absolutely unrelated collection of thoughts

1. "down, down, down, down....." - I went down, down, down, down....and when I hit rock bottom in the past 2-3 weeks, I am (hopefully) back on my way up, getting back on track.

2. Never, ever thought I would actually quote Sex n the City anywhere (so much pop philosophy irritates me, unless I am the source!), but last night's episodes has 2 lines that actually hit home - "why do we let the one thing we don't have affect our perceptions of everything else we do have?" and "why do we always jump to believe the worst we hear about ourselves but never the good things?"

3. Read Tuesdays with Morrie - another first. It was more of a reaffirmation of myself - I am a survivor; and I create my own culture, precedence be damned.

4. C3G - Chemistry, Comfort, Companionship and a sense of Growth. Isn't this a fabulous beginning?? Then why does the fairy tale have to crash????

Weather? or weather vane for my soul?

While I keep talking about the "glorious" weather and hows its not allowing me to work, this is actually not true at all.

Truly glorious weather means breezy days, partly cloudy/partly sunny, the brightness of gulmohar, the hint of smiles. Those days I feel cheerful and exuberant and most importantly, peaceful. That peace gives me the power (for want of a better word) to do anything I want - blissful vegetation or hectic socialising or even work!

Today's weather speaks glory in an entirely different way. Its the glory of grey skies that spread with deceptive calmness, hiding behind them the turmoil that gave birth to them. Its the glory of past sins and impending doom; the fury and the madness that precedes tears. This glory cajoles my soul into dancing on hot coals; it induces thought, and emotion...all somehow, inextricably, linked to pain. I cant work.

Three times lucky

This is the third "nice" weekend I have had and considering the roller coaster nature of daily life, I consider that quite lucky.

The first was slow, introspective, pleasurable, painful - a bit of solitude, a bit of partying, a lot of companionship.

The second was therapeutic - silent connect with strong foundations, books, movies.

And this one was...I cant find an appropriate word and will settle for "wide ranging"!

> A wide range of movies - from Fanaa (disappointing, Kajol great, some nice moments) to Da Vinci Code (boring; the book MUST be more interesting!) to X Men 3 (high voltage drama n action - great fun!) to Vaastu Shastra (2nd viewing, only the good scenes) to The Ring (watched at 1 am, surrounded by absolute silence, loved it!!)

> A wide range of people connect - from faffing with older n newer baggage (H, K); to short encounter with the online kiddo (A); to long chat with an occasional friend (Son).

> A wide range of meals (!) - from a steak n martini quickie in a packed, pulsating restaurant; to a typical pub lunch of fish n beer at my fav fp; to a long, leisurely multiple course dinner on a candle lit courtyard with the sound of trees as background music!

Missed -
People....U, D, L. Couldn't respond - Shk, Shw, Aish. Couldn't connect - sigh.
Books....old ones left pending; growing list.
House work...glass, bed, curtains.

Hence agenda for this week and the coming weekend is decided!

alive or just mad????

Thursday, 25 May.

I got depressed because of the blow to the pride caused by the lower ges scores. I laughed like a maniac at the crazy conversations with friends at work. I was irritated by being forced to act as PA to my team. I was intrigued by a short and unexpectedly positive conversation with someone i chatted with for the first time. I was upset by the changes in mood of a close friend. I watched helpless as a loved one struggled through his demons. I got involved in a project that actually set my grey cells working. And I got hugely embarassed (and panicky) at a stupid, stupid thing that I did.

So was I alive? Or was I mad??

I miss so many people today. I want to just chat and ramble.

Doomed by the demons

Two stories over the past few days - one real life (K n V) and one semi real (gangster) - propel me to feel the pain our demons inflict on love...and think about it.

Can we ever escape them? Or do they just become dormant after some time? Can they be overcome? As a romantic, I would like to believe that pure love supplies the strength to do so. But how many believe that? Its essentially our belief that drives us to survive. And how many recognise it? We spend our lives in relatioships with people who cannot provide (for want of a better word) us the strength and growth we need to defeat the demons; and ignore, for blinkered reasons, the ones who have the potential to.

These demons exist within us - the baggage and the history; the blinkers and the crisis of faith - and we end up becoming our worst enemy. Clutching to us what we want and driving away what we need.

This rational conclusion doesn't prevent me from feeling the pain; from crying at the pain of others; from laughing at the traps I knowingly step into; from clutching my body with the sheer effort it takes to just believe; from feeling helpless as I watch loved ones battle their demons, knowing that I have the answer but it's of no use unless they find it themselves.

pennies for my thoughts?

Even though I am steadily switching off at work, professional life continues to be a medium of self exploration and discovery.

My relationships, especially with my team, were viewed in a fresh light (how hackneyed can I be!) during the two days of leading edge workshop. I realized what I was doing right and I understood what I had to do more. More importantly, I figured out where I was coming from. So many of my actions are triggered by the thought of “this happened with me, I wont let it happen to my team” and this is in consonance with my feelings in my personal life as well. In both professional and personal spheres, the worst feelings I have encountered within myself have been that of loneliness and helplessness and my determination is not to let that happen to the people whose lives I do, or can, impact.

Another realization, more saddening, is that my relationships (team) still lack the depth I would ideally like them to have. I approach this with the practicality I apply to my life as a whole – one can’t have everything, it’s all a trade off – but when I think about what I really want to be, and have the potential to be, I feel sad about it. More than anything else, it is this thought that has made me determined to change the pattern of my work content and free up time. After all the arguments I have heard from Lak and Nav (and practically ignored), I finally found the most compelling one within myself. Typical of me.

Focus moved from internal me to others in the Friday offsite meeting. For the record (not that this record is being published anywhere), that was the best meeting I have ever been part of at Accenture. Watching R in action was a learning experience like no other. His control of the subject, his control of the room, the sense of inclusion, the constant thread of humor, the underlying positivism, the presence of perspective - I wish I could have video recorded that one hour performance to watch it again and again as I struggle to recall the key messages to be internalized. The ensuing discussion along with PV and RV was thought provoking in a different way. What makes some people decimate while others grow? What triggers the drive in a person as well as the self destruct button? How much of “me” is me and how much of “me’ is others? I don’t even know whether answers exist to these questions but I do know that these questions are a must to be asked, an internal checkpoint, a sort of weather vane.

And finally, this two day trip to Chn. My first visit to this centre and I am struck anew by the thought of organizational culture. The set of behaviors and practices that, day by painstaking day, builds up into something bigger and stronger that we loosely define as culture. And how this set of behaviors and actions is dictated by a myriad of influences, from individual personalities to cultural backgrounds to the physicality of the environment. In fact, do the wide corridors and large cabins of this centre have anything to do with the mess that this deal has been in since inception? Or is it the green psychedelic carpet? Colors, auras, aromas, vastu – so many areas to be explored, so much attraction. Like a beautiful young woman hidden by a veil a la music videos.

The other aspect of this visit was me. Again. My unexpected sense of alienation when I arrived there (despite the fact that this was my own organization, there were people there who I knew and who would take care of me, and the business was the same); my ability to adjust in a fresh physical space; my sense of connect with people I was meeting (and training) for the first time; my sense of challenge at conducting conversations with fresh customers who viewed me without baggage. All observed and recorded through a constant dialogue within myself. I am afraid that one day I will meet someone who can listen to this internal dialogue. And then I am gone.

More thought provoking were two conversations with Vip n Nkj, as we exchanged notes on people around us and the effect this lifestyle was having on them. Its really unusual how work, at a root concept, is meant to provide our lives with meaning and purpose and identity and yet increasingly it seems to be doing the opposite. Irrespective of the challenges we thrive on and the money we enjoy and the authority we exert, if we end up becoming someone we don’t like, is it really worth it?? Sooner or later, I find people asking this question. Some find the answer (usually a no) and then either make deep rooted changes or go into a downward spiral. Others do a cost benefit analysis of the effort involved when answering this question and choose to ignore it and go to sleep. I wonder which is wiser?

Linked to this is the thought of the balancing we do (or rather, need to do) internally. I realize that I am only scratching the surface here but the thought of this flow of positive and negative continues to fascinate me. Every single action, every single event – our work, our conversations, our food, our outing, our silences, our activities - takes something from us and gives something back. The trick is to keep it balanced…and maybe even positive….i.e., a state where you get more from life than you are putting in! I wonder how many of us reach that stage when most of our days are spent in just minimizing the negative inflow into us.

I should have more thoughts on this front, but I am shocked at how much I have written. This is probably my longest post ever. To be ended now.

Pain, relief and hope

I type this out bleary eyed in a plane seat, occasionally staring out at the grey skies, sometimes pausing to reflect how I am imitating the very action I get irritated by in others. As recent events have taught me (again), never say never.

There are jailbait like air hostesses (guest service associates?) in tight red outfits smiling pleasantly and handing out plastic goodies. People around me are absorbing the news of the day with an attention equal in intensity to the apathy they will show when finished with the papers. And I sit here typing away badly crafted sentences. I am hungry too.

And yet this normalcy on the surface makes me laugh as I contrast it with the swirl of thoughts and emotions that’s beneath it.

I can’t and don’t really want to capture the details of the past few weeks and the events that have tired me. I knew that the days were getting heavier, that I was feeling an increasing lack of control, that balls that juggled well earlier were slipping now, that I was approaching parts of my mind that had been carefully ignored so far.

But never did I realize the extent of the pain and exhaustion that had seeped my soul until I spent the last few hours with U. The sense of relief provided by his presence indicated how much I needed it, and yet hadn’t acknowledged. In a few hours, I had accomplished what would have otherwise been a life long exercise…stripping and dissecting and digging and crying and laughing.

Give me love any day. Over romance, over excitement, over sex, over adoration, over fun, over all these elements that provide us momentary relief as we struggle through our daily lives. Give me love – the purity, the security, the kindness – any day.

It has given me the strength to look at reality and wonder at the people who have dominated my mindspace for the past few days. And I smile to myself. It’s a smile of amusement, and sometimes of sadness. I remember fights, I remember animated conversations, I remember the chemistry, I remember the silences. With K, a recent whirlwind. With L, an old anchor. With Sm, a new presence.

I wonder what the future holds for me. With U’s decision, it’s actually a turning point in my life as well. I know that I have been moving towards this point for the past two years and I am mentally prepared for it. Coinciding as it does with other (equally emotional) events set in motion by M, I have a feeling this portends a far deeper, more significant shift in mindset, approach, behavior and lifestyle than even I expected. But I am prepared. In a way, the exhaustion of the soul over the past few weeks is welcome. It’s made me stronger.

I hope.

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.