a sunny smile.

🙂

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We are a confused species

As oxymoronic as it may sound to the profession I have chosen for myself, I have come to accept at some level; the profound truth that…

Human beings are a fundamentally dysfunctional species of beings.
 
Trying to stabilize them results in a number of undesirable behaviors. As I was sitting and listening to the story of Woody Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona, lots of different tangents led me in many different directions but were overall connected by this central thought that seemed to get validated once every tangent was analysed!

Lets take for example, the broad and mostly well-accepted categorization of people into two groups:

The quirky-weird ones v/s the normal ones
The idealist-philosophical-intellectual types v/s the realists
The non-conformists v/s the conformists
The creative-artist types v/s the logical types

If you carefully analyse these categories, you will be able to extrapolate the basic characteristic traits of the two categories of people. On the basis of this categorization and the traits that follow them, it is safe to assume that the first kind of people –
quirky-weird, idealist-philosophical-intellectual, non-conformists & creative-artist types will share a range of characteristic traits that I’m not gonna bother explaining (If you don’t already know that, this blog isn’t for you!)

One of their basic characteristics is that almost all of them have unstable lives as far as relationships are concerned.
Thinkers, painters, philosophers, artists, writers, actors, musicians!
An explanation for their quirkiness, creativity, intellect, philosophical thoughts, non-conformism, etc. is that the more volatile our relationships with people, the more stimulus the volatility provides. As a species that thinks, (remember Descartes saying ‘I think, therefore I am’) it is essential for us to remain in a conducive environment that allows thought. (ramblings, rants, ponderings, realisations, introspection, retrospection, etcetera etcetera…) This is possible only when something goes wrong! When something goes right, what do you do with it? Nothing! But when something goes wrong, you think! And unfortunately, we cannot have one without the other. Theoretically therefore, Stability – a trait that the latter category of people share is therefore NOT conducive for exponential thought processing!

We all want something exciting in our lives, we yearn for idealism – be it love or money!
We yearn for passion, creativity, philosophical explanations that validate our presence on this earth!
When we are exposed to instances in our life that provide the above, & do not last too long – they are cherished and we want more of them.

So, theoretically speaking, if we were to live like that throughout our lives, we wouldn’t have much to complain about. However, a series of such instances would make it difficult for us to live normally.

In practicality, we lack the ability sustain an unstable life that would provide a conducive environment for the passion, creativity, intellectual and philosophical thought, etc.
So, we try and outsmart nature! We try to find a balance between the two – the ideal and the real!
Now… time is a wonderful thing. Just like water finds its own level in time, relationships also find their own stability! Even the most active volcano cools down over time. And there is a period of rest before the next eruption. All relationships in time, tend to become still (or boring) Time however, can make still waters swell up and form waves.

Thus proving, we are all essentially dysfunctional. And THAT is what makes life interesting!

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Growing old is a dislikeable thought!

When life throws at you not a single but many instances to ponder over, what do you do with those ramblings inside of your head? especially when the ramblings start to make sense and you see hazy images transforming into a clear picture concluding in a realisation.

Many such instances and many such ponderings have led to the following realisation:

Age is inversely proportionate to the number of errors one is allowed to commit.
OR
Age and number of errors share an inversely proportionate relationship with each other.

In other words, as the candles on your cake increase, the wrongs in your life should decrease!

When I was 18, I used to be told I looked older… much older! I never had a problem with it. Infact, come to think of it, it gave me an edge over others, professionaly atleast! However, now that I am older than 18 and look my age (finally) the idea of growing old has begun to scare me. And ironically, it has nothing to do with looks!

The phrase ‘growing old’ states indirectly that one ought to ‘grow wise’ and that one would make ‘lesser mistakes’ It seems to me as if these are expectations that we have of ourselves and of others and expectations that others have of us. The idea of growing old brings with it these unsaid ‘rules’ & taking responsibility for one’s follies is difficult.

The older you are, the wiser you are expected to be; the lesser mistakes you are expected to commit, &; the more you are shunned for needing someone to tell you “its okay”

I miss being told its okay! I miss having the freedom to make mistakes and learn from them. I miss not having as much time to try again when I do make a mistake. 
And worst of all, I dislike having the knowledge that they’re bound to happen, at some point in time.

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The Need to Belong

Saturday the 18th of July 2009.



I’m moving from this home. I’m saying Goodbye to a home I dwelt in for close to two years. I never even liked the place much. Yet, I’m filled with a heaviness knowing I wont roam around these floors, have these walls to lean on, have these windows to sit by. I’m moving into a beautiful house. I love how it looks. Over the last 15 days, I’ve been thinking of how I’ll decorate it, how I’ll make it my new home! This sudden sense of familiarity that I’m going to leave away filled me with a yearning.. to belong… I feel a sense of belongingness to this home. Is it cos I stayed here too long?



I wonder why we feel this way… Why is it that we associate ourselves to something external, something outside of us and want to make it our own? The teddy bear I held onto, the books lying in my bookshelf for years, the furniture I liked, the blanket I cannot sleep without… the people I cannot live without…



Why this need to hold onto something with all our might. As if life itself would come to an end if it were to be taken away from us.



I’m sitting by myself in my dining room, listening to the nightly sounds of life – a bike finding its way on the pot-holed road outside, a child crying in a house upstairs, the television in my neighbor’s house, the rain pattering on the wall outside, the wind blowing hard into small crevices somewhere. Its been a while since I’ve had time alone, by myself. I got so used to having someone around that the thought of not being around him would fill me with a sense of loneliness. Its been a while since I felt at peace with solitude.



I cried today. I didn’t like how needy I was feeling. I cried not because I didn’t feel loved, but because I didn’t want to feel unloved. I cried because I wanted to feel self-sufficient. And yet, it slips away from me every time I try hard to hold onto that feeling.



I do not like not being in control knowing fully well that if I let go, I will be in control. Life is such an irony. Love should be liberating, not binding. It should be exalting, not denigrating. And here I am, gripping with my odd state.. that of feeling something between wanting to feel loved and not wanting to feel it.



Thursday 23rd July 2009



Once again as I sit by my window and feel the cool breeze that I know I will miss, a sudden realization dawns upon me.



I cannot hold on to the wind…







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Been so long…

September was when I last saw this page; blogging got replaced with lots of new things. Priorities changed. People changed. Passions changed. Philosophies changed. I filled pages after pages in my diary craving to blog here again.

Etched in ink, inspirations drowned in the pages of my life. I remained patient as a new page revealed itself to me each day. New beginnings & new endings. Evolution is after all the basis of my ideology. It is my most fundamental belief.
Rejecting it would be the same as denying my existence. The only way to do this was to adapt; to change. Problems seem to take care of themselves when you loosen up, let go and be with the flow. What have you got to lose especially when you have no other options!

I went through a million transitions. WHY? Let me start at the very beginning then.
I learnt the following during those months.

Discalimer: The following are subject to change as and when new learnings are imbibed. As of today, this is my stand.

1) Dads who cant dance can look adorable when they finally do.

2) Marriage is not as bad as it is made out to be.

3) Planning your own wedding is not romantic PERIOD!

4) Love is indeed a glorified name for having someone who obligatorily fulfills your needs

5) MBAs make a fuckload of money as compared to us lesser mortals. And this is not just those IIMs or whatever other bigshot institutes there could be.

6) I suffer from Dyscalculia. My math SUCKS !!!!!!!!!

7) Handwriting Analysis still makes me money

8) 7 hours of sleep doesn’t sound healthy but it is!

9) Breakfast is a great habit

10) Making lunch at 7 am isn’t only a wife’s work! 😛

11) Hard work pays

12) Time really does heal

13) I AM married ( Yes, I still freak out at the thought of it !!!)

And on that lucky note, I’ll sign off!

——————————————————————————

PS: I know its been a long time since I blogged but I promise I’m going to try and do some new stuff and post as regularly and as frequently as possible.

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The world’s still spinnin’ aroun’!

Blowing circles of smoke through my lips, seeing blurry visions of a rain-soaked cloud passing by… I watch the road in silence. Sitting next to my sweetheart, feeling the slight kick of the slowly overtaking intoxication… I enjoy the company of the shared silence between us.

Exchanging fully understood smiles, not feeling the need to speak, not wanting to interfere in the beauty of the moment… I remember all of this as my head touches my pillow this night.

I’m tired after a long, demanding day. And yet I smile as I lay my head to sleep.
I have pain in my lower back. And yet I wait for tomorrow morning to wake up so as to see the day transform into the evening sky.
I have so much more work pending for tomorrow. And yet I’m waiting for evening to come.. to be held in strong arms again.

Its 2:50 am. I’m sleepy. But I want to stay up just so I can go back and enjoy stolen moments of intimacy.. imagine them.. relive them..

Love is a wonderful feeling..

While it lasts, it makes the world spin!
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My Plea

It was 4:57 of this morning. I had lost all sense of the moment. My mind was only concentrating on pending work & sleep. I got up, ready to switch off the PC & in my most usual way began to run through things for next morning. My first thought was what time do I wake up. 10 am said my body. And next, Mom.. what will she need tomorrow. She’ll be angry if I sleep late!

BOOM! I stopped myself… stood where I was for 2 seconds! Damn! Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. She’s still in my life! On my mind. Mom will you ever be gone?

Everything around me seems to either negate her presence or confirm her absence. I forget that she is no more – only to be reminded of it when I begin to clean her stuff, to empty cupboards & draws filled with clothes that still give out her fragrance. I catch myself feeling the folds of the clothing, grasping & trying to feel her skin. I open the cupboard & wait there to smell her presence. Hoping to open my eyes & find her in front of me.. only to discover empty space. I walk into the rooms expecting her to call out to me yelling at me for not finishing this or doing that wrongly. My ears ache to hear her voice again but I all I hear is a dull silence.

No tears come out.. its all over. And then I burst into fresh tears. The worst is yet to come. I feel like a junkie with withdrawal symptoms. The pain & the pull is so difficult I want to give up fighting. But something keeps me going. Sometimes its the distractions – mundane chores, preparing food, folding clothes, cleaning the house, bathing, drinking, eating, sleeping, breathing…

At other times, its her thoughts – the what ifs and what nots. I hate being here in this life, in this body, in this mind. Take me back to where I came from. Take me to my mother’s arms, her embrace, her lap, her womb. I hate it here. I hate it without her.

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Maa


‘Maa’

Maa… my world, my identity!

I feel lost. I thought I was strong. I am. Because of you Maa.
I love you.

Hemlata Kalra was battling cancer for more than 4 years.
She passed away on 12th March 2007.
I will miss you.

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