MY EXPERIMENTS with LOVE

Not that I am a genius at it now.

Not that I know everything there is to know about it either.

I don’t believe there is a single soul that’s walked this earth that’s grasped the entirety of love. And I don’t want to claim to be such a person either. But having walked this earth for almost 27 years now, I think I have gathered enough experience – and courage – to be able to pen a piece such as this one. Maybe others before me have realized and written about this already. Definitely many others after me are going to realize this and write about it. But the people I see around me are the ones who have not yet grasped this. These are people I care about. And I want them to know what I have learned, so that maybe when it is their time to experiment with love, they will at least make new or different failed attempts.

Lesson no. 1: NEVER try to change your guy.

I thought I wasn’t one of these girls. This category of girls who are always trying to develop new tastes in their guys, make them like Sushi and EDM and long walks on the beach and holding hands, make them hate cricket and beer and strip-clubs and porn; and yes, I am not one of those girls. But that doesn’t make me immune to this very common and natural human tendency. I only do it in different ways. Trying to get him to relax more, trying to make him develop healthy eating habits, trying to make him wear bright colours or keep a French beard.

Trying to change your guy – or any person in your life – is a sure recipe for disaster; and I need not explain this. I am pretty sure you know this. However, the corollary is not true. It is not always possible or good to change yourself or adapt yourself either; that is a sure recipe for disaster too. Burning yourself out trying to accommodate the world is never a good idea (and I will address this at a later point here). The important thing I have learnt is to accept things and situations. Now this may be the most difficult thing to do, and trust me, I have learnt it the hardest way possible. But the process can bring immense peace to you. It is important to realize that we cannot affect every situation, cannot amend every decision, and cannot cure every bad habit. We have to learn to be ok with certain things in life – the friend who, in spite of you giving all you could to stay in touch with them, drifted away; the love that, in spite of you putting everything at stake, was not meant to be; the relationship that, in spite of you swallowing your pride and ego and trying to make up, went kaput anyway. People come and go, leaving imprints on your heart. And even though it is tempting to want to keep the person in your life forever, we should focus more on creating lasting and positive imprints rather than trying to make the person last forever. We all know - everything changes; but memories can stay.

Lesson no.2: NEVER try to save your guy.

Now this one can be quite a puzzle to understand. But if you have ever felt like going out of your way and doing something for someone – your mom, when you saw how tired she was from all the chores; your dad, when he came back from work and looked stressed; your friend who was just going through a tough time at home or school; or your guy, who seemed functional and happy with you but was still mourning his past relationship – you’ll know what I am trying to talk about. A video I recently came across explained this to me so beautifully and simply. Our undying need to help other people, to save them, stems from the feeling of wanting to be saved ourselves. From what? It could be from anything –apathy, disappointment, depression, anything. So what do you do – watch indifferently as your guy deals with his demons? No. Be there for him. Show him your support and love. But don’t make his demons your own. That is just going to result in two people and twice the more demons to fight.

It is ok to fail in trying to save someone. How can we really save anyone when we are failing miserably at saving ourselves? We can’t. But don’t feel miserable about it. I know just how hard it is, and how long it can take to come to terms with this. I am guilty of having done it myself. I tried so hard to save him, although I could see I wasn’t going to succeed, that I put everything, every last bit of my love and my soul into trying to save him. I believed I would be able to do it, even though I could very clearly see that I was failing. People told me he is not worth the time. But I felt guilty about giving up. Eventually of course, I failed. I blamed myself for it for... well, for a really long time. I felt like… I had lost a battle I’d been fighting for so long. But I lost a lot more than just the battle. I lost a part of me. I lost the ability to care for people for a long time. I gave myself in so much to that one relationship that for a very long time I was unable to feel anything for anyone. But you know what? No-one is worth it. No-one is worth driving yourself to this point. It took me several months to forgive myself for it, and to be ok about having failed. What’s amazing is I was able to go a step further and realize that there was nothing to forgive myself about in the first place. It is ok to not save someone. And it is ok to put your well-being and ‘self’ before the world.

And this brings me to the final lesson, and that’s –

Lesson no. 3: Save 'it'.

'It’ can be anything – love, affection, respect, time, energy, effort, etc. Your ‘it’ will be different from that of the next person. It will be different from that of your friend, your sister, your guy. What’s important is to learn to never give any relationship all of 'it'. Being fed with romantic movies and stories that talk about selfless love full of sacrifices ever since we are little girls, it is in our nature – or rather our ‘nurture’ – to want to sacrifice everything and try and save our guys. But the kind of sacrifice that we expect ourselves to make demands of us to pause and think for just a moment – what exactly are we sacrificing? Who or what for? And why? We feel like we are not doing enough, or we are being ‘selfish’ if we give any less than all of our ‘self’ and our life to a relationship. But is it really worth it? Is any relationship worth it? Maybe you already know that the answer is actually ‘no’. But you – conditioned by mothers, movies and society – won’t allow yourself to admit it, even if just to yourself. Don’t do that. Life is too short to be so hard on yourself.

So were our mothers wrong in doing so?

No.

And you won’t be wrong to do so either – if it is your conscious choice. But please be sure to make the choice consciously, and not as a result of general expectation or conditioning. And please, don’t expect something in return. Do it because you want to do it. Don’t ever use it in an argument as a trump card. (‘I have given my life to you! Why can’t you at least do the dishes once?! Is it too much to ask for?!’)

In my personal experience, the only thing worth giving our ‘self’ to is our passions. Cooking, music, art, sports, fitness, travelling, photography, reading, writing, charity, social service, teaching, environmental issues, dog-shelters – whatever form your passion takes. That’s the thing to invest in. That’s the thing to pour into. Literally pour into. Nothing can be more satisfying. And if you haven't found your passion yet, well, keep looking. As I said before, burning yourself out is not a good thing, no matter how justified the cause or end seems.

Being in love makes us do funny things. It makes us want our partners to learn everything we learn, experience all good things we do, it makes us want to take their hand and drag them along behind us everywhere we go. My experiments with love, however, have taught me to be content with walking on parallel paths with my guy. Sometimes we hold hands, sometimes we don’t; and even though our paths are parallel, they are not the same. Life will bring different bends and detours in mine, and different hurdles and turns in his. If on any such detour I happen to chance upon a beautiful lake, I shouldn’t try to go back, find my guy and drag him after me to show him the lake. Neither should I expect him to leave his path and run after me with an umbrella if it starts to pour down on my path. It is my own individual journey, and although I can choose to narrate my experiences to him, I have no right to pull him off his path or journey and make him join mine, even if it is only because I want him to see that beautiful lake. If we both live through the same things at every point and on every level, how are we ever going to enrich each other’s life? How are we going to diversify? 

Sometimes it can be difficult to watch your love struggle with the same things that you did and not do anything about it; it is very tempting to want them to listen to you just so that you can save them from another failure or heartbreak. But we must learn to allow them to discover things on their own – even if it takes them a couple of experiences more than you. And if they still don’t get it then its fine. That absolutely okay too. And you are not being selfish when you do this. You are only being wise, in that you understand that their set of unique thoughts and experiences is what makes them the person they are, the person you love; and yours make you the person you are. And before you expect anyone to love you the way you are, you must first learn to love yourself for who you are.

A RACE AGAINST TIME

I came across a bunch of forgotten photo albums while cleaning up my mom’s dressing table today afternoon, and it was such a joyride! Me in specs, big fat round ones, that made my eyes look funny; and sporting clothes reminiscent of times and fashion statements that are ancient now – balloon sleeves, two long pony tails, and a skirt that went below my knees but floated above the ground. Sure I looked like a disaster! But those pictures did manage to bring a smile on my face.

After that, I took out the bag of photo albums from under my bed and went through those pictures too, like I have on so many afternoons before, and like I will on so many more – for I never tire of looking at those pictures. I saw myself growing up through the pictures… a baby, yawning away as Mom kissed my forehead; a toddler, waving to Dad from the floor as he left for office; a kindergarten student, clapping her hands and dancing to the tune of Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast (yes, I admit, I used to love that song as a kid!); a schoolgirl, cutting the cake on her birthday with all her classmates around her; a teenager, with her best friend on a pajama-party night…

And then somewhere in between I disappeared totally from almost all the pictures… and it was just Mom, Dad, Atya, my sisters and brothers, relatives, my nephew, and everybody else – except me. Everyone laughing, sharing stories, telling jokes, just like always… but I was missing. I caught my head, or my hair in one or two pictures; but that was it.

I didn’t realise it until a tear had fallen on the one of the pictures that I was crying. I looked at all the get-togethers and dinners and parties and functions I had missed – because I was too busy studying for some exam, or completing journals and submissions and assignments. I felt very virtuous at the time – felt like I was being responsible and doing the right thing. Sure my relatives were all always proud of all my achievements, and so was I, I guess.

But looking at those pictures reminded me of times that I had let go by, and that didn’t look like they were going to come back. I miss my cousins, I miss my aunts and uncles, I miss all of them, and all the fun times we used to have together – the PPPJs, the ghost stories, the college affairs (that they used to try and hide from me, cos I was too young n all, but that I did learn about anyway!) and so many other things…

I looked at those pictures and thought – why had I let these moments slip out of hand? Why had I missed that get-together? Why had I opted out of that party?

It wouldn’t have hurt if I had scored a little less on that test.

It certainly would not have harmed if I had not attended college on that Monday.

It would not have mattered if I had reached late for practicals that day.

But I was brought up to be like this – responsible, punctual, dutiful, a good student, a good daughter – and that is how I have lived my life so far.

But do you call this ‘living’?

I do not want to suggest that the above qualities are not virtue – they no doubt are. But are these virtues more important than spending time with your family, or making merry with your friends, or just having a good time?

Just the other day I saw a trailer of some movie, and one of the dialogues hit me stark in my face –

Life mein kabhi kuchh galat kiya?

And I realised – no, maine kabhi life mein kuchh galat nahi kiya tha…

I keep telling Mom – loosen up, let go, ease out, relax, it’s alright if you don’t do one out of a hundred things, it’s ok if you don’t do the laundry today, it’s ok if you don’t cook today, it’s alright if you sleep till late today, it’s fine if the milk spills over before you could take it off the burner… but I wish I had realised the same a few years ago… that it was ok for me to not be punctual all the time, that it was ok for me to bunk my tuitions and go for a movie someday…

We often let virtues get bigger than people…

We give up on family, friends, and relationships even for our careers, for our jobs, for a better life, for money…

But this is not just about that…

This is about not letting virtues define your existence – you did not come in this world to be perfect.

Spend time with your loved ones…

Laugh from the bottom of your heart…

Love like you’ve never been hurt…

Dance like no one’s watching…

And live each day like it’s the last day of your life – you wouldn’t want to be sitting in front of a computer and working, or mugging up chemistry formulas, or making balance sheets if it was the last day of your life, right?

And this is not because ‘kya pata kal ho na ho’… but because it is worth it, creating all those memories… they will run for your rescue in ways least expected, and you shall be grateful to them at some point of time in life…

MOMENT OF CLARITY

I see so many people around me everyday, always waiting for something – waiting for the lecture to get over, waiting for the person in front of you in the que to finish his transaction, waiting for the traffic-light to turn green, waiting for your turn at the hair-dresser, waiting for the answer that’s gonna change your life, waiting for someone to come around, waiting for the hour to pass… its like our happiness is just out there, in sight. You can see it clearly, in all detail. But you are waiting to reach it; or for it to reach out to you.

Sounds familiar?

So what makes us wait for something in sight but out of reach?

What makes us stop from going after and getting what we want?

I am waiting for my life to change – yeah, pretty big huh? I am waiting to complete my post graduation so that I can pursue something I have been wanting to do all my life – or all along my life so far. But more importantly, I am waiting for that one moment that I am hoping will come in my life soon, when I will know who and what I want to be, what I want to make with my life and my time and my talent and brains – just like I always knew I wanted to study biology in college.

Sometimes you just know things are going to happen.

This relationship’s not going to work.

You’re going to be disappointed by the one person you held so highly.

You are going to get that one chance you were looking for to prove your worth.

You are going to win that competition you have been waiting to participate in.

This is the last time that you are going to see your grandfather.

This is a person who is going to come to mean a lot to you.

It’s like sometimes you can feel something taking control of situations, people around you and turning things about. You feel a presence. You feel it unmistakably, and stronger than you’ve felt anything in your life before.

You look at a house and know it’s the one for you, even if it is ridiculously expensive, or far away from your work place maybe.

You go to buy a puppy, and you just know which one you are going to pick.

We go around blindly through each day, get up, get dressed, have breakfast, work, come home in the evening, have dinner, have a beer maybe, watch TV, maybe call a friend and greet them for their birthday, go to bed, read something for a while, sleep. And the cycle repeats. We have opinions about people around us, about a fashion trend, about a movie star, about a song, about political issues, about the stock market – what is your opinion about yourself? How much do we know ourselves?

We are all living each day of life as it comes; but in reality I think we are all at some level waiting for that one moment that’s going to change that one thing about you or your life that you really badly want to change; or for that one moment when you will know what it is you can do to bring about that change. We all live for that one moment of clarity. It may come to us while we are working in our garden, or when the wind hits your face next time you step out of your house, or when you are playing with your niece. It may come to us quite unexpectedly, or after a great deal of waiting – one, maybe even two years, or much longer even. But there is that moment of clarity that comes in everyone’s life. It is unmistakable, inescapable if it is meant to change you. But more than that, it is something that you cannot miss if you don’t want to let it pass by unnoticed.

I am on the lookout of mine – and I am all armed and as ready as I can be! And I hope you will find yours too.

FOOTPRINTS

Just how many things do we do in life for ourselves purely?

There always has to be that response to our stimulus.

An admirer of a new dress or new hair-cut.

A supporter to your decisions.

We are always looking for something that mirrors us to ourselves all our lives. We want that reflection to be in the form of someone else; and yet we want it to be exactly that – a reflection.

Someone who believes in what you believe in.

Someone who also likes tuna fish, just like you do.

Someone who also loves to dance, just like you do.

Why is it that we relate to something distinct from us only if we have been through a phase, a situation or an experience like that ourselves?

A favourite song.

A favourite movie.

Why is it that we have most experiences in common with our best friend?

We are always looking for that one person who will be a witness to our life on this planet.

Your friend may hate you thinking you always want to control their lives – but they still always consult you before taking any decision.

You know you are a good photographer – and yet it is important to you that people see and appreciate your work and tell you ‘you’re good’ at least once in a while.

I write for myself – but I am nonetheless always waiting for feedback and comments.

Can you for once in your life sing without an audience?

Can you for once cook a great meal just because YOU feel like having great food?

Can you for once read a good book and not share about it with another book-reading friend of yours?

Can you for once go off on a journey to enjoy your own company? Or even go to a movie all alone for that matter?

Can you? And more importantly – would you?

Why is it that we always turn around and look upon our footprints to see if someone is following them?

EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE

If there is any stalker out there on Facebook, or if any of my friends has been keen enough to observe, s/he would notice the number of people in my network has suddenly gone up. And quite drastically up too.

I was myself quite surprised to learn I now have over a hundred and seventy people in my network. But what was more surprising was many of them were from school.

It is no secret even from my schoolmates I suppose, that for a very long time I had this huge massive grudge against just about every soul from school. People who had made fun of me, people who had betrayed me, who had back-stabbed me, and people who I just plain simple didn’t like. Except for the last category, almost all others were at one point of time my close friends in school. And then things turned sour, and I stopped talking to these people and mixing up with them.

At the time it felt very nice. It felt like I was doing the right thing by not being with people who were intentionally mean, sometimes even arrogant, maybe even selfish. It felt good walking in the opposite direction as the crowd, or rather choosing to do so. It felt amazing to be the rebel.

I don’t remember who it was from my school that I first added on Facebook. But about a few weeks ago I added this girl who was always very nice to me, and who I used to – and still do – genuinely like. The entire school was friends with her, and still is, from what I gather from her Facebook album. Her wrists used to be full on Friendship’s Day every year, and almost everybody in school used to have a band from her tied on their wrists.

I added this girl, and we got talking. And she filled me in on everyone from our batch – who was doing what, where, who was flying off to where, who was switching career lines, and who still asked about me to her, even though only in passing, once in a blue moon. It felt nice to know how much kids from our batch had diversified. She sounded happy to have gotten back in touch with me. And I was happy too.

On a particularly uneventful lazy evening, I was browsing through her photographs – looking at all those familiar faces – and almost immediately all the familiar feelings arose all over again.

Hurt.

Anger.

Bitterness.

Anguish.

I felt raw.

And soon the wave of those feelings got washed over by this immense feeling of tire.

I felt weary. Exhausted.

I recollected how many people it was that I had told this tale to – of being teased in school, of having no or very few friends in school.

And a peculiar realisation hit me out of the blue – the realisation of how long I had carried this baggage with me, and how much it had kept me from enjoying my life.

It’s over six years that I have passed out of school; and six years is a long long time.

For six years I have been constantly hating these people; constantly thinking about how right I was and am and how wrong they were. I have been holding a grudge for so long in my life, and the ones I have the grudge against are not even aware of the fact. They have had their fun, they have had their time treating me the way they wanted, and they have moved on. And even after all these years I am still holding onto things that my peers did at an age when we were all probably not even aware of what is good, what is bad, and what does getting hurt by people mean.

Yes they teased me. But don’t kids do that all the time?

Yes they isolated me and didn’t really let me mix up and play with them. But isn’t that all a part of being kids in a school, a part of growing up?

They have done what they had to, and they have moved on in life.

But I am still there… I am still on that farm-house where everybody was teasing me and I was alone, I am still on that swing where I was crying while everybody else was laughing, I am still there on the first bench at school, having my tiffin alone, I am still at the dining table at someone’s house ignoring the grumbling in my stomach and pretending I am full when I am not just so that my friends don’t tease me, I am still on the sofa in my house watching Dil Chahta Hai and wondering what everybody is doing at the party and if my Mother has been able to lie properly about me not being well. A part of me is still back there, in a place and time and situation that existed ten years ago, and I am keeping memories of that moment fresh within me.

All this pain, this hurt – who for? What for?

Sometimes you need to forgive people not because they deserve a second chance, but more because YOU deserve a second chance; because you deserve to be happy and not be haunted by your past; because you have to grow and move on in life. And that is what I have decided to do.

I still cannot and never will be able to identify with that kind of fun that kids have in that particular age – where you all gang up and corner the not so bright or not so beautiful girl, or the nerdy guy, or the one who is afraid of spiders, or even the one who is very quiet and then tease him/her to your heart’s content and harass the poor child. I seriously cannot understand what kind of pleasure one can derive out of such kind of mockery.

I look back at those times in my life and I look at how I have emerged out of it. And I see what I failed to all these years – so much of who I am now, what I believe in, what I condemn, and who I hang out with has its roots back in what I went through in my childhood and adolescent years. It’s like, it has become difficult for me to imagine what kind of a person would I be now had I not developed or inculcated certain things in me post that trauma; for yes, at that age, it was a trauma in my life. And it really saddens me to see how certain things I inculcated in me back then are affecting my relationships with people now – how I find it so difficult to forgive people; how I always am sorting people’s acts as ‘good’ and ‘bad’, constantly that sorter is turned on and fully active; how because of this some of my friends are afraid to confide in me when they are in doubt; how I find it absolutely impossible to change myself even for the people I really love, people who I would really want to change for.

Yes they were not nice to me, but that doesn’t mean I must carry that baggage with me all through my life, or point at it whenever people don’t like things about me – this is what happened to me, so I am what I am now. We must from time to time try and learn to dispense unnecessary thoughts and memories – and by unnecessary I mean those that are going to do nothing but take away from your peace of mind; for that is what is most important at the end of the day. Just because you forgive someone for having wronged you doesn’t mean that you are agreeing with what the person did; it only means that you are exercising your power to choose just what you are going to let stay with you, and what you are going to let shape you and the person you are. Forgiving does not mean to accept the wrong people did – it only means to choose to overlook it, because you know it is not important, because after all they are only people too, because you know it is never a good idea to live in denial, self-pity or with a grudge, because you need to grow as a person, and because you know you deserve to be happy.

TILL KINGDOM COMES

It is only recently that I have come to fully realise how important it is to do in life just and only that that you truly wish to do; forget the money, forget the job security, forget what is right, what is more logical, forget what everybody is doing, and what your parents wish you do or even what you “think” is right for you. Your inner gut feeling, your instinct will never fail you, and it is it that you must follow, all through your life. If it fails you – think again. try and remember – it must not have been your very first instinct.

I grew up listening to two kinds of people in my home. Mom always tried to bring me up in a balance – yes it is good to do what you want to, but you must also sometimes find a way to do that which is necessary, even if it is not something you particularly enjoy. Dad on the other hand preached about doing what the heart desires. And all my childhood I grew up believing in both the views. It is only now that I realise how far apart the two things are – and which one is it that’s going to be my life-mantra.

Few are the people who get to make a living out of what they most love to do. There are countless things that go into the decision – and enough has already been said about it by everyone around me and around you too, I’m guessing. But what I really want to say is – if you have a choice, make a right one. Make one that’s right for you, not one that’s been “held” right by generations and societies. Society is never there to pull you out of your abyss when you get depressed or suicidal. It is not a wrong thing either I guess. The world was here before me – it doesn’t owe me anything. It has always given me, from my first waking moment. But what’s to be remembered is – just as it doesn’t owe you anything, nothing that came after you in the world is its to take away from you; at least nothing that you are a part in the making or creation of. And you mustn’t let the world take it away from you.

I grew up hearing Dad say things like – be yourself, march to the beat of your own drummer. And I used to smile, amused at his remark. At the time I used to think – how strange is that! Cos I thought how could I be anyone else but me? But now I know just what he meant.

Don’t feel like going to work today? Don’t go. What do you say when the Boss asks? Exactly that – I didn’t feel like coming; maybe fabricate your reply with “and I didn’t want to do a dishonest job”! But there is absolutely nothing wrong in wanting to, or not wanting to do a certain thing once in a while, even if it is something you love to do!

Nothing is more important than your peace of mind, your quiet, your health and your happiness.

And you must not be required to wait till kingdom comes for it.

THE POWER OF THE MIND

An idea once planted in the mind only knows to grow. I have said this in one of my earlier posts, and I am saying it again. Why? Cos that is exactly what has happened with this idea too.

A couple of movies seen in quick succession of each other is enough to make me go into the hyperactive overthinking mode. And that is exactly what has happened over the past couple of weeks.

I saw Inception. Then I saw Inception again. And then I saw Shutter Island. And I thought to myself – Man! I am going to write one good article on what these movies talk about. And I thought I will take some time, go on and do a little bit of homework and then come up with a fantastic article, like what my friend did a few days back. (Yeah Neha, I am talking of you.)

But hell. An idea once planted in the mind only knows to grow. So here I am; sitting in Barista, flaunting my new laptop, and typing away to glory, oblivious to the track playing in the background and the people staring at me and probably wondering why my eyes look so puffy, and why is my hair so messy. To complete the image is a half-eaten black forest pastry next to my laptop on the table. Now if only this headache will at least subside a little and let me think so I can pen down just what I am thinking…

*squeezes her temples hard*

Another reason for wanting to do my homework and then write this article – that is of course before the idea of writing this article grew too big to be ignored – is the fact that, this is a rather vast topic that I wish to write upon. And also the reason that more has already been written, by far more learned men than me on this topic, than can be understood in a lifetime. Men have wasted entire births, trying to grasp a fraction of what the human mind is, how it functions and what it is capable of; for there is infinitely more that it IS capable of doing, rather than NOT.

Is it really that hard to let go of an idea you possess? Or rather an idea that has possessed you?

While you are reading this that I have typed, you are thinking of something too, I guess. Every one of us is at almost every waking moment doing at least some amount of parallel thinking. As you are reading these words I have typed out, you are probably going back on a few incidents of your life, something you saw or read or experienced or felt. And if you aren’t, then me mentioning it must have triggered it. Isn’t it?

I will tell you what I am going through.

I am rethinking of an idea that has very deeply planted itself in my head. What it is, I am not going to tell you. At least I don’t plan to at this moment, maybe by the time I am done writing this article I will have let it slip anyway. But that idea is always in my head – not always conspicuous, but persistent. It is the background of my head, the thought on which other thoughts get piled over as the day proceeds, and the thought that remains when I go to bed at the end of the day; like a stage that may host many plays with different settings, but the basic skeleton remains after the play is over. Or like this headache I have right now that is refusing to go away, though it is not affecting my thought process.

Just think – how many times is a thought process ever involved in our beliefs? We hear something, and even before we are conscious of being in the process of making a decision whether to believe or not believe what we have just heard, we have already arrived at the answer. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Or ‘Yes of course! I believe in it/him/her.’ And then all our lives we just keep looking for things, people, places, friends, that reinforce our idea. ‘See, she believes in it too.’ ‘Ya he said the same.’ ‘Oh no, she is just so different, she doesn’t agree. I don’t like her.’

I saw Inception, and I couldn’t sleep after I got back home. An idea had been planted in my head. And I just kept going at it again and again and again.

Is it really possible to incept someone with a thought?

Is any thought ever entirely new to us?

People create worlds and realities that do not exist, based on their thoughts. A woman lives in a mental institution and thinks that all the doctors, the orderlies, other patients in the institution are all just milkmen, postmen, gardner… just imagine how deeply that idea has gripped her mind – so much so that she has created a world based on it, and that is the only truth in her life. Who are you to convince her otherwise?

Sometimes I say things like – ‘I just know it.’ And I have heard other people around me say similar stuff too. How do I know? How do they know? How do you just KNOW something? And is it really possible to just KNOW, without reason or logic?

We are only beginning to speculate certain things, ideas that our forefathers were not only sure of, but have written books about. The mind travelling outside the body; the secret that the herbs of the Himalayas hold; even biology, human anatomy; stars, planets, galaxies; we are only rediscovering knowledge. Stuff like life and death, rebirth.

I think our ancestors were more open and receptive to ideas. They gave every crazy thought or idea or imagination a chance – this could or could not be true. And I think they have gone far beyond what we, with our technology and with Science, can ever manage to even comprehend. They were the Originals; the only people to have ever been truly Incepted with anything at all – we are only trying to base everything on what we know.

They say we use only a fraction of the brain’s true potential or capacity when we are awake. And the rest, remains to be discovered. The subconscious, dreams, hallucinations, paranoia, extra-sensory perceptions, visions – there is so much more literature about the mind when we are not aware it is working than the waking mind. Even if they maybe only speculations – isn’t it fascinating that there are more of these than of things we are sure of? It’s like the selfish DNA – more of junk heterochromatin than can be understood to exist as compared to functional DNA. Is it all really junk? How do we classify useful and junk? The take of Indian philosophy on it is – it is DNA that we don’t put to use. We always hear of impossible feats that our forefathers and the generations of human beings before them could perform – tales that we call Legends. What happened to these abilities that our ancestors had? How did we lose them? Wouldn’t it be nice if we could travel outside our bodies in today’s world? Imagine – no air fare to visit our over-seas relatives! Did we get so absorbed in things we were inventing that we ignored ourselves and how our bodies worked? Got so absorbed in the silly toys we were making that we just forgot all about what else we are capable of achieving.

I close my eyes and try to look at humans today from an unknown creature’s point of view – an alien if you may – and I wonder, what would we be perceived as? A life form that is constantly analysing its surroundings, its environment and all that is around it; that which it can see, hear, smell, taste or touch. So knowledgable. Such understanding of physics, chemistry, of the world even. And what does this life form know about itself? Nothing. Or nothing MUCH.

We are so caught up by science and technology and machines, so wrapped up in basing our world only on the five senses that we are aware of, that we just never let ourselves to be truly incepted. When I think more deeply about this – I think that we would all probably go mad if we gave every crazy concept to ever possess our mind the chance of being true or not being true. But would it be so bad if ALL of us became mad? Not the connotation of mad that we usually associate with the word.

It is like the story of the city where one fine day everybody who drinks the water of a particular well goes mad. They decide to overthrow the King. A rather worried King then seeks advice of the Queen, who comes up with an amazing solution – ‘Let us drink from the well as well. Then we shall be as mad as they are, and all would be good again.’

That is what has happened with us I think – we have all been drinking from the well. And anybody who doesn’t is not normal – is abnormal. But who are truly abnormal, those who drink from the well or those who refuse to? In fact if we take a look at the word ‘abnormal’ it can be split up as ‘ab’ + ‘normal’ = above normal. Isn’t that a fantastic little joke that those we call abnormal are only above normal, above us?

I guess I have made you think about too many things already. And even if I haven’t, I’m running out of time; also feeling like I am going to catch a cold. I must get out of Barista and back home. But I have not said everything I want to. I am still going to do my homework and come with another one.

Hopefully I will be incepted by something while I am doing my research; and probably you have been too, while reading this article.

Amen.

TO EACH HIS OWN

They say adhyatma, philosophy, spirituality is not everybody’s cup of tea, and that such knowledge comes to you only when you are ready for it, no matter how sincere your efforts, or how long your search.

I always find it amusing – how all these things work. All of us are in fact exposed to spiritual teachings ever since we are kids, but we are somehow not aware of them. Do good and forget. Tit for tat. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Karma kar, phal ki asha na kar. Only that we never look at them like that.

But what really amuses me is the way destiny works at large scale – at the level of masses and people of a country, or inhabitants of a city or state, or staff of companies. What is amusing to me is how destiny works during natural disasters, during plane-crashes. We are talking here of hundreds and thousands of people who all happened to be at a particular place and at a particular time. What is it that brought exactly these and no other people there?

Someone may have chosen to fill in for someone at office when the Twin Towers were blasted.

Someone may have dropped out of a family trip that ended up on the beach right when the tsunami hit the beach.

Someone may have missed a flight that went on to end up in a plane-crash.

Just how does destiny work in such situations?

Were all the people who suffered anything during such incidents due with their share of this life?

Or is it exactly that that they were destined for – to have witnessed an accident like that?

We all talk about karma and bhog, and destiny, and how we are constantly bound in the birth and death and rebirth cycle. But things like narrowly escaping a car-accident, or joining a company just weeks before it is going to be dissolved or taken over by some other, or even good things, like an exam getting cancelled right when you thought you were unprepared for it – maybe not the last one, but all the others are life-changing experiences. It takes only a moment to lose your faith, your confidence, all the money you ever earned in your life, or even all the respect – and also only a moment to get it all back sometimes. Moments can make and break people, relationships, and history.

And to think of it, all this is a big chain reaction, a catapult, a cumulative effect. Everything connected to every other thing, all fine-tuned and never without a reason.



I have now turned to writing again, after a long gap, and when I look back at how my past year has been, it is amazing to know how every minute thing has played its role in bringing me to the point in life where I am right now – where I am thinking of taking up my writing more seriously and doing something about it. I was trying to get into some universities abroad for my Masters, but it didn’t work out for the silliest of reasons, then I didn’t get through at my second and third and fourth options, and finally had to settle for my last option. Then an entire year full of misunderstandings and miscommunications, fights, quarrels, discussions, consoling and counselling (more the latter than the former), then the ultra-depression mode, all that negativity around me… so many relations broken, so many friends lost, being failed and betrayed by so many people… and then emerging out of all this; like in the tail of the ugly duckling… emerging scratched and bruised, yes, but with better understanding of myself and of the people around me, of how the world is… then a chance tarot card session with my sister-in-law, a suggestion slipped in by her casually, (write about all this, let it come out of your system, in some form; why writing, cos you are good at it) and here I am, blogging all over again, writing all over again, happy all over again, but consciously aware of how deep the rabbit hole can go. One of my friends who is into palmistry and can also read faces said to me the other day – ‘You are soon going to change what you are doing in life now, and what you then become is going to be the best thing for you. It will change your life, and bring you name and fame.’ I don’t know about the latter, but yes, I have been thinking again about what it is that I want to do in life.

I used to worry myself sick as to why I couldn’t get into those universities abroad, and how come I could have made stupid silly mistakes and what went wrong. It is like, I could feel something was slipping out of my hands; like something had gone horribly wrong, just that I didn’t know what and why. And now when I look back at everything, I am glad I am not outside my country right now, stuck with lab-work in some university, for yes, that is how I feel about it now – I feel like it is a task, a job. I don’t enjoy it anymore… at least not as much as I used to before. And who knows, if this is what I am destined to be – a writer rather than a research person – then it makes perfect sense how everything went wrong and made me take up my last option, how all those people turned, how situations became the way they did. For each of these things has played a role no matter how small or how big, in making me think again.

It is one thing to have the capability or capacity to do something, and another to have the urge to do it. I can become an excellent lawyer. My father says I have all the makings of one – I have ‘all it takes’, in his words. That however, does NOT mean I take up law!

Yes I am someone who is seven out of ten times sure of what she wants. But that also means that when I want to change, I want to change. And people should accept that change just as they accept my decisions. Period.

But wait, I am drifting away from the topic!

Point is – everything happens for a reason. You get exactly that in life which you are destined for, and most of the times, it is what you deserve. In fact, it is almost always what you deserve, only we are not able to make out two plus two is four always. We have our grip so tight on the one ‘two’ in our hand that we fail to see the other ‘two’, which may well be lying right under your nose! We are delivered with exactly that what is meant for us – to each his own. Our share of this life is fixed, and who serves it to us, who become the instrument to deliver us, is fixed too. If I am to be betrayed by my most trustworthy friend, then that is what will happen. Only that will probably put me through a phase that will really change me into something that I ought to be. Just an acquaintance betraying me is not going to have the same effect, and so it won’t happen.

Why we act in a certain way in certain situations may not always be in our grasp. But nothing is without reason. Even co-incidence is nothing but merely the co-occurrence of two incidents…! It is rather fascinating to even try and understand how things take their natural course – for that is exactly what they do… take their natural course! So then what’s in our hands? To do good and forget. Maybe good things don’t always happen to good people – again a matter of destiny – but good always does beget good, and nothing bad will happen to you for a good deed you do.

COBWEBS IN THE CLOSET

It is really amusing how we just can’t get rid of certain things in life no matter how dirty, old or useless they maybe. An old t-shirt, a favourite pair of jeans, an old stamp, your first watch, the first diary, the first thing you bought out of your first salary…

I happened to come across a carry bag in one corner of my drawer today morning while I was looking for something to keep my project papers in. I came across the bag – with a name on it that was at one point very special to me. I looked at the bag that had once carried a beautiful set of pearls for me in a beautiful brown coloured case with a note in it, and with lots of love. I looked again at the name on the bag that was at one point very special to me; and I looked at it with no emotion, no feeling or bonding or attachment.

That is what love does to you sometimes. It exhausts you, depletes you completely of any kind or form of love once it leaves you. And that is what has happened to me.

I still have the pearl set with me. It is far too beautiful for me to give it away to anyone. And it is the only gift that I have ever got that was really a surprise for me. I mean, I knew a gift was coming my way, but I didn’t know it would be what it was. I never knew or thought he was capable of picking up something like that. But he did, and it meant a lot to me. At least back then it did. And I cannot give it away.

But the pearl set remains in its brown case – untouched, unworn and out of sight. I never had the occasion to wear it, though I loved it very much. It is strange, considering the fact that I have had it for more than a year now. One year, so many festivals, so many family functions and get-togethers, and still not one chance good enough for me to want to wear it.

But the pearl set remains. I cannot somehow bear to look at it; for fear of releasing the emotions I have so painfully locked away in some trunk and thrown at the bottom of the sea in my mind – irretrievable. I am just not able to look at the set anymore; at least not without feeling a pang in my chest that refuses to go away for a long long time.

But I have somehow still kept the bag the pearl set came in – with the name on it that was at one point very special to me. I haven’t gotten rid of the bag, though I know I can. Of course I haven’t intentionally kept the bag with me either. But it just has remained with me for a while now. And I don’t really know if I have grown attached to it or what, but throwing it away doesn’t feel right anymore somehow.

And that is how the human mind is – an idea, a feeling, an emotion once planted in the mind only knows to grow. Happiness becomes mirth, boredom becomes frustration, laziness becomes inertia, and sadness becomes melancholy. Although what it is with the bag that makes it impossible for me to throw it out I still don’t know. The name, the person who the bag came from, what he did to me and where I have landed because of him also do not seem to be reasons enough for me to throw it out. I am conscious I have not intentionally kept the bag, as I have the pearl set on the other hand, and the note that came with it, and the coffee bill with a remark in his hand at the back of it, and a picture of ours that my friend had clicked for me.

And yet the bag remains, in one corner of my drawer, with a name on it that was at one point very special to me.

KIN

Pune, 29th July 2010.

It was a horrific site on Senapati Bapat Road as I came back from my project place today – an entire seven storeyed building on fire, just like in the movies. The whole business complex had become a furnace – fire lashing out from all different openings that the building had. The terrace and the last floor of the building were completely wrapped up in a thick black blanket of smoke.

Me and my friend had already seen the smoke from about two kilometres away, and we had tried to find out what it could have been. I dropped my friend off at the bus stop.

‘Tell me what it is if you find out,’ she said, before I drove away. And within a couple of minutes I was staring at the business complex inferno.

All sense was lost to me for a moment. I could hear no sound, see no traffic, and sense nothing as I stared at the flames coming out of the building, threatening to wrap around everything that came in contact with them. I just kept staring at the site, totally numb and speechless. It was only when my hand went to my face to wipe out what I thought were rain drops did I realise I was crying.

I tried to make myself stop. But the tears just kept coming. I drove along the footpath at almost nil speed, staring at the fire. I just couldn’t take my eyes off it. When I reached opposite the building, a whistle blew right in my ears, and my sense returned. There was a huge crowd that had gathered on the streets and was staring at the building. A few traffic policemen were trying to control the traffic and divert it onto appropriate roads, blowing on their whistles time and again. I stopped to the side of the road and parked my bike. My eyes were as if glued to the scene of peril.

‘Tumcha kuni ahe ka aat?’ (Is anyone you know inside that building?) a boy standing next to me asked me. I nodded ‘no’, still looking at the building and the fire brigades parked nearby.

‘Mag ka radtaye tumhi?’ (Then why are you crying?) the girl with the boy asked. That remark somehow made me tear my eyes away from the building and look at the couple.

‘Mhanje?’ (What do you mean?) I asked. And the boy just shrugged. The girl looked at him, and then they both looked at me. I turned my eyes back at the building. They took a couple of pictures and then drove off.

I looked at the building and everything happening around for a few more moments. Something gave my feet momentum and I walked back to my bike. The policemen brandished their lathis at people, trying to get them to move away from the scene. I sat on my bike and drove away from there.

I was still quite in a dazed state as I drove on towards my home. The site of the building on fire, of people standing around and looking, of smoke coming out of the building, the fire brigades parked nearby kept coming back in my head again and again. My ears had somehow gone mute again. All I could see were scenes, like in a silent movie. And then suddenly I heard the girl’s voice ringing in my head –

‘Mag ka radtaye tumhi?’

And then like a record that gets stuck in a gramophone, those words were the only ones ringing in my mind for a while, until they were like a battle cry.

And they made me angry. And frustrated.

‘Mag ka radtaye tumhi?’

I honestly do not know why I started crying when I looked at the building. No one I know, none of my friends or relatives was working in that building. I didn’t even know the different offices that the building housed. And yet the site of that building on fire, on a street I travel by everyday alarmed me, scared me, and made me cry.

Is it so that we must cry only when someone we know is hurt or faces a mishap?

Why have we become so immune to each other’s pain?

I honestly, genuinely felt worried sick for the people in that building. I thought of their families, their relatives, waiting for them to return home from their work. Maybe some had dinner plans; maybe it was someone’s birthday; first day of work for someone; a day of promotion even. Maybe someone had fought with her boyfriend before coming to office that day – would the boyfriend be able to forgive himself for having fought with her? Maybe someone had decided to not go out for lunch with friends because there was extra work that day – would they all be able to see their friend again?

The real cause of the fire is not known yet, it will probably come in the papers tomorrow. But I am guessing that with the rains and all, it must have been a short circuit that must have caused the fire. But short circuits can happen anywhere, right? What if there was one to happen in my college tomorrow? Or one at Dad’s office? Or maybe even in our own home?

And in a worse come scenario – what if I had people like the couple I spoke to around me when my family was in trouble?

The thought sincerely scared me.

Why is it that we have become so immune to the feelings of people around us? What has made us so stone hearted as to not feel anything when we see a whole building on fire, just because no one we know is burning inside? It is a shame if our material things and all the progress we are making is also making us so insusceptible at the same time. I don’t mean to say that we should cry at the slightest of bad news and should go and pay our respect to every family to ever have faced death. But if people have come to a state where they look at a scene like the one I saw today and feel nothing, it is something to worry about indeed.

This brings up a lot of issues to the forefront. On reaching home I learned that all people from the building were rescued and were safe, with no major injuries – it was running on one of the news channels. And still that unsettling feeling had not dissipated from within me. How is it then that terrorists are able to plan the killing of thousands and lakhs of people? We come close to driving over a small kitten or puppy on the road and we screech to a hault. That is our first instinct – to not harm the kitten or puppy. It gets our heartbeats racing and our pulse shooting. Then how is it that people are able to kill someone? What might be the reason to make them the way they are?

I understand that we cannot really put the aam janta and killers, murderers and terrorists in the same balance pan, but looking at all of them as human beings, don’t you agree that as a race, humans are becoming more and more self-absorbed? As long as I am happy, my people are ok, and no one I know is in trouble, I couldn’t care less if a train blew up in Mumbai, or if a Tsunami left scores of people homeless, or if a building in my city caught fire. How did we get to this point?

This is not an issue that you play the “blame-game” with. This is more something to think and reflect on. We see an accident, and all we do is look upon the people with our arms crossed across our chests. We look at the mother trying to calm her child and find her keys and other belongings while the minor who dashed into her speeds away. We neither offer the poor girl water or first-aid, nor do we note down the number of the vehicle the minor kid was driving. We are no help, just a bunch of on-lookers. Imagine a case of reverse – how much would we curse the spectators just standing around doing nothing? I know people who have become paralysed for the rest of their lives, lost an arm or leg, or even their eye-sight or speech because of not getting help in time. Why do we run away from an accident when it has been our fault? Why are we so scared of the police? Why aren’t we responsible enough to take blame of some wrong we have done, and at least try and make amends?

It is all about me, and my pain, and my suffering, and my family, and my friends, and my happiness, and my comfort, and my benefit – me, my I. I want this. I want that. I was cheated. I was hurt. I am disappointed. People have failed me. When will we come out of the ‘I’ and look at the ‘we’? Ask yourself this – when was the last time you helped someone out, genuinely and only because you wanted to help him/her out? When was the last time you did something for someone without thinking ‘Now I can ask him/her for a favour sometime’?

I do not know what it is that is taking our attention so perfectly away from each other and the people around us, so much so that no one matters to us much anymore. I do not know what is making the human race the way it is. But if we all do our part of thinking, I am sure we can come up with ways to change this – for this is a change definitely required.

Everyone, each and every single person on this planet, is capable of doing good karma – from convicts to the innocent. And it doesn’t matter whether you believe in luck, fate, destiny and stuff like that or you don’t; good always begets good, what goes around comes around, and good things do happen to good people.

WAVE OF UTTER GIBBERISH

I hate Chetan Bhagat.

I never thought I would ever get this kind of a feeling. But I did, within less than a moment, today, when I was at Crossword.

Now, lemme take a moment here to dwell a little bit into my relationship with the author.

I was in 11th standard, when I read my first Chetan Bhagat book. Or rather when he wrote and published his first book. And I instantly fell in love with it. I gifted the book to many of my friends on their birthdays, and the popularity of the book spread like wild fire. Suddenly everyone was reading Five Point Someone, communities sprung up on Orkut, and people started having competitions of who had read Five Point Someone the most number of times.

Then came One Night @ The Call Centre.

And then 3 Mistakes Of My Life.

And somehow I started liking him lesser and lesser.

Somehow I still felt a little… how do I put this, ummm… I felt a little ‘committed’ to him. Like I had to ‘like’ him, in spite of him not writing stuff good enough anymore, just because I had immensely liked his first book. Yeah, I am that kind of a person. I feel like I am cheating and being unfaithful to admit that someone I like, or used to like is not so great anymore. But yeah, that is more or less how I felt. I used to try and find something good, something positive about his books. And I failed and failed.

And then came the final blow: 2 States.

I read that book and swore to never read another Chetan Bhagat book ever in my life. But I still didn’t hate him. He had, through his book, given me some precious moments, some unforgettable, funny, happy moments. And for that I was happy.

But I totally lost it at Crossword today.

I was an hour early for a show at E-Square. And with another book lover by my side, I stepped into Crossword to kill time till the show. I turned straight to the fiction section and browsed through the different titles. I added a couple to my list of must-buys – a list that is never empty. At one time there were about 34 books in the list, and the least number of books to be in that list has been 5. I turned to the book lover with me – Mom – and observed her as she leafed through some of the Marathi titles. And then I turned to the rack that is near the billing counter at any Crossword store – I am not sure if it is one of New Arrivals, or of Recent Best Sellers. But I turned towards it. And I wished I hadn’t.

Out of about 42 books arranged six in a row in total seven rows, roughly 30 books were of the kind that I call ‘the Chetan Bhagat genre’ – one average student, smitten by one ravishing (or maybe not so ravishing, if the author is trying to be different) girl, stuck in a college he doesn’t like, with professors who hate him, and then there is the lowest low, and then something happens and everything is eventually alright. Invariably there is a hostel involved, so it has to be an IIM or IIT where the story is based. Then there are the parents with high expectations, the topper who is waved in the face as an example at every possible chance, and our rebel who always scores less and has friends who make him feel less guilty – more often than not by throwing a booze party.

Just looking at the shelves made me sick.

Oops I Fell In Love.

The Lost Scarps Of Love.

Heartbeats And Dreams.

Crazy Bloody Thing Love.

The Equation Of My Love.

The Kiss In The Rain.

She Broke Up I Didn’t.

Everything You Desire.

Jab Se You Have Loved Me.

The Journey To Nowhere.

(The last one had a tag line even, which went – ‘unfortunately a true love story of a medical’.)

I almost puked.

Lemme get a few things straight though, before I move on.

I have been in love and out of it. And yeah, it makes you happy to be in love and be loved, and yes it hurts like hell to come out of it. I have no intention of ridiculing young love, or the problems youth faces today, or the stress that the education system puts on them – no. I know what it feels like when you and your problems are not taken seriously. It sucks. Big time. There is no better phrase I could use.

But that does not mean that if one person gets up and writes a book about all this everyone should follow and jump into the well as well…! Not everyone can do it! In fact even the guy who started it all can’t do it that well anymore, I think.

I really do not like what is becoming of the Indian Fiction Writing scenario – all these wanna-be Chetan Bhagats sprouting out of nowhere like mushrooms in the rain and coming up with utter rubbish that is not even remotely enjoyable. Find your own thread people! Choose your own subjects, make your own cocktail! Explore other things in life! It is not that the youth wants to read about only this. For the mere lack of better stuff to read, we sometimes have to pick up books we wouldn’t even give a second thought too. These people write one book, become a one-time wonder (in fact I am not even sure if I should call them a ‘wonder’ at all) and then fade away like they never existed. I mean seriously, do we even call them writers? Ruskin Bond and many other authors wrote simple stuff too, about everyday people and places and situations. But they were never boring! And not in the least stereotypical! And they did NOT all write the same kind of stuff over and over again.

There are so many issues out there that need the attention of the common people. And by this I do not mean grave things like child labour or sexual harassment or drug addiction or students suicide or girl infanticide. Even simple, less burdening stuff, like lack of interest in theatre among the youth, changing cultural tendencies, fashion trends that make no sense really but are spreading like wild fire, the types and kinds of movies that are made these days, where is the music industry headed to, what is becoming to good journalism, why has the media become the way it has, why do more and more people break traffic rules these days, how you can make a difference in keeping our city greener.

I think writers have a responsibility towards society. But if you look at it more as an opportunity, it won’t burden you. Every writer has the opportunity to affect a change, to create a revolution, to start a movement, to set a trend. Every writer has the potential and the tool in his hand to bring about inception of new ideas. Every writer has the voice that a thousand people will hear when they read his books – and in a world that is soon becoming overcrowded with everybody begging to be heard, and where mobile networks are always busy, that is quite something.

I call myself a free-thinker. I write stuff and put it up on my blog, and facebook. Yes at some point of time in life I want to be a published author, and I am trying to work little by little on my novel that I wrote a couple of years ago. I know how hard it is to get published and not be forgotten by your readers. But when I look at these mushrooms springing up in, I lose all hope and think I am a fool to spend so much time on improvising what I created a few years back. If writers – if at all one is to call them that – like these can get published, I don’t know why I am still posting stuff on my blog.

Please please realise the power you have people. You have a gift – of having your way around with words – that many people out there would give anything for; people with better ideas maybe, but no platform to express them to the aam janta. You have it. Use it wisely.

No I am not against pleasure reading/writing. But it doesn’t mean everyone writes an IITian’s story, or a love story, please! Whatever has happened to other genres? Thriller? Action? Sci-fi? Humour?

I see a wave of change coming in the Hindi Cinema. It is not so big, but it is soon catching up and more and more people are liking it. I hope and wish to see that change come in Indian Literature as well. I will really almost tear it apart if I see another title belonging to ‘the Chetan Bhagat genre’ next time I am at a bookstore, I swear I will! It really fills me with anger and disappointment to look at all these people who could become great writers even, maybe, writing such mediocre stories and books. And what angers me further is that everybody is actually reading these books! I once even met someone who said – I read Chetan Bhagat. Like he is Wordsworth, or Shakespeare, or R K Narayan even. I really honestly have nothing against Chetan Bhagat, seriously. I empty my book cupboard once in a while and pull out my old tattered copy of Five Point Someone and read it all over again, I really do! But not everyone can write another Five Point Someone. And more than that, the point I am trying to make is – STOP trying to. There is a lot more in you that you must explore! And who knows, if you try really hard, you’ll be even better than Chetan Bhagat ever was or will be.

WALKS OF LIFE

‘I really need to get it done today. Can you please help me out? I will wait back tomorrow to make up for today if you want. But I have to go now. I have to leave. Please yaar…’

I looked at my lab partner and the look of utter determination on her face – determination of non-cooperation. I took one look at her face – and I couldn’t look any more; for I am not a good liar, and I somehow didn’t want to get caught that day. All I needed was some quiet. I wanted to be alone. There was no pressing family matter that I had to attend to – it was my own pressing need of wanting to be home that mattered more to me that day; more than anything else in the world.

I don’t like being weak. And I absolutely don’t like begging or pleading people for anything. I don’t like to ask for help, but this has got nothing to do with me wanting to put up an image of me. It’s just the way I am. I’d rather be on the other side of the table and help people out than ask them for help.

But a lot of things happen in life for the first time. And I was only beginning to discover what all that included.

My lab partner miraculously fell for my lie – or at least showed like she had; for she agreed to cover up for me that day and do some of my lab work. And that to in exchange of nothing. I guess she sensed something amiss. I picked up my books and packed my bag and left before she changed her mind.

To hell with the project and the thesis and my guide and my lab partner and college and everything in life.

To hell with catering to people’s needs.

Today, it was my turn.

I switched my phone off as I climbed down the stairs. Mom was not going to be home either today. And dad was going to come back late. So I had the whole house to me. And I wanted to make everything of it. Didn’t want to attend to or talk to or be disturbed by anything. Today it was going to be just me.

I decided to pick up Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup on my way home and make myself hot chocolate and enjoy the rains, cuddled up on my bed under a big quilt, looking outside my window.

But I was restless. Yes something was definitely amiss.

I tried to put the feeling away and sought after getting home as early as I could. But as fate would have it, one of the loneliest streets in the city was exceptionally busy that day, and I was soon caught in a massive traffic jam. Quite reluctantly I switched my phone on again and played some music. Soon the mood of the song got me and I began to nod my head ever so slightly to the beat of the song. I observed the people around stuck in the traffic jam with me. A guy on the bike next to me tried to strike up a conversation.

‘Music lover, eh?’ he asked.

I just smiled.

He looked away. And suddenly at the exact same moment we had both spotted two street kids – one boy and one girl – sitting under the fly-over, and the kids had looked at us. They started talking among themselves. The guy turned to me again.

‘I bet they are going to be here in no time,’ he said to me – like that wasn’t the most obvious thing at that moment. But the kids surprised us. The boy quickly got up and came running to us from in between all the vehicles. The girl stayed put where she was.

The small kid somehow skipped me and chose my ‘friend’. The guy first denied to give him anything, but then pulled out a one rupee coin and placed it in the boy’s hand. The kid happily bounced off to join his mate under the fly-over. He held up the coin for his friend to see and teased her. She looked at him for a moment and then turned away. I looked at the guy next to me.

‘I can never beg anyone for anything,’ he said.

‘Neither can I,’ I spoke my first words to this stranger. ‘But just imagine a way of life like that.’

We both turned to look at the kids again. The boy had procured a handful of peanuts out of what he had just received. The girl with him looked at him – but there was no longing on her face. She just looked at him as if to observe him. Or just about as casually as we were both looking at them. She then turned to look straight at me – a pair of eyes looking straight into another pair of eyes. Somewhere I had connected with this girl. I could see a part of me in her, and I guess she sensed it too. We both just kept looking at each other for a long time, as if we were only looking at our own reflections in the mirror. Begging was not a way of life for both of us – though the connotations and implied meaning of the word maybe very different in each of our lives – and it would never ever be; we wouldn’t let it ever be. Even in our lowest low, we would rather die than beg.

I let my lips curve up in a very small smile. But the girl didn’t return the gesture. She didn’t need any stranger’s sympathy or friendship. She didn’t need to smile back at me just because I was rich and might take a liking to her and give her some money or nicer clothes to wear or something to eat. She was cordial, in the least; for there was no animosity on that sweet little face with its child-like features and mismatched grown-up eyes. But there was no sign of amity either. And yet, that little face under the fly-over was not blank or devoid of expressions.

I went home and spent that entire day with the memory of that face in my head. Somehow in those few moments I had connected with that girl to such a depth as was unimaginable. Next day was a Sunday, so I didn’t have to go to my project place. But I still went to that road under the fly-over – just to catch a glimpse of that face again. And there she was, right where I had seen her yesterday. Only the boy was missing. I went and stood under the fly-over, a little distance from her.

‘Ikade ye,’ I said. (Come here.)

She got up and walked up to me. Only then did I realise there was blood stain on her torn frock.

I looked at it and asked – ‘Kay jhala?’ (What happened?)

‘Munna ala hota, gheun jayala.’ (Munna had come to take me away.)

‘Mag?’ I asked (So what happened?)

She quietly walked back to where she had been sitting and pulled out an iron rod from under a few gunny bags and showed it to me. I looked at it, and looked back at the girl. There was no sign of remorse or regret on her face.

‘Kaam dein. Paise pan. Khana, pina sagle. Shalet pan jayala milel. Yetes?’ (I will give you work, food and money. You will even go to school. Will you come along?)

She nodded.

I took the girl home. All the way back there was a battle of two voices in my head. On the one hand I was feeling guilty about making a small girl work. I strongly object child labour. But on the other hand, I knew this girl wouldn’t come with me if I didn’t give her anything to do. She was not one to accept favours. And I didn’t want to leave her on the streets, to the mercy of more Munna’s.

I opened the door to my house. Mother was standing near the phone. She saw me and put the phone down.

‘Kuthe geli hotis sakal-sakali? Sangun jayachi paddhat?’ (Where had you gone so early in the morning? Couldn’t you tell me?) She then saw the little girl behind me, and her expressions changed. I turned to the girl.

‘Naav kay tujha?’ (Whats your name?)

‘Sangi.’

‘Avadta tula?’ (Do you like it?)

She nodded ‘no’.

‘Kuthla naav avadta tula?’ (Which name do you like?)

‘Madhuri.’

‘Thike. Chal, anghol karun ghe.’ (Ok. Go and have a bath now.)

She walked away into my room. I told Mom about her. She was glad I had got her home.

I went inside the room and took out an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts from when I was a kid and gave it to her to wear.

‘Udya jaun tula navin kapde gheu.’ (Let’s get you some new clothes tomorrow.)

I smiled at the girl, and I knew she was going to smile back at me; for that was her way of expressing gratitude, she would do no more than that. She was never going to hug me, or touch my feet, or sing false praises to me of how good I was, and God bless me for helping her and all. But she had accepted to come into my home in exchange of work and a better life. And I was glad she had.

The girl smiled back at me. And I knew I had got that younger sister I had always wanted.

RUGBY VS. ARCHITECTURE

I do not like to start the day with a debate or an argument usually; but today turned out to be different.

As I sat at our dining table having breakfast, mother came and announced –

‘Do you know? Shambhavi has decided to quit rugby.’

‘What? Why?’ I asked, clearly not able to think of one sane reason why a girl in the Potentials list of International Rugby Team would want to quit suddenly; right when she was at the foothill of what could be her pinnacle.

‘She is not able to manage her studies and rugby both.’

Sigh. The age old discussion or career versus sports.

I got into quite an argument with my mother over it – which in retrospect I shouldn’t have, given that Shambhavi is neither my daughter, nor my sister, neither my best friend. She happens to be one of my schoolmates kid sister. But this is an issue very close to my heart.

Even as we have stepped into the 21st century, some thoughts, concepts and beliefs have gripped us so hard – or rather we have held onto them so firmly – that we just can’t seem to be able to dispense them.

Even today a parent is not able to convince her daughter that one can make a career in rugby too – or the parent very conveniently ‘leaves the decision upto’ the child.

Has the daughter really chosen to give up rugby because she can’t cope with studies and rugby together? And maybe she genuinely can’t cope with the two things. But would she have chosen to give up ‘rugby’ if she knew the option of making a ‘career’ in it was open/available, or that her mother would be ok with it?

And we are not talking about any random girl here. We are talking about someone who has dedicated a significant amount of her life to a sport she dearly loves, has crossed every hurdle and passed every level of selection, who has given up movies and get-togethers and maybe even a part of her social life, a boy-friend even, just so that she be able to give rugby time. We are talking here of a girl who has exceled to such a level that she is now part of the Potentials list for the International Rugby Team – a chance to represent a nation’s people for the sport she so dearly loves.

Does one give so much time and energy to something one even has the slightest idea of not being able to pursue further? I don’t think so. Every five years can now be regarded as a generation. And these newer generations are way more liberal, straight forward and free-thinking than we can imagine. Maybe few years ago this would have seemed a ridiculous idea – first the fact that it’s a ‘girl’ we are talking about, and then the fact that it is ‘sports’ we are talking about. But kids today know what they want - from making a career in dance, to becoming a free-lance self-taught photographer, to choosing to study Sports Management in the States.

But just so that their parents are happy, or just so that they don’t have to deal with too much of unnecessary debate, discussion and maybe even quarrels at the end of the day on the dining table, they will chose to travel on the same old road.

I am not trying to say that everyone should go for just exactly what their heart desires, without looking at the practicalities. But definitely a girl of the potential of Shambhavi should not be wasted in a classroom, with 60 other heads to accompany her, learning how to build buildings. No.

I think it is time we revise our concepts about ‘good career’ and ‘bad career’. Had Shambhavi known she could pursue rugby in place of architecture, maybe she would have. Yes we do need to think about money too – and there is nothing wrong in it. There is absolutely nothing wrong in ensuring you are going to be able to fill your stomach and still have cash to buy that beautiful diamond set or that amazing gizmo you saw on your way back home from college or work. But then rugby pays too! Probably more than architecture even! Then why not choose to do the work you love rather than making yourself love the work you do?

Shambhavi has still not taken her final decision… but something tells me she is going to end up quitting rugby. What the poor girl needs right now is just a bit of moral support from her parent and relatives. I know it somehow, just as I know she is going to end up quitting rugby, that she doesn’t really ‘want to’ quit… and till the day she finally decides, I will keep hoping she doesn’t.

WAKE-UP CALL

Fresh beginnings.

Brand new starts.

Sound so tempting, don’t they?

But are they possible in a place you have spent the last four years in?

I discovered the answer to that today – YES.

Cos the change is not in the place, its buildings, its furniture, the people inhabiting it, the new faces that have invaded it or the old ones that have faded away.

It is not about the people who now suddenly seem too far away.

It is not about the change of attitude of your friends or peers or colleagues or subordinates or seniors; or a lack thereof.

It is never about ‘the without’.

It is always about ‘the within’.

And change ‘within’ can stem from anything and nothing.

A book.

A break-up.

A friend turned foe.

Discovering anew that you don’t really hate that cousin anymore.

Realizing that you are living without something or someone – forget whether you could, should or would.

Doing away with your prejudices – even if only to replace them with new ones.

Or just getting off the wrong side of the bed someday.

Change comes to you when you are ready for it. It won’t before that – no matter how hard you try or struggle. And it won’t fail to when it should – no matter where destiny puts you.

It is nice to know that the opinion of each and every person around you doesn’t really matter or bother you anymore. It is a relief to do away with peoples’ expectations from you – especially people who you had raised and put up on a pedestal. It is never too late to come to realize who really matters in life, who shouldn’t and who never was a part of your world at all.

If you don’t love yourself, who will? How can you even expect someone else to love you when everyday you torture yourself, worry yourself sick about what unnecessary people think about you, give unfair importance to things that are not even sure to be with you in the next moment, burden yourself beyond capacity and reason with your own concepts of right and wrong, worthy and unworthy?

Everybody wakes up to that moment at some point of time, when they realize who’s in, who’s out, what’s more important than what and who they really want to be. What one should do is not shut their eyes and pretend to be asleep when one does truly wake up.

THE LEAP OF FAITH

Today was the third time that I heard the same thing coming from three different friends of mine who'd been through three different situations recently -

I don't let dependency on anyone grow too much.

I smiled. Sometimes thats all that you can do - smile.

I have let dependency on people take its toll on me. I of all people have every reason NOT to let it grow in me.

But even then I really feel for these friends of mine. These cautious friends of mine - with all due respect to them and whatever it is they had to go through to arrive at that conclusion/decision - are NEVER going to know what it is like to totally surrender yourself to someone, something, anything... a situation, a lover, a time, a habit, an enemy, a feeling... for it is not only people we are dependent on. They will probably never know what it is like to put yourself in someone else's hands and then just close your eyes and wait for whatever it is they are going to do with you - toss you out, raise your to their lips and kiss you, or keep you like a rose in a diary... treasured but out of sight.

It takes strength - a lot of it too - to do something like that... to let someone control you completely, even if for a moment... to know that no matter how cautious we are, we are never going to be cautious enough for LIFE... never prepared enough for death - of people, of relationships... we plan and construct and design and strategise for a tomorrow that we do not even know is going to be there. And we still think we've got it all figured out, we've got the answers, the keys, the secrets; so sure we have it all...

Its like the leap of faith in dance... you could never have practiced it enough to be sure your partner is going to be able to catch you when your feet leave the ground. But you still do it, hoping he will... and thats how we are all living life... breathing out every moment, though we are not sure if we are going to be able to breathe in again the next moment...

RETREAT

‘Then why are you doing it? If you know it’s not good for you?’ he asked me.

And I couldn’t answer.

Try as I did to make my best friend see why I was back in touch with my ex, it was a weird experience – weird because I had never had a problem to make him see my point before, or to explain my side to him. But exception proves a rule, and me getting friendly with my ex again was one of the exceptions, clearly.

There are things in life that you just have to do sometimes. You don’t know why, but you just feel this obsessive compulsive need to do them, and that is reason enough to do them.

No one can really judge or even fathom to figure out a relationship. Not a best friend, not a parent, not a relative; and least of all the people around. What goes into a relationship, who draws the line where and puts up with exactly what and how much… no one can really tell.

One can’t understand, and one shouldn’t even try to make sense of it all. Not if you are a third person, and not even if you are the person; for it is easy to want to believe we are always either black or white. But it is not the truth. Everyone has a shade of grey, no matter how small it maybe, how insignificant – it is still there, unmistakable. And it is good if you get to know this side of you. It humbles you. It makes you less judgmental. It makes it easy for you to consider people’s mistakes.

And most importantly – it helps you forgive yourself.

It makes ‘the after’ easy.

Only you know what you have given to a relationship. And only you know what you can’t get back. Only you know how much you miss that someone special. Only you know what it means to not have that person in your life – what that emptiness feels like.

And only you can comprehend the need to want to be with that person again. Only you know why you want to go back to that person – to give yourselves a second chance, or just to have that person back as a friend, whatever the reason. For sometimes people you have had a relationship with become your friends in a very different way that is both weird and nice at the same time. It has its own comfort zones, its own ‘being yourself’ feel… and there’s nothing that can equal or replace it. Emotions, feelings, can never be right or wrong – they are either there or not there… that’s all.

Sometimes even your best friends fail to see your point. Or understand you. The one person who you thought knew you better than yourself can also not be able to comprehend your acts at times. But you shouldn’t let that bother you. Some paths you have to tread through alone. And it can’t be such bad a thing, right? It isn’t.