Friday, January 13, 2012
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sunday, July 03, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
And I don't know why I stopped blogging or when. I just did. It started feeling like a chore and I dragged my feet. For a while I kept up the charade of reminding myself that this space existed, that I would be disappointing all of my regular readers (yes all of the two of them) if I didn't post soon. But time destroys many delusions, and it didn't take me long to discover that no one really missed my banter. And that threw this blog into an existential crisis of sorts. It threw up too many questions that I did not immediately have any answers to. Nor did I have the time to figure any of them out.
For you see, sometime during the summer last year, I grew a pair and finally landed up in New york, under the pretense of doing 'Summer at NYU'. And it was lovely, like going to see a lover you've only just dreamt of. And it was lonely, like touching emptiness and finding even that crumbling away till nothing else remained. But that's the thing with these two- loveliness and loneliness; if they don't drive you mad, they will most certainly lead to something good. And in my case, it was love. With myself. I know, I know that sounds incredibly cheesy. And perhaps even cheesier than the very cheesy 'I <3 NY' line. (Which also, I will sheepishly admit, I have repeated on several occasions). But that's what I discovered while walking the streets of NY alone and watching the world pass by from under the shaded canopies of a park or two. That it's all about being comfortable in your skin. That you can't expect anyone to love you if you refuse to love yourself. That it's alright to tell the world to 'fuck off' sometimes, for after it has finished ranting and sulking, it will always come back for round 2. That in you game, you get to set the rules. And that independence of choice and spirit is really what it's all about. I came back from New York a different person. And selfish as it sounds, I was completely besotted with myself. Time and a more-than-usual social life has taken the sheen off that self-love. But the glow remains.
And I now know what I want this blog to be, at least for now- a part of the very-self-indulgent discovery of everything I am and can be. For now, I am a narcissistic writer trying to understand herself. And I attempt to make no claims to grandeur or higher purposes. It's back to basics, to where and how it all began.
So excuse me dear reader, while I indulge myself and write for myself. Coz while you are more than welcome to come along for the ride, know that it wasn't made for you. At-least for now.
Currently Reading: Death of Vishnu- Manil Suri
Currently Listening: Anna- Gunnar Madsen, Let go- Frou Frou
PS: So despite all of the claims above, the lack of writing on this blog does have a lot to do with blogger's block and an absolute inability to pick something to write about. So for now, I will just be regurgitating some of the writing that New York inspired me to and hope that just the way a broken down car starts off after being manually pushed for a while, my blogging brain cells will also jump start and make own their way soon.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Bitter- sweet- sour and every other flavor imaginable, 2009 was a year that started off tangled, twisted, confused and then proceeded to unravel itself completely before finally ending with all the ends tied neatly. Such years are very rare, I’m told. Not for their level of complications and twists but for the clarity and sense of peace with which they end. And sometimes even for the surprises they bring. And surprising it was. As the year started, if someone had asked me how I thought my year would turn out, my answer would have definitely been about some kind of boring version of my life; A lot of cribbing, a little heartburn and possibly a different work-scene- but definitely around India or Singapore. Instead, I spent the better half of the year in a middle-eastern country, made a few friends and then some more, almost fasted to starvation during Ramadan, learnt a smattering of Arabic, became an expert in taking flights & transiting, had a fairly decent time in the sandbox and somehow even managed to miss and pine-for the Lah-land (something I had thought I would never do).
Curently Listening: Symphonies- Dan Black, Hey ya- Karthik Calling Karthik
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Within the first hour of my birthday, I had decided in my mind that a birthday spent alone could not and would not amount to much. Afterall, Kuwait being the place it is and with most of my friends and colleagues (even the Kuwaiti ones) being away, how could the customary birthday cheer happen. So with this thought and fairly low expectations, I peacefully went to bed expecting the day to seem just as ordinary when I woke up.
But there is something about a birthday that keeps the day from being ordinary, even if it turns out no different from the day before or the day after. Maybe it is the effect of being remembered by so many. Or maybe it is the expectation of good cheer that the day itself brings. My own favourite explanation includes a body calendar and a once-a-year happy ‘birthday-hormone’. (Yeah, I always did have a thing for the loony.) Whatever the reason, on a birthday morning, it is difficult not to wake up with a smile on the face and a skip in the step.
Birthdays for me have usually been all about the ritual of the day itself: the madness I indulge in or the surprises the day brings. And I usually save the introspection for when the calendar changes. But perhaps with the ritual itself missing in the day this year, I felt compelled to take stock of life and other affairs. And I realized that the passing year had indeed left some lessons in my lap.
Like the fact that that life is too unpredictable and whimsical to be wasted on worrying about the future and wondering how today’s choices might affect tomorrow’s outcomes. Truth is, you will never know. And it’s easy to waste a lifetime basking in the false security of the familiar, while dreaming of what might have been. Or the fact that at some point you have to stop worrying about what others expect of you and start living upto your own expectations, chasing your own dreams, without needing the nod from anyone else. True richness in life comes not from a fat bank account (though it definitely helps) but from the satisfaction of knowing that you live your life on your own terms. I learnt that money can be the motivation for work for only so long, before it all starts to feel meaningless and plastic. And that friends can be found in the most unexpected of places and ways. And most importantly, I realized that at the end of it all, when all else will fade away, it is the friendship, the love, the memories and the experiences that will stay.
And as I realized all this, I resolved that next year, this year, I will do things a little differently. Take more risks. Think and plan less. Have more faith in myself and what I want to do. Take life by the balls. And have more fun while I’m at it!
And so even though, I spent my birthday this year with myself (introspection and all), it turned out absolutely lovely! Different but lovely! Thanks to everyone who called, sent flowers and infected me with the birthday cheer (My favourite has to be one that hoped I would "have a birthday with dates, cakes and handsome arab sheikhs!"). Lots of music, a fair amount of messages and mails, a little bit of work and an evening spent by the sea : The day mirrored everybit the maturity that I feel being 24.
But then I am reminded of the birthday madness I plan to indulge in once I am back in Singapore. And I smile to myself. For the crazy, wild (some might call immature) side of me still rocks on, 24 or older! And I am glad for it!
Currently Reading: The historian- Elizabeth Kostova
Currently Listening: Voice- Pentagram, Flowers in the window- Travis
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
And so when I say that I woke up mid-flight due to turbulence and even felt a little scared, take my word that it was indeed more than just a ‘tremble’. And I will admit (sheepishly) that for the first time ever I feared a little for my life.
Now it’s amazing the kind of perspective u can get from something as stupid as flight-turbulence. But there I was, with the plane (seemingly) completely out of control and I had one of those rare moments of clarity, with my whole life flashing before me (not just the past but what I had thought the rest of it to be like). And then suddenly somehow I reached a moment of panic, where I realized that if my time had indeed come, I would be leaving with a huge bag of regrets. I thought of all my plans-grand and otherwise. The world-travel, all the things I wanted to learn, the book I wanted to write, the experiences I wanted to have, my list of ‘100 things to do before I die’, all the weight I wanted to lose, the tattoo I wanted to get- Everything that I had put off for next year, when I would have ‘enough’ money and the time would be ‘right’. And right then, 30,000 ft above the earth, with the plane swinging wildly and a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realized that the money would never be enough and the time never right. Truly realized. And that was my ‘Eureka!’ moment.
Of course, the turbulence soon stopped, I went back to sleep and eventually landed safely. But something did indeed change in that moment. And just like that, I have a spring in my step, a purpose in my eyes, a grin on my face and a realization that my time here is finite and so I'd better make the most of it.
And so I am glad to report- the gyming is happening regularly, the healthy eating has become de-facto, all the travels are seriously being planned for and an inexplicable good cheer has come over me. Oh and the tattoo, happens in December. Talk about life-changing. Who needs ‘Deepak Chopra’ when you’ve got turbulence, right?
Currently listening- The boy is gone- Jason mraz, Unforgiven II- Metallica
Currently reading- Salmon fishing in Yemen- Paul Torday
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
But hah, am a fighter too! So fighting the blows of the ‘block’ and very valiantly kicking it in the balls, I bring to you the very taaza, the latesssht! (a.k.a snippets from my head that are inane, whacked out and absolutely of no consequence to anyone)
Look around you! No matter what part of the world you are in you will find yourself surrounded by a tiny little India- Indian people, Indian food, Indian movies and music, even Indian bosses. It’s time to face it- The whole world is going through an Indianization of sorts. So yes, we’ll ‘pass’ on the machine guns and the bomber jets. We’ve got other tricks up our sleeve you see!
Infact my overactive imaginations sees a situation like this-
So yeah well I exaggerate. And yes I am a crazy fan of the said savory. But it’s possible. Noe?
Coz tomorrow when I don’t finish the work, and I don’t come home on time and I don’t get my ass to work, I simply have him to blame. Coz he didn’t will it so! See what I mean?
Currently Listening: I will possess your heart- Death cab for cutie, Say it- Blue October
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
People told me he was a bit odd. And maybe they were right. He did look different from anyone else I had seen- With his long wavy hair tied loosely at the back, his big buttoned flashy jackets and his thin frame. But what did I care. I loved the way he sang. I loved what he sang. And most of all, I loved the way my feet would start tapping away almost involuntarily each time I heard him 'do his thing'.
A few days later, I spotted his picture in the local news papers. I remember getting a pair of scissors and very carefully cutting it out. I decided that I had been sufficiently impressed to openly profess my liking. And so up it went, the grainy black-and-white newpaper cut-out picture, on my cupboard. I didn't realise then what this small action would mean for me. Everyone around started ridiculing me, laughing at me with an indulgent smile. A wink here, a nudge there. But again, what did I care.
One of the 'nudgers', seeing the grainy newspaper cut-out, decided that I had to have a better picture to focus my adulation on. And that's how I got my first (and only) proper picture of him. And a very handsome picture too-Tousled up hair in that trademark ponytail, black pants, and a tucked-in white shirt, open just enough to show a peek of smooth chest. I put it up on the wall right across from my bed. And soon enough I started doing silly girlie things like wishing him (well the picture really) 'good night' everyday. But through all of this, it was still his singing that held sway over me. Each time I heard him, I would sing along, even memorize the words he sang and copy his moves.
And then, slowly, other things started occuying my mind, other people. And he got relegated to the back. And over time, even the picture got taken down. I moved on. Years passed. I occasionally heard snippets of his songs and smiled to myself, even tapped my feet. But I had changed. My tastes had changed. I liked others now. I heard less and less about him. Maybe I didn't care.
That is, until a few days back, when I read about his death in the news. And the memories came back. I played some of his songs and sang along to them (at the top of my voice)- My own little tribute to how brilliant he had been. And I realised then, that even though so much of time had passed since I was that 9 year old girl with his poster on the wall and a much obvious crush, I will miss him.I give thanks for the music he left behind and I really really hope that he is in a world much better than ours. Goodbye Michael.
Currently listening: Roulette- System of a down, Kuch Khaas- Fashion
Currently Reading- Myth=Mithya- Dr. Devdutt Patnaik