The only way I know to live

I will chase everything that catches my fancy

And be wrong about it, again and again

And fall down and cry

Only to get up and chase the next pretty butterfly

Ibn Batuta-ing

I travel to find myself. I'm lost somewhere since the longest time. And I'm searching, through the valleys and seas, to recover myself, restore myself.

I know one of these days I'll find myself somewhere around a bend on a dusty road, or a well worn, broken shoe sole, or deep among the colourful fish of a reef, or high up in the impossibly thin air of the peaks, or among skins of different colour and voices of unintelligible languages but similarly beautiful souls.

Among the thatched roofs and sleepy towns, somewhere, someplace, I'm hiding. 

Sometimes I'm sappy. Sometimes.

Dear runner,

Stay a while. I know you're upset. I know commitments are frustrating. We've only been together 2 months. This isn't even my last mistake. Let me make some more. Not all of them are as bad, I promise. Perhaps, someday you'll learn to love me more for them. That day, you’ll consider me yours.

This isn't our last fight, not even the worst. You'd be tempted to slay me some time. But you won't, not because it's illegal, but because I'll be yours, complete with all my endearing mistakes. But let us get on that road first. Let me make more mistakes. Give us some time. Please, stay a while.

We haven’t even started taking each other for granted yet. My home doesn’t even have a single, forgotten belonging of yours (except me, if you’ll allow it).  I don’t even know the name of your imaginary childhood friend. Let us get to know each other better. Give us some time. Please, stay a while.

Let me be your punching bag, your cold beer, your parent, your child, please, stay a while. Sorry, that was either very romantic or too corny. I tend to swing to extreme dramatics to make my point. Did you know that? This letter is your first clue. Get to know me better. Give us some time. Please, stay a while.

So, dear runner, think of me at your next pit stop and hit reply if you, you know, want to stay a while.

Sincerely,

Me. 

An ugly thing called unkindness

I came across this amazing video that really substantiates the phrase 'choose your words carefully'. It's not just bull crap, it is scientific. It made me think of all the times I've been ruthless with my words towards friends, family, acquaintances and about how much damage I might've caused to them. It also made me think of how much damage has been caused to me over all the years in my life by bullies in school, in relationships and probably even by my parents, merely through words.

It puts into perspective the need to really think about the words you put out there, knowing that they have the power to change a person's constitution on such a basic, physical level. How can we be so unkind to the dearest, most loved people in our lives? What gives us the right to impede a child's growth by reprimanding him/her so harshly for innocent mistakes? How does it benefit us to impair someone's self worth through name calling in a petty fight?

Before I get too emo, here's the video I spoke of - specifically between 6.22 mins and 8.10 mins.

A pretty thing called kindness

I’m always being told that I’m too timid and mild, even “too polite”. I’m told I should be more assertive, more aggressive about what I want and how I lead. Well, let me tell you a little story.

I had this friend in school, who was more like a rival. She lived close by so our parents were friends. Our parents would always pit us against each other in terms of our mark sheets. I really hated that. I was never keen on studies, never worked too hard at it. I was an average student and happy with it. I consistently scored 80% till 7th grade, after which the competition really intensified. And the more it intensified, the more I lost the will to compete and I started falling farther and farther behind this rival of mine. The more behind I fell, the more my mother taunted me, the more I was taunted, the more I hated this friend, until we stopped talking altogether. School was a long time ago and until recently, I still hated her. Come to think of it, she didn't exactly make matters easier for me in school either, because she was so competitive and mean to me when I fell behind.

So anyway, there was one thing about her that I never forgot, but pushed into my deep subconscious while I was consciously busy hating her. She had an elder sister who was severely mentally retarded. She was about 3 years older to us but always in a grade below because the school never promoted her. For the first time in all the years that I've known this 'friend', I wondered, how difficult it must have been to grow up like that. You cannot look up to your elder sister and your parents expect the world of you because you are their only hope. How do you live like that – answering questions from people about your sister, fighting their stares when she walks home with you after school with chalk scribbles all over her uniform. I just can't imagine it. And so, I decided to finally stop hating her. 'Be nicer than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle'. It’s my new mantra.

During a post-grad class project, a group mate of mine threw away all the ads I had painstakingly prepared by pulling an all nighter after work and told me to make new ones in the most impolite manner. I was so infuriated; I would’ve smacked her right across her face if I could. But I decided to take the high road. Surely she must have been in some sort of a bad situation that was making her act this way. I told her, I'll make new ads. She apologised the next day and said she tends to get hyper under stress.

I'm always offloading my angst on my family. I guess everyone does that, but of late, it just doesn't seem fair. Every time I'd be facing any personal crises, I'd just clamp up and become really crabby towards my poor cheery mum and sister. The more they'd try to help me, the more I'd be rude to them, locking myself in my room or just screaming at them. Very bitchy of me, I know. But that was them understanding that I'm acting the way I am for a reason. They already knew the mantra before me. So you see, I've been on both sides of the coin.

I believe most conflicts can be resolved with some compassion and understanding. Everyone is fighting a battle. Just because you don't understand mine, doesn't mean I'll not do my best to understand yours. Just because you are mean to me, doesn't mean I'll be mean to you. I don't know how this whole philosophy fits into the larger order of things, and maybe it will turn me into a 'no-balls' pushover (which I suspect I already am). But for now, it just feels good to be compassionate. “There’s nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”, I believe Shakespeare said that.

Wed-lock

15 years, 2 offsprings. The tears, the wailing, the threats, the curses that's all that seems to exist anymore.

How long has it been since you shared a laugh, high fived on a joke, embraced for no particular reason. 6 months? Or was it 10?

Bills. That's all you talk about anymore. No, not talk. Shout. Always the shouting. And the unceremonious slamming of the bedroom door. You don't seem to do anything right anymore.

How long have you been trapped in this unending nightmare? When was the last time you heard the tinkling of silver in her laughter or noticed the brown strands in his eyes?

Even the food feels like a monotonous drone. Has the country stopped producing everything but beans?

You'd love to walk away from it all. A long, long walk till you lose your way - stray away from the crankiness, the screaming children, the accusing eyes and the never ending barrage of bills. 

Oh how you'd love to keep walking. But the sun is about to set now. Where will you be when it gets dark?

MS Paint: Is this what Robert Frost spoke of

My experiments with combining MS Paint and humour. 

MS Paint: The introverted sheep - II

My experiments with combining MS Paint and humour. 

MS Paint: The introverted sheep - I

My experiments with combining MS Paint and humour. 

Spark a change - How about we DON’T reinvent the wheel?

A lot has been said and done about how there is a dire need for women’s empowerment. And yet, in a country as progressive as India, the condition of women is still, for want of a better word, backward. Before this blog starts to seem like just another preachy article, I’m going to quickly cut to the chase.

I believe employment empowers a person like nothing else. Yes, education is important and the need for women’s literacy can never be articulated enough. But, quite frankly, literacy is a grass root problem. The solution I’m offering is of a more immediate nature – to empower the great number of mature women in the lower strata of the society.

The thought: 

Almost every girl in the lower middle class society is hardwired to believe that her primary responsibility is cooking, cleaning and looking after the family; work and employment is secondary. Hence, practically every girl in this society is taught how to cook at a very early age. Women, in general, are considered better cooks than men (you never hear anyone missing “papa ke haath ka khaana”). Why is it then that most cooks and chefs in restaurants are men? And I don’t just mean the fine dining restaurants, even in your local Udipi restaurants, lunch homes or even bars, the cooks are always men.

The solution:

If we could just replace all these male cooks with female ones, it’ll open up a huge source of employment for women.

Advantage to employer: 

Women don’t have to be trained to cook, they’ve been doing it since the time they could light a match. The right salt and spice proportion is second nature to them. Hence, zero training expenditure.

Advantage to employee: 

Even if they’ve never held a job in their lives before, these women don’t have to feel nervous because they’ll just be working behind the scenes doing what they do every day!

The execution: 

Have an NGO portal listing all these ladies with amazing culinary skills that are looking for employment. Approach small restaurants and give them visiting cards and pamphlets so that whenever a vacancy comes up, help is just a call away.

So really, it’s a win-win situation. I’m aware that this concept has already been explored by Lijjat and the dabba services folk, but I’m just suggesting a different spin on it. So there you have it, my two-cents on sparking a change.

It might seem too matter-of-fact and un-emotive a blog, but sentimentality would not solve the world’s problems, practicality would. Hain na?

Blur

So fast, too fast, my head's in a whirl

Not stopping, not looking, not a time in the world

He came, and left in the blink of an eye

No time to think, no time to cry

I'm running, I'm running through a blinding fog

Don't hate me, beloved, I don't notice my wrongs

Someday I will stop. Someday I will turn.

Someday all my sins will have me crash and burn.

Until then I'll run, this mindless race

Through sewage and skies, I'll race to my grave.

Somebody that I used to know

Where did I find you? I asked
Why, I was right behind you, he said
Right behind me? Why?
So you can touch the sky

Oh, so you'll be my wings?
No, you're the kite and I hold the string.
So go ahead and fly, untethered and free
For if it gets stormy, I'll pull you right back to me.

For eyes speaketh

She had the eyes of death itself. No, not death. Death is kind. She had the eyes of purgatory. Almost like that of a small animal, a rodent that's designed to create havoc and spread ruthless diseases. The kind of horrible eyes of the cruel invilgator that caught you helping a friend out during an exam, or that of the unkind babu sitting behind his wooden desk looking at you through his beady eyes, telling you that you are screwed. And you ask me how can I distrust her without knowing her?

The green dot

Talk. Talk for talk's sake, but talk. I cannot handle the unblinking green light next to your name. I can't keep staring at it, wondering if you're doing the same. For if you are, I'll talk to you. I'll talk to you till I go hoarse. But please, my beloved, talk. Let me know you're thinking of me, that everything we had and shared, existed. I'm holding my breath now. I'll wait. I have to hear from you. It's killing me. You're talking to someone now, aren't you? I know it! You don't even see me. It's like school again, when I sat behind you, pining for your attention. When I carried an extra pencil hoping you'll want to borrow one. But my braces, my glasses, my sticky long braids became my invisibility cloak. But I have you now. We're soul mates. Can't you see? We're meant to be. I had to tell your girlfriend. She had to know! So why won't you talk to me? Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me.

MiNd MiNiNg

From time to time, I mine. Occasionally a gem shows up, but most of the times, it’s just dirt. 

• I see people taking a leak, by the roadside. I see men whistling out, as a girl walks by. And I think to myself, whatta wonderfool world!
• Never have I felt more alone than when I am with you, said rubber to glue. #BullshitRhymes
• My autowallah to another autowallah "Abey kitna dabayega be?"
• I'm not rude. People are stupid.
• Biological waste happens.
• Smiles to go before I weep.
• Dear lord! When will the fascination with being a hipster become mainstream?
• I like your perfume. Smells like trouble.
• If you're happy and you know it, put a goddamn smiley face! I'm not a mind reader.
• I love your curves, especially the one on your face.
• I'm not a hipster. I care. If caring is mainstream. So be it.