Cocoon?

For a day, just for a day, I made a bargain with God. And defied the laws of nature. I stopped time. I shut out the world and welcomed the pleasure...and the pain, from within.

I removed all context and viewed only the core of the being - the "real" person. I removed blinkers and adjusted multiple realities. I ignored the signboards of the mind and acknowledged only the signals of the eyes.

It may or may not be significant. It may or may not be right. It may or may not have implications. For once, I am not inclined to think through. Questions can be kept on hold. Right now, I will come back to reality and deal with the immediate week ahead. As will others.

After all, tomorrow's another day.

aakhir kyon??

I have no clue why I put this title...I am not wading through any existential crises neither am I submerged under the cruelties of the world. I am just in the mood to faff.

And why am I in the mood to faff?

Had a really crazy day. Had a crazy week. Am going to have a crazy fortnight. The cockroaches at work have been crawling up the skin. The loved ones are exploring their emotional demons to the fullest. The transactional issues lurk snake like beneath the surface, glittering with danger signals. The heart decides to add to the fun and drum up a storm worthy of gothic novels. The radar works...then fails...then works...then misses some signals.

Yes, I am in the mood to faff.

Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa

I would like to post about the long weekend that just passed, but there's too much to record. All I can say is that parts of it were unexpectedly turmoilish and other parts of it were unexpectedly pleasant.

I seem to have wandered unawares to a point where there are clear choices to be made - professional, personal, emotional. And most are inter linked. I could lie awake at nights thinking each option through, exploring linkages and basically constructing decision trees in my mind. Or I could pretend that I have no choices, don my blinkers until they are ripped off by circumstances. Or I could operate on a gut n luck, as described (in a deceptively simple manner) by the poem below -

A Pyshcological Tip

Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,
and you're hampered by not having any,
the best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find,
is simply by spinning a penny.

No - not so that chance shall decide the affair
while you're passively standing there moping;
but the moment the penny is up in the air,
you suddenly know what you're hoping

-- Piet Hein

My state of mind in the coming months shall be an indication of the effectiveness of this approach. God Bless.

Bliss?

Why does bliss always reside in an atmosphere that's not now?

In the clouds of smoke, the fury of cars, the coziness of drink, its tempting to think of a blissful day - vistas of rolling green mounted by swirls of white; a cool wind on the face, a comfortable chair. A warm drink, a book that soothes the eyes when it tires of the beauty. The sound of silence amongst the living, only the trees talk. And maybe a loved one, letting you be yourself yet making you want to be your best.

But I look back and I know that this bliss is just a tangible that I yearn for, and that I have found this bliss so many times (so many lucky times) in the most unexpected of places. Terraces cooling in the summer sun.....concrete steps of a juice outlet....the impersonal unconditional comfort of a bed....the glimpse of wet trees enhanced by the smell of the wet earth....the shimmering highway with the pulsating music....the post party sweat and the tears of the early morning...the crowds against the backdrop of mountains and dry fruits sellers...the clasped hands of a loved one....

And when I look back. I see the ghosts that walk with me to this very day. Some of them are changed, some of them only exist in memory....but they lie within me. Causing me pain, bringing me comfort; loving me, consoling me.

And yes, its been bliss. I dont need to run after vistas of my imagination because I have loved. And those vistas are a reality.

Here n there

Too many things have come into the "fire" category now, esp due to my procrastination over the past few months....there's career - accenture or outside; roles - here n out; there's certificates; there's money - for now n later, there's health - damage control; there's relationships - old n new, at work n personal, Blr n out.

Tired. Mentally, physically. And the way things are going, I am sure pretty soon emotionally too.

where?

Uncharacteristically unclear. The space between expressed wants and quietened desires bothers me. The inertia irritates. People disappoint and excite in equal measure. Work looks grey, with specks of red that turn on and spotches of black that repulse. The relationships track is fogged out and more and more bogies grind to a halt while others speed on into low visibility territory.

Where do I go from here?

Parched soul

Never mind that the roads were slushed out; that traffic jams sprung up all over the city like crazed wildflowers; that the gleam of greed appeared in the eyes of the auto drivers; that my drying clothes & rug got wet and dirty; never mind that the evening plans of thousands of people got spoiled....I loved every moment of it! The rain came in sheets of blessed white, splattering and frisking and creating a dun and demanding absolute attention! As far as I am concerned, it didn't just get my attention, it got my devotion...for providing relief from the monotony of dry, cranky, grey days that had begun to even destroy the remnants of my liking for this city.

The evening rain was the icing on a lovely day. A bit of exercise, a bit of shopping, a bit of pampering and then a long drive with blasting music. A quiet evening with a cup of hot tea and an interesting book. No conversation more than 5 min. Practically alone. Peace.

Fatal choices

I just read an extremely boring interview with Orlando Bloom in GQ. This judgment is partly due to my aversion to him as an actor ("you, sir, are no actor")and partly due to my aversion to the obvious meticuluous craftsmanship that went into his responses in order to project just the "right" image that he wants.

After all, being a star is more about the right marketing and positioning rather than just pure talent, and its obvious that Bloom (his second name is vastly more appropriate for him) is more than aware of that. He takes painful care to introduce the right mix of daredevilry with level headedness; the classiness of old Hollywood with the trashiness of new; the detachment of the seasoned lover with the enthusiasm of a romantic.

What is as obvious is that this craftsmanship is in play pretty much across the board in the celebrity circus and even our Indian stars are now very much into the game, sometimes powered by a PR machinery a la Ms. Rai and at other times sustaining themselves on their own steam like Ms Sen. Most of the times the objectives are achieved and this effort goes unnoticed in the avalanche of multiple communication that keeps reinforcing the messages - interviews, fanzine artciles, TV snippets etc. The effort behind the facade comes into light when it backfires, like in the case of Sanjay Dutt who carefully cultivated the living-on-the-edge image for years before the image turned into unpleasant reality prompting a sudden spurt of photographs and articles about Dutt as the doting father.

While its easy to dismiss the effort as necessary evil to maintain the fame n glory (not to mention big bucks) that these stars are used to, I often wonder at the price they need to pay for this evil. There is plenty of output already in this area so I wont dwell on it...what is interesting is that the very tension and pressure that I believe these stars live with, is something that resides within each one of us in our daily lives as well.

For what are our daily interactions but a series of conscious and subconscious communication designed to project ourselves, rather than to reveal? Each of us is painfully aware that the people around us are not interested in the truth. The truth is, after all, often complex, harsh, uncompromising and dull in appearance - all contrary to the principles we operate on. All people want is the right surface; the engine in the hood can take care of itself, at least until a breakdown. (and who wants to think about breakdowns anyway?)

This, I believe, is universal irrespective of boundaries drawn by generation/culture/socio economic background/sexual orientation and however else people normally want to identify themselves. Where these factors assert themselves is the kind of surface one wishes to acquire.

Consider, for example, an urban 27 year old man wishing to get married, preferring the convenient option of an "arranged love" marriage that is currently popular. If he enters the marriage market, how will he position himself, especially to prospective in laws? Financially secure, respectable family background, pleasant and courteous, no visible skeletons in the closet. And if he enters the dating market? Professionally successful, funny (preferably witty as well), well groomed, respectable interests, just a hint of a past. And so it becomes a long series of interactions where one can "tick the relevant box" to assess another person or "draw up a balance sheet of assets and liabilities" to assess oneself.

Its all about having the "right" appearance for whatever group you want to belong to or whatever type you want to be associated with. What you actually are is immaterial. This may sound unnecessarily dramatic, but is a highly believable point when you think about how people describe or even view their friends nowdays - "smart, funny, cute, adventurous, attractive, cool....and (most importantly) FUN" there's quite a list of adjectives up for usage. What are usually under used are adjectives of another kind - "intelligent, sensitive, strong of character, determined, kind, courageous, loving...." etc etc. I could give in to my romantic notions and argue that years/generations/decades ago, these qualities made much more of a difference than they do today, but that would be foolish. Its human nature to have fast-food companions and that's true today as much as much it was yesterday. As I said earlier, only the nature of what constitutes good fast food differs. In a Jane Austen world, it was about making good conversation on a dinner table; in a Britney Spears environment, it's about wearing the right brand of jeans and being knowing how to be calculatedly casually cool.

What toll does it take? Whether one be a celebrity or a "normal" person, the pressure and tension this exerts on you is tremendous. At least up to a while. What's even more fatal (and I use the word carefully) is how this becomes second nature to us.

Fatal or not, does an individual have any choice in this matter? One can argue that there is always a choice; but its unarguably a difficult one in cases like career, romance and marriage, where the exercise of a choice different than normal can virtually mean giving up on your dreams or at the very least, cause conflict more significant than one would even like to address.

I dont know whether I have really made a choice in this matter at all. Or rather, its a question of the multiple choices I have made. In my work life, I have more or less learnt to keep my real self under the hood and use projection effectively. In my personal life, however, I have consciously steered clear of subscribing to stereotypes, ignored precedence and done what I wanted to do. I have righteously refused to objectify myself in the markets of the flesh, or the heart, or other worldly matters. And remained steadfastly "independent". Thereby constructing a series of life events that puzzle and contradict all but a rare few who think, if not speak, the same language. Sometimes I even deliberately use the surface to amuse myself, laughing within as I say something deliberately contradictory to the image I may have carefully constructed and watch the other knit the brows in puzzlement, sometimes good humored, often just irritated.

But the laugh is harsh. And it mocks my moral self as much as anyone else. For who can truly reach the motives that drive onself? As to the fatality of one's choice, it's anybody's guess.

wake up

Towards the beginning of 2004, L told me to wake up. I reacted with raised eyebrows and fumbling words. In the next few weeks, V's behavior and sundry events at work/home brought with them a level of turmoil and depression I had kept at bay for maybe too long a time.

Deja vu. Towards the beginning of 2006, L told me to wake up. I reacted with raised eyebrows and fumbling words. In the next few weeks, K's meeting, the Leadership Survey and sundry events at work/home brought with them a level of turmoil and depression that I hadn't seen for quite some time.

Whether coincidence or self fulfilling prophecy, I dont know. What I do know is that it's practically impossible to negate your basic, true self. You can control the projection and the implications of being what you are, to protect against the vulnerability of being naked. You can move elements around to construct a labyrinthe of red herrings and dead ends, so that even you forget where the core lies. You can wrap yourself up in so many layers that only the most determined and compassionate get through.

But you cant disturb the core.

Locked up. Screwed up.

I sip the hot tea; the sugar and caffeine merge and allow me to open this page and try and articulate the sinking feeling that I have been living with since I woke up today (or was it since the Sunday encounter with R?)

But how does one articulate what one refuses to acknowledge? What thoughts contribute to the knot in the stomach? What emotions cause sudden tears to emerge? What is this platter of feelings that I keep locked away in a vault, the route to which I have caused myself to forget? And once in a while, when my heart refuses to listen to the cautionings of the mind, I stumble upon them and look upon them a bit in wonder, because I had nearly forgotten they existed. And, without warning, they have taken over. I clutch at the pillow and the steering wheel and I know that I am in the grip of something so intrinsic that it has ceased to be recognizable. And I know its a downhill ride from here, there's no one around to hold me, to clutch me hard as I tumble down, it's all up to me and me alone, as it usually is, and I swiftly try to close the vault and put the mask back on, my hand shakes once and the mask falls, and then i pick it up again more firmly this time, and put it back on.

And now it's settling back into my face. The vault is closed but I can still feel the dread it evokes. I wonder how long it will take before the mask hardens and the smell disappears.

Haze and Sky

In the middle of the chaotic afternoon, I take out these few moments to pause. and blog.

But while its been quite some time since I blogged last (three weeks?), I am unable to really pin down anything to write here. Yet so much seems to have happened. So much that had significance at that moment...and now appears a bit inconsequential. And in some cases, even silly.

I know that I busted my BP for a lot of things - inefficiencies by (supposedly) intelligent team members....bitchiness by (supposedly) close ones...secretive behavior by (supposedly) friends...coldness of (supposedly) developing companions...

I know that I laughed a lot. Esp when I bitched.

I know that I felt emotional. Esp when Sau looked at me and said "aisi bhi kya naraazgi?"

I know that I enjoyed myself. Esp when I danced to "disco deewane" after ages. And esp when I covered Blr to Chn in four hours.

I know that I blushed. When I got compliments, at work and at play.

I know that I missed some people. I know that I broke someone's heart. And I know that my heart was a little broken too.

But yet, it's all like a haze now. I just feel a little tired, a little wistful...in fact, pretty much like an old man sitting on the porch in the twilight, of the day and of his life!

But I know that's not true, it's just momentary. Tonight (or maybe tomorrow) the blood shall flow a little stronger, the spirits will rise again. The smile will be back in the eyes as well. And a spring in the step (or "josh in the jog" as radio city says). And the cycle will start again.

In the meanwhile, "a fountain empties itself into the grass" (Sometimes it Happens, by Brian Patten)

Water inside

The silence of a Saturday night shuts out the distractions and sharpens the hearing. There are ideas splashing under the surface...the flickers of a story waiting to come to light...the breathing of the words hiding behind the doors. Yet there they remain. And languish.

Like they have been doing for so long. For a decade, in fact. I cannot even pretend that they escape my grasp. For I don't seem to even make an effort at grasping them. Why I don't, I am not sure. Maybe it's difficult to sense their presence amongst all the noise that surrounds my life. Or maybe the flow got diverted when relationships took centrestage. Or maybe the comfortable tools got rusty and changed beyond recognition thanks to the conveniences of microsoft.

So what do I need to do? Find spaces of silence? Or retreat from the involvements? Or simply buy a nice diary and pen?

I doubt if the answer's coming soon or so easily. But I hope it does.

How are you

Who really means these words when they say it? Who really wants to know how you are?

Does he want to know that I am thinking about future career options? that I am feeling sick of modular furniture and power points? that I am feeling happy at having listened to my favorite song on radio? that I am contemplating whether to buy more light-white curtains from fabindia or save some money for car accessories? that as soon as I have free time, all sorts of thoughts enter my head and plague me? that I am thinking of the painful deaths I have witnessed in the past decade and the horror that accompanied each of them? that I would like to talk about what is more attractive - humor/intelligence or character?

It takes courage to genuinely ask a person "how are you" and wait to get the real answer. (normally one would use the word sensitivity, but I disagree. I think sensitivity is too passive. This requires being able to get out of your own world, put it aside and look into someone else's and understand it, absorb it with all its deficiences, accept and appreciate it. In other words, courage)

Cheers to the courageous people I know - Mum, L, U, Viv.

playing games with oneself

Do we really know what we want? Or rather, do we have the courage to accept what we want? Even the ones who confidently demand what they want, do they just project the confidence or do they feel it? Or is the show of confidence because of the lack of it?

Is what we want a reflection of our desire? Or is it a reflection of what we want to be? And is that why is we never seem to get what we want? Because our wants and desires diverge? And man, being the rational animal he is, is secretly rooting for his desires?

Look behind, look ahead

I remember commenting to someone recently that I spend most of my time either looking behind or looking ahead. Even the demons that haunt us are relics of the past or fears into the future.

On my weekend trip to Chennai (side note - one of the most "fun" weekends I have had), I was again struck by an idea when going through Dakshin Chitra. And then struck by another thought - I am struck by an idea practically every second day nowdays! Is my subconscious trying to send me a message here??!! Well, it is true that I am getting tired of this kind of environment...I still love my work, but this large building-modular furniture-crisp language-excel sheet-power point life is getting to me. Have been tossing around ideas in my head for quite some time, but the thought of translating them into action is coming into serious play now. But that requires a lot of work - planning and prep for the idea itself combined with building financial security (which as of now is ZERO). More importantly, it demands a slight recklessness of the spirit and a push out of the current state of inertia. I think thats going to come soon (it has to come, it cant be "developed" much as my HR mind would like to believe so..)

Today I came across an old diary that I occasionally maintained. Despite knowing the consequences, I couldn't resist re-reading the sprawling scrawl that marked my transition to adulthood. There was anguish over the pain of loved ones, and a humorous look at my own; a need to dissect relationships and the desire to ignore practical worries; flights of fancy followed by ground reality checks; consistent obsession with people and the true nature of emotions and a disregard for the fashionable conversation points of the day.
I went through the expected routine of ripping up old wounds and examining reality as I understood it then and now. And I arrived at the cliche that always supports me in ambiguous times - the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Recoveries and Relapses

For all my resolve to maintain an even equilibrium and focus this year, I have been doing a pretty decent imitation of an emotional yo yo for the past month or so.

Considering that I do not have the time or the inclination for self indulgence to describe the preceding weeks in detail, I will let my office-like "summary" instincts take over...

> A spate of bad news from people I am close to rocked the hell out of me...ranging from divorce (after a month of marriage...), to death/illness of loved ones, to accidents, to losing one's job. I will resist the temptation to invoke Kafka but a nightmarish scenario it certainly was, not without its share of black humor as I caricaturised myself in the hapless avatar of a jinx who turns to dust all the lives he touches.

> Continuing the breathless pace was my Delhi trip which turned out to be one long shopping-dining-drinking-driving trip. Naturally that translated into a significant dent (or one can call use the term cleaning out) in my wallet but at the end of the day, it was worth it (as spending money usually is). I am glad I was able to provide the kids with a genuinely good time, the first they had had after September...also glad I was able to spend some time with Shk n Shal beyond the standard 2 hrs assigned for a lunch/dinner. With Shal esp, I think our relationship moved a little forward after having been in a cold freeze for years. Regretted are the less than adequate time spent with Nan, and the inability to meet up with Dom...I wonder why he withdrew to such a great extent.

> Also keeping me on my toes have been the "online friends" I have accumulated. Status check:

* Vik - met, not-so-great chemistry, settled into occasional chatting, combo of fun n serious
* Kit - met, had already become good friend so no hiccups, settled into regular conversations, growing
* A - constant sms touch (approx. 1500 sms over a week I think), good chemistry so far, highly unpredictable future esp considering age diff
* Amit (Sun) - met, decent meeting yet something was not right, a conflict of my charitable instincts and harsher moral fabric. Should not and will not move fwd unless something drastic happens (connected is also my changing thoughts on M in relation to this....)
* Lord - THE most intriguing of the lot and the most slippery to catch (one is probably a function of the other) and hence here the future is totally out of my hands. This lack of control is a pleasant change and irritating at the same time.

What I have realised is that this has been a good experiment and provided me with yet another facet of relationships that I hadnt explored (for example, the fact that all of the above are gay is an interesting comment by itself). However, the reason I have met 3 of the five and want to meet the other two as well is because I have realised something important about myself - I am not as laissez faire and compartmentalized about relationships as I had thought I had become. Online relationships can never be an end by themselves for me.

So this is me. From 15 Jan to 12 Feb. Summarised neatly, packaged, trimmed, edited and presented. The recoveries and relapses can be read in the fine print.

fear

Silence, I say, is holy; its the path to purity. I also acknowledge that it breeds evil as well. And, in particular, it breeds fear. This thought occured to me a few moments ago, and was discarded instantly. But on hindsight, its not so peculiar. Most of the emotions that we would normally classify as "negative" can be traced back to fear in some form or the other. In fact, evil is synonymous with fear, and the host of that evil can either be the perpetrator or the victim.

Why is this thought uppermost in my mind on a seemingly peaceful Saturday night? Probably because of several unconnected emotions felt through the day. The thought of Mama, something I try to suppress most of the time, because of the sense of shock and loss that still accompanies it. The movie, Amityville Horror, a perfect symbolism of the madness that lurks within us ready to spring out with the right catalyst. The conversation with mum, when she told me the story of the 4 year old who was tortured by her stepmother. And finally, the depression that is now beginning to overwhelm me.

All fear.

and it's a happy new year

The end of another Sunday, this time a relatively relaxing one with mum...and ending with the predictable will n grace. I also have a new phone that I got pressured into buying by the collective nagging on friends n family over the past 2 years. ok, they just insisted on a new phone, i am the one who wanted a rs.10000 motorazor! a bad movie (15, park avenue) and a stunningly suprising bad conversation (with lord) thrown in. a lot of suspicions about self confirmed. apprehensions about my ability to do what i need to do rear their head. close ones seem to have disappeared. collectively, depression is settling in.

In and Out

(there's a nice movie with Kevin Kline by this name)

I will refrain (at least for now) to write about my thoughts on 2005 and plans for the year ahead. What should be interesting however is a check on the people in my life. (this has been one of the key things on my mind at the turn of the year).

I am tempted to make a "top 1o" and "bottom 10" list like a hollywood/bollywood mag, but will instead settle for a quick look to see who moved how....

Remained where they were (at the top) - Mum, U, D, L ; (the 2nd rung) - Sidh, Shal, Ven, Dom

Moved up (into the top rung) - Shw, Shk ; (the 2nd rung) - Jas, Rku, Nan

Moved down - H, Aish, Jyo, Poo (no pain)

Moved out - Sau (no pain), V (loads of it)

New entrants - Kit, N, Rosh

In n Out - M (pain)

Arian inscrutability

There suddenly seems to be plethora of arians in my life....I guess i have always had an attraction for this sign, the only one that doesn't get intimidated by me (however much I try!) but recently there have been quite a few additions. A quick look....

L (oldest, still around...I put it down to the fact that he's got a moon sign that's significantly more sensitive than his arian nature would otherwise allow!)

Amit (out)

Aish (barely in touch)

Ruch (out)

M (left this testimonial on friendster..."Look at this pic! it couldn't be cuter. Sudeep is the person who I have grown closest to in the past two years. Although we have been in and out of touch, I appreciate is friendship and support, especially at the worst of times. I really do wish, however that he would quit his job in corporate madness and open up a coffee shop/book store and allow me to run a small caf along side. Heres to you! Suds". I am pleasantly shocked...and I dont like surprises!)

Kit (new addition...growing)

N (new addition...growing)

Mon (team member...about to join)

Hence as on next week, I will be juggling 5 arians in my life. Promises to be blood curdling.

sound of silence

Its one thirty on a Sunday night and time for me to go to sleep. And yet the mind wanders; it chances upon a thought, pauses, examines, sets it free and then saunters off again. The heart does its own dance, playing with emotions as if they were colored balls to be juggled in the air. I can sense a slight chill in the air yet I dont want to wrap a quilt around me, I want instead to embrace the chill for it reminds me of something, it brings with it the scent of a memory. The memory itself I cannot trace, for it could very much be a dream, real nevertheless. For what is real after all? Is not what is there is our heart more real than the illusion we surround ourselves with?

I would like to go to sleep now, for my eyes are heavy and my notebook reminds me of the long week that lies ahead. Yet I cannot move from this moment, this stillness that has me rooted at this spot. I cannot call it a moment of peace, the cacophony of voices within me assures me of that. Moment of content it is neither, for nothing could be more discontent than the heart that silently loves and fumes. Yet it is a moment of truth; not the noble truth that a poet would describe, but the harsh, naked truth of a sunlight that restlessly intrudes into each inch of space and brings to view the dirt and the grime under the beauty.

Till when will this truth be present and hold off my sleep? When will the tranquilisers of daily life take over and do their grey duty?

They say silence is holy. Because it allows you to talk to the spirit within yourself, talk to God. And religion is, after all, the search for truth. Is this the sound of silence?

More movie moments...

An unexpected outcome of the previous blog was a lovely exchange with mum on her favorite movie moments as well. She was also able to remind me of others I had forgotten…

The beginning - Big B confronted by the only actress who could stand up to him, her eyes blazing, he with a sneering smile, the music creating a furore in the background, a moment full of haughty (albeit overdone) imperiousness. The end - a battered B, a devastated Sri, come to each other in the middle of a raging battle. Sudden silence, she raises her hand to touch his blood soaked beard, he grins and draws himself to his full height. (Plaza, Del)

Z sat holding her baby stunned at the way fate had overtaken her life, as Lata’s voice expressed the same. Later, Z takes her life into her own hands and fights with her husband to be a part of his life in all aspects. And the last scene, where she dances…on the reel, with her son and mother watching her. Unexpectedly a story full of life and tragedy, that stayed with me long after the film ended. (Lido, Blr)

She was combing her hair in the front of the mirror, and runs her hand through her hair to smoothen it. And stops. Because she can feel another hand. In her hair. Probably the only chilling moment I have ever encountered in a Hindi film ! (Satyam, Chn)

A hotel room in HK. A montage of characters in the room – the don himself, his second command, the hero’s office pleading for truce, and the moll, who’s just come from India. Her suitcases can be seen in a corner. To me this little detail symbolizes the perfection of this movie. (DTs, Del)

The last overs of the cricket match, the tension on everyone’s faces…not the characters, but the audience. I have NEVER, EVER seen hundreds of people so collectively absorbed. (Chanakya, Del)

The play of light and shadow with the sudden bursts of color, the imaginatively choreographed sequences, the presentation of ideas in a format that screamed "off-Broadway" yet had the clinical perfection of modern music videos, the integration of the script with the songs, the on screen transformation of stars. (PVR, Del)

Movie moments

As I watched Lamhe on Saturday afternoon, I realised that despite the hundreds of excellent movies I have watched on TV (Star/HBO/TNT/DVDs), there is a special magic about the movie moments created in a theatre. Some that I could remember right now...

The darkened dome, the glimpses of red carpeting in soft side lights, Waheeda Rehman’s voice echoing in the wood paneled surroundings…my first movie in a theatre became my all time favorite. How many moments can I choose? When Anil K asks Sri if he can call her by her name? When the magic of Sri and Rajasthan and the blue n yellow outfit wove its spell in “morni baaga ma”? when Sri drives away in a car with unshed tears? When he places the necklace on her neck? The moments are endless, each one more magical and heart rending than the other.(Paras, Nehru Place, Del)

Baahon ke Darmiyan…the sheer sensuality of love, tender kisses, rain on the windowpanes, the tears and the passion, Manisha's scared, needy eyes, Salman's softness. (Tribhuvan, Majestic, Blr)

Leo was in the water, freezing to death. And Rose was on the wood plank, watching him die. And I sobbed into my hanky. And sobbed. And sobbed….(Chanakya, Del)

Ripples appeared on the surface of the water in the glass. From far off, a horrifying sound came. And the flooring under the seat trembled. Moments later, we all gazed open mouthed as the T-rex ran roaring after the trapped children. A few reels later, we clutched at each other when the preto (whatever..) jumped up through the gap in the steel floor. Excitement was forever benchmarked as far I was concerned. (Plaza, MG, Blr)

A nationwide hysteria was building up and I was only too happy to be a part of it. I stood in the long queue, purchased tickets with the last of my money, sat in the front row and happily mouthed the lyrics of each one of the 9 (10?11?) songs. I giggled at Salman’s wisecracks and cried at Renuka’s death. (Galaxy, Blr)

The movie started. The pulsating rhythm slowly built up into a crescendo of hypnotic beats reverberating through the huge hall. SRK jumped on the train and it was all I could to resist doing the same on the seats. (Chanakya, Del)

Mini sized theatre smelling of sweat and tobacco. I went there again and again and again. To get my fix of laughter. “mera naam crime master gogo hai” still has the same effect. (name forgotten, Majestic, Blr)

Trinity rose like a rexine coated eagle, hands apart, eyes pierced, legs positioned for maximum damage. Hard rock played in the background, the entire theatre sat stunned in silence, the man from ludhiana slept in the seat next to mine. And another benchmark was set. (PVR, Del)

Christmas Carol

Amidst the clutter that surrounds the soul, it seemed almost like an omen when the first thing I read on Saturday morning was “to love is to create beauty”. And so, in this Christmas weekend of “contrived gaiety, artificial lights and noisy revelry”, I didn’t crowd Jesus out.

There was U, whose pain was mine when he cried. And whose happiness was mine when he laughed.

And Divya, tired and bruised, who appeared to have found peace at last in the little bundle beside her.

The somber sight of the blood filled tube in her leg caught as much attention as the comfort of the shoulder that D offered S.

Dai ja whispered to a heartbroken Pooja “hawa ka rukh beti, hawa ka rukh” and captured the games that the wily heart plays with the innocent soul. Viren’s eyes spoke the language of hidden love when he asked Pallavi “kya main aapko aapke naam se pukar sakta hoon?”

8 hours of conversation, of a connection unexpectedly discovered. Of uncovering N, of being uncovered. Not shying away.

An afternoon of Mmmmm….indulgence and secret pleasure and heartbreak.

2 cups of filter coffee, plastic chairs and D. No pretensions, direct talk

Yes, the gift came “wrapped in foils of hardship, pain, affliction and sometimes even disgrace”. But I opened it. And after many months, the heart was not lonely.

Romance in December

Eons ago (actually 16 months ago) I had posted about some of my favorite romantic numbers in Hindi. Today while driving to work, I suddenly realised I had missed out 2 crucial ones...here's the updated list -

Yeh Vaada Raha" - a smile on your face, mischief in your eyes, sunshine all around, the kind of song that is 'our song'!

"Bahon Ke Darmiyan" - slow, deep bliss ; being a part of one another ; whats there on your face? Is it the rain or tears?

"Jab koi baat..." - a pleasing tune, easily hummable. simple, poetic lyrics that dont make you stretch. sung with a slight smile and genuine emotion

"Woh pehli baar.." - sheer exuberance of first love, all the ecstacy without the pain

"Na to karavan ki talaash hai.." - never mind that I dont understand one third of the words, I totally understand the song. The passion, the detailing...the mix of love n faith n spiritual angst...the technically perfect singing. This song defines bliss for me.

"Yeh kahaan aa gaye hum..." - on the surface, a pleasantly tuned typical Hindi film song. But listen carefully to the tone of Lata's voice at some points, its bittersweet. Hear the words which Amitabh uses, he's in love and he's angry as well. This is a song that you can hum and think about at the same time.

To start the day...

The most appropriate quote for a bluesy Monday morning...

"Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it " - Ellen Goodman, American journalist

Hot Hot Hot

Am still waiting for the engineer to come ("come"...hee hee..) and decided to cheer myself up by posting a list of Hot Hot Hot people (yes, its to be said like that - 3 times)...this is in no particular order, of course.

Paul bettany
Johny depp
Joaquin phoenix
Adrien brody
Marisa tomei
Michelle Pfeiffer
Uma Thurman
Sushmita Sen
Catherine Zeta Jones
Rahul Bose
Rahul Khanna
Arjun Rampal
Matt damon

Blah

In typical Me style, I have gone out every single day of the week, but today on Friday will go straight home and watch TV.

Am totally exhausted (thanks to last evening's discovery called Irish Flag - a shot of vodka/irish cream/creme de menthe combined)

Had loads of work today...have just a shitload of mails to be finally be able to get control of my to-do list...only to get a shitload of undeliverable messages due to some unknown reason. Am now waiting for a engineer/angel to descend to my humble abode and unveil the mystery of life (i.e why is my mailbox weird?) so that I can finally LEAVE!!!!

I have to work tomorrow as well. why? because i worked slowly today so i wasnt able to complete my work. why did i work slowly today? because....

Blah.

Vulture

Made a new friend yesterday - N.

Fresh meat. he he....:)

Got my eye on 2 more. Target - end Jan.

Mysterious facts

(warning - the interesting title is where it stops. This post is as boring as all previous ones)

Its Sunday evening, I am pleasantly buzzed. It’s a combination of inadequate sleep last night, irregular food today, a cheerful afternoon and of course, the three (or four) drinks I had at FP in the evening.

True to the tradition of semi-autobiographical ramblings in this state, established by numerous friends and acquaintances, I hereby submit my contribution (that will be read through and assessed (and sneered at) in a more sober state of mind in a few days...or months)

Facts -

1. When it comes to people (and with me, it invariably does), I would instinctively say that I prefer long term relationships and so on. And yet so many ghosts walked with me when I went for a stroll – avijit, meet, ruchika, shefali, vicky and several more. Intense connections that somehow didn’t survive. The unlikely did survive though – sid is one example. Mystery.

2. I have never had a serious relationship, a formal date and never got drunk. More mystery. This one is simpler, though. The linkages are easy to establish

3. I get turned on by nice hands, sensitive eyes, a civilized voice and a love for rhythm. Pretty faces, hot bodies….yawn. Solid talent….yeah. Yes, I am an alien. The only mystery is how I reached here

4. I kept trying to change myself. And I thought I changed. Then I realized I had just changed at the surface and screwed myself in the bargain. So I started being myself again. Soon enough, being myself made me want to change again. But I had burnt my hand once, so I struck a bargain with myself – I will pretend to have changed but not try to convince myself any longer. Throughout this, there wasn’t that much change in my behavior so no one really had a clue to this internal madness and hence the entire mind games were pretty much redundant anyway. Its now at a stage when even I am not too sure where I stand any more. I do find it funny, unfortunately the humor just reinforces my cynicism. It also causes the disaster eve with M. 2 mysteries - why the disaster?? (answer - god help me). And why the linkage between all this "change" analysis and M?? (answer - ha...go figure)

1 hr allowed, content controlled

Safe, sanitized communication. Controlled environments. Emotions kept at bay. The soul guarded. Clock ticking away. Exit option always available. Extension option rarely available.

I could let my distaste surface and indulge in nostalgia....when two people spent time together, did things, talked, connected.

Or I could ignore the past and accept the present with a smile. The tools (sms, car, list of restaurants, perfume, interesting anecdotes) are ready, the body willing, the mind torn, the soul silent.

hi how r u

"hi how r u"....."fine, how about u"...."cool"...."u heard something funny....?"...."nice movie"...."what plans for the weekend"..."my boss is a *%&*$#"...."he looks good"..."doesnt she look cute"..."nice clothes, where did you get them"....in online chats....emails....long distance phone conversations....short distance phone conversations...sms exchanges...dinner/lunch conversations...coffee chats....over-drinks bonding.....

so many channels, so many intersections, so many words, so little said.

Cynicism and Cheer

I wish I could come with better subjects than the types which are a direct reflection of what my post is all about. But then thats how my communication usually is - quite simple and direct. I realised this during the seminar too - unlike so many presenters I admire, I am rarely able to weave a story around any presentation and make it more entertaining. My presentations are usually content dependent and since the content is usually quite staid, the delivery is pretty straightforward.

Anyway, this post is not about communication styles...its about 3 unrelated incidents yesterday which left me feeling miserable. Of course, the sense of misery probably won't come through because I am feeling much better today, thanks to a Shaan special on radio today morning....he always brings a smile to my face!

Mum mailed sending a detailed view on how anjan's and dolly's discussions are going regarding their future plans. Keeping in mind current financial situation/future savings/job opportunities/baby plans etc., they will most probably be staying in Dhk for another 2 years. Naturally no one is actually happy about this decision, but what needs to be done etc etc. Why is this upsetting? Because recent incidents have left us feeling even more insecure and I would like to be around the people I love the most and because this impacts my plans for staying in Blr/Del or somewhere else and because this is linked to so many other thoughts n fears n apprehensions that I dont even want to go down that path....

I had my PM rollout yesterday and decided (masochist me) to make it less about process n timelines and more about discussion on PM principles etc. As a result, probing questions during the presentation revealed a TL declaring that he hadn't seen his DP for 2 years; 100 people admitting that they haven't looked at their goal sheets for the past 4 months; another employee declaring her belief that the elements of SA, GS and DP in the PM process could be done away with and we could just focus on the ratings part; and barely 20% of the population murmuring a soft "yes" to whether PM process adds any value to them or not. Why upsetting? The perception of PM process as a formality; the non realization of the potential of the PM process as a potent career tool; the reaffimation of my increasing cynicism around HR Ops; the implied failure of our managers to build quality in the process.

Deliverables around communication assigned to C, N n A. None of them met, no revert either. This despite reiterating the criticality of these tasks, despite the advance notice of a week, despite knowledge of the consequences. Why upsetting? The team hasn't learnt; there continues to be lack of sync in value system and work ethic; the credibility of the team itself is in question.

The precursor to this day was my observation over the weekend which I had described in the previous post - about people just scratching the surface of others' realities (this is arguably one of the worst sentences I have ever written, or anyone has ever written). These 4 together strike at the very heart of my current mindscape - family ties; passion about work; leading teams; people/relationships. These incidents/observations strike and explode and leave me wounded, the hopes/fears/apprehensions/depressions unveiled and exposed. To be confronted and tended to. I have a feeling that's what the next year is going to be all about. M got his answer.

Extremes - within and around

My 2nd Bombay trip in as many months and the effect of the city remains the same, despite the fact that I spent hours each day just commuting. I don’t think the fascination can be explained by the standard words – the energy, the enthusiasm, the work ethic, the night life. When I feel a sense of comfort even in an area which is jammed with cars, swimming in pollution and throbbing with get-set-go youngsters, I know that there needs to be some other reason that prevents me from hating this place! If this had been a novel (especially penned by a young Indian writer), I would have undertaken a journey (that the blurb would have described as “a spiritual pursuit”) that would led me to the discovery of having been born and brought up in a stinking by lane in Bandra in a previous life. There would probably be a cat there that is immortal and remembers me when I walk in through the rusted gate (everything in Bombay rusts).

Anyway, for some time I actually seriously evaluated the option of moving to Bombay next year instead of Delhi, if Dolly and Anjan don’t come back. The seriousness of these intentions was vastly reduced when I landed in Bangalore, “twenty degrees and very pleasant” in the words of the Jat pilot. However, this is probably the reason I seem to getting an itch to move to Bombay…the comfort zone I have developed in Bangalore…and my current role. There’s nothing wrong in being comfortable except that I have grown to firmly believe (through unfortunate experience) that difficult times are usually around the corner and this current sense of comfort will make me a “softie” and hence ill equipped. I like the way my insecurity about myself falls in love with my wary view of the world and conspires to keep me paranoid at the best of times. Only the Paranoid Survive, as a management book (exceedingly popular when I was in B-school; naturally I never read it) informs us.

The people interactions too were more or less pleasant during the trip. The seminar itself I don’t want to write about, I have too many observations to note and none of them earth shattering. But the state of juvenile delinquency that Venkat and I were reduced to was great fun. It brought back school/college times, except that now we were indulging it at a seminar in a 5-star, surrounded by professionals from other companies, for which we (i.e. our company) had paid Rs.12500. The Thursday night out was also great fun, though it was slightly marred by my state of sleep deprivation and exhaustion. We roamed around town, on foot and in cab, had great food n drinks at different places, finished with an ice cream and took a train back to our guest house.

Friday was a little disappointing, when I met V for a shorter time than expected. However, it was pleasant enough – coffee followed by a walk through Bandra. All was as expected – the passion, the humor, the acute observations and the tendency to live and think and breathe in extremes, which I guess is a typical big-city trait. Its there in Delhi too, but in a different way. There the extremes are more lifestyle oriented – the over gregarious, wealth displaying types and the more middle-class, equally gregarious and desperate in equal measure types. In Bombay (and increasingly in Bangalore), I find this extremity coming through more in personality types – the mature, values-driven, experienced ones who are also very boring and the cool, fun, interesting, been-there-done-that types who lack emotional depth and maturity. Though this sounds like sweeping generalizations, they are not meant to be. I am not saying that people are like this, so compartmentalized….what I am saying is that people tend to graduate towards one of these ends of the spectrums. In a way, the current generation is as merciless in demanding stereotypes from its own as the much-berated previous generation was. Except that nowdays they are smart enough to package even its stereotypes into items that scream “individuality”, never mind the reality inside. Come to think of it, who cares about reality anymore? Its all about projection. Even when relative strangers like V and I meet, is it really about sharing reality with another person or is it more about telling the other person about the reality you want him to see? It’s all becoming one huge exhibition where everyone is busy selling themselves without bothering to look at the other. This is quite a depressing train of thought and is probably the reason why I feel incredibly low this weekend.

Sid n J was ok…a good coffee-lunch-dessert routine saved the afternoon from being a disaster. Disaster because both of them tend to go towards one of the extremes described above; disaster because I would like to get along better with Sid but he doesn’t allow me to; disaster because I was basically quite depressed about the various thoughts in my mind about people; disaster because it was hot (which always gets me irritated); disaster because Sid n J themselves didn’t much have chemistry. Considering all the potential for disaster, Saturday ended up being unexpectedlt pleasant and Bombay filled (as J obliged my cravings by driving through the most obscure lanes in Bandra-Mahim-Juhu!), not to mention food that lubricated the way!

And today I am in my bed, reading-eating-typing. Ahead lie chores (straightening up the house, grocery shopping, laundry) and an evening out with M. That shall bring along its own baggage of thoughts and emotions, so I am glad I have exorcised thru this post some of the baggage I have carried for the past two days.

While I have spoken about the extremes around me - cities/culture/people - I am constantly reminded of the fact that the world around us is a reflection of ourselves...there is no absolute reality, because our view of the world around is dictated by the view of our own selves.

Two poems

I just read the poem on V's blog...was reminded of another poem that I read recently that affected me so much. Somewhere in these two poems lies the beginning of the answers to so many questions...

In Despair

He's lost him completely. And he now tries to find
his lips in the lips of each new lover,he tries in the embrace of each new lover
to convince himself that it's the same young man,
that it's to him he gives himself.

He's lost him completely, as though he never existed.
He wanted, his lover said, to save himself
from the tainted, sick form of sexual pleasure,
the tainted, shameful form of sexual pleasure.
There was still time, he said, to save himself.

He's lost him completely, as though he never existed.
Through fantasy, through hallucination,
he tries to find his lips in the lips of other young men,
he longs to feel his kind of love once more.

Konstantinos P. Kavafy (1923)

The Tree of Song

I sang my songs for the rest,
For you I am still;
The tree of my song is bare
On its shining hill.

For you came like a lordly wind,
And the leaves were whirled
Far as forgotten things
Past the rim of the world.

The tree of my song stands bare
Against the blue --
I gave my songs to the rest,
Myself to you.

Sara Teasdale

Assorted

27th Nov 05

The title reminds me of one of my most memorable moments ever…in may 2000 I was suffering through my summer internship with sidharth being my constant crib partner. After a particularly depressing discussion on one hot, very hot, afternoon, I opened my door to see him standing there with a big box of chocolatey stuff…all my favorites – doughnuts, pastries, fudge etc. He drove all the way from faridababad, got me the goodies, stayed a pleasant hour and then left leaving me feeling much much better. Till date, when I am really down, this memory brings a smile to my face.

A smile was farthest from my mind today morning when I spoke with betu n then mami for a little while. Their depression, their sense of being lost, is saddening. What’s more saddening is the lack of strength and maturity that prevents from really moving on…from building good relationships…from leading a healthy life. I am also amazed at the anger and bitterness that erupts, and that it’s towards mama! What a contradiction – a man universally regarded as warm, loving, everyone’s “best friend” and yet the object of so much negativity, in his life and after. I cant stop crying as I write this, yet I cry not for him, not to call him back…but to reassure him that I am fine, I am all right even though I miss him so much….because I know he will be worried, as was daddy. I remember there was a lot of anger and bitterness even within me in ’97, but was it so bad? And I am sure none of it was directed against daddy. Of course, there was a lot of negativity while he was around, which I regret to this day. Oh god…why I am going down there. I will stop now and move on to other stuff. Cant afford to spend Sunday on such a note...

I have often accepted that unlike books and movies, my musical tastes are more dependent on memories and associations. One area of music, however, where my soul asserts its independence is in songs that really really get me moving….some of the my favorites that I can remember include – Cant get you out of my head…Superstar…That thing you do…Voulez Vous…Daddy Cool…Mundian nu bach ke rahin...I want your sex…It’s a time to disco…Koi kahe…I shall post more when I remember them.

I like the way Van Heusen and similar brands keep selling exotica…in today paper’s they have an Indian dressed in tweed, exhorting fellow Indians to go to the derby! Sometimes I wonder if we really make a realistic assessment of the quality of some of these garments before getting lured to buy them. Its like looks…anything foreign is good. This doesn’t just hold true for us firangi-mad Indians but for firangs themselves…anything Indian is always “beautiful” (said with a sharp intake of breath and a look of unreal happiness in the eyes, as if they have just entered willy wonka’s chocolate factory). Hence, men and women and clothes (yes, they are all objects) which would be considered perfectly ordinary or sub ordinary here get transformed into “beautiful” when marketed (by self or others) abroad.

My fascination for books on Hollywood led me to buy a coffee table “Vanity Fair’s Hollywood” last evening at the Strand sale, setting off a wailing red alert on my bank account (it’s the last week of the month!). I would love to get some books on bollywood too, but everything on this subject appears tacky and ill written. Very sad. Not that I have too many books on H either..other than reviews by Lane and Ebert, just two or three more. But I hope to build up the collection. What IS being built up is my “retirement fund” collection of books…I now about 25 books waiting to be read. And that’s just normal fiction….I would love to read more – history, travelogues etc. – but how??when??!!! is it possible to be well read when you work 11-12 hours a day, also love movies and going out, and have plenty of relationships to keep you involved???

Anyway, after a very long time I have started a book that had me completely engrossed – Family Matters. Surprisingly…because I don’t normally like IWE. But then, Mistry is not strictly an IWE like the others. He belongs more in the Rushdie, Tharoor category which I do enjoy.

Watching A Good Woman yesterday was a bit like reading Indian novels – nice concept, interesting characters, good lines (thanks to Wilde), but all so badly put together that it just doesn’t have the right impact. Again, potential lost. As I keep repeating like a parrot, nothing is more depressing than the loss of potential – in works of art, in people, in relationships.

Silly week

I have developed a fascination for the typical Rinku phrase "silly boy" and use that and its variants pretty often now. It makes me sound like someone out of a David Dhawan movie who wears flowered shirts and I will probably need to tone it down soon. In the meanwhile, its my tribute to my ex-boss who i miss A LOT.

Anyway, the point of titling (is that a word?) this Silly Week was because its been precisely that - silly. Why?? Some reasons...

> I have spent a major (I refuse to define major on the grounds that my company may fire me) amount of time gulping down (NO other word for it...this is like me and chocolate ice cream) V's blog. The similarity also lies in the fact that both (choc ice cream n reading blog) leave me feeling as guilty as the dog who polishes off the uncooked food in the kitchen...the blog reading is also accompanied by bonus feelings of envy and inferiority - why?why?why cant i be smart n cool n funny etc etc etc.

> I have not completed even 50% of the work I was supposed to complete. Which means...I will work on weekend...I will endure dirty looks from Ops in next week's review...I will go tense and mad and make my team cry next week....and I will suffer from huge guilt pangs when I go to bbay

> I have been thinking n thinking n thinking some more about all the work drama in my life...the role change, discussions, the instinct vs brains dilemma, the role that work plays in my life, the new team....ooff!!!! i have a headache...and more importantly, i have the realisation that I better get my life into perspective before i actually become a workaholic, somehting that I just laugh off nowdays (friends who have been telling me this for some time....NO, U CANT SAY "i told u so")

> My obsession with chemistry/relationships etc etc continues without showing the slightest inclination of putting it to practical use. Either I am still deeply scarred (and even in my most self pitying moments, I know its not true!!!) or I am a coward (sneaky self suspicion) or closed (as close friends kindly put it) or just plain dumb (the highest probability)

Well...silly week or not...its done...now coming this weekend - Strand book sale (addition of at least 20 more books to my "for retirement" kitty)...movie (A good woman - i love oscar wilde)....assorted lunches/dinners (NO new places i am sure, why cant people experiment any more?)....Pooja's sis wedding (boring, boring, boring)....

And yes, not Viki's wedding. Too...icky...uncomfortable somehow. For reasons best left unexplored

Shadows n Sunlight

Have just finished watching Wimbledon, a lovely romantic comedy. I really like it when I come across an unexpected piece of good stuff. This movie was one, its stars too – Kirsten Dunst should do more such roles than the dreamy-wispy characters she specializes in nowdays, especially post Spiderman. Paul Bettany I got a taste of in The Reckoning…this was 180 degrees different from that role and he excelled here too. Okay, excelled may be stretching but he brought a level of credibility to the role that I cant imagine the other toy boys doing….except maybe Matt Damon…but then he’s not your average toy boy either.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon and I am sitting at home watching a movie. It’s a refreshing change…I have taken off today, was not feeling too great. Physically and in a way, mentally too. There’s just been too much recently on the mind, I guess and I just needed some time off. It’s a gorgeous day, MY definition of gorgeous – cloudy, slightly wet, chilly. I have been on calls, then saw this movie. Will probably spend the afternoon reading “the way we were” (an overdose of romance?) and then go to L’s place in the evening for more conversation and movies.

I really wonder the roles all these elements play in my life – movies..books…even my work - sometimes distraction, sometimes inspiration, my savior in times of need, my source of identity, my entertainment, my livelihood. Is there a link between the growing significance of these elements and my (seemingly) decreasing interest in romance of any sort? How much is appearance and how much is reality? How much is instinctive and how much is controlled? Have I really been able to coach and train my mind into submission or is that an illusion itself? Of if it’s a reality, what does that say about the so-called freedom of mind that I supposedly believe in? Is this something like the inherent contradiction about singers whose words are about love of love and hatred of materialism and who have multi million contracts? Unavoidable?

From an academic point of view, I would like to find and explore the answers. But from a survival point of view, I think its best if I don’t. I used to think truth could be absolute and pure, but no longer. Because truth is like the sun, its right there, its inescapable. And I am too intelligent not to acknowledge truth when it stands right before me. Which would leave without a choice. I don’t like that. There should ALWAYS be exit options. The mind needs a refuge.

I wonder if a psychiatrist could actually discover that refuge?? Or rather, guide me to it?? I am sure I could manage on my own too, if I put my mind to it. But as I told unni a little while, I would rather let those shadows remain just that – shadows.

One thing that’s certainly not shadowy in any way is the choice which I am faced with at work, though the way its turned out, I no longer have a choice. I wanted to move out, spoke with all the right people, found the most appropriate (not the best) role, and then made the mistake of talking to LC about what’s wrong with the team. That got converted to a discussion on “what we need to do to make it right” to “you need to stay to make it right” to “why don’t u stay” to “you have to stay”.

I normally wouldn’t even document such choices – because usually the choices are about doing what my brain tells me to do and what instincts tell me to do. And I go by my instincts, which has caused me heartburn personally, but stood me in good stead in my academic/professional life (sounds contradictory, right? Sigh…just add it to the list). But for the first time, I think I will need to go by brain in this case. Staying where I am will get me up the ladder, build more expertise in my core area, allow me to lead a team of size n level which I normally wouldn’t an opportunity to do elsewhere etc etc. But….i don’t know, I cant even articulate what exactly are the apprehensions. Which is why I am so susceptible to LC’s finely tuned and targeted arguments.

Another front where my instincts have been leading the way so far is my determination to adopt a baby in a few years. I know its tough and I know I will have to think a lot of things through and its probably more practical to take the easier route of just getting married….but. No. This is something I hope I am going to be able to do my way.

Hence the mixed bag of shadows n sunshine that characterizes this day. As I sit on the bean bag, “what if god was one of us” plays on TV, the rain falls steadily outside, “the way we were” waits…as I miss U…and think about M…two ends of the same spectrum.

People..again

The “again” in the subject line is delivered in a tone of mild irritation. Though I appear to have opinions on practically every subject under the sun (a disease that I have successfully fought in recent years), I realize that most of my recorded “outpourings” (diary/cassette/blog) barely touch upon topics or issues and are mostly about people.

That said, its with pleasure that I recount this highly “people oriented” week (this sentence also firmly settles my doubts over whether my writing has been corporatised…it has).

First, thanks are due to M for introducing me to friendster. I had absolutely no inclination of taking this seriously ever and had thought this too would die a quiet death like so many others before it. However, my irritation with my environment (more on that later…I hope) drove me to log on daily. For a few days, I got some messages from people I didn’t really want to know. Especially since they were younger to me….cant imagine what conversation I would have with a 24 year old girl from Bombay who was “into fashion designing” (suitably vague)…I guess we could have compared notes on our impressions of the recent wave of sequins permeating every class of fashion, but I doubt that would have been sustainable, even for my shallow half (that of course assumes I have a deeper half…an assumption I am unwilling to back up with fact!). Anyway, after exchanging mails with 2 people who bored me on the second interaction, I decided to see if there were actually people out there who I could connect with. Why I would do that considering that I don’t interact enough with the people I already know I connect with is probably to do with a particular moment when I was bored post lunch/felt the need to connect/there was no friend online/phone calling would have been inconvenient/etc etc. In a movie, this would have been one of those “cataclysmic” scenes (I LOVE this word) pictured in a under rated manner with an over done music score.

The point was – how DOES one find people one can connect with? Went through the search options. Whether someone was man/woman….wanted relationships with man/woman didn’t matter. Being in India was important….didn’t really want to start a connection where establishing contexts itself would take time. What else? The natural choice was obvious, but it took me to time to get to it (the movie scene would probably answer why, if it’s a bad Hollywood movie….I don’t see the relevance and hence will not go into it) – books and movies. Started with books….did any one in India (age between 25 and 35) list Gone with the Wind or Stephen King or Maughaum as a favorite?? A few did…unfortunately their profiles were hardly interesting (which of course reaffirms my belief that I am a literary philistine). Movies, then. Did a check on Dangerous Liaisons…no records found…tried a few others….records aplenty, but again uninteresting ones….finally a fluke….Red/White/Blue….and bingo! There it was ….A (from saadi Dilli)….a list on movies that read like a connoisseur’s selection and a profile that debunked the notion that this could be just a pretence to get attention. Messaged him. I had now tasted blood. Wanted more. But how?? Went down the list of search options again…..what about TV? What did I like most on TV? Other than the new American comedy series, of which I am sure there were plenty of fans, I liked nothing more than British sitcoms. Did anyone else? Yes! And the profile wasn’t fuddy-duddy at all, which means it was as unlike mine as it could get. Crazy snaps, eclectic lists and a introduction that screamed bravado and yet hinted at vulnerability. Again, I messaged.

Got responses from both in a few days….got added on to the yahoo lists…and had chats. Brief summary –

A – hesitant start…exploratory…until we reached the subject of movies. Found a common love and dug in with relish…scattered chats over few days were primarily on this…also realized that we may not have THAT much in common otherwise, but the connection had been established. It was cemented when he gave me the contact details of the person through whom I could source international titles in Bangalore….combined with the sheer joy of this discovery, I was also infected with a sense of wonder at this instinctive generosity that prompted him to search for the details at that very moment and share them with me. Like so many simple gestures, this touched me.

V – no hesitant starts here. Not that I remember every twist and turn, but the 1 or 2 hours spent on this conversation have been the pleasantest I have had for a very very long time. Despite the highly intimidating reading list I found on his blog, I quickly realized that he and I had more in common than just a love for Harry Potter and British sitcoms. The chat reminded of my first meeting with Shalini at the British council eons ago, when we sat in the lobby and systematically discovered ALL that we had in common, despite being very very different people. V is as different from me as the profile suggested and yet I seem to have found a connection that I hope to continue. There is also a curious matter of one of the common links being M, but I hope that that is more a case of a dispassionate interesting footnote (French movie style) than an emotional hinge with potential to derail (Sudeep Ralhan style). However this turns out, I know that I there is at least one thing that’s going to be long term about this – I am going to be a permanent reader of his blog…a piece of writing that provoked laughter and thought in a very Tom Robbins meets Anthony Lane kind of way.

I would like to imagine that both these people being gay is incidental, but that would be stretching it! In fact I had an interesting chat with Shk today on this aspect. Hence, there are 3 more conversations I would like to capture – Shk, D and LC – but as usual, I have to rush for dinner now. Maybe later in the night, if I am alert enough.

Despite the rush, I want to place on record the cringe I suffered as I read through my post above. The bracketed statements and the quote-unquote words are both afflictions I suffer heavily from and refuse to discard. This, along with the steady corporatisation of my writing style, make my blog one of the most irritating and boring I have ever come across.

an unemotional look at changes

(Its actually nice to be able to sit at night in front of the tv and pen (or type, whatever) my thoughts. I hope this will translate into more frequent posts)

Just had a nice long dinner with Shw and then Poo joined us. I was reminded of the various such long evenings that we have shared earlier…surprisingly (and thankfully) it stopped at that and I did not feel enveloped by any further feelings of nostalgic regret. Which leads me to another observation of how I am able to disconnect the different phases of the same day even if I have to transcend significant distances in terms of mood or emotion. Today I have moved from tension in the morning (about role change etc) to depression in the late afternoon n evening (mama, ppl being upset etc.) to quick maddening pace in late evening (end of week-work not complete etc.) to easy relaxation at night. And not just partly, but completely. Something I would NEVER have been able to do earlier…moods or emotions (especially of a negative variety) developed at a particular time stayed for a long time and affected all subsequent events n interactions….much to the discomfort of my close ones! One more area in which my friends had to bear with me was my finicky nature when it came to going out with people. Since coming to Bangalore, this has changed dramatically (much to the relief of some and dismay of others)…I am able to detach my personal judgment of people from my ability to get along with them. I am actually able to go out with people I may not like too much!! The trigger for this was probably quite different (something that a journey through my posts of that time may reveal) but its now quite ingrained in me, and something that continues to surprise people who meet me after a large gap – mum, unni, sidh etc.

Change was also top of the mind as I suddenly decided to go through the archives on my blog. It was interesting that in some cases I could hardly recollect “what the hell made me write that?!” and in others the emotion and thought behind it was as sharp and familiar as the smell of cooking koftas. I also respected myself a little more – I am not as shallow and unintelligent as I nowdays think I am. Good.

Musicology by Prince is playing on MTV. Cool song, very cool video. I wonder when I will stop evaluating music in terms of visuals. When will this change?

upset - connections

I am not sure whats more upsetting.....when I feel the low I go through when I think of mama (which is often), the heart stop in the middle of the day, even the fond memories that have a sad feel.

Or when I feel the low that others i love go through....nanima, betu, dolly, mummy, even mami....each of them so dependent on him in their own way....now so lost....lost in despair that seems to over ride everything else...their pain is sometimes so intense that I would like to feed them all a truckload of prozac to just dull it.....unfortunately, much as I try, i cant be the prozac.

I remember once saying this to unni (in a much much different context)...the pain of the ones you love is more unbearable than your own pain, because of the helplessness....this remains so true even today....

I am off for my own prozac...a quiet dinner with Shw....an episode of Mad Abt You....a long walk...a few pages of a murder mystery...and then sleep.

Chemistry

My obsession with chemistry is starting to sound irritating even to my own ears! Yet this is one word that I find most convenient to use whenever people and relationships enter mindspace, and they do so often.

Whats chemistry? Is it instinctive or developed or can it be both? what constitutes chemistry? what role does it have in founding a good relationship?...all these and many more questions abound to which I continue the quest for answers. When I find them, I shall hopefully write a book and publish it with hoopla. For all the heartburn that this subject has brought me, the least I can do is make some money out of it!

For now, the question uppermost in my mind on the dual nature of chemistry. How chemistry can not just create connections but also cause explosions which in turn derail a relationship or rather never let a relationship to develop. We see variations of this theme in books and movies all the time - ranging from M&Bs to Pride & Prejudice. But the story usually pans out in the positive - the lead characters start by hating each other, indulge in battle of wits n words, start developing a sneaking admiration for each other when they discover they are alike in a lot of ways, fall in love, convert their hate into attraction, fall in love and live happily ever after.

No such luck in real life as far as I can see! It usually appears to work in the opposite direction - people with great chemistry that gets converted to negative energy.

What this translates into for me is tremendous frustration....how difficult it is to find someone who you just instinctively hit it off with, who you somehow connect with....and then how irritating it is to discover that this electricity between you is going to set off sparks totally non-conducive to a relationship (couldn't resist the dramatization...in fact, the subject practically demands it).

I see this in relationships around me - people with great connection with no relationship. Or worse still - people with great connection, madly in love, and bad relationships. For me, off the cuff there are 3 cases....Skr (great chemistry, relationship took off then crashed and now limps along)....Shl (good chemistry, relationship took off, stabilised)....and now M (good chemistry, relationship crashed while taking off).

Very frustrating - 2 good people...intelligent, smart, funny, nice....when they get together, they cant stop talking....yet they are ALWAYS on the wrong side of each other.....and then its The End.

why, God, why????!!!!!

Bombay talking....

Never before have I set out on a much awaited trip with such mixed feelings. I had wanted to go to Bombay for quite some time, especially now that I had friends there. Finally the ideal opportunity presented itself on the diwali weekend – a four day sojourn – just the right period to have a vacation but not get bored. Yet after I had bought the tickets upto the point I boarded the flight, the anticipation was mixed with apprehensions – was I in the right frame of mind to go on a trip? Was Bombay the right place to get away?? Would the relationship with sidharth stand the pressure of continuous days? Would Jassi be the right company?and did I really want to be with people…without an exit option?

Doubts flew away in the intense humid air of Bombay as the taxi bumped towards powai. My arrival at sidharth’s place will always remain in my memory for the sheer feeling of relief that it brought to me. I am surprised at my usage of this word, but relief is what I felt, the relief of encountering with easy familiarity a part of myself that I maybe had feared dormant. The warm greeting, the sinking into the sofa with the shoes off, the instinctive knowledge that beer would be just right, the aimless chatting, the lack of pressure to go somewhere else…yes, the relief I felt set the tone for the next few days, in fact it changed the way I viewed this trip entirely.

After a long time, I spent an extended period of time with a close friend, something which I had probably missed more than I realized. One can argue that the 60 to 120 meetings can bring a level of quality to conversation that is equivalent to 2 or 3 days of hanging around on campus. But that’s a bit like saying that ready to cook microwave food brings the same amount of nutrients that a leisurely cooked meal would. But its not a question of what you get out of a conversation, but what depth it brings to you. And paradoxically, the best way of building depth in a relationship is through companionship that covers in detail the climax scenes of the latest movie and lightly touches on the existential crises facing the participants.

While this brought relief, an entirely different set of emotions was a pleasant novelty. Kabir took over my heart, not to mention time, and how. Somehow taking care of him didn’t feel like work and traveling all the way to Bombay to spend hours chatting with a baby who gurgled didn’t feel wrong. I wont try to dissect this further but suffice to say that this experience strengthened my resolve to have a baby in a few years, not necessarily through the time tested route of marriage. Or maybe I will put myself in shoes of a conservative Indian girl and decide to get married in order to have babies? But that’s for another time.

Bombay itself was what it had always promised to be – a lover who excited and irritated you at the same time! It felt like a false start with powai and its hiranandani gardens that were organized, well finished and aesthetic; it returned in full form in bandra and juhu that displayed the expected feverish energy, carefully underdressed crowds, oblivious to the world lovers, matchbox apartments and clogged roads. Town was glorious, comfortable in its own skin, coolly looking out at the world without a trace of obvious snobbery…soft steel. Even the bright sun and chirpy crowds couldn’t diminish the pleasure of walking around the fountain, looking at century old buildings and plastic roadside products. The visit to jehangir art gallery and café samovar was a pleasant bonus (thanks Shweta) and the mental tribute to daddy in the form of the ferry ride and sea side café was as enjoyable as it used to be. Midnight on marine drive – shabby footpath and badly dressed people – and juhu beach – tacky lights and stinking sea – was love at first sight. Can I please move there?

Now I am back. And I know I will go back for more. After some time, but I will.