Posted in m@dness

Note in the Mood-30

Diwali is just around the corner. I had never celebrated Diwali till 2 years ago. And when I did celebrate, it really was with a bang. Ami was born on a Diwali, 2 years ago. So indeed it was with a bang. Nope, the post isn’t about Diwali. Go google if you need to know about the festival. As a ritual, the ladies clean the house, from top to bottom, in and out. It is tiring. As I moved things around here n there, I slowed down. Couldn’t it be possible, that by cleaning, our ancestors actually meant our heart and soul? That, what if they meant was to throw away the negative thoughts in our heads and leave space for the good stuff to enter. Make way for goodness! Couldn’t it be? And dumb us keep cleaning the exteriors, the material things.

I did. I sat down, this weekend. I thought of the good stuff, I couldn’t think of too many bad things that I had done, but I could think of a lot of things that people had done to me that really did leave scars. We try so hard to protect ourselves, but it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference. Cause when the bad things come, they come out of nowhere. The bad things come suddenly, with no warning. But we forget that sometimes that’s how the good things come too. So I sat down and thought of all those experiences and cried. I cried for the last time. I decided I will not cry over all of it ever again. I will not keep a revenge and I will not curse. I let go. I forgave.

It felt good! Why however, does it feel so good to get rid of things? To unload? To let go? Maybe because when we see how little we actually need to survive, it makes us realize how powerful we actually are. To strip down to only what we need. To hang on to only what we can’t do without. Not just to survive, but to thrive. Maybe we’re thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we’re thankful for the things we’ll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate. Happy Diwali.


Posted in m@dness

Everyday Super Heroes

I have personally never been a fan of superheroes. I have always thought that like Santa Clause, they are just fictitious characters to fool kids. Until very recently. There are days that I walk to work. Its perspiring but it’s the time I get for myself. I think while I walk, I listen to music or just take in the sights and sounds. I have seen a lot of aged people work their ass off just to earn enough to feed their tummy. The task they do is so difficult that sometimes it looks impossible. But they do it and smile. Victoriously. 2011 and 2015 were the years that tested my limits as a mere human. These years taught me life. There were days I couldn’t just get up from bed just dreading that I was alive. But I had to keep moving. That’s when I chanced upon the Superhero Stance.

The physical pose in which the superhero stands with legs spread apart, arms on hips, elbows bent. The superhero stance projects power. It’s an example of what psychologists refer to as an open posture, in which limbs are spread out in a way to take up more space. If you can retain the superhero-type stance for a grand total of two minutes, you will feel more powerful and act that way: Stand like a superhero, feel like a superhero, act like superhero. This phenomenon has been proved and I can assure you it works. I have assumed this stance quite a number of times in the last few years; my productivity has increased measurably and my mental state has had a 180⁰ turn from depressing to in control.  I know it will make you look stupid, but I assure you it is life changing! It changed mine, so am pretty sure it will change yours too.

Winning and Losing is  all a part of the circle of life. Everyday, we loose battles as often as we succeed. The key though, win or loose, is to never fail. The only way to fail is not fight. So you fight until you can’t fight anymore. Hold up your head and enter the arena and face the enemy. Fight until you can’t fight anymore. Never let go. Never give up. Never run. Never surrender. Fight the good fight. You fight even when it seems inevitable that you’re about to go down swinging.

Why? You ask. Why do we even try when the barriers are so high and the odds are so low? Why don’t we just pack it in and go home? It’d be so, so much easier.

It’s because in the end, there’s no glory in easy. No one remembers easy. They remember the blood and the bones and the long agonizing fight to the top. And that is how you become legendary. An everyday Super Hero.


Posted in m@dness

note in the mood-29

Its a Saturday morning. I am feeling good, after a long time. I mean eons. We have been walking for a long time and I can finally see light at the end of the tunnel. Distant and faint but I can see it. We have been through hell last year and even now, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if we really did survive.A year back, exactly a year back, I would wake up in the middle of the night, frightened, look around and start crying. I’d look at the 2 souls sleeping next to me and wonder what would happen to them, to us. As I write this, just thinking of it, I am getting goosebumps. I woke up last night too, sweating furiously. And then I looked around and smiled. It was all going to be over soon.

My prayers have been answered. A new ray of hope has fallen on my soul and filled me with a light so bright I can no longer see my yesterday. My very sorry yesterday. Now all I see is tomorrow. A beautiful tomorrow. And so I’ve decided to put away all the worrying, consciously. Nothing I’ve done so far as been planned. Call it destiny or by any other name, but every where I’ve been so far is where life has taken me, not where I’ve wanted or decided to go. Everything I’ve done has been what has happened, not my actions out of a deep desire to act so. Life for me has been a journey without a destination. To put it short, I’ve just been flowing with the tide. And now I am going to ride the tide.

*Touch Wood.7673275_orig


Posted in m@dness

Of Blocks, Newspapers and Bathrooms

I have a job. I mean, I have a job now. What is funny however, is that this particular job pays me to write. Oh, I can already hear the snigger n muffled laughs. Shut Up! There’s this about me page on this blog that you  should read before you read any further.  So damn true! At this very moment, I am working as a Social Media Consultant. Eh? No, not because I have accounts on facebook, twitter or linkedIn. Duh! No, not because the brother is a Social Media Guru. No No. Apparently my  references suggested I am better at this than HR. Am pretty sure they were all drunk or drugged! I havent written blogs for so long now.I posted one out yesterday out of sheer desperation!

I shudder at the thought of having to type a few words these days. FOr my blog I mean. The past few days have made me into some sort of word vending machine! 30..40..60 posts each day for social media!

The high point of this whole thing has been a mail I composed last evening. That is when I realized my writing has gone from manageable to garbage-disposable. In a paragraph of six sentences, I must have used the word ‘some’some sixteen times which was okay until I realised that I used ‘Basically’a lot more in a eleven word sentence. So basically, it was a wake up call in the midst of reading the crap I had written.It made me realise what I was missing. Awww I miss my blog. I miss that frantic finger-hops on the keyboard, the hurried reading, the looking for ideas to spur of the moment publishing .

2013-artwork-writers-block-sketchIts not like I was not trying. I did. I swear. I have at least thirty six incomplete, unpublished drafts.So what if 9 of them are blank & one of them is more like a digital signal. But still, I tried. I have spams from bathroom cleaners and sanitary distibutors which I am sure is my family’s doing! Time and again they have taunted me on the basis of one freak incident involving bathrooms! Now, I do admit I am not exactly a bath-lover ,humiliating me publicly,  was unbearable. I have published those too so that it inspires me. Well, i tried. Nothing happened.So basically, there was not much enthusiasm forthcoming due to such insanely (ir)relevant comments. I didn’t know what to do, I still don’t. Then I thought that maybe this is what they call “blogger’s block?” and I’d read for a while, but between balancing on one leg and learning to walk again and running away from mad dogs and thieves, I couldn’t spare much time. I didn’t even read the newspaper.I still don’t have the time. The little whats-happening-in-the-world today info I have is because its my task to pick up the paper and place it on the coffee table. Well, that is yesterday’s newspaper that’s delivered today morning. Yeah, my dad reads yday’s news today coz the media barons think that Bhopalites can make do with stale! You see it screams out all the news that’s worthy of being made into a Bollywood movie in the near future while holding back all the other unwanted stuff. It screams, trust me, Anyway, it is unrelated to my writing which was what I was writing about.

This not-writing thing. It is really driving me crazy. I do shudder at the thought of typing a few words these days. Its mostly to do with the fact that I have to reduce my characters to 140 and so my thinking and ahem creativity is narrowed down. Ugh! Twitter is sooo definitely a man’s invention. Who else would want to restrict speech to 140 characters! Definitely, not a woman! Who knows? I inspired a good friend to start writing again and here I am. Stuck. Oh oh another block. Hitting me.Now. Help!


Posted in m@dness

Age gracefully

When I was very young, very very young, my mother used to pick out what I was to wear each day and lay it on the bed. I hated it. One of my earliest memories is praying to God that he’d make me an adult fast so I could choose what to wear. Memories of my mother fade with each passing year. Blame it on the silver things that crop up each time I comb my hair. Or maybe its time.

When I rifle through old photographs and search my brain for forgotten memories, I see a gangly version of myself, gazing into the future. I used to read Readers Digest, not understand a word,laugh out loud and reserve understanding to the future.I would paint lines and circles and a renowned artist would call it Abstract Art. I would become a teacher and pile up assignments on my students. I aspired to be the girl in the advertisement, sipping chocolate margherita on a colonial balcony, my tresses billowing behind me.  I would be one of those bikini-clad women who all look alike on a Goan beach.

At some time, without my knowledge, the future arrived. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like anything I planned. I am not a teacher nor the girl in the advertisement . I exist in a continuum of endless cups of tea! I am 30. I cannot drive a car. I cannot speak a foreign language. I haven’t written a book, yet. Young nephews and nieces have graduated from calling me ‘chechi’ (a Malayalam coinage for ‘elder sister’) to aunty.Ugh! I still have no idea how shares work and can no longer put it down to my innocence and young age. It has its perks of course. I have now learned the art of doing bottoms up and am legally allowed to do so. I can multi-task. I can wake up as early as 5 am. Earlier, I pretend-laughed at people’s jokes because I didn’t get them. Now I pretend-laugh at their jokes because I get them.

Still, everything seems to be happening in a rush. I’m not ready to be a 30-year-old. Mentally. I’m not ready to be served wine/vodka at a restaurant; I want good old coca cola. I’m not ready to be asked my opinion on the nuclear situation in Pakistan. I don’t want to whine and sulk about paying bills and running errands. I hate acting old! I don’t want to.

I wish I could go back in time and narrate a few life lessons to my 18-year-old self: don’t smile so smugly at the camera. In ten years’ time, you’re going to look at yourself and wonder at your own gawkiness.  If you thought you got high on chocolate, wait for the real deal. Don’t be scared to talk to that boy you like. For that matter, don’t be scared about speaking your mind or doing what you think is right. Everything is fugacious.

In another ten years, you’ll wonder at your stupidity aggrandising someone who turned out to be just like you. Don’t take everything in life so seriously. Have fun, do something illegal. Remember: Your past becomes the raw material for the anecdotes of your future. Your dreams may be rooted in fantasy but your plans are rooted in reality. 10 years from today, you wouldn’t want to look at a photo and think that you too could’ve been part of it.

Oh, and tell your future self: stop trying to be profound. Dont be afraid to act your age. Not a minute older, not a minute younger. Age gracefully.


Posted in close to heart, m@dness

Move on

Its that one rule life tries to tell us during trying times. Move on. Its easier said than done though. I have lost quite a number of people to both fate and death in the years that I’ve walked on earth. I have tried to make up for the loss of these people in my life as well as in the lives of others whose world’s they occupied. In most occasions I have failed miserably. Nobody can take the place of someone else. Nobody. Period.
That said, something has been in my mind for a few days now. It could be because of the nostalgia that came after reading  a post on my brother’s blog. My father raised me alone. It was him all the way. I say all the way because although there were family and friends to help out at one point or the other, for most parts(read:95%) of my formative years , it was him. For a man to bring up a girl , i am sure would’ve been a herculean task. I know for sure because I have seen the stress and  effort Ro takes when he has to manage ami for a few hours!  So imagine about 24 years!  Things were different and difficult for the three of us; my dad, brother and me. Boys are more closer to the mother abd girls to their dads. I could tell my dad everything but he and my brother always had that line between them. Always.
A neighbor passed away recently due to an illness. A nasty illness that too. She left behind 2 boys aged 8 and 3 maybe. I wasn’t too close to her nor the family. However when i heard of it, I cried my heart out. Partly for nostalgia and partly for the boys. Their family is huge. Grandparents and uncles and aunties and cousins and friends and so many others. Would that be enough for the boys? Will they be able to bond with their father and tell him every small detail of their lives? Would he care to listen? The truth is that we’ll all grieve. For a long long time. We’ll never be tbe same again. We’ll heal in bits and pieces and we’ll slowly learn to live with the loss..the void..the space in our hearts. Forever.
I have thought about speaking to the family time and again and convincing them to let that man marry again, but I have been overpowered by the typical mind-your-own-business mentality. Will he get him self another wife? Will they ever be happy again? I pray they do. Those boys and that man deserves happiness in their life.
I asked myself this question: if I were to die unexpectedly.. would I want to see Ro and ami happy? Would i want to see Ro married again? Ami calling someone else AmmA? Yes. I’d want to. I would love to make sure that they are taken care of well in my absence. I am pretty sure every person up there wants their loved one to remain happy. Happy doesn’t  mean forgetting.  Does it?


Posted in close to heart, m@dness

Note in the mood-28

When we were children, we wanted to just grow up and be adults. Like really quick. Being adults enticed us a lot and maybe thats why we loved playing house house. Maybe we thought that life was a lot cooler as adults. Remember when you were a kid and your biggest worry was like whether you’d get a cake for your birthday or would you get to eat chocolates the next day. I remember my relatives and elder cousins telling me to enjoy my schooldays while it lasted coz it was the time we would be free of any responsibility. Today when I see children playing house house ans daddy mummy, I tell them to go out and play something else while they can. I tell them that they have a lifetime to play house house and live the adult life. The poor children think the adult life is happier and a lot easier and a life free of exams and tests and homework. They think its all about cooking, partying, love and office! If only they knew.
Adulthood is responsibility. Adults have to be places, do things, earn a living, and pay the rent.  Everyday is an exam, a test that you must most certainly ace. Its not just you, you are responsible for all those that surround you,  all those whose lives are a part of yours. The scariest part about responsibility is when you screw up and let it slip right through your fingers. There are no weekdays,no weekends. Its just one loooioooooooonnnggggggg neverending day. Unfortunately once you get past the age of braces and training bras, responsibility doesn’t go away. It can’t be avoided. Either someone makes us face it or we suffer the consequences. And still adulthood has it’s purpose. I mean the guiltfree shopping, the love, the no parents telling you what to do, the life after the responsiblities… if ever…that’s pretty damn good.