If u're looking for rational thought, this may not be the place for u. Am a rambler and I ramble at will, with no apologies. You will encounter non linear indulgences, emotional outbursts and personal extravagances.
But, be my guest.
I may become the reason u have fun with urself.
A wannabe movie maker, an adhoc writer, a self proclaimed poetess, an experimental cook and a near obsessive passion player....rock with me
Once upon a time I used to be optimistic by choice. Now, I’m so, by
default. I don’t mind it. I feel like Bhutan. For those of you who have missed
on this beauty of an info nugget, Bhutan rates highest on the happiness index
scale done by some formal sounding global body ..Blah.
So it really doesn’t matter if you’re happy or not. What matters is
that you get to define whether you can be happy or not. By the way, this is just
boundary for the rest of this piece.
So I keep having these extremely inane conversations with Junior
through the day and sometimes I find them turning my thought world a bit upside
I have always been extremely proud of my zen like demeanour to be
positive come what may. That’s the only thing I devote my quota of discipline
to..hence, most of what I do otherwise becomes a labour of indiscipline. Just
saying. Also apart from this there isn’t much to be proud of. Again, just
So one such conversation almost verbatim with lots of stereo sound
(read: in the mind mumbo)
“Mom, I keep thinking about something a lot but then it seems quite
silly ..you wanna know what it is ?”
In my mind, I sort of am debating whether I want to hear a long
convoluted dream sequence of dragons that look like Amitabh Bachhann,, sci fi
landscapes with a healthy dose of human biology thrown in (his currentmuse) …
I’m too late .. sorry, at my age, its too slow.
He takes the burden of guilt off me …and continues.
“I think every single person in this world is lying to me so that I don’t
feel bad about myself Mom ..”
This is the hindi ‘hain’ by the way (pardon, bihari roots).
I don’t have an under confident kid, low on self esteem. So I’ve
already started blaming myself for doing this to him. This being this complex
feeling of emotional persecution he seems to be going through and I have no
clue about. I justify it by thinking maybe I’m just too vanilla optimistic for
him and he sees no value in that and has completely dismissed it from his life …
my god..so much pessimism at such an early age ..I’ll need to figure out how to
undo the damage.
Without giving him a second to breathe, I jump up with the sole
intention of a big mama bear hug.
He looks at me with his not again kind of face, takes me in the hug and
says “oho what now?” in a very unrelated logical tone belying the gravitas of
his earlier announcement.
Keeps hugging me … the difference is he is the mama bear now …and
“Mom, I can’t believe theres no magic in the world. That we don’t know
magic. I think everyone knows magic and can do it. They just don’t want to hurt
me by saying that because I’m the only one who doesn’t have that power…the
power of magic…I’m not a magician, Mom.”
For a minute, I lose time. I really do.
That kind of optimism is hard to beat. The fact that its a part of him
says a lot to me about myself.
Its going to be a first today and one off my
My concept of a bucket list makes me laugh. It
resembles the revision schedule I used to make one month ahead of final exams
in school. Even in college actually.
That list had be the most loosely structured
(read undisciplined) piece of planning ever accomplished. Every day I would set out to do more, end up
doing less and justify it as being optimum. Come to think of it, we do a lot of
that in the corporate targets we take now too.
A buffered up, eminently justifiable, always
iterative study plan where nothing I finally achieved was out of plan.
You understand it was necessary ?? .. I mean what is more worthy than the propping
up of a sagging morale on deceptively simple (read artificial) crutches.
So, coming back to my bucket list. Its quite a
bit like that. There is nothing on it. Everytime I think I do something that is
worthy of being on it, I factor that in in invisible ink.
At any point of time its ‘kora kagaz’ , mine to play around with and never to feel bad
So instead of a ‘to do once in my life kind of
a spiel’, it becomes ‘have done and you couldn’t have stopped me darling’.
It was only a few years back that I got
introduced to this concept. Thanks to facebook. Someone ran updates on an awesomely
exotic vacation taken and kept us abreast of a bucket list being ticked
I sat myself down, googled furiously, munched
up some calorie rich thought provoking chips and tried belting out my bucket
Gave myself a headache and a heavy heart. And
hell ya..I always forget those darn calories.
What's the point of having a bucket list if it
just makes you go back in your mind and regret what you’ve already abandoned. The
pressures of time, distance, love, life get a part of you that you willingly
almost always part with. No point going back to the ifs and whys if that’s done
And that is why my bucket list always inspires
me to be forward looking because like me, it only resides in the here and now.
The first time I ticked something of it, I didn’t even realise it meant that
much to me. And now, it doesn’t, because something else means more.But for that moment, in that space, it resided
in my till then, unheard of, bucket list.
I actually opened an outfit, ran it to losses,
broke my heart and piece by piece, mended it back. That’s on my bucket list.
I ran a 6 episode workshop called betakkalluf
on urdu poetry with stalwarts in the field. It flopped miserably. 13 people
attended. All friends. I have never taught myself better. That is forever.
I heard Ghulam Ali live. In the rain.
I write hindi poetry now to my family’s
disbelief, feed into their live comedy feed ..love it.
I know how to eat a dust-thunderstorm. My dad
taught me. Beat that.
And this evening, I’m going to see a mushaaira
for the first time.
Half our life is spent in figuring how to please the heart. And the other half, in convincing ourselves why it never measures up to the happiness it promises.
If someone were to ask me today what really makes me happy, I seriously wouldn’t know. A good day, without any definition, comes to mind. There are times I can have that good day without any elaborate overture towards happiness too.
The game in life is never about happiness. Its about peace. Something which has more texture when spoken of as ‘sukoon’. No one tells you this. You are not even taught to look for it. It comes visiting, independent of mood.
What is it about music that comes from another room, another house.. it seems to have the lure of the distant seas and the need of the hour.. the smell of what could have been and the hope that it still can.... that’s sukoon …peace ..of heart ..of mind.
Whether it makes me happy or introspective or just lets me be is a matter of conjecture, never of conclusion.
I grew up hearing my Dad tell me that my biggest weakness would forever be my inability to co habit with my anger. I needed to let it breathe inside me to scale a few peaks. I forgave and lived too easy.
I tried holding on to my anger. It became too much of an ask. The effort killed my sukoon.
I agree, I possibly would have been more accomplished if I had asserted my angst instead of sacrificing it. But this peace that I have has come with its own cost and is so much more mine than that ever would have been.
Shanghai. Spent the last few days unlearning whatever I had heard of China. Have always been told I look Chinese ..the cheeks that do the eyes in into slits are guilty. Well, I found exactly one slightly heavy person in Shanghai. Every freakin’ person is thin and so stylishly with it. So, poof !!
Difficult to imbibe the spirit of a place when you’re staying at the best of hotels and roaming around in an upmarket catchment, far away from the ennui and drill of everyday life.
But I found my China.
In the Dumb Charades I had to resort to in trying to buy something as basic as water and the giggles that followed.. in the hotpot lunch we ended up mistakenly ordering at a DIY restaurant only to have our next seat neighbour tell us how to make it ..in pooh poohing the stories I had heard of Shanghai road discipline as I possibly corrupted a good number of roads in the company of a big Chinese huddle running across red zebra crossings :) Apparently, Jay Walking is a problem I’m not the one to have introduced there.
It rained. And I got to tick off an item sitting at the top of my bucket list. I walked. In the rain. Without an umbrella. This probably wouldn’t feature on anyone’s bucket list. It does on mine. I never walk if I can help it. The only times when I take to even trying it is pre monsoon and perhaps, autumn. For the breeze and the grey skies. Shanghai gave me that. In the middle of summer.
It gave me better than that. I got to do it with my son who’s growing up to be a young man now. In the years to come, as he moves on, these moments, this holiday will stay with me. I walked and he walked with me. He will realise one day I ticked an item off his bucket list too. :)
Holidays have never been about places for me. They belong to the people I meet or the solitude I earn. I met warm, generous, and quick to laugh at themselves people. People who became friends in a matter of seconds, over a mistake, a misunderstanding. Mostly, no understanding :)
I ate a cuisine I have lived with for as many decades as I’ve lived but only got introduced to now. Chinese that tasted nothing like Chilli Chicken, Manchurian and Hakka Noodles. Veggies, that tasted better than well, veggies. A mix and match that defied every rule of sweet and sour I had thought possible.
I met a girl half my age. She spoke the same language. Not English. Just the same thoughts from her mouth. We spoke about parents, beliefs, friends, love, marriage, dreams, ambition and imagination. My son told me, ‘she makes it sound so simple mom..’ I’m so glad he met her. Sometimes life’s simplest lessons and hardest learnings become more believable coming from distant shores. They turn out to be more credible than eager beaver mommies.
China loves. And, it laughs. And it really inspires.
I revisited Ayn Rand after years. I’m part of a Book Club that decided
to do Night of the January 16th this month.
The only popular Ayn Rand book I hadn’t read. And no, surprisingly,
age hasn’t lessened her appeal for me.
I’ve heard this from many friends. While you go through an Ayn Rand
phase in college, later, as life edges you towards a smoother whisky, u dodge
ur edges and, a need for radical philosophy.
Unfortunately, doesn’t hold true for me.
Loved it then. Love it now.
Never really had the gumption to follow it totally though.
Individualistic thought to the point of self destruction, I guess, was
too radical for even me.
Incidentally, I also began today with a movie that has been the talk
of discerning movie goers most of the last few months.
Missed it in the hall, and ended up planning so much to take time out
for an orchestrated movie experience at home that, finally ended up doing a
morning quickie today.
6 am..Shaitan..me and my AC rajaaii J
I didn’t like Shaitan… it may be the face of today’s moneyed youth but
I’m sorry I don’t get it.
By the way I love the genre..I’m all for experimentative cinema…..I
don’t think that’s what it was though..it was contrived cinema.
Coming back to how this connects with the book…Ayn Rand is also
contrived…she speaks of ideology that is beyond us.
Aspirational, superbly crafted, yet, illusionary.
However, the difference is there is philosophical truth that is
exaggerated to enunciate.
Shaitan was a lot of enunciation, bereft of any connect but the
There are afew lines in the book that could sum up the philosophical
premise of Shaitan beautifully..let me give them to u :
Flint : Now, tell us, didn’t Mr Faulkner have a clear conception of
the difference between right and wrong?
Karen : Bjorn never thought of things as right or wrong. To him, it
was only u can or u can’t. he always could.
I kept waiting for something like this in the movie..powerful, the
So we did the drugs, and the sassy dialogues, the indulgent khoya
khoya chand which u could have replaced with any old song sung in the same
style and, we would have still lapped it up…but u forgot the damn soul.
When every Ayn Rand hero/heroine speaks of “belief in nothing but own
pleasure”, the mind creates a context.
When the same hero then prefers to destroy the ideal he/she has
created to not do injustice to it, I believe. Even though its not something I
I missed that in Shaitan.
The core belief.
I’ve realized that I love experiences that make me go back to my
beliefs, evaluate the distance I’ve traversed in the years that I’ve led.
I could write loads on another book that made me change overnight – 40
Rules of Love….but that’s for another time, another post.
Love, anyway, is worth more than a passing mention …
Friends who chance upon this blog have always told me that I seem to straddle different paradigms in terms of personality profiles.
While my writing is grey bordering on black, my real world social interactions are anything but.
I don't really find this reading surprising.
For all my social avataar, I am pretty much a recluse..and, happy being so. I can spend days without venturing out of the house, just entertaining myself with books, my programs, cooking. I accept.
Its been some time since I actually applied myself to writing.
The plan is to reclaim some of the black on white and, gift myself a book..poetry comes easy so will start with that...all my publisher and reader friends tell me I've lost the battle before the war by choosing poems as my weapon of choice...what the heck...even if they aren't published, they will be read.
Whats the point of having a social avataar if it can't give forum to a recluse's fancy :)..
I've never been fascinated by butterflies. I should have understood then, that what usually fascinates one, is the inability to be or to have. The freedom, the voice, the wings, the colour I grew up with and, took for granted. And, still do. However, what fascinates me is the sky they say no to, to perch on a bunch of flowers so obviously not theirs and, the nerve they show, in putting themselves in the same position, over and over again....
Irreverence has little to do with me and, a lot to do with the life I've led... I stand, distantly pitched in shadowed angst even that, has little to do with me, a lot to do with the lives i've held... I try not to seek the moon's arc on a full moon night, irreverence it is, that makes me find it . stuck by its crooked end, hung like a rope, a ladder, an arc that i can lose or find as i move my thumb.. in tandem, with that wild vein on the right whisper of my neck. irreverence it is that makes me climb those rickety steps, to bathe myself in lit silver glory.. wondering, why i seem to be saddling a full orb when i had always been promised the sweet soul pang of an edge, just about toppling into irreverence........
I try really hard to think of some non angsty stuff to write about. Zilch. If you meet me you would never take me to be this edgy, melancholic, sometimes black writer. I'm happy, buoyant and completely over the top. I don't think much. I never ever impose my moods on others. I'm just the shoulder for the job. What the fuck happens here ???? And no, don't tell me this is the person I really am cause that would be really aggravating. And don't tell me, sometimes I need to be heard too...I have friends who have always been more than ready to be there and do that. I've never really had a problem blending both but I do sometimes wonder which one I really am.......
I somehow come back to this space whenever I feel the need to. Thats rare in itself. We don't really need anything nowadays do we? Or is it just me? 38 knocking on my window pane and i have stopped needing..fairly early to give in to life I say.
But then, I don't even see kids engaging with that emotion, the raw longingness of need. U want, u get...rather anti climactic, i would say.
At least I had a childhood where need was not artificially created by my parents...today, I make a conscious effort not to give everything my son's heart desires so that he can feel the want becoming a need, slow and steady...
I felt like coming back to this place today because for the last few days I can see that need building up in him. His eyes shine, theres a fervour in the way he speaks.... theres a course that Wharton or Stanford has started on Harry Potter & the Future of Illusion....he asked me how to get there. I smiled..you know one of those secret motherly quirky twist of the lips which just indicates 'caught u'.....
so now, I have a 'needy' kid, willing to give studies his best shot while he searches the net for Potter's wand....he has a globe on one side and google on the other...the two biggest warriors of this century I would say.
And, I have my need..at near 38...to give him the magic he deserves.....
Its amazing how we fool ourselves into believing that the reason we don’t do anything is because we don’t know it is happening.
Give urselves some credit guys and, heaps of guts too.
We don’t do it because we know, we understand and we take a conscious decision not to disturb the balance. We don’t do it because we know, we understand and we are a part of the reality that makes it happen. We also don’t do it because it is so much easier to be happy and blind and part of an unidentifiable mass than a lone crusading upstart voice.
And all of these reasons are OK. Its OK to be any or all of these. As long as u “know”.
One maddeningly, ambitious, greedy man bent an already broken system to build an industry out of nothing. Many sat and, watched him doing it. Hated his style and ofcourse, his guts. Used his power all the same.
This one man allegedly made pots of money for himself and, ah what a kind good family guy, for his family too. This went on for afew years,,about the same time our robust investigative news channels were airing how murky the world of saas bahu and saazish has gotten. Really entertaining, because the needle of suspicion was not pointing at this one guy at all…he was so clean u see..so these amazingly super investigative zealots of the media world had no reason to investigate him…the saas looked deadlier. And anyway, he was so subtle in approach…almost looked gandhian. And now ofcourse, we know what he did…..greedy greedy man..he made so much money…ya so what if others did too…one man …we are a humane socialist bunch of village idiots u know…that’s Indian..we’re so true to our roots…we choose such people to govern us…and we never once doubt them…all of them are true descendants of gandhi and buddha.
While we have proven time and again how beautifully inconsistent we are with our loyalties and, so hugely dependant on our ignorance to bail us through most anything in life…I am happy that this one man is so consistently full of himself that he is going down guns blazing.