Living the past in a moment....

A freshly brewed morning coffee with cookies and a hearty breakfast follows. The sun is high but so is my spirit. Back in Mumbai and its perfect coz the trip is just for a few days. While driving down the road that I once lived in memories hit the refresh button and all I can think of are the good times I have had in the city that never sleeps.

I pretty much had a similar feeling when I went back to Delhi. The moments were diluted coz of the action at that time in my life but nevertheless it was the same feeling. When one lives a thousand memories in a moment, it is like a moment out of a movie. Hands stretched, breeze in your hair, a moment of complete silence (or a good background score).

It is an amazing feeling when you can look back at the awesome times without a slightest regret of where you are. You are just glad to be here; as you were glad you lived those moments with the people. Mumbai just helped me hit the refresh button and I will admit I needed this. I was a little averse initially coz I thought that I will start to regret the decision of moving back to the city I call home. But I didn’t, and what was great was the fact that I loved every second of my time back in the place where I significantly grew up (I mean mentally). Meeting people after a long time not only made me think of the times I had with them but also made me realize that I like them even more now. Was it the distance? The small shelf life they come with? Or both?

Another day and another evening to go but I have made up my mind on the fact that this was way less than I wanted. I wanted a few days here with all the people I left behind. Some of them I call friends and cherish even more because I found them at a time in life when I had given up hope of making friends for real.

Mumbai left me wanting for more and this is what is awesome….

Being selfish is not vice…

One of the things that come easily to every human being is being selfish. It is uncanny that the word bears negative connotations. I remember a dialogue from how I met your mother (a sitcom on TV) where Lily (a protagonist on the show) asks Marshal “What is the nice word for selfish?” and he says “Independent”.

My rendezvous with the feeling has been since long. Recently it was on account of an experience that made me feel evil. One of my closest friends’ father was hospitalized on account of a clot in the brain, something my dad had about 4 years back. And he had a miraculous recovery. I was very happy with his recovery and finding him absolutely ok was a relief, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking- why didn’t my dad have that luck? Why did her dad survive and mine didn’t? And to be very honest I was more upset for myself than I was happy for her. Shear evil by the books right? But I guess I have made peace with it that I am “Independent”.

I guess people relate to things more easily once they make it about themselves. I have to admit that in my case it’s a wee bit much. But we honestly live in a world where hypocrisy=opinionated, ego=self respect, stupid=daring, agnostic=secular idiot=adventurous and yup selfish=independent! As we grow up we get beyond text book definitions and accommodate more meanings to every word. Our dictionary stems out of convenience. I guess convenience drives principles as well now.

I am not defending my impulsive reaction. I know somewhere I have not come in terms with my fathers’ death and mostly I was always selfish. But the “good part” is some of my biggest acts of kindness & friendliness are an outcome of this so called vice. I am nice to people because at the end of the day it makes me happy.

I think of all the power that the human mind has the power to reason is the strongest. It helps us to look at our vices and give them a practical twist. We reason to be accepted not just in others eyes but our own. I guess it helps me conclude that being selfish is really ok, as long as I can reason it.

Shine Through

I see you hiding behind the shadows, hiding in the shade,

Afraid you’d burn in the light or you’d probably fade.

When I look at you I see the many colors you hide,

That you think don’t exist but I see all of them inside.

I know that you are afraid of getting lost in the crowd,

Afraid of your voice getting drowned in the music so loud.

But amidst all that darkness you’ll see a spotlight,

That will help you shine through, help you fight.

So go on, get on that coveted stage that you love,

Gather all the applause while you stand above.

And when you think of coming down, don’t get scared,

For you made yourself heard, you atleast dared.

I know nothing makes you happier than being there,

And the light that you'll bask in, I'll hold it here.

Don't be afraid even if the light dies on you

My love I know, you will still shine through.

Scrapping the paint....

Back in Delhi and the two weeks have been faster than life in Mumbai. Clearing the mess at home and getting into the new job seems to be taking a toll on my mind. I complained to myself of not being able to think and look at the mundane things in life with an acute perspective. I thought I lost my wistful lenses and found them as the mess in my home cleared.

As I stood at the doorway watching the ready to paint walls of my room there was interplay of unflattering colors on the wall. The painter had scrapped the old coat for the new paint to last longer. I couldn’t imagine my room was green sometime back or even purple and my mind raced back to the memories associated with each previous coat. I obviously couldn’t remember the details but some thoughts surfaced to make me smile. The house I was trying to fix felt like home.

All of us have several yottabytes of memory from our lives. As we tend to experience more things we “scarp” a part of the memory to accommodate the new one. The unflattering colors may be retained but are hidden with a fresh coat. Good or bad-it is all in the wall.

While “scrapping the paint” we uncover the part of our life we lived and triumphed. Some of us look at it as comfort…I know I do. It is comforting because it is the familiar territory. The criticism, the praise, the smell of the fresh paint has been dealt with. Change sometimes can honestly be a pain in the ass. Sometimes you like things static and it doesn’t bore you to have it that way.

This year has been incredibly twisted. I have had my best and the worst moment the same year. And it’s all a part of the wall (quite literally because of Facebook). When you can’t hold on to things and pray for them to remain static you discover the freedom of choice- to pick the color of your wall.

So with the New Year being right ahead my static self will pick up the paint brush to coat, un-coat.

Love, a certain way…

A certain summer night beneath the blessed star,
In my mind I held your hand, and walked afar
In the mindless chatter, a comfort I discovered again
And a shelter now I build, in the endless rain
There are so many places I want to see, so many in mind
In the chaos I am consoled when I have your shadows to find
When I think of my life without you, I wasn’t all that bad
Just a certain void that made me think of what I didn’t had
You are like the winter quilt, perhaps a hot coffee too
I would feel the bitter cold, but bearing is easier with you
If I were to write a book, I wouldn’t have your dedicated chapter
But your name in every section would only make the tome matter
With all our flaws intact, together we stand complete
If I was a wiz back then, with you I can reach any feat
In the seemingly endless journey, I savor moments anew
But the ones I savor the most, are the ones with you….

Obituary

“My daddy strongest!!”, a young girl in an old Complan commercial screamed at the camera and left a lasting impression on my mind. I always saw my dad as someone who was indeed the strongest in a lot of aspects. Even behind his tears I could sense an uncanny strength, strength to suck up to a bad situation and take control. If I inherited something from him, it was the fact that he was a fighter.

The first memory to come to my mind when I think of him is the time when he gave his last 200 bucks to an imposter, who pretended to be a beggar. On my questionable look at his generosity to a potentially undeserving man, his answer was “He must need it very badly to come up with a lie like that” and then he paused and said “Don’t tell your mother”. Despite my higher emotional proximity to my mother, I didn’t tell her. In that moment and to this date I wish I could be half as generous a person as he was.

I was really young and had worn a “Churidar” for the first time with all the works. As is the scenario in most Indian households the elders began to rave about how good I looked in the Indian attire. The obvious successive thought was to start planning my marriage. I remember my father snapping immediately and saying “she will marry whenever she pleases. I see her as economically independent and educated before even thinking of something like this”. Obviously the fact that my relatives were furnishing a bad joke didn’t settle with him. I don’t remember anything else about this day, but my dads’ words still remain in my memory.

My father’s anger was rather infamous in the family, so much so that I shuddered at the thought of studying from him. He had the knack of delivering ‘filmy’ dialogues at the onset of a fight. One of his favorites was “I don’t even expect you to give me water when I grow old and ask for it”. Ironically on the day of his cremation I poured the last drops of water into his mouth. I concluded that indeed God’s sense of timing is sick.

As selfish as I am, I am glad that my father died a happy man because of me (and his family). He was proud of my promotion. My mother says (and I believe her) that after my phone call he couldn’t stop laughing and kept telling my mother that I was HIS daughter. My only regret in life would be not being able to meet him and celebrate.

I loved him by virtue of being my father and I respected him for the man he was. To me, to my mind My daddy will always be the strongest.

Everybody wants to rule the world...

“The young blood rushed through his veins; in his pensive self he counted his agony and the solutions in the same breath. With his feisty self he clenched his fists and declared- One day…I shall rule the world”

I recon all of us saying this to ourselves or out loud once in our lives, the time when we were on the conquest of our world and sure of ruling it. The restlessness just builds on to you imploring you to walk the path. The path which will eventually declare you a hero in your own right, and even better in everyone else’s as well.

This is the time when someone requires guidance the most. However gusto you have, to walk that way, you need a signboard that points to that direction. I have come across so many people, who have the mix that makes me think this person is going places, what they lack is a direction. It’s like you have the ingredients ready in front of you in the exact amount but you don’t know how to cook.

This thought perhaps comes from my own state of mind these days. It is impossible for this breed to think we are made for the mundane stuff. Such is the surge to make a difference we find ourselves in scores of people who are screaming to be called different. Doesn’t this “similarity” give us an opportunity to unite and make a difference? With such dynamic mindsets it is difficult to attain a state of similar interests, but perhaps that is not even required.

It is quite a sorry state frankly. With oodles of energy and no vent out, the fire just burns out. You are left reminiscing at your once exuberant youth and wonder “I was you a couple of years back”. Yes I met someone who said this and it was pretty scary to find myself lash that sentence to someone who would come for the signboard and find a dead end.

It’s a phase….some tell me you will grow out of it. But do we need to? Should we? Can someone help me and the scores behind me with a sign board?