Laundry List of 30 Years

I am writing these in the form of a list only because it is soothing to me as I am someone who has a very mild form of OCD when it comes to organization.

1. Biggest lesson learnt from trial and error is that repetition is the key to success ( and to failure). I try to be habitual, be repetitive in my actions, in my thinking in order to train my neurons to act the way I want them to act- for eg:
a. I want to be judgement free so I try and over ride thoughts of judgement by thinking of empathy and allegiance to the humanity in that person instead. This has resulted in me overcoming thoughts of judgement almost on a reflex. However, as all things usually are, this is work in progress too.

b. Waking up and going to work or waking up and getting on with the chores of the day helps me train my mind to dress up, show up and apply myself. This was the hardest to learn as I had free reign on sleeping and completing tasks during my undergrad years which pretty much destroyed any routine I could have cultivated for years after that. So kids, make sure you wake up early, eat your breakfast, get done with the shit that needs taken care of in the day and then relax as much as you can!

c. Taking time off for yourself and your sanity- I used to do this typically when I would be closer to a breakdown or during a breakdown and then it'd become a forced exercise instead of systematic time off taken by own volition. I am still learning & working on this but knowing that I need to take time off regularly, to help not reach breakdowns, is an achievement in itself. So I give kudos to myself. LOL.

d. Wake up, dress up, show up and apply yourself is the only consistent piece of advice I can give to anyone because I know for sure that this gives you results. If you don't screw this up, you wont screw up your present or future, as much as your self destructing brain forces you to. In fact, you will train that wild brain of yours to self preserve and achieve success( whatever the meaning of success you have defined for yourself, its another topic altogether and will deal with in another post, maybe) instead of being its own enemy!

2. Now, I am tired of writing this post already, so I am not sure if I can write 30 things. Hey, I am no buzzfeed and I don't have 100s of unpaid writers giving their best years to an organization which thrives on minimizing  their experiences into listicles! But, I will try to write just a few more points and leave this post TBC because.... because I can! Because its my fucking page. Go screw yourself.
Oh also FYI, none of these points are in any particular order of importance or brilliance.

So, lets jump into friendships! Because why not! Best friendships are formed when you don't have much to lose and are usually formed when you are in school or college having been mass imprisoned together, asked to fend for ourselves. And so we end up finding people who have the most similar attitudes and thoughts on life as ours and become friends with them! And because it is so simple, we are able to make many friends and because it is so simple, we start dropping them as we move up the ladder of age, education, career, family etc. Simple! The only thing that is not simple is sustainability of good friendships and the art of keeping people close to you who are nice to you regardless of what a douche you are or can be at times.
a. My two cents are that we should pick up the phone and call our friends from time to time, message them and talk about something substantive other than the weather occasionally. Most friendships only require this and we, as colossal failure of a species that we are, cant even do this sometimes.

b. It is nice to have a lot of friends but it is not nice to have a lot of lousy ones. So pare down, unapologetically. As simple as that. We have only so much energy and so much time to deal with shenanigans so use it prudently to deal with other people's drama. Choose friends that add value to you and you add value to them and their life. As rude as this sounds, it helps to keep two hair strands worth of sanity in you. Preserve yours and theirs by keeping the circle small.

c. Cultivate friendship with your partners. Let it grow by giving them space. Try and not change them.This is one friendship that you will live day and night so handle with care. Jagged rocks don't help anything grow, smooth rocks also don't. So don't be a rock. Be earth. Wow! I love that metaphor! I will trademark that when I have money to pay the lawyers.

TBC (HAH!)

Truth

I wonder if your identity is the projection that the world sees or is it something you are when you are completely stripped down and no one is there to see who you are and there is no audience and would that be your true self or would it be the carefully curated image that you have been consciously and unconsciously projecting to the outside world?

If a leaf fell into a deep forest, would anyone know? Or if a leaf fell and a painter happened to draw it, lying on the ground, beautiful with its colors and about to die. will it then be called a true fallen leaf?

What you say or what you see or what you think does not necessarily make one good or great or kind or intelligent or smart or happy. It is said that what one does is usually what defines them. So if you only saw, smelled, heard, thought, felt and talked about but did not act, would it make you less worthy?

A drop of rainwater fell into the ocean, got assimilated into it to never be disintegrated into its own unique constituents. A drop of rainwater fell on a lotus leaf, stayed there never touching the leaf and a photographer zoomed in and captured it, then the drop came to life, it was appreciated, it added to the inherent lotus's beauty. Is one drop more ethereal than the other?

Do you know?

Conversations with Myself

My motivation levels soar and dip periodically, making me sometimes think  if I am depressed or if that is how this life is. A series of soaring and dipping in all of its literal and allegorical sense. But this conversation is not about the fickleness of my motivation but the intensity of the crests of it.

I do get highly motivated these days when I see or hear about concepts that are new or the ones that have been lurking around and I didn't pay enough attention to them. Every time I hear about how human resource could be used to make an impact on humanity and the nature, I get excited. Through this kind of response of my body & mind to this type of stimulus, I have learnt that that is how I get inspired and motivated to do something. Motivated to learn about how to make an impact and then how to turn that motivation into actionable items.

I have always had a vivid imagination but lately it has been hard to come up with any novel ideas to deal with the life or its atrocities. I do not mean atrocities in my life but the ones that the humanity has to deal with constantly. I am a pretty strong person mentally so I do bounce back from personal setbacks in relatively shorter span; although, even that takes longer sometimes as compared to when I was younger. Something about the body and mind fatigue I guess. But, I feel exercising, having a healthy environment including supportive family and friends help a lot with the building up of 'bounce back plasticity' of a human :)

However, it takes a while to get out of the numbness that the world brings about in you, through the constant struggle of humanity against evil, hardships, selfish leaders, corruption and man made disasters. I start wondering if anyone is capable of doing anything about it. It starts to feel daunting and pointless and to be honest, extremely futile. So, I have learnt ( gradually) that it is not okay to feel burdened by everything happening in the world- that it is almost a sure shot way to push oneself into a downward spiral of nihilistic mindset and negative thinking.

What helps are small tasks that I can do to change this state of mind. Small tasks to get myself back on track, like making my bed, taking a shower, talking to my mother, chatting with my brother, spending time with my partner, cooking, having a decent meal and maybe even read a few pages of a good book or a well researched article. Once I am done with this, I move on to thinking about what my small (1 in a 6 billion people) existence can do about the things happening around her! How can it make an impact and bring about change if any.

To be continued..

Milestones

8 more months until I turn 29. Life feels like its hurtling towards a station that is old, fragile, filled with responsibilities and lots of old bones. I don't know if my parents felt this way closing in on their 30s. They had already had my brother and I by their 30s so I guess they wouldn't have even had a chance to take a minute and take it all in. I have some big milestones coming up soon that I am excited, nervous and worried about. I must admit I am more excited than anything else. When you invest so much of your time into your life, work, relationships and then you commit to them even harder, it makes you feel like you have achieved something. I have wholeheartedly, 100% been involved into my life, whether it came to giving love or taking love, giving mercy or getting mercy! The truth and the intensity that you sow into your bonds brings them to a wonderful culmination founded on sweat, grime, tears and love. No one said it would be easy. No one said it would be great but at least I tried and gave it my best.

Arriving at my 29 would mean I arrived there battered, bruised, beaten up yet triumphant. I can recall just how much I used to yearn to be independent, even at a very small age! I wanted to be my own woman, have my own money, house, job, relationships, degrees and things that I achieved on my own! My parents had always given me their tremendous support but that was usually contingent on me not fucking up. And fucking up is what I mostly did. Trial and error and trial and error. Things that I have done, I know for sure none of the folks I know have. And vice versa. Each decision of mine was based on intuition, silliness, high risk taking disposition and a fair amount of unwarranted hubris that comes with young age. And you know what, I am fucking proud of it. I am proud of myself that I spoke up whenever I could, whenever there was a need, always against injustice and always for truth! I hate cowards, I hate people who just go on about their lives (the ones who have decently cushion-y lives and decent cushion-y jobs) and never ever think, talk, see or speak about anything apart from themselves. I have seen and been with those people as well. And I have sent out my hugs and brickbats to all of them whenever there was a need of either.

This is not to forget the best of the best people I have met who have taught me patience, assertiveness, politeness in the face of shit hitting the fan and being yourself, no matter which way the fucking world turns. I am grateful to them for that. I am grateful to my life that helps me meet so many wonderful people that I cry with gratitude sometimes. I just cry that there is so much fucking humanity in this life. Why would anyone be an asshole still? Beats me!

So hey closing in on 29 and then 30 and hitting some great milestones has me dancing like a peacock in the monsoon! And as much as I fear, I am getting older, I am also filled with an abundant joy and excitement. That there is so much more to see in this life. That I get to live some more, see some more, speak out my truth some more and give joy and give back to the world some more!

There is more to come my friend! Hang tight and keep being yourself!

Incomplete Travelogue 2016 - 1

The year left behind by me, at the stroke of mid night on the 31st Dec, held millions of moments. I wish I had penned down each to document them but I am extremely lazy when it comes to doing anything let alone writing. I visited 4 countries and one of them twice. Each place brought a sense of wonder and an equal sense of non wonder. Every place on this Earth is the same and the minute you set foot there and meet the people, eat the food, humanize the name of the place in your heart, it loses its wonder. It becomes a part of your own story and then you cannot detach it from yourself and cannot maintain the sense of wonder. Albeit, it was amazing to visit all those places I had heard of in stories. If I have made it sound like I turned an experience  that 99% of the world's population craves for into an ordinary fare, I apologize. I lack the articulation to explain what I meant. I hope it conveys itself eventually. But to maintain that wonder let me talk a little bit of each place I visited!

Mexico- I went there twice last year. Once for a close friend's wedding and another time for work. The two visits brought forth two distinct flavors of the country that was made famous by a delusional orange idiot in 2016. More on that later. First flavor was exotic, beautiful and happy landscapes that include beaches, villas, oceans and that dry dry air of Mexico. Cabo had so many things to do that my partner and I were in constant awe of it. Not only we met a loving beautiful family who let us be a part of an intimate wedding but we met some locals and foreigners who seemed out of adventures books. A couple who we stayed for a day with, comprised of a Costa Rican husband and a Thai wife. She spoke of how she sees the world without boundaries and how she wants to keep traveling and working wherever her heart takes. Of course to achieve that she and her husband had backed it up by being scuba diving coaches and were multi lingual. One cannot dream of boundless freedom without offering the world something in return. The locals of Cabo treated us as confused Mexicans. Our skin and faces looked just like theirs but we did not speak any Spanish and I regret that. I regret that I went into a country expecting them to be able to converse with me when they absolutely reserve the right to not do so. And they still did! Using sign language and a few spanish words now and then got us plenty of smiles and some great food.
                                                               
 Second flavor of Mexico was the dusty rural region riddled with drug lords and myths and legends of many a murders and kidnappings. I would be lying if I said I was not thrilled. There is an Adrenalin junkie inside of me who does not react to danger with fear but pure curiosity. I am called a 'sawali' by my partner which in Hindi means someone who has a lot of questions. Its used in jest but its true. I could not stop asking questions about the history of the place. I had gone their for work but the daily commute in an unmarked vehicle, of following safety procedures, of anticipating danger made me largely not focus on work. Something I cannot help. Again the people there just surprised me with their hospitality and smiles and being tactile with holding hands and their lilt in speaking English and a general understanding that I could be a Latina if not for my Indian heritage. Boy, that tickles me. Both visits made me wonder about human nature and how I think of other people as other people but the other people are just like my people.

Poland- This visit had me excited with anticipation so much that I was a kid who was dropped at a museum of their choice. Thoughts of setting foot in Europe had me thinking of everything I knew and remembered of reading about it in books. From renaissance to the crusades to the Vatican to the Pope to the holocaust to the cobbled nature of streets in many European cities to Greeks and Romans and dissemination of culture to the rest of the world. Poland in that manner was a place which not many people go to when they think of Europe but it turned out to be the best way to take a whiff of history there, for me. I went there for work so autonomy in choosing where I wanted to set foot was not with me. I took it as a gift nonetheless. Poland has history written all over it. From the looming figure of Russia from the times of USSR to the 2nd World War and its atrocities to liberalization, Poland had seen quite a bit. I could rave separately about the food and the beauty but I keep coming back to its people. Everyone I met, had a story of their own. I would listen and ask questions and I would have asked a million more questions , had not the fear of appearing inhumanly curious crept into me. I asked about the conservatism vs modernism in their country, the lack of jewish people and temples, to how old is the histiry of Christianity there to their daily afflictions. Every single time I felt like a part of their tribe. The human tribe that day in, day out worries about food and sleep. Just like us. Just like them. 

I am learning that - 1

1. Days are numbered but also there are so many of them. Day light is even lesser - half of those 'days' , but nights are wonderful too. Dark at times, inducing insomnia, anxiety and nothingness but bringers of sleep that is a wonderful eraser of any pain within or epithelial.

2. Friends are people too. So are partners and parents and siblings. Everyone is a person that needs to survive first and then help.

3. A roof, food, clothes, freedom from imminent danger is privilege. Anything more is plenty and less is poverty. Poverty is cruel, sexist, racist, homophobic and cruel. Yes it is cruel twice.

4. To be stuck to moments and achievements is to give birth to anxiety, stress and phobias. To flow with what only knows to flow- time; is to learn how to live with abandon.

5. There is enough space for everyone and all to coexist.

6. To find things to laugh about is easier for the soul than the pursuit of grief and its sources.

7. Love is simple in that it only demands lack of selfishness and hence not so simple. Tread in a balanced way.

8. Oceans are scary and vast and inviting and blue and beautiful. But learn to swim.

9. Sunrises and sunsets are cooler and calmer to the skin because the light and heat is just right. Never more and never less. More or less becomes the weapon of discomfort and destruction.

10. Reading is essential.

Blunt Shards

I am so thoroughly confused. About everything. Politics, society, people, world, god and myself. Is this depression? Is this denial? Is this the storm before the elusive peace? Is this numbness? Is this nebulousness before I understand what is it all about? I lack purpose and I lack the energy for efforts and lack the courage to do anything. I feel helpless. People come and people perish. Maybe it is as simple as that. I am people after all. 

What will be the legacy of the presidential election of 2016?

Trump and his histrionics have shaken us all up but what is terrifying is the mute acceptance of his below-the-belt tactics by not just the Republican Party but a vast majority of American people and quite a bit of the rest of the world. It is terrifying because it feels like the world is lulled into believing that its all a joke and it does not personally affect them or that it does not matter! It is terrifying because it opens up the can of worms that human hatred can be. All the rules of decorum, public discourse, healthy debates have been shattered by Trump and his supporters and his endorsers without any reproach of any kind. The divide between the Republicans and the Democrats is no longer ideological or policy based which used to work in favor of citizens and helped serve the people better. Instead its a street fight now, where people pay to watch and get entertained. The gladiator world.
Yes, Hillary would be elected as the president and all of this could be forgotten as just a nightmare. She will be the first female president of one of the most powerful nations in the world. But won't her achievement pale in comparison to the knowledge that she won in this sort of an election year? That a big majority is 'only' voting for her because they do not want Trump? Will we ever recover from the fact that a crazy reality TV personality was a few votes away from becoming the president of the United States? Will the next elections be immune to such tactics? Can't another demagogue just as easily rise up and rile people up for personal glory and gains? Is it that easy to brainwash people into believing that diplomacy, truth, public service, good governance do not matter? If he can do it, what is stopping others.
 Maybe I am naive to not look to the past which has abundant evidence of thousands of dictators that have existed (and continue to exist) and how easy it was (and is) for them to keep masses captivated by their bulldog personalities. Maybe I am ignorant in thinking that somehow American political system affects the whole world- its economy, social justice, military warfare. Maybe it is dramatic to think that this election could cause irreparable and irrevocable damage for years to come. But to see this happening in real time, right before my eyes has shaken up the optimism I have. Cynicism leads to inaction which leads to it-doesn't-matter attitude which has lead to what is happening right now. That is why optimism is so much more needed at this time! How to be persistent with it, is the question.

EVOL

Note: This was written wayyyy before my previous post and was for some reason sitting in the drafts but I now have decided to let it be scrutinized by the world.

In my overall existence of 27 years on a planet between Venus and Mars, I think I have 'felt love' a total of almost 10 times. For people, animals and things. Mostly for animals and things. Love for people usually leaves me thoroughly confused and leads to a lot of intense inner monologues of how I feel for them. Only 10% of those conversations make it out in the world and usually in a jumbled up, incoherent manner. I show deepest emotions very rarely and justifiably so. SO! So I decided to let it all out here, for the first time, for you all to read and fall in love with me (like you always do).

Of course I am not going to be name dropping. Okay fine I will drop one name to satisfy your curiosity! Its CHUNMUN! My cat :) Ha! Gotcha! Y'all thought I would be naming women from Venus and men from Mars right? Right! Muhahahaha. Maybe I will, at the end of the post! (Notice my subtle marketing skills of making you read til the end- wink wink) Small disclaimer- it is not about people in particular but my feelings for people I have been in love with. Oh come on! Don't leave! Stay. Enjoy some philosophy once in a while instead of scoops.

It always starts in a major heart fluttering manner for me. I prefer rebellious individuals, even rebels without a cause would do. With cause, even better! So that has been my pattern, my list, my type. Bring a person who is a rebel with a heart and I will love you. No I will not. Sorry. I got carried away. Growing up, people who had something to say usually had some space in my heart. I hung out with the quiet ones but not the kinds who do not say anything. That is a big no no for me. I can't read your mind people! You gotta speak up from time to time and if you speak up for others even better! There, secret to my love life is out in the open. Who is interested? Anyone? No one. Sigh. FML.

Heart flutter, ears getting hot, face going red and a tonne of unabashed staring. Nonstop. So much so that it makes the desired person EXTREMELY uncomfortable. So then they go red in the face. Isn't it the best when you make people highly uncomfortable and kill all the chances you have with them? Just the best.

My love for each person has been unique to that person. I do not feel the same way for all. That will be weird bro. Hence, the pain that comes with that is unique too. But the love I have felt for all of em, as a single entity, it is the same which I do not feel for friends, family, acquaintances etc. Wait that did not come out right. I just mean that I feel the romantic love only for who I wanna feel and that is different from the love I feel for friends, family etc. Phew.

One can never compare love because the feelings that emerge out of each new person are unique and custom made to their own uniqueness. How can you compare two clouds? Except just lump all of them together into a group called clouds. Wow I am impressed with my metaphor.Also impressed with how hard I am trying to not give out specific details. Muhahaha. Again. I would give out details if each one of you individually called me and asked for it, but otherwise fuggitaboutit.

In the dusk of my 20s, some definitions have changed and some have solidified over the years. The one that has solidified is that I feel uniquely for each one I have loved. And at this point I feel like I am reiterating myself, like a stuck tape recorder but that is how I feel! Constantly. And I do not think I have been able to convey that uniqueness successfully all the time, sometimes due to ineptitude and sometimes due to lack of linguistic skills. I do know though that whenever I have tried, I usually have colossally failed. An example would be, one time I wanted to tell someone how absolutely possessive I was of them (in a good way) but instead some embarrassing, garbled horseshit came out which sounded like this- 'I love making you cry because then I get to make you feel better!' Argh. Yes I deserve all the bricks being thrown at me right now.

So to everyone I have been in love with, I love you people uniquely! With your own unique intensities, care and love. That cannot be interchanged, replaced or be forgotten. I am not sure if my readers agree. I know some will say 'one true love for me', 'you can love many people at a time', 'if not this one then the next one'. Sigh none of those work for me. I know I know I am a work of art. The love I feel is dedicated, devoted and it does not shy away or die away with time. It fades sometimes yes. I am a kind of out of sight out of mind person. But its never 'forever' out of mind, 'clean slate' etc. I have a healthy suspicion of people who say, "okay now my slate is clean, ready to pen a new one, screw the others". You can't do that. How do you do that? Yes you can forget, forgive, move on, but to clean a slate out permanently? Not possible. I am on to you guys! Be careful! And stop lying! Stop fabricating bs like 'one glove fits all kinds'. Its my glove that fits all, so use mine.

In Between

I wrote my last post in December 2015 and now it is July 2016. Have I been too busy to write something? No. Have I had inspiration to write something? No. Am I inspired right now? No. Do I wanna write something, right now, anyway? Yes. I did write something in between but saved it in drafts and that is where it quietly sits.

Last two years of my life have passed at a dizzying pace. So many new memories and so many new neural nets have formed in my brain that all the years before that have become fuzzy. I would like to believe that I am growing up for better but I cannot claim that confidently. There is definitely a shift in the total sum of my personality. I have made the mistake of believing that personality is fixed, experiences and situations change. But nothing is fixed including my personality. Including the fiber of who I believe I am, I was or will be. I am on the cusp of adding a new chapter to my life. I am entertaining the idea of bringing some seismic changes in my life which may change the course of my personality development for good or bad but I cannot claim that confidently.

From depression to anxiety to hormonal changes to social phobia to social anxiety to social rebellion to social cowering to chaotic confusions in my mind to succumbing to the world that changes every second and with which I change too, I have experienced everything to a varying degree. Have I kept my sanity, have I kept my friends, have I kept my relationships, have I kept my core, have I kept my ideas and thoughts? I cannot claim that confidently.

I have felt dizzying hatred towards things, people and ideas. And I say dizzying because the intensity has been frightening. I have felt tremendous love for things and people, which did not feel right either. I have read about impostor syndrome, lists of how to be happy, how to be confident, how to spot true friends, how to be a true friend, how to save money, how to get rid of cyctic acne, how to stop hair from graying, how to love your family, how to keep in touch, how to switch off, how to lose weight, how to dominate the world in 5 simple steps, how to train a dog, how to train your mind, how to be a monk, how to learn from history, how to predict future, how to live in the present, why my zodiac sign rules and how to revive the inner Beyonce. Have I done what I have read? Have I done what I felt? Have I felt what I have done? Cannot claim that confidently.

I live abstractly in between my ideas and my thoughts and ideas and thoughts shoved in my brain by others around me or the environment, social media, cataclysmic events and puppy videos. That is where I live and thrive and exist, alternatively. That is all I can claim confidently.

Stuff at home that makes me go apeshit and turns me into a raging gorilla monster

Yes, the title is big and self explanatory and you would ask why do we even need to read the rest of it when we already know you are bat shit crazy! To that, my friend, I would say, "Exactly! That is why you need to read it because I am crazy! Read motherfucker read! Or I will go ape shit all over you".

Now that we have the disclaimer out of our way, let us proceed.

Shower- This device was especially made in hell by Mr. Devil himself so that I could get scalded for my sins and frozen for my hubris as and when he pleased. If you are regular reader (pat yourself on the back first), you would know I have changed houses like I change light bulbs in my super pms-ing lamp( will get to it later). I have been given the worst possible shower deals in every one of those emfucking houses. The types range from:
a. Very little water- that my soap once told me 'fuck it, please don't use me, I don't wanna be stuck to your filthy body due to lack of WATERRRRRRR' Yes it roared in pain like that.
b. Too much water- that the force of it can make holes in my face.
c. Horrible drainage- that I can take 50 laps in my own filth until the water slowly, painfully decides to drain away.
d. Settings that are just plain dumb-They don't know if they should be hot or cold even if I beat the shit out of them! I beat the crap out of the settings whenever the following two things happen:  I turn it to hot and icebergs form on my head instantly or when I turn it to cold and the devil pees hot lava out of the shower holes all over me.

Microwave- Do not ever use my microwave when I gift it to you as your wedding present ( Of course I will tell you its brand new) because you WILL die like I do! Every. Day. That pile of shit will beep and cry until you move your ass and remove that year old, excuse of a curry you kept in it to thaw. It will beep like a 1000 puppies are burning in a gas leak fire! Just when you had decided to place your tired rear on an inviting couch as it takes 3 minutes to heat the 10 day old pasta (at the very least) the microwave will start beeping! And. keep. beeping. Oh it beeps so that your head starts ringing and you get filled up with an inexplicable  rage to punch 10 pandas for no reason , in the face, right on the nose.

Lamp: This horrible horrible crapfest of a lamp which I had referred to as 'super pms-ing' earlier (justifiably), is the bane of my life! Every few days it kills a light bulb which then goes to the light bulb heaven. This lamp is the opposite of light! It is a menacing black hole that devours its own lifeline! You could ask me - hey why don't you just get a new lamp! And I would say 'die and don't open your mouth'. Buy me a new one, come and put it in my house and shut it ; otherwise do not utter a single word.

Computer: MY LAPTOP HANGS. And I wish it would just hang itself one day and call it a suicide, otherwise I will kill it anyway. I will give it a merciless death that no computer has ever received before. I will take a rock and knock the wind out of it, then I will take the broken pieces and bury them. Then I will dig that little grave and exhume the body parts and burn them and bury them again. I will do this until every part of this laptop turns into ash and then I will bury that ash too. I promise.

Thermostat: This is one blazing, royal craphole of crapholes. Why don't they make the thermostats with ONE setting and one only- "COZY AMAZE". Right when I am ready to slip my hairy leg out of the comforter, the temperature drops and all hell freezes over. Literally. Fuck you thermostat industry. You should be sent to Antarctica, naked and made to be tickled by penguins there. Naked.

Frying pan: If there is a mirror to hell, it is one of my frying pans. I have some others but occasionally I need to use this particular hell mirror and nothing drives me crazier than when the frozen bread gets stuck to this garbage and takes me one light year to clean it. During one of those cleaning times, I just bang it on the counter repeatedly, continuously so that I could feel what it would be like to kill a frying pan in cold blood, if it were alive. It feels pretty good. I will not lie.

Keys: These jingly bastards are assholes. Period.

There is a never ending, inexhaustible list of things that frustrate me. So do not worry, there will be more. Until then, may all of your stuff annoy the fuck out of  you as much as mine does to me.

To be or not to be

Do you think Shakespeare would have ever thought that someone centuries away would be sitting  and defiling one of his quintessential quotes in her blog? If you think so, you should slap yourself! Because the first-est thing he would have asked would be "what is this 'blog' thing, thy speaketh of "? The reason I am even mentioning Shakesy here is because apart from him, no one has ever encapsulated the conundrum of life so successfully before, right? So let me channel some of my inner tribulations about my existence and pour forth the lessons learnt.

What have I learnt in the past quarter century that I have inhabited this already over burdened sad little planet with? Okay let me first confess, I am listening to a playlist of Lana Del Rey's songs and I am distracted. She is singing whatever I am thinking. Born to die. Also her haunting voice does not help either! Anyway, snatching myself away from music and applying here, I have learnt a thing or two in these years. If I am lucky, I may get 3 more quarter centuries but I am not sure if that's the longevity I am looking for. Longevity in terms of meaning, legacy, work, family, memories would be good enough I guess. So do I know if I am right now, this very second, making good memories? Does my life have any meaning or has had meaning so far? I don't know. The neat thing is I will never know.

Even though I am a true believer of instincts, gut feeling whatever it is commonly known as, I find it neat to not know because what's the fun when you know everything? So I mentioned that we will never know if what we are doing has any meaning or not but we always have a vague feeling when we go astray. We always have a feeling gnawing at the back of our heads, telling us we might be meandering and to get back to something that makes sense. And I just try to hold on to it, dearly. What will become of me if I don't own my own instincts? If I blindly follow someone else's voice? All these years I have tried to listen to the sound of that voice in my head. I have worked hard to make sure that voice is mine and no one else's.

Alas, to disappoint my regular -2 readers, who have been reading in anticipation of pearls of Buddha wisdom, I have only learnt this; that the day my voice sounds like a friend's voice, or my father's or my mother's or someone else's then that would be the day I will cease. I will cease to be. I will cease to not to be.

There are days when I am mentally exhausted and I need it to be shown to me. to be told, to be instructed by anyone but me , but the beaten up voice comes fighting back telling me that I can be. All by myself if I wake up and just listen. 

Keep your instinct intact, safe and ever active. Just as active as your body and mind. The best way to hone instincts is to listen to them often even if they appear difficult to follow or make sense of. Develop them by practicing listening to them . I know and I know and I understand how difficult it is to listen to your own voice when life sometimes consists of emulating, imitating, fitting in, loving, caring, listening, doling out advice. Still, find time for it. Give it your presence and acceptance. 

That's all folks. Now, like the road runner in Hanna Barbera-esque world, I will swiftly sign off having handed over only thing I have ever learnt , to y'all! Until later, see ya, don't wanna be ya.

Just saying

12 moves in 5 years, from one house to another cannot be normal right? I did not think so either. Prior to these 5 years, I took 3-4 years on an average to move from one place to another and 2-3 houses in 4 years. But 12 abodes in 5 years has left all the old averages in the dust. How so many moves may have taken a toll on my psyche, you may ask. I ask it too.

Only a seasoned, well earning, well meaning psych could give me a sound analysis. But psychiatrists are not affordable just like the business class tickets or an apartment in a high rise building. They can be accessed by the ones who make enough to hire a fleet of psychs who can help them earn more, stay happy and not be bothered by such trifles as counting pennies to seek help.

I could use the cheaper option of doing an outpouring to a close friend but I imagine the friend would be as bewildered as a hare stopped in mid sprint. I may be extrapolating hard here because there might be some who could genuinely address your issues and hand out intelligent sounding advice but who has the time to tell and then who has the time to receive advice, right?

Staring out the window of my new place, I am in awe of the resilience of my never dying spirit which reasons out that change is good for me and helps me go through the moving nightmare every single time. Nothing but a zany spirit would only help me accomplish this feat. I seem to be living in a constant change-of -address mode. No one can keep a track of the zip codes I have used and thrown. Not even the collection agencies who fancy themselves as the blood hounds who can find you anywhere on this planet and extract every single penny you may or may not owe em!

So the existing situation is such as that I absolutely have stopped belonging anywhere. Every time an innocent soul, innocently inquires of me- ' Where are you from?'. I imagine that I am tearing all my graying hair out and screaming at their face with enough vivacity that they could see far down at my lungs if they dared looked inside.

20's are for travel and 30's are for thriving, 40's are for fun and 50's are for frying. I just made that up and according to my made up verse, I should be traveling in the 20's and I am. From one house to another. Is this the travel 'they' speak of? Have I followed the dictum correctly or have colossally failed to understand what traveling means. Judging from my verse making capabilities, it is pretty clear that I would have done the latter.

So for now I will just let out a quiet sigh. And hope that the twilight of my twenties would bring me some wisdom that is much needed and oft requested by my decaying grey matter. And also fun and affection and friendships and food and satisfying work and amazing sex life (whats that?) and love and world peace.

Some more stories?

Mary Mary, quite contrary : My grandmother would light up a Bidi ( Indian version of cigarette albeit cheaper) like any badass would do in a Western. She could give cowboys, bandits, soldiers, anyone who smoked badass-ly, a run for their money. My grandparents on both sides smoked but my parents don't and that is a testimony to my parents' sanity and insanity of my grandparents. But among all of them , I found my Naani (maternal grandmother) the most fascinating whenever she smoked. May be because she was the most carefree of all. Women in villages are banned from doing almost anything that men do. Except my naani who broke every rule in the village. Well most of them. She cursed, she never cooked, she covered her face only up to her forehead, walked around the village fearlessly and smoked with abandon. Let this not paint a picture of a masculine women, please no. She was as feminine as feminines come. She would paint her nails bright red and apply kohl in her eyes and say all 'matter-of-factly'  that eyes should never be naked. Sassy I tell you. But she smoked dexterously. I could never ask her if smoking is injurious to health because I was too busy observing the flick of the matchstick on the matchbox, the bidi hanging loose between her lips and then the bidi being lit. It never took her two matchsticks. One was enough. Simultaneously, she would be preparing a Paan (a betel leaf preparation which is mildly stimulating and colors your tongue, look it up) and handing it out to her audience. She had great many stories and anecdotes to share and people would assemble around her to hear them and enjoy some paan. Even though kids should not partake in 'paan chewing' activity she would still ask me if I wanted one. And I would say 'give me a small one but dont tell mom/dad'. Her smoking habit never influenced me in anyway to smoke but it did subconsciously make me look up to women who did not care for the archaic, ridiculous rules and did as they pleased. The free spirits.

Rain, rain go away: The first time I became aware of class system or of the divide between the haves and the haves not was in 4th grade. It was pouring hard that day and the last bell rang which signified the school being done for the day. All of us kids were waiting for our parents to take us home. Well I was waiting for my father to pick me up on that day only because I was told by the teacher to wait. Otherwise I usually walked home on my own ever since I was in upper kg. My parents never thought of sexual predators lurking in the bushes as any danger to their little daughter. So I waited. And then I noticed a few cars coming and picking up kids one by one. My dad did not own a car at that time or any fuel driven vehicle. He owned a cycle which is you know mechanical in nature. And then I realized that even if my dad did come, I would get wet on a cycle. I saw all my friends being whisked away in cars that were nice and dry and so I told my teacher that I can walk, my house is not that far. Now I own an Accord at 25 and every time I drive it , I look back at my 8 year old self and wink at her. Owning a car is a symbol of independence and that is how I have always looked at it. Never a status symbol or a symbol of luxury or other myriad things that advertisements tell you. Its a 'thing' that keeps an 8 year old dry. Similarly, I never owned many toys. Either my parents did not have enough money to buy toys or they considered toys frivolous and I suspect both. I had one random doll that sometimes became a barbie in my stories told to others or became ten barbies in other stories. That doll inspired me to learn how to draw, with a pen, all over her face. I repented and recognized my mistake the very next second when I could not erase the make believe 'earrings' and 'nose-ring' and 'necklace', I drew on her ! With a pen! The doll was subsequently subjected to more such tortures like baths which ruined its hair, or twisting of legs and arms to see how far they can be twisted. Whenever I saw a beautiful collection of barbie dolls owned by any friend, I would pledge to buy a set for myself as soon as I 'grew up'. I have grown up now and fortunately do not feel the desire to own barbies anymore.

Smells like teenspirit:
Naani also 'taught' me about 'being self aware'. Now this conversation happened in my native dialect so I can only translate it so much. Please note how my naani spoke to me like I am an adult when I was ten. I have always found it respectful when elders speak to kids like adults as opposed to speaking to them like they are underdeveloped little dumb people.

Naani: Have you seen Soni, she has grown up.

Me: Oh is she 11?

Naani: No she is ten just like you. She is very 'self aware'.

Me: Ahaan?

Naani: When she walks, she looks down at herself and smiles.

Me: Do we all have to walk and smile at ourselves?

Naani: She has breasts so she does that.

Me: What is breasts?

Naani: It is something that we all have and need.

Me: Do my parents have?

Naani: One of them does.

Girls and boys from 6th to 12th grade were taken to a social science exhibition in an another city when I was in 6th grade. Our teachers herded the girls together and strictly told that girls from 9th to 12th grade would not take younger girls with them if and when they tried to sneak out and speak to the boys from other schools. Other such instructions given to us were:

Older girls have to wear bras at all times.

Shower everyday even if there is no water

Bring pads for something called a 'period'

Not to jump and dance and sing

Bring food to the teachers if there are any buffets

Report if any girl is found missing, dead or seen with guys.

Johny Johny yes papa: Sometimes I have found myself oddly lying or being stingy when there is no need for it. 

I have more than once said the milk is okay when the milk has gone bad.

I try to use only one kitchen tissue to wipe a surface clean when more than 5 are required just to challenge myself. The only thing I like to conserve is paper towels/tissues may be because they come from trees and I like to save trees. I do my own bit for the environment. 

This is not new. In 1st grade, I told my teacher that my father is very poor and I would like to hence use only 1 notebook for all the courses.

My fair lady: My mother is strong like crazy strong. She is not scared of darkness, ghosts, spiders, frogs, scorpions. I wish I had inherited this quality instead of her height from her. She also used to goof around a lot when we were younger which kinda gives me my silliness. She would hug us (brother and I)  until we could not breathe anymore. Or wake us up at 6am saying it is 8am for school that started at 8 am. She would tickle us when we would be very seriously trying to study. She would play April fool pranks on us. She is scared of snakes. 

I make lists: I make lists, a lot of lists. My lists act as my Pensieve (for all the HP fans in the house, give it up for the HP reference!)  I think a lot, over and over about the same thing so when it becomes unbearable to do it anymore, I barf everything up in the form of lists. The latest list:

Things to keep in my big bag

Things to keep in my small bag

Things to keep in my hand bag

Things to keep in the pockets of all the bags

I once made a list of 'things to pack' and one of the subgroups was 'things to do' which contained an item 'should pack'.

Of shoes and ships

“Is it really possible to tell someone else what one feels?” 

                                                                         Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

I always wondered about being able to articulate feelings to others and sought an answer to whether we could or we could not until I found this by Leo Tolstoy. He did not answer my question but expressed it perfectly, that it is now satisfying, in a satisfying way.

We often try to put our feelings forth in the best possible manner but they never come out quite the way we wanted, we felt. What ends up in the air is the diluted, garbled version of the intended content. 

I saw this movie 'One Day' and to be frank it bored me to death until I reached the end. The reason why I continued on was Anne Hathaway's beauty and the reason I was distracted were her poor acting skills. But the end so unexpected, so jolting that I reeled over and wept. I hated for having seen this movie which made me inexorably bored and yet made me feel such intense emotions. I hated how the actors spoiled a good script and I loved how they illuminated the screen. Contradictory. Confusing. 

And now I am watching this movie Liberal Arts which is holding my attention in parts. This one part has lead me to breakaway from it and write this. Not like I knew what I wanted to write about but the movie provoked a reaction . This movie is all about a college life that I wanted but did not quite get. My college put thousands of restrictions on my gender and then some more. Restrictions were not necessarily the problem but the reasons behind them were unsettling. That is why I find my growth into a fully functional vocal adult to be a bit stunted. When you chain the freedom the interaction, then seldom does creativity take birth. 

Ok I just took a break from writing this so I don't feel like what I was feeling when I started this. Total disconnect. My landlord came over and started talking about the Vietnam war and why America participated in it. He has some pretty different ideas about why the world is the way the world is. He says more people die by smoking cigarettes so why  there is so much hue and cry over a few people getting beheaded. He has a perspective that I understand thanks to liberalism in which I am brought up , but I  dont subscribe to his view point entirely. He does make a point though, doesn't he? Would we be lesser humans if we did not cry over every beheading or people dying because of wars and murders and rapes? Shouldn't we also cry over people dying by lung cancer and flu every day? Well he is a lively man in his 60s and I love having him over. No matter what his beliefs, the wealth of knowledge of the past he holds is enigmatic. I use the word enigmatic because he has lived through the second world war and the Korean war and the Vietnam war. I have not. History has its charm but not in the classrooms.

Wary that I would be trite and uninteresting, I started writing less and less. I am not sure if what I write is interesting  but I sure as hell get a lot of pleasure writing it. And hey, I realized how diverse my music taste has become. Am I developing taste or am I learning to eat everything on my plate? Remember when we were kids and we hated some bitter tasting vegetables and now we find those palatable. Likewise the taste in music has evolved. I can listen to things ranging from Opera to Kanye West. From beautiful symphonies to Bieberesque tunes. Who knows what is going on with my ears. All I know is I find everything nice and nothing nice.

To end this inconsequential lament, here is a quote from my favorite book - Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll,

“I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?” 

Bad Word

This is going to be so serious, you may wanna wear your serious denims for this post. Or not. I had been ruminating on a thought that is close to my heart and that I strongly believe in, which is feminism. I have often been called one and sometimes spat on with this word. Feminism is a dirty word. It is , it is it is IT IS.

Anecdotal evidence: Recently I was in a women's network meet up where we were asked to raise our feminine hands if we identified ourselves as feminists. And my small hairy hand proudly shot up. My brain and heart were racing with adrenalin-induced pride, making my inner thoughts scream out loud, " YES I am with my people, this is where I hang, these are going to be my best friends (salivating)".
But to my surprise, nay horror, I was one of the 4 females who had raised our hands and the other 3 were the very reluctant ones. A dark shadow of fear fell over my face. Like the very next moment I would say good bye to mother earth and take my rightful place in hell. A slight tremor of doubt followed by a slightly bigger tremor of self doubt, raced across my brain. I wondered if my ears had not received the meaning of the question uttered in an Irish accent (have I become that American?!) or does feminism have a different meaning in the Oxford dictionary! Have I been looking up words in Urban dictionary all along!!? These moments of self doubt are harder to conquer than mt. Everest in my opinion but then again I am no Edmund Hillary. He must have had no self doubt hence he made the conquest and also because he is a man who did not need to look feminism up in his days, I assume. There were 30 women in the meet up FYI.

The shame that women feel when they have to stand up for another is not only incredible but makes me extremely uncomfortable. I have started following the path of no-judgement but such situations bring out the crazy in me. I refuse to understand the lack of empathy for a fellow woman in distress. I understand that a Utopian world would have HE for SHE and SHE for HE kind of balance but until then my dear ladies London bridge IS falling down, on our heads , everyday, in a big pile!

Feminism according to me is supporting, nurturing, standing up for women and believing in the existence of female human species. That they exist and that they should exist and have equal rights and be allowed to think for themselves. This is what I realized and understood growing up. When the hell did your definition get screwed up? Which route did you end up taking , when we all had decided to set out for equalville?? Why are you calling feminism as being man hating, talkative, bossy and a bitch?!

And if you call another feminist a hoarse hag or a bitch I am gonna slap you with the following transcript of my comedy idol Tina Fey. She did this bit with another great, Amy Poehler on SNL. Read and enjoy and learn something, anything! Note: this was in context to Hillary Clinton's candidacy for the president's post in 2008 and how some people did not like her because she was a "cut throat bitch".

Tina Fey:Then, there is the scrutiny of her physical appearance. Rush Limbaugh, the Jeff Conaway of right wing radio, said that he doesn't think America is ready to watch their president "turn into an old lady in front of them." Really? They didn't seem to mind when Ronald Reagan did that. 

I think what bothers me the most is when people say that Hillary is a bitch. And, let me say something about that: Yeah, she is! And so am I! And so is this one! [ she points to Amy Poehler ]

Amy Poehler: Yeah, deal with it!

Tina Fey: You know what? Bitches get stuff done. That's why Catholic schools use nuns as teachers and not priests! Those nuns are mean old clams, and they sleep on cots and they're allowed to hit you! And, at the end of the school year, you hated those bitches, but you knew the capital of Vermont! So, I'm saying it's not too late, Get on board! Bitch is the new black! 

Watch it if you like: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHnL8mUbopw

Anyway,

I can understand the decision to not voice out any opinion on anything but to selectively only be ashamed of being called a feminist or being scared to take any decision that might label you as one, is befuddling. I silently judge those. All of them.

So let us try to deconstruct why it is such a taboo to be identified as a feminist. Its almost akin to being a witch. If witches were hunted and killed in the past, the feminists are thrown dirty looks like they are going to enter your house and eat the portion of your chubby kid's food. No we are not! We have food too! We have chubby kids too. May be you think feminists would take away men's rights or they wont make docile wives or they will refuse to reproduce or worse they will stop applying make up and be ugly! I understand and sympathize with these concerns but really all this wonderful word and its definition entails is :
that we solemnly, politely and non intrusively fight for equal rights like right to education, right to vote, right to marry, right to financial independence, right to inheritance and right to breathe.

If you see a sister in trouble, you be a good woman and rush to her for help. Don't you turn your beautiful face away! And if a reporter comes , make sure you say I am a damn proud feminist. No seriously say it like you mean it!

Future: Being an optimist I feel the world is not too far away where everyone is equal. The words like feminism would become obsolete and archaic as they wont hold any meaning. And then perhaps and only then will I accept that Feminism is a bad forgotten word.

tête-à-tête

A sense of familiarity makes me happy but at times makes me nauseous. Yes nauseous. I feel like I just want to run away into the unknown whenever that happens. Freud would diagnose it as one of the myriad disorders that he made up to sell himself as a serious thinking person but I feel this one's mine. My own unique symptom and my own unique disorder. I have diagnosed it so it belongs to me. I wanna be attached to it selfishly. Sometimes I want others to tell me that they feel that way too, but not really. Times when suddenly everything makes sense like your knowledge is fathomless and the next second you are at a loss of any basic understanding? This also happens.

I wish I had time to coin words for these feelings. Actually I don't, on a second thought.I am pretty sure some stupid page that comes up with words for obscure feelings will definitely come up with it and trademark it like a bitch. Schadenfreude is what I would feel when somebody sues those idiots for taking away the sense of vagueness from people's minds! They wanna name everything so that nothing remains hazy. Why does everything have to have a definition or a name or an identity! It does not, in my opinion.

Anyway, even as I pen these absolutely futile and dimensionless thoughts onto this white virtual paper, I feel like somebody is inking my own brain with something quite abstract, nebulous. I probably am appearing high right now but I am not. I am making perfect sense to myself, may be not to you guys who are skimming through this because you have something else to click urgently on the world wide wild wild web.

Going back to running away from the familiar, I wonder if it has to do with the upbringing. I have barely ever been present at a place for not more than a few years and part of those years have always been utilized to erase the previous place and the ties to it. Sort of like a fancy blackboard which is white where you write with a fancy fluid marker and use a fancy eraser to wipe it off. Erasing always fascinated me more than writing on those white boards. It probably comes from enjoying cleaning things. Life is not as easy to clean up as that fancy black-white-board, is it? Or it is. I am sounding like Schrodinger's cat who is and is not :)

Sometimes..

 I realized a while ago (I mean A WHILE ago) that no one really reads my blog so I don’t need to give a fuck about that I write and whether it is presentable or not, literarily or otherwise.

So I just moved to this 200 year old house which used to be a carriage house for horses in the 19^th century! Its old and charming and I hope the horses had fun. It has these tall ceilings and an old world charm that reminds me of my grandparents although they weren’t that old. Yup they are no more. They passed away in 2011 taking a piece of me with them. A huge piece. Back to the house, which is my home now. I set it up and felt good about it. I oddly take pleasure out of mundane things like that. My kitchen, my bathroom, my vacant living room and my sparsely decorated 2 bedrooms look perfect…to me. I feel like now I could invite all the people in the world and make them sit on the floor since I have no couches or chairs and serve them my specialty aka Indian tea. They would like it but not their hurting butts so much, I guess.

Traveling, shifting, moving has been a way of life but each time it fills my stomach up with horrible nervous knots. I feel the inertia holding me back, not allowing me to take that final step where I would say good bye to all the memories made in that place and start pretending to be excited about a new life altogether. I have lost count of how many houses I have lived in or moved out from. It’s nomadic but strangely familiar. This routine has become a house for me. Ok wait that requires explaining. Basically in certain movies, sometimes an inanimate object or a place becomes another character; in the same manner my nomadic life has become a place to live at, for me. Well I don’t think I explained that very well but since no one is reading and giving a fuck, it’s alright.

I wanted to write something yesterday and thought will write it, the first thing I get up in the morning but now I can’t recall what it was about. By the way I am typing away furiously in Word than on Blogspot because guess what the new house has its internet all screwed up which resulted in having time to jot down my abstract thoughts. I even found time to read books. Yes, it’s amazing to have no internet but really..actually not. I wanna see my worldcup matches and other crap on the laptop that I devote my precious time to.

I wanted to talk about the brevity of life a little bit. Yes it is going to go into the existentially fraught thoughts. So embrace yourself. If anyone is reading this and has reached this point, please read the next sentence. Leave a comment asshole, so that I know you just didn’t electronically stalk me while conveniently taking a glimpse into my soul without my knowledge! Its creepy as hell!!

Where was I? You know what, let’s not talk about existentialism right now. It’s depressing as shit. But you know the other thing I realized? That blogging is so underrated. I mean you have this amazing piece of tool (the word tool makes me giggle! ) that helps you regurgitate your puke all over the world like you just don’t care. Its liberating as fuck, isn’t it?! Almost like taking a dip in a secluded lake when no one is looking, no one can ogle, no one can small talk with you and it’s the lake and you. I love finding simple small pleasures like that. Blogging needs to be a character of its own in a movie where blogging can think out loud and tell the blogger       “ seriously hun, you want me to showcase this piece of crap to the world? Mm hmmm”.  I think I just made blogging a sassy African-American old lady!

 I have been blogging for over 5 years now and it’s been wonderful. I am so grateful to whoever introduced me to it. My short term memory loss doesn’t allow me the privilege of remembering situations, dates, faces, names and other such memory trivia. None the less, I am grateful to you my friend.

This house inspired me to write. I can’t stop thinking about that specific old world where there was no electricity and there were horse driven carriages. I mean the Victorian era. There is an old mansion nearby, to which my place acted as an ancillary horse carriage place. I wonder who lived there. I wonder about the problems of all those people who passed away worrying about building a mansion and a house for horses. Did they worry about food, healthcare, water, utilities, education, partner in life, entertainment etc? Did they know they would, one day, not exist and all this hard work would be passed on to a babbling renter like me? Think not.

Ok lost my train of thought.

Can I get my melancholy suit dry-cleaned, please?

"Tere ishq mein tanhaiyan, humne bahut bahlaiyan".
This simple line means:- there are different kinds of loneliness in your love that I have humored innumerable times.

Simple but a world of philosophies packed into it. Simple and heavy. Brevity with depth. It can apply to a lover humoring and nursing his heart break or a connoisseur of life entertaining the ups and downs of it. I leave the interpretation to the reader. The mind often wanders and clings on to the memories that have made you weep, sad or just made you think. Don't you just hate when things make you think? A dear dear friend of mine says he has a feelings-switch which he switches off, on command and switches it on if need be. That's a super power that we lesser mortals cant afford. Why does melancholy feel more welcomed at times than the world of happiness surrounding us? Birds to watch, Skies to look at, rivers to touch and flowers to behold, yet the pangs in your heart cling on to you like a spider on a cobweb in a dilapidated forgotten building.

So should we stop feeling melancholy, stop acknowledging it and try to unwelcome it as soon as it knocks on the door?

We often look for meaning, patterns, purpose to life. And the revelations, results sometimes make the already difficult existence even bleaker. But should we just sit and let life pass us by because of that? I don't think so. So here is what I have realized, if something moves you, then you move! As plain and simple minded that sounds, it kinda makes sense. Do something if it moves you! Anything, even if it is talking about it or writing it down in your journal. Life would be a little less mechanical, trust me. Cynicism and pragmatism and hundred other 'isms' would tell you that nothing can be done, nothing can change but don't give up just yet :):)Hang in a little longer. Just a tad.

Perspective can be ruthless and a downer but we need it in life. Through perspective we can try nurturing empathy, at the least, if not an out and out helpful nature. It is better than apathy right? What's a man who cant shed a tear externally or inside for the ones suffering. Suffer a little with them. Just a little bit. It would bring melancholy faster to your heart than light but we can turn it on its head and make it purposeful as never done before. If melancholy helps you get up and go through the motions, for just one more darn day in order to be of use and alleviate the pain of someone else, then its a feeling worth keeping inside you. Don't you think so?

So next time when you look for solutions of how to always be happy, in a self help book, wait and think. Give it a fleeting, cursory thought that what if it is fine to leave the wretched melancholy in your heart, searing. What if it can make you more empathetic and relate more to the 'Les Misérables' and their miseries. After all, you are also looking for every one to understand you better, aren't you? A tad, I bet.

This is the only solution that I can think of which could turn melancholy into some kind of a catalyst to attain a semblance of happiness which is often misunderstood with success. Music, books, movies, food, healthy body, fame, travel, money, partner, kids can add so much to one's life, but if even in the company of these blessings the pangs attack, do not panic. Let melancholy, sorrow, sadness be another facet to your being. Don't send them for dry-cleaning as soon as you feel the pangs and the twinges and the stabs. Humor them a little. Let them co-exist along with the happiness, brightness, mirth and the light that dwells inside you. Let them do their work and move you. A tad.

Let me know if it works?

Art of arggghhh and blah

The reasons for writing this post are as unknown to my brain as the stuff kept at a high place, to the dwarfs. If that is being height-ist so be it! I am one, what are you gonna do? You didnt finish growing abruptly at 5'3 so I have the birth-growing-up-right to bring in dwarfs! Damn them and the tall models too. Yup extremely tall people shall receive my wrath as well. What are you gonna do? No, seriously what can you do?? You dont even know where I am! No not you NSA, you are as omniscient as ominously vacant I was during my undergrad engineering classes.Despite that, I did go on to achieve moderate success at bagging a graduate degree, opposite sex people and general douche-baggery.

Yes there is a lack of coherent reasons for filling up this world wide web space but I am gonna do it anyway, being a staunch environmental conservationist that I am. I save paper by littering the world with internet rubbish instead. Lets try to find a reason anyway. Ok I have been watching a lot of shows recently which are satire kinds and they satirically ridicule extremely idiotic people which is fine by me as I like to be ridiculed in satirical manner. No seriously if you come up with clever shit to pull the wool over my eyes, there's a high chance I may not punch your face immediately. Those shows have enabled my creative (debatable) juices to flow astray, splashing 'all y'all'! Ya what's the deal with all y'all? Why so much tautological redundancy? Its like if we called homophobes, dumb idiots who are moronically foolish while being illogically inane, would it be redundant? Actually no. I am bad at exemplifying.

You are getting the drift right? Or are you drifting off? Wait! I will get to the point. So basically my tolerance level for high stupidity has reduced to negative 20 from zero. The more growing up I do as a useless human being, the more I am made aware of moronic politicians who regurgitate their ignorance in front of the world media in a manner as that of how a bat takes a shit, facing down from a ceiling. You could be hit by the bat droppings or politician vomit and those two are your only choice. Go figure. One was heard saying pray-the-gay-away, the other was calling poverty, a state of mind. They could make better rhyming asswipe rappers than the better rhyming asswipe rappers themselves! You start to wonder whether they have the anatomically necessary body part called brain. May be not. Anything can happen. God is miraculous. So they say.

In the homeland, there is a debate about who is going to be the next PM. Choices are as diverse as bat droppings and (insert another bird/mammal/insect) droppings.You try to weigh the pros and cons and realize you dropped IQ points as rapidly as republicans in America drop homophobic, democrat-phobic,any-other-religion-other-than-Christianity-phobic crap on anyone who cares to listen. In the meanwhile, the public is busy weighing the pros and cons of Sachin Tendulkar's retirement. Public and politicians don't just have the starting letter in common but they also fit in together like junkies and drugs. One is as happily oblivious and gullible as the other is blood suckingly corrupt. Whatchu gonna do?

You can do the following:
1. Eat well
2. Sleep well
3. Ignore
4. Pretend like everything is joyous and shiny.
5. Also you can sometimes write posts like I do and act like it makes a difference.

Stuff like this and plenty other that makes you wanna pull your own hair and stuff it in your mouth, out of sheer frustration, gives me a reason to arrrggghhh and blah. Its as fun as watching an overtly sexual film with your grandmother. But hey something's gotta give eventually. Till then we shall wait for Mayans to reincarnate themselves and make a new calendar giving a clear, credible and cute apocalypse date such as 6.6.6066.