The Sunday Chronicles – In Continuum

I won’t get into a preamble, epilogue, etc., nor into the mundane trivia of how my day began.

I’m deeply deeply deeply upset. There’s too many things going wrong with the world. And it makes me angry, frustrated and a feeling of helplessness pervades my being. I dissuade myself from asking the same old questions as I know there are no answers. And if there are, I don’t want to listen.

When disaster strikes, I always wonder what would I do, or how would I react if I was in a train accident and had to lose a loved one or find myself maimed? Or find that a pointless bomb blast had consumed a loved one in its rage and blanket indiscrimination of humanity?

Dear God! I don’t know how you feel. I don’t know what you are seeing. I don’t know what you are hearing. And I know you are troubled. Tell me God, what do you think is happening? To us? To the world? You think you and I could have a conversation? I guess you’ll have to pencil me in, in your diary, and we could meet up in 50,000 billion years. I know you have a lot of work ahead of you. I know you need to figure out the exact strategy to reconstruct Faith and Hope and Goodness. I know it must be lonely at the top. I can empathise. And I also know you’ve probably not slept for some time now.

But God!…(you hear me right because the questions remain unasked and stuck in my throat?)

I’ve been asked to meditate. I’ve been told to give my mind a rest. I know that it’s a difficult ask. But…

• I was wondering about man’s obsession with numbers.
• I was wondering about man’s obsession with the outer yet always seeking the inner.
• I was wondering about the quote which says, ‘clothes maketh the man’ when I see an ad for a brand of men’s suits which runs a tag line ‘Find yourself’.
• I was wondering about some lines which I heard in some of the movies aired on TV today - about memories and life - and for the life of me can’t remember them.
• I was wondering as I was driving around today, about some of the lyrics in Dido’s songs.
• I was wondering how repetitive I get and how the ideas that come thundering down the passages of my brain for my blog, die down, spluttering, like a tap unused for years and coaxed to spew out water, which it does in a sudden gush, but only for an infinitesimal moment.
• I was wondering about Bunty and she called. (I know it’s difficult lady, but just hang in there, like you’ve always done. Remember we’re still not anywhere near looking like our simian ancestors yet…we’ve got to hang in there for the rest of our lives).
• I was wondering, yes, wondering about a host of things that affect me deeply, but neither pen them down nor keyboard them. I wonder why!
• I was wondering about Diwali and its significance and how 2000 years on and we’re still celebrating the tumultuous homecoming of a supposedly just king and his victory over a devout demon. Guess the fault lies with the woman for turning the pious into an avenging angel. Aah! The legendary wiles of a woman. But then victory prevails. Good triumphs. Evils and demons are slain. And the Hallelujahs echo around! Jai Ram!
• I was wondering if I would ever stop wondering. It’s nice to wonder.

After all it’s a wonder-full world.

(But…)

The Eclectic Collection

Have been writing blogs in my head for 2 days now. I am now certain that I need something futuristic, like an omnipresent yet invisible hard disk + monitor + keyboard where I can just sit down whip out the key board from an invisible portable closet and start typing furiously and just press Ctrl S. And have a preview over a Minority Report kind of screen which I pull down, to see the proof of the pudding (my writing).

Complete sense of disbelief prevailed over the latter half of the day. Some very uplifting and positive forecasts make me now believe in the ray of sunlight actually touching my face and blessing me instead of bypassing me every single day. I no longer feel so cold. Faith has begun pouring in.

I'm happy about one decision that I've taken. The affirmation that it is the correct decision or at least the correct line of thought was/is the reason for my being filled with a sense of 'can do, will do'.

I am not completely whole and the chasm exists, but the yawning gap has begun to close and I know to let go is the best gift I can give myself. No one, and I mean no one, (except my mother) is worth what I've put myself through these past few months.

Time to get going on the path of learning and self fulfillment. Pottery, guitar, salsa, photography and maybe theatre can take centre stage(besides work). Some are in continuum, some I have initiated, some I plan to take up.

Writing for theatre is something that I never thought of, until Nandini asked me the other day to write a play. Me and a playwright? No harm though in trying my hand at it. So...

...I have the germ of an idea. I need to water it, and let it bloom. I hope to be a good gardener. Wish me luck.

The Sunday Chronicles - The Beginning

Prologue

Welcome to a new series starting this Sunday. A series which will not rave and rant, not pontificate, not try and make a telling or pithy comment on anything that is grave and needs mention. Just a simple series that will be as unassuming as this blog is and write about observations that have touched the mind, heart and maybe soul. Any comment adverse or otherwise will be most welcome. Because this blog, like the author, is a continued effort, a WIP, to improve, improve, improve. When it reaches the pinnacle of perfection both will cease to exist. Hope you enjoy dear invisible reader (I don't have any at this point in time, and don't harbour any illusions of having any in the very forseeable future), what is on offer.

The Chronicle Begins!

Sundays are usually lazy days. Like most days, I awaken to perhaps, the chirp of the birds, the faint glow of dawn peeping through my 'banana fibre' chiks. My body clock somehow knows it's 6.30 am and I gaze at my watch, peer groggily at the hands that don't come into focus and groan, 'Only 6.30 am - another half hour' and do some mental calisthenics and figure out that waking at 7.00 am would also hold me in good stead. Then I slowly raise the bar and 7.00 am goes on to become 8.00 am and finally I decide to leave the comfort of my comforter and warm bed at around 9.00 am. Mind you, this is not a rule, but the exceptions are few and far between.

Without going into details of the morning rituals of ablutions, milk and cornflakes, cleaning, and more, let me just be succinct and say, that today like most Sundays, I had an agenda. I knew I had to do some serious thinking, work and go for an appointment at 12.00 pm not necessarily in that order.

While I spooned soft honey crunch cornflakes and milk and skimmed the papers, I actually started poring over sections that are my favorites. After TOI, it's time to move over to the Magazine section of The Hindu. I love the Sunday edition of The Hindu (I don't subscribe to a daily dose of the same, TOI rules, and however much of a rag it's become, it's a habit, a sinful one perhaps and hard to let go).

What did I read and like about the News today?

I agree with Swaminathan Anklesaria Aiyar - the corporate corrupt can run free and amok in India. In fact if you ask moi, anyone morally, socially, economically and politically corrupt actually has a greater run of the land than those with unimpeachable consciences and who are 'free'.

Bachi Karkaria and Jug Suraiya I find, sometimes, too typically cynical and sarcastic and can't handle too much of their double entendres.

I did not read what Kiran Mazumdar Shaw had to say about healthcare in the rural sector. What I skimmed over didn't seem to pose an enlightening point of view - nothing new to what one already knew. The poor suffer, the loans they take to cure their ills are far more than what they take to plow the land. So? Not enough hospitals, not enough medicines, not enough doctors. Not enough. Period. But when will it ever be enough?

Erstwhile PM D Gowda has come unhinged. A raging bull in a china shop. A typical case of vendetta politics, where governance seems to have taken a back seat to the mad rantings of an old ire-spewing has-been and the media getting enough grist for their printing mills.

Vikram Seth's 'Two Lives' is a book that I'd like to read. I have his Golden Gate, waiting for me patiently, atop the pile of 'must-reads'. I like prose. I like the sheer poetry of words and the rich tapestry that language weaves and leaves such an indelible impression. I like the memory of words.

Must read Harold Pinter's plays. Have heard so much about them. And now he's won the Nobel too.

I love Shahsi Tharoor's columns and the ease with which his pen flows, constructing thoughts that are simple, riveting and real. I like to read him, yes. And I'd have liked to be Jody Williams, the co-ordinator of the International Committee to Ban Landmines, the orgnaization that won the Nobel Peace in '97.

Then there is Rania al-Baz. From Saudi Arabia. I cried when I read this account of a woman from the Middle East, determined to create an identity and lead a life she wanted to. What Bunty texted, of women being a stronger sex is so true. Men are... well men. The resilience, the power, the grit, the capability, the intelligence, the sensitivity, the strength and the sheer will power to overcome odds and survive in a world full of pooh poohing men makes women the 'shakti' she is. Salute! It feels good to know I belong to the stronger sex and in such wonderful company. (Little wonder then that the Hurricanes and Tornados are named after women - Katrina, Wilma...? Hell hath no fury is a true adage. Beware men!)

That's about the papers and the messages that I have digested today.

Post a siesta apres midi, I worked like a demon. Non-stop for 4 hrs. I felt satisfied.

Then settled to some TV. Oprah is yet another woman I admire. I'd give anything, anything at all to be able to spend a day with her. I find her inspirational. She was on location in Mississippi post Katrina and had celebrities spending time and contributing to the disaster. Julia Roberts, John Travolta with wife Kelly Preston, Mathew McConaughey were there, comforting, distributing, listening. Very much like our film stars here post tsunami. I cried (again). Human distress and callousness shatters my insides. Why? How? resound in my head and heart echoed by silence. I hate calamities.

Well, after a bit of that Goliath of all TV shows, KBC, one sits down to listen to the 'retro' show on radio and thereby ends the tale of a Sunday in October, circa 2005.

(As a reminder to self, must write about some of the corniest commercials aired on the Tamil channels. Phew!)

On that note, I shall bid adieu till we meet again in the next edition of The Sunday Chronicles. Stay locked.

Au revoir!

“Simplify! Simplify!”

“When the clutter, anxiety and complications threaten to hem us in, we should bring to mind the words of Thoreau, “Simplify! Simplify!” And even if this fails we might learn from the children and go fly a kite!”
Para from “Bus 9 to Paradise” by Leo Buscaglia

The author who says “life is paradise for those who love many things with a passion”. This gets a mention in this blog for the 2nd time. I agree completely. I love the wealth of meaning.

Life after all is simple. We are complicated. And we need to constantly strive to delineate the tangled web of aphorisms and simplify the paradigms that seem to choke us and thus dilute the beauty of life.

The last two days have had me struggling to stave off the fear of being buried in the rubble of a rabble rousing mind. Oft times in the past I have clawed myself out of the quagmire of this greedy, insidious and sometimes warped pool of self-defeating thoughts. I have emerged.

In response to my text message last night to some of my closest friends and buddies across the geographical divide, there were calls of concern and some very comforting responses. One of course threw me completely.

I’ve maintained that interpretation is the mother of all F#$@ Ups! Maybe this someone felt it was directed very specifically at him. “Expectations when it is of no use. No intention of hurting…perhaps not the right response…your messages are difficult to handle…”.

What can I say! If you ever read my blog sir, (thankfully you don’t, because a blog of mine would be an insult to your intellect), my rejoinder to that is - of course I have expectations. I also know that I shouldn’t have any. But my expectations are not what you think they are. All you need to do is be a friend. Is that too much to ask? If yes, why? Is it because I bravely admitted once upon a time to feeling pangs of attraction? Does that change the complexion of communication? I wear my heart on my sleeve. More often than not, I let those who care know when my good moods desert me and despair takes over. I’m fairly transparent and I care deeply for my friends.

Do I need to justify myself to anybody? Does someone with whom one has basically exchanged a handful of phone conversations and hundreds of seconds of chat time qualify as a friend? Have I been presumptuous and tried to embrace this hoity toity soul in the warmth of my friendship circle? Perhaps I’ve been wrong to do so. Perhaps some people shy away from the show of affection. Perhaps some don’t know that any serious human relationship requires work. Friendship is one such relationship. But I realize that in this case in point, I’ve been a lone crusader and haven’t been supported likewise. I need to back off. I was blind. Perhaps by my own exuberance and a naïve belief that everyone is as enthusiastic to befriend and be enveloped in the cocoon of warmth, love and a lifetime of enrichment.

Friendship does have to be nurtured and when it emerges from the cocoon it’s a truly beautiful butterfly. Who does not know this! Why am I even bothering to attempt a mini thesis on a topic discussed threadbare and analyzed ad nauseam in a million ‘how to’ books? To vent my spleen. To purge my troubled soul.

There are a lot of things that cannot be classified as ‘super and on cruise control’ in my life right now. The road is bumpy, but I like the drive. In my attempt to focus on the positive and constantly repair my battered spirit from further abuse, I have penned. Forgive me O Lord if I have sinned! I know I have not. All I have done is been me. A little crazy, a little foolish, a little overpowering, but overall very passionate about those who dot my life. I love them. Thankfully those who matter understand. As I’ve mentioned before, those who don’t, don’t matter.

I do look forward to leading a very fulfilled life. However fractured my attempts at doing so. Gloria Gaynor, if you’re reading this, then I salute you for you knew what you were singing about when you sang, “I will survive”.

Simplify ahoy! The tangled web seems to be unraveling. R waits with bated breath. To emerge. And taste triumph.

Wet!

Raindrops running down the windshield of your car. Drenching you outside in. Ensconcing comfort.

Warm shower. Stinging drops, opening your pores, warming your skin. Soaking wet. Warm feeling.

Splat! Puddle of rain. Playing hop skotch with the puddles. Sheer glee.

Buckets of water pouring down. Washing the myriad hues off the face and hair and clothes away. Pure excitement.

Rivulets of tears streaking well worn cheeks. Blinding. Venting. Mostly comforting. Pain letting out. More pain. Shattered soul.

Water everywhere. But not a drop that quenches a thirsty soul.

Bring on the tears.

When the bells chimed...

with joy. An AV that I scripted and recommended be made despite some misgivings opined by others on the account, was approved by the client at one shot. Not a murmur, not a snip, not a change, not anything. Now that is something believe you me. If you've dealt with clients and their expectations and demands, you'd know how that feels.
Yes, the bells of joy chimed loud and clear. Felt good. Feels good. :)

It's good to go with what you believe in. Is it the power of faith ? Maybe the Monk could help while I changed gears on the Ferrari.

Sydney was good. Short and sweet. The cars, Steve Waugh and the city made my trip memorable. Need to go there on an extended visit.

An aside - I find someone's blog slightly pseudo and have begun to find some of it boring even. I think when he goes off into this tangential and mostly incomprehensible mode that I find it a drudge to fathom. And he has so many readers to boot who go ga ga over his style. Sigh! It takes everything and all sorts to make this world what it is.

The bells continue to chime. Ideas continue to float. And the bubble grows to encompass a feeling of stoic happiness (is that an oxymoron there?..:) ).

Last, last, last, last...please, just this once, last! The sound of bells chiming is good for the soul.

...>Last!< (while the bells continue to play the keyboard). :)....:)...:)

Wanna be missed!

Bid adieu to my previous bread and butter provider - 5 days
Said 'may I come in' to the new bread, butter and maybe a tinge of marmalade provider - 5 days

Received a few calls from friends 'back there' - almost everyday
Received calls from colleagues from 'in here' (and who might not become friends) - 2 days

Expecting a certain call and perhaps text messages responded to? - 1 (not worth it!)
Expecting calls and text messages from genuine friends? - 100s (over the next so many years) - WARNING!!! drop the expectations...sure shot, infallible route to hurt, disappointment, anger and emotional distress.

So...I don't want to close my eyes, don't want to fall asleep, because I don't want to miss being missed. I like being missed. By people who care. And it's nice to know that one has some people who do. The rest are pretenders, who are not good for the long haul and won't last the many sunsets. Discard, shrug, dispose!

Ok. What's next on the agenda?

The Horse Whisperer

Have had food contamination since last Sunday. Have been popping pills thanks to the 'doc'. It got downright mean and vicious last night and had to abstain from work.

At 3.30 am, feeling restless and after visiting the pot house for the nth time, with sleep too deciding to leave me friendless and alone, I switched on the telly and saw Kristin Scott Thomas's beautiful, expressive face staring at me in the flickering light. Knew instantly that it was THW. A movie I'd seen before. I sat through it again. I loved it. All over again. Poignant, real, adult. Very emotional and very heartbreaking.

Today, I've felt the need to:
a) be pampered
b) have a father who I could run to for a quick reassuring hug
c) have a concerned and loving boy friend who'd come with bouquet of concern and smelling divine because of the love in his eyes
d) have a huge family with at least 4 big brothers and 2 younger and older sisters with whom I could scream, have pillow fights, argue and above all laugh out loud and feel love
e) have my stomach stop its somersaults and other acrobatics and have food that looked anything other than curd rice
f) chuck everything away and be a rancher's wife...:)
g) not be bothered about earning a living (sigh!)

I've felt a need. I've felt my soul telling me something. I've felt my heart singing a tune that I've unheeded for a while now. Time has sometimes befriended, sometimes betrayed. How long will Time hold out? How long before I listen? How long before I turn deaf?

How many more times will The Horse Whisperer happen to me?

PS - D hurt me again. When will I learn to let go?

Ende... Initiare?

Turned the last page of a chapter today.
Bid adieu to the place I was wedded to for the last 26 months.
The whole of this week saw me being feted.
Treated to lunches and dinners.
Well written about.
And even my 360 degree feedback was quite exceptional.

I like being proved wrong when it comes to perception of self.
Lots of areas of improvement to be focused upon, but then that's always WIP (work in progress).

I caught a glimpse of him.
That may be the last I'll ever see of him.
That's tearing me asunder.
But I'll survive. (Always have).
I truly wish I didn't care so much. (Wonder what it'll take for me to obliterate, erase completely the pain, the loss, the stress of the last so many months? Should try immersing myself in work.)
Ende!!

Monday I begin work at a new place.
Creative Controller. I like the way that sounds.
It's very close to a long held aspiration being fulfilled.
Is this reality?

Should be off to Sydney the coming Monday.
Sydney. I like the way that sounds too..:)

Initiare

Post Script: God, please let ma be ok. Please let nothing be wrong. Please.