Monday, April 24, 2006

Being Obese - Day 6 of the 12th Year

Have I been able to stop eating like theres no tomorrow ??? I guess, to some extent, I can dishonestly say, Yes. Dishonestly, coz the reason I've been eating less is coz I don't feel hungry.

I still haven't left Pan Parag. As I told my boss today, the one big reason I want to change my job is that I would feel apologetic in eating Pan Parag their in front of my professional environment. Its not that I like the taste. God alone knows why I can't give it up.

I really don't think much. So its not as if I'm stressing myself out thinking about my life and I substitute the pain and angst with food and pan parag. I've always been a doer versus a thinker. I don't think, coz it just branches out the problem into miniature shoots and then I'm screwed .

This way there is one issue I am unhappy. There ideally should be one solution, to make that issue into a non issue. And, that, should be controllable.

In the case of my increasing mass, the solution is evident and completely controllable. Yet, I find difficulty in comprehending it.

Anyways have promsed myself not to keep hitting myself. Only 10 pan parags today till now & not much to eat.

Atta, girl.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Just a small preface to this one. Usually I never write qualifiers for my poems. I believe the strength of a poem lies in its relationship with its reader. So I may be writing about what I think I'm writing about but u maybe living it in a different manner. But this one is special.
I wrote this one when I was 15 I think. It is completely autobiographical and happened to me when i was all of 10 and living in a place called North Tees in England with my parents. My parents are Doctors and both of them used to work in a hospital which was next door. There was a library in this hospital and I used to live there. There was a candy shop right next to the library and I used to buy these amazing mice shaped white chocolate candies from there. And , on one such Monday I met racism.........


10 Pence for Innocence

I see

Juicy white mice,
10 pence each.
Candy,
Of course
In the corner shop,
In the hospital,
Where my father worked.

I Want

A blue-white Monday
Full of tang,
Ironically!
Walking with eager steps,
Tasting the anticipation
Of biting into each mice,
So deliciously sweet.
I felt it
Before I heard it.
"Nigger"
"Blackie"
Spit on my face
That too,
In my domain.
Infront of my corner shop,
In the hospital
Where my father once worked.

I Act

The heart of a child
It knows not what to fear
I fretted about my mice
But, stoically stood my ground.
Rubbed the spit on my face
With the tears that fell.

The strength of
An audacious dewdrop
Hanging on for dear life.
The ego of a blemish,
A tear
The might of its mere existence
To clash
And,
thenDisintegrate.

I, still,
Bought my mice
Before walking away.

I Know

TodayI still taste the mice
BeforeI feel the pain
The logic of a child,
Not always in vain…
It stillIs the hospital
Where my father worked
My father did not change
Does home ever change?
A part of me,
Just,
A heartbeat away
Nemesis

The past never creeps up on me.
I live,
And relive
Each corner
I took.
And wonder,
What would have been
Had the wall not been there…
The past does not tell.
I gnaw at it with fingers raw with longing.
It denies me what’s mine.
“No heart”, I scream.
“No heart? And me?” says my past
“You must be out of your mind
Or soul
Or do you want me to lie?”
“Those walls were never there
The corners you always assumed”
That heart you talk about most
Is the heart “you” never had……
The truth you want to hear
From me
Runs deep within yourself.
“The truth is forever the destined
And
Its destiny is to be denied
To merge with blood
And
Then appear to want to be called white”
The Homecoming

Those are the beats of the drum
That sound the homecoming
Of a warrior.

Unused to such cheer,
Of death I understand,
That steals the body of its warmth
And the mind of all thought.

Mine are the eyes of a man
That pin all hope in one corner
And then,
Destroy the corner itself.

My torn pocket boasts of
Borrowed land
Where days are like nights.
Where sleep comes fast but shadows abound.
Where days are dreams but all unknown.

My torn pocket boasts of
Borrowed land
Land that I fought to win.

There is a wall at the end of this mountain
Which separates my world from yours

I live in hope.
There is a wall
I can scale it, when I,
Choose to do so.

Not the seamless
Heartless oblivion
I have been taught to see.

The ability to speak one’s mind is not rare,
The sensitivity,
To know
When to do so
Is.

I hope
Dear friend,
This innocence stays
And,
Sometime soon,
In the years to come,
The intelligence
Meanders through,
In waves,
Unstructured.
Pure.
And, most definitely, resolute.

No torn pocket
No borrowed land
No mountain
Just one wall to scale
And,
So many hearts to do it with....
My Child and I - In Communion


I refuseTo be drowned.
Drawn into a vortex
Of a multiplicity of voices,
To be made to doubt
To,
Believe in
What I know,
For certain,
Not to be.
I stand by my belief.
I believe in God.
In each moment I lose
And,
In every tear I gain.
Within me,
God lies
Waiting for a summon.
Not to act as a saviour
But,
To remind me,
That, he is human too.
That,
what I have with you
Is love.
A meeting of two souls,
An amalgamation
Of their separate wills,
Fusion into one.
The need of a touch redundant.
The echo of a feeling desiring it,
Resonating,
Reverberating..

From hope to resignation....

From this wall to that wall...

From your beat to mine.....
Lies No More

Some days
I just lie
And look up
At the sky
And my reflection in it


Some days
I just lie
And stretch myself
To see how much
Space I take


Some days
I just lie
And curl myself in
So as to prove to myself
That I can


Some days
I just lie
And laugh and hope
That I haven’t forgotten how to


Some days
I just lie
And hope
That I have to lie no more... ... .
Being Obese - Day 1 of the 12th Year

Its with great relief that I sit with myself today. I finally have someone to talk to. Its difficult getting one to find a shrink even when one has decided to see one.

I am a 110 kgs or nearing it. That means that I'm all of double the weight I should be. Ideally. I would also categorize myself as a "Food Monster" I 've heard that the best way to start the healing process is to admit. So this is a venture into pop psychology. Its also an appeal to all friends and reader of this blog to help me cure myself. I've always been tried and found guilty for being too open with people around me. However, I'm being true to my character and eliciting help and support from all.

I had the most amazing thought yesterday.

Last nite some friends had come home for dinner and we got onto discussing meditation and what it means to each of us. The consensus was that the best way to meditate was to think of ur past day before sleeping in the nite and ur future day post waking up in the morning. And, everyone very sagely nodded their heads. (Listen, am really not trying my hand at sarcasm here. its just that I really don't think such generalised learnings work for me).

But to come back to the point, I thought , really thought on what I say to myself or do before going off to sleep and post waking up in the morning. Every night for the last few yrs, my eyes close to one thought, tomorrow is another day and i'm not going to abuse my body with food, not this time. And I wake up each morning to the commitment that today is D Day. No garbage. No food. and by the time I'm done getting ready for office , i'm done with my commitment too. I hoard on breakfast that cuts straight to the flab and postpone for another day.

I've often questioned myself why I put myself through the pretense of promising myself something I don't want to make an effort for. Coz thats what it amounts to at the end of the day. Its not that I don't want to do it, its just that I don't want to make an effort. It hits hard coz that has never been an issue with me. I make an effort for the most ridiculous of things. I try and make possible situations that my loved ones want to bring upon themselves. So why does it not hit me that these same loved ones cannot see me dying this way.

Till a few yrs back I was fat. Not obese. And I was conscious of the fat. Because I wanted to look good.

Today I'm obese. I think medically I'm reaching a milestone offering called - Morbid Obesity. am conscious of the fat. Because I cannot not be conscious of it. Movement is cumbersome. Walking is an effort and the mirror has become my worst enemy. Still what do I do?? I eat some more...........

As usual. today is another day of postponement..........will come back soon with more.........