That Insane Urge

Am sorry. Really really sorry.

I'd promised myself sometime ago that I wouldn't wear my heart on my sleeve and thus expose my ordinariness when I wrote about how I screamed or cried or felt hurt and disappointed or how the demons inside my head were too stubborn and comfortable to leave and just let me be. Maybe I was used to their company and I let them be.

I wanted this blog of mine to be free of hurt. But I'm afraid now of writing at idiosyncrazies, because there are people who seem to be coming to that blog and reading. That worries me sometimes. Actually all the time. Inspite of all the anonyomity that I so crave for, the Internet never leaves you alone. Someone somewhere is watching isn't it? Making note, quietly storing all the data, bit by bit by bit, and then someone will piece it together like a beautiful tapestry to form a picture. Of me. I don't think I could stand that. Let me alone bear the burden of how ugly I really am. I'd hate to be unmasked. That too to the whole world. Crikey no!

Guess there are some days when you get up in the morning, and there's a sense of expectation - like a pregnant woman swelled with baby - of something that would be delivered. A good day. And then there are some days when you just roll over, groan and go, 'why'. I didn't get up with that feeling today. The feeling just grew as the day wore on.

I know there's someone out there in the blogworld who has written a post about how every blog he read seemed to be reeking of the hurt, the pain and the sighs! It's quite hilarious and I find his posts quite funny, whenever I do bother reading them. But I do wish he could be more sensitive. Does one have to make fun of everything in the world? One can let some things just be right? Anyway, that is a subjective matter and am sure this particular blogger will continue to write in his peculiarly engaging way and take everyone for a ride and cock a snook at everyone and everything.

But why give someone so much importance? I visit his blog very infrequently because he and his blog are linked to someone I knew in the not too distant past. A past whose sections I'd just like to erase, actually a clean swipe would be good. It's far too painful and ever so often it rears its ugly pianful head and makes me wish that I was just not me. It brings back moments of such intensity, hurt and disappointment that my head starts aching and I have to clench my jaws and dig my nails into my palm to stop myself from just plain good ole bawling. Yes, I have that insane urge and my only solace is to write. So now you know.

Anyway, it's a merry go round. One ache leads to another and another and soon I'm swathed in the warp and weft of the past. Failed relationships everywhere. And a life that is going nowhere. There's no one to look to for comfort save oneself. No one to give me a hug except me. No one to just say those magic words, 'It's going to be ok'. Even family is actually so blithely unaware of the whirlpool of emotions. They're probably the last ones to know about anything really. It's amazing isn't it, when the peope who supposedly love you unconditionally and can supposedly sense the emotional undercurrent are actually the last ones to even ask, let alone know. Sometimes, just sometimes I wish intution, telepathy and the bonds of frendship would ring true and friends would call and say, 'Hey, just wanted to find out how you were doing'. Uh huh! No surprises in my life. Only dull certainties.

I'm sorry banalinanities. For breaking a rule that I swore I'd never. I was just so intent on putting one foot in front of the other that I didn't see any of this coming from the cross roads. I'm sorry.

I'll promise I'll try harder.

But then, rules are meant for breaking aren't they? Oh well, had to ask...:)

How's Life?

Why oh why do all of us ask, 'hey dude, how's life?' Or 'Hiiiii, long time no see. How's life?' Or 'Hello. Surprise surprise...you're looking different',usually taken to mean, you're looking like Dracula's side kick, but you're of course supposed to smile through the implied meaning and pretend to be equally pleasantly surprised at bumping into this acquaintance and come up with a smart and quick witted repartee to the comment, but before you can deliver a crushing blow with, 'you've put on weight', comes the clincher, 'so how's life treating you?'. Guaranteed to elicit a standard and safe response.

But serioulsy, what is one expected to answer to this question when asked? Should one just say, 'Yeah, life sucks' and leave it at that? What of the curious enquirer, waiting to be fed morsels of the non-standard and hopefully exciting reply? You are supposed to substantiate that response with how, why, where, when and other evidences that it does mother fu^&*ing suck! And feel like the Liberator when the beatific smile tugs at the corners of the mouth that dared ask the question in the first place. Bless you for making him/ her feel 'hey, my life's not so bad after all. Cool, thank God I asked him, my day's made'.

Or is one supposed to look down, scuff one's shoes, mull over the question and then answer, 'Yeah, Life is good. It's cool man?' So 'what is cool' or 'good'? Is the fact that your EMI is shooting up like mercury in a thermometer encountering a warm body, or your boss at work is really proving to be anal, or well your girl just upped and left because you didn't tell her she'd lost weight, or if your friend just upped and left with her all supposed to add up to the loaded question?

I mean what is it that one is expected to answer when one is asked, 'how's life'? And how do we sum up such a deep but succinct question into a 2 second response which is supposed to be equally deep and succinct and of course socially acceptable? Oh! I have a doubt. When I'm asked, 'how's life?' am I being asked about life in general or is it my life that they're asking about? This important point of differentiation would colour my responses and they will be customized to deliver the right impact and thus up the acceptability quotient and my standing in the social matrix. Hmm....!

Aww well...life is cool, so chillax. Why worry so much about such a simple question. And questions needn't be answered.

Here's another classic that you needn't answer. So wassup dude?

What are we writing about?

Or more precisely what am I writing about? Am in one of those introspective moods and I know this blog here is meant for banal inanities and this post here may not fit in with the 'positioning' of this blog. But do I care? I might get up at the first blush of dawn and realize my blunder and just go 'Delete'. But I'm in a foul mood.

And this blog affords me a lot of anonyomity more than my alter ego.

So what's bugging me? Tons of inanities and trivia and existential questions which have no answers. Am also left wondering what the hell are we all blogging about? A trillion blogs or more and we're all talking about something. More often than not, it's about 'my life' or 'me and my online diaries'. Or writing about something cheesy or dissing about people or dissing about the people who're dissing (what's this word dissing anyway...sic!). So what is bugging me? What's the harm? It's a free world. Everybody is allowed to express in any language, tone, style, on any topic that pleases him/her. Am I not a party to it? Look at me trying to be some Orwellian pig unleashing tyranny and being corrupted by my own importance (or lack of it). I just want to know if we're all making enough noise about the right things. Things that obviously have a deep impact and can change the course of humanity. Matters of concern at all levels about the world at large. Maybe we are. I guess there are enough groups, tags or 'folksonomy' (wow, the terms that we come up with is ingenious)and enough lists, organizations, and what have you, who're probably seriously doing something to better our world by engaging in dialogues through the blogosphere.

The blogosphere is a very serious platform that has the strength and wherewithal to influence and therefore bring about great change in society. Or so the Internet studies and gurus will have us believe. It's akin to a movement. Only difference is, it seems to be proliferating like water hyacinths, but not going anywhere particularly or doing anything significant. Amid the million voices, the voices that need to be heard get drowned I guess. Or maybe not. Maybe it's just that I am misinformed. Maybe I'm not looking, participating or doing enough. Yes, it's just me.

Now I know why I'm bugged. It's just me. As always.

So the next time someone asks me, 'how are you?', I know what my response will be.

Or will it?

What's with the i?

For those of us who have studied in English medium schools or are just very comfortable with the language, I is always written as I. Just like proper nouns always begin with an upper case. I'm not sure why it is so, but it's like a rule and you normally don't mess around with something that is taken for granted. Pretty much like breathing through your nose. I mean why the hell can't we breathe through our mouths, which technically we can, but we keep out mouths closed and let the air into our lungs and out through our nasal orifice don't we?

Much along the same lines is the fact that I is written as I and not i. But hell, didn't I say, it's a rule that no one questioned? So you know what they say about rules - break them or bend them. That's what's happening here I presume. Perhaps it's to do with irreverence, perhaps it's just someone who's questioning and saying, 'let's see who can question us or what can happen'. Don't know if anything can happen or if people will stop communicating or writing or any such dramatic after-effect as a form of protest.

But Jug Suraiya's comment in the STOI (Sunday Times of India) in the editorial pages is something to do with this new age phenomenon.

If you can make sense of what he's written today, do enlighten me. But ooops...no one reads this blog or any blog of mine. Which is well.

So anyway, I'd still like to question - what's with the i?

Dreams!

"What would you do if you found that all your dreams had come true?"
"Pay off my debts!"

What would you do if your dreams were all realized?

Naah! Dreams are for dreamers and dreams are meant to be in 'dreamland'. If one comes true, it's time to dream up another one don't you think?

But if one kept dreaming without even one of them ever coming true, then would we dream at all?

Well, someone's got to ask, so I do. So what do you think? Should we dream on or...?

P.S. - Dialogue credit to Jersey and her boyfriend in 'Coyote Ugly', a movie about songs, bars, fame and love.

Why kaahn th English spe..English?

I huurd an intuhvue oh the radio oh the baan Blue. Dey whirr aksed abou sum stuff on fashio en wha aah huurd din make no sense, u kno? Aah mean, it went lyke this:
"Aah grew up vid an incredible family en aah kinda lyke sum of da an I thot tha it vos grea (all the syllables are eaten up, as the poor tyke has not eaten as he was coming from a recording and another press interview and he really had no choice but to eat up his syllables and words and whatever he could lay his tongue on) an I luv maah torn jeans an I think tis a grea fashio and yeah, I think tis a grea way to bee and my family was kinda koool an I owe it to dem reeeally for not being able tuh afford propah jeans and this torn jeans kinda umm..yeah..see now, tis so fashio'ble."

And to think people don't understand us when we speak, the proper Queen's English mind you.

But this is what is called evolution isn't it? Start simply, and then make it so complicated in the attempt at retaining the simplicity that eventually only the propagators who fall into the trap of the evolution paradigm really truly probably truly understand it.

Er...what was that again mite? You say somethi abou th languag?

The Sameness of being Unique!

Hey hey hey! Conundrum. So... you've heard people say to you, or perhaps to other people, 'You are unique my friend', 'Or there's no one quite like you', 'You are special because you are so different'.

Differet, yeah right! If that is so, then why do we all have 'similar' characteristics and behave in the same fashion on different occasions?

I mean, I'm confused. So we're all baked in the same oven, with the same bread, but different moulds, but taste similar or...? And are all crisp and have the same breaking point or some are kind of stronger, more hard, flakier, and so on? So we're same, yet unique. Or unique yet same.

Whatever. It's the same thing ain't it?

Ok, ok,...at least I asked.

The Importance of adrenaline

Take a look around. Something drives everything. Be it physical, emotional or spiritual. Lust, greed, oxygen, love, fear, desire, petrol, diesel, bulls, bears, ink, keyboards, servers, motors, oh and on and on and on.

We're a very 'driven' planet. Pause! ....................

Ummm....so where are we going?

So round and round and round we go. No wonder the planet's in a spin.

Look, it so happens, that we're all chasing each other in a giant car rally. Ahhh! Now it's clear. It's a race by the race. And if you have a race, you got to have mobility of some sort. For which you require some fuel. Voila adrenaline!

So, what drives you?

What's the hardest thing to govern?

Aah! Of course you have the answers.

It could be any of the following:
a) People
b) Fetishes
c) Allergies
d) Number of greys one keeps sprouting everyday
e) Your enemies
f) Your friends
g) Your parents
h) Money of course
i) Assets (movable and immovable)
j) Pets
k) Wrinkles
l) The weather

But no...the hardest thing to govern is of course as the great Queen Elisabeth I would have us believe is, 'the heart'.

Aww well...

Twists in the tale!

Strangers among friends or friends among strangers. Which would you prefer?

Mirror image!

Why are some people called 'photogenic?' Why do they picture so well?
I don't picture well at all, but then I don't look nice at all, so I guess pictures tell the truth don't they? So if you're pretty or handsome or arresting, it'll show and if you're not...well, like me, you can decide to avoid being in the photographs.

Oh well, why do some mirrors show you as fat, and some tall, or thin or whatever? Yeah, why?

Why can't serendipity happen to me?

So you see this dashing man. He's tall, got salt-and-pepper hair. He's standing 2 people away from you in a queue. He's reading. He wears glasses. He's not terribly good-looking, but yet he's very attractive. He carries himself well.

Then he opens his mouth and speaks too (not to me) and you hear the voice, the accent. It's fine. Very fine. You check out the luggage and make an assessment.

You go to google the next day and you actually manage to find out. He's some hot-shot at some media channel.

You wonder, you shake your head and you say, naah! Serendipity is meant for others, and in story books and films.

Sigh! But it can't be that difficult for it to happen right? I've been praying hard. I've been visualizing. But what does my heart and mind say? It asks, how can it happen to you?

What if you could be a new you?

Great question. I've been thinking ever since that question hit me in the solar plexus.

Yeah, what if I could be a new me? What would I change? Am awaiting answers.

And you?

Babel it is!

So a friend and I decide to go to a movie. Planned 3 days in advance. The day arrives. Friend and I figure out the movie theatre, time, plan for dinner and 10.00 pm movie. Babel it is.

I reach the said place at 7.30 pm, approach the movie tickets booking counter. It's one of those fancy, plush, hip new multiplexes. You can pay by credit card. There are 10 screens. The price of the tickets could easily be a meal for two at a fast food joint. Anyway, thankfully the ticket counter is not milling about with movie goers desperately hoping for the gateway to lose themselves in reeldom for 2 hrs. I ask for Babel for 10.00 and also ask about other English movies. Stormbreaker and Dead or Alive are the 2 other movies that are running. One is at 7.55 pm. I shake my head and ask for Babel. 'Not in the front please' I make special mention. Back row.

Tickets slide out of machines nowadays at these fancy places. Not the serrated edges' coupon kinds with date, show timing and seat no. and row clearly written besides the amount. I sign for my credit card, look at the ticket, check for the day, the screen and am ok with it. Fatal mistake one!

Go traipsing down 2 floors to a store, picke up a tee, then to another, browse, wait for friend. It's one of those malls where everything is glitzy and beckoning you to spend, spend, spend. I do. Friend comes, then we head to the restaurant above which also has a separate bar. No tables at the restaurant, but the cover for the bar is not too bad, we head in after paying and being stamped on the writsts like we were convicts. The place is abuzz, like most watering holes in this city , especially on a Friday night. We find there is no table or seats. We stand. We order our drinks and some fries. Everything else is bloody expensive. Disposable incomes, software and IT sure has become hard for the rest of us mere mortals to be able to afford a middle-class lifestyle. We decide to have our dinner at another place after shouting ourselves hoarse to be heard above the cacophony of people babbling, music, television, etc.

We get up, head for the Food Court and have our dinner. Friends asks once again, movie is at 10.00 right? And I confidently say, yes, we have enough time. The theater's just another flight of stairs above.

9.55 pm. We head upstairs. We're let into the theater lobby, we're 'security checked' and then head for the dark confines of the theater. We're directed to our seats. We're settling in. 2 other movie goers then approach us for our seats. We get up and enquire about our seats with the usher. Confusion or fatal mistake 2!

Piece de resistance - the tickets are for a show at 19.55 hrs. I'm agape. I rush to the counter outside and confront the ticket dispenser. He shrugs. My voice rises in anger and frustration and I say I want to speak with the manager. He directs me to him.

I rush across to the young, pleasant looking, calm 'manager' who listens to me. From the way he's listening to me, I know I've lost the case. I feel anger at myself for not having checked the bloody timing. The 'manager' called Jai (I read his name on the lapel badge) takes our tickets, goes across to the ticket counter and is on his cell phone all at the same time. He gets back to us as we follow him with a 'I'm so sorry' demeanour.

"What would you do if you were in my place? Can't you understand that this is a genuine mistake? I couldn't be more clear about wanting to see Babel. This is a mistake, mine and your staff's. I'm not conning you or trying to create a scene. I feel angry at myself for not checking. But we're not all perfect. Can't you do something? Let me sit on the aisles and see the movie? Or issue a new set of tickets for another show the next day?"

I rant. Jai asks me for my number and says he'll try to do something. "I know you're saying that only to make me feel better, because I know you won't do anything. I feel like punching you and punching myself because of this slip up. You can take money from me, I don't care, but you're not making an exception to a genuine mistake."

I walk away. I cry. I feel miserable you see. I've let my friend down too. And I lost money. And I came up a cropper, a fool who thought she was smart. I feel so upset.

The babel in my heart and head is going on about the disappointment, the anger, the entire scene's replay.

I feel stupid. Maybe I will laugh tomorrow about it. But right here, right now, I wish for a happy ending. Manager calling out to me, giving me 2 tickets, refunding my money, anything, something. Hard luck!Sorry Brad, I know I'm the Pitts.

Why do such things happen to genuine people? And it's okay to feel really upset right? So what if it's only a movie?

It's January!

Hark ye all, the new year cometh and is here to stay for the remaining 362 days of circa 2007. The first month of the year is here, the month in which I was born.

Wonder what this year bodes for all of us? Me, you, friends, family, work, the world at large.

Will it be one of those crucial, path-breaking, benchmarking kind of years, or will it be yet another year of despair, hopelessness and mental trauma and immeasurable grief?

So Mista God, whadday think? Will you be kind or wreak your wrath at gullible and fallible souls like yours truly? Could I bribe you? Oh well....(shrug)!

Tomorrow's dreams today!

It's that time of the year when Kahlil Gibran's wisdom of 'Yesterday is but today's memory, and tomorrow is today's dream' is about to burst with the hope and aspirations and wishes of 2 billion voices around the globe.

Well, let's just celebrate living shall we?

So, hey, wassup for New Year's? Where you going Mister God? Who're you going with? Which party? Rock da party Mista God, but don't drink and drive.

By the way, what's your poison Mista God? Oh well, at least I asked.

Egads!

That's the first thought that came into my head now.

Why? Cause I was wondering about some titles for this post and realized I'd probably used it all up at idiosyncrazies. And then another thought whispered into my ear, "So how different is this blog going to be from idiosyncrazies?" And I just curled my lip downward like the Yahoo smiley icons :( and shrugged my shoulder and let the answer just be.

Let's just wait and watch the developments shall we?

For starters, have you ever wondered if, when you fart, say while huffing and puffing at the treadmill at the gym, if there are air bubbles and the fabric in that area kind of puckers up as a sign for everyone else? Like if you farted in a swimming pool, you'd see the bubbles right? Something about the gas with H2O?

Oh well! At least I asked.

Stumped!

I was on vacation in the Eastern part of the country and the one week I spent travelling with my mother generated enough content in my head that could fuel at least 10 odd posts or topics for discussion.

But now when I actually sit down to write, I'm stumped. Of course I will write my travelogue. Of course.

Lots of X'masy kind of bonhomie and cheer floating around in the city. Blinking lights, glittering shop windows, sad looking Santas shaking hands with adoring kids and shoppers, shoppers and more shoppers everywhere. Phew! Oops, I forgot the SMSes. That too.

And check out the HP ad for their lap-tops. It's about the New Age Santa travelling with his cool lap-top and the things it can do to help him do his thinggie. Oh well, the world is moving too fast and a world as depicted in Minority Report or perhaps Fifth Element is on the anvil.

Whatever, wherever, however, let's just hail the years ahead and Season's Greetings to all. Just enjoy and go with the flow!

Vacation time!

Everyone needs a break. It's time for mine. Hope when I get back, I feel whole. It's about time to mend the broken.

Cheers!

Prologue!

Prologue vs. epilogue - same difference as beginning and end, first and last, now and later.

So as prologues go, which means the beginning, am hoping that this blog here will herald a new beginning. Of thought. Of luck. Of attitude. Of me.

That it wil be the harbinger of lots of smiles. That the old blog, will give way to this scrubbed clean, new one. That though the old one has been an urn for all my idiosyncrasies, this new one here will be also be a kettle for all things essentially me. It's tough to let go. But some things have got to be done. Pages when turned always reveal new words, new plots, new characters, leading inexorably towards the end.

Let's see how goes this book here. Can I do it?

Hmmm....