Worthless - (One)

She sat by herself on the cold stone staircase;

Defeated -by life - and thinking to herself

Of shattered dreams and plans gone awry,

Of times gone by and long lost glory.

How happy she had been, how raring to go;

God had been her comrade, rather than a foe.

But then it had ended - the dream run -

Prematurely.

And life had gone bleak,

No color, no sound.

For five long years, she'd tried

To fight her fate and stand her ground;

To keep patient and dream on;

To resist the family and the society

That wanted her to change

Into something she was not;

That demanded she conformed

To norms she didn't believe in.

Five long years, she had kept at it tirelessly

But alas, could do it no more.

Most would call it weakness,

But rather, it was fatigue

And weariness.

She was just so tired

Of the arguments and harangues;

Of the rules and restrictions;

Of the constant headache -and heartache - of fighting a losing battle.

The silence that pressed in on her

Every night as she lay mulling over her disappointments

Was the sound of her hope dying, a slow, torturous death.

The darkness she saw in everything and everyone

Was the color of her faith dwindling fast

Into nothingness, emptiness, a bottomless void

Of unfathomable gloom.

She was sinking into it, one bit at a time,

As she surrendered to the fate that she had always feared:

Life was becoming one long To-do list of mundane activities:

Pay the phone bill, and buy the milk;

Do the laundry and visit the friends.

Finish the draft and mail the birthday card;

Deposit the cheque and use the ATM.

She was turning into a robot on autopilot

A far cry from the feisty writer she had once been.

And yet, she was so young - just in her twenties

What a pity, a shame, a life come undone.

"It's a love story, baby just say YES"

Love stories. They are all around, everywhere. Ordinary ones and extraordinary ones; simple and bizarre, sweet and bittersweet, short-lived and eternal.

Some people have beautiful, fairytale-like love stories. They marry their childhood sweetheart or the first person they date, and end up being together right till the end.

Others have dramatic, ‘filmy’ love stories. They meet someone, part ways, meet again, fall out, realize that the person is suddenly important to them in ways they can’t explain, and hence finally wind up together, after crossing innumerable hurdles or traversing through innumerable twists and turns, or fighting innumerable battles and winning.

Then there are the cute, ‘made-in-heaven’ kind of love stories. Boy meets girl, or vice versa, and ta-da, they just know that this is it! Love at first sight, the cynics be damned. They HAVE to be together, no matter what, even if they bite each other’s heads off all the time, or one is strictly vegetarian and the other lives for chicken tikka, or one is a detached Aquarian while the other is emotional Scorpio. these kind of romances are way above such frivolities as compatibility.

On the somber side, there are the tragic, ill-fated, heart-wrenching stories. The ones that end in untimely death of one or both the lovers, or involve difficult compromises and separation.

Then there are the painful, heart-breaking tales full of betrayal or manipulation or abuse or selfishness, where one person suffers while the other takes advantage in the name of love.

Other love stories are simply pathetic or pitiable, for lack of a better word. They are non-starters because the love in question is unrequited or impractical or impossible. One person pines and aches and longs for the other, who is aloof and absolutely unaffected.

Some love stories are just sad, because they meander through innumerable ups and downs only to end up nowhere or fizzle out. They leave the lovers worn out and hopeless.

Then there are the grounded love stories, which one finds in happy arranged marriages, when the partners have actually LEARNED to love each other over a period of time and live together forever.

And finally, there are ugly ones which leave people scarred because mean things are said or done or the two simply fall out of love inexplicably.

Of course, all these types overlap into one another, for love is complex and multi-layered, but no matter what way romantic love affects your life, it definitely leaves you a changed person.

My own first love story unfortunately fell into the pathetic, pitiable category and I still cry over it sometimes, when I think of all the pain and frustration and overwhelming, repressed feelings, but it taught me something important: that love is magical and something that you should never give up on, no matter what. As childish and far fetched and stupid as it sounds, I still believe with conviction, deep inside, that someday, somewhere, I’m definitely going to meet that one person who is truly made just for me. that one person who'll accept me with every fault and eccentricity intact, treat me like his princess even though I’m just a bespectacled writer who is always finding something funny in very not-funny situations and remains permanently pissed off at society and its stupid ways.

Oh yes, I believe in the possibility of that impossible person coming along to make me his. For like they say in the movies: "love, actually does exist."

Until next time, I leave you with lines from two of my favorite songs:

Somewhere out there, I know there is a someone who is waiting just for me mahiya…he’s going to set me free mahiya.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone, I’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run; you’ll be the prince, and I’ll be the princess, it’s a love story, baby just say yes!



P.S. Do you know of any other kind of love stories which I missed out?

P.P.S. Who's that guy in the video? He's H-O-T!!

If I were. . .

This is a tag I had seen a long time ago on some blogs. Couldn't think of a proper post so here goes randomness:

If I were a color, I'd be blue: neutral, soothing, appealing to almost everyone.

If I were a liquid, I'd be champagne: sweetly intoxicating, always ready for happy times.

If I were a cellphone, I'd be Blackberry: sounds good, looks good, works good.

If I were a sound, I'd be the roar of the waves crashing against the seashore: so fervent, so raging, yet strangely calming, soothing.

If I were a bird, I'd be a swan: tall and elegant, gently floating upon the water's surface. Or a hawk, flying up, up, up above the earth but having super sharp sight of everything below me.

If I were music, I'd be the notes of the piano, perhaps a soulful sonnet or a ballad full of love.

If I were a smile, I'd be that first shy one exchanged by young lovers.

If I were water, I'd be the ocean, wide and deep with treasures and mysteries and beauties lurking within me.

If I were a flower, I'd be a fresh pink rose: soft and pretty and cheering even on the dullest of winter days.

If I were a time of day, I'd be twilight, when everything seems to hold still, and the sky is half dark, half light, and the first stars are just beginning to show.

If I were a subject, I'd be Chemistry, with all its symbols and formulae and colors and likenesses to love.

If I were a language, I'd be English, with it's complexities, its nuances, its variances.

If I were a tree, I'd be a tall willow with strong, sturdy roots.

If I were a fruit, I'd be a little strawberry: looks pretty and is good for desserts.

If I were a book, I'd a be a classic, perhaps one by Mark Twain full of wit and humor alongside wisdom and depth.

If I were a song, I'd be one sung by Atif Aslam, each word enunciated as if from the very depths of the heart.

If I were a city, I'd be Paris, full of romance and culture and history and fashion and good food and wine.

If I were an animal, I'd be a horse: wild and free and galloping away to my heart's content.

If I were a stone, I'd be a ruby: precious, pretty and pink! :P

Lonely/Lonesome

Today is essentially a holiday but i didn't have an off so I sit here at work, alone, because my colleagues are on leave.

I work at an educational institute so there are no classes today and hence, the place is eerily quiet. I usually like being by myself with a computer and some silence because it means I can write, but it feels somewhat wrong today. I don't know why but it just does. I could leave early and go home but that would make me feel worse I'm sure. I could go watch a movie, by myself, but there are no good movies on.

So I've turned to the faithful Internet and am chatting on gtalk. Just one friend online though. Another friend, the one I would have liked to talk to, isn't there, which seems odd because he is always there. He's probably gone home since he lives in a hostel. He didn't mention that he would be going and I shouldn't feel bad about it because i hardly know him but I can't help but feel bad and there's nothing i can do to not feel bad. I wish he had told me so that i wouldn't find his absence from my chat list strange and distracting. well, I wish he would tell me a lot of other things too but of course, he doesn't. Gosh, what is wrong with me. It can't even be PMS.

My mood has been majorly effed up these past few days - or weeks. I think it's because I'm a gypsy at heart. I like to move around - I need it almost. Too long a stay in one place and I get claustrophobic and insane all at once. I haven't been on a holiday, even a short one, for almost five years now. There are reasons for it, depressing of course, but I think it's getting to me. No, make that I KNOW it's getting to me. I'm absolutely sick and tired of the routine, the city, the atmosphere, the people. I deserve a break but am unable to take one. When I'm a rich and established writer, I'll never stay in one place too long. I would like to move around, one city to another, one set of people to another, gleaning stories from them all. That would be fun. Exciting. Enriching.

And then I won't get attached to anyone, especially useless people who don't care for me when I miss them oh SO much.

To make it worse, when I arrived on campus this morning and was walking towards my office, a group of three guys emerged from the canteen and were walking behind me and then one of them spoke and his voice was SO MUCH like the friend who I am obsessing over. Ugh. As if I needed reminding of him first thing in the morning of a long, lonely day.

Sometimes, I think how totally sad my life would be without gtalk and facebook and that thought makes me sadder still.

Oh well, I'll go to the library perhaps. If it's open, I'll sit and read there. I always feel at ease with books, after all. They are not selfish and mean like people. And they don't disappear and reappear as and when they please.

Happy Raksha-Bandhan, by the way. :)

Much more than just 15 Minutes of Fame

We as a nation are making a royal fool of ourselves before almost the entire world in the run up to the (in)famous Delhi Commonwealth Games.

D'uh.

CWG was like an adorable little baby gifted to us. We wanted to pamper it, feed it, nurture it well so that it would soon grow big and strong and fetch us truckloads of money and much-needed praise and recognition from the world. The West has always been recognized; our competitor China shot into the limelight with the Olympics; heck, even AFRICA struck it big with FIFA 2010. CWG was supposed to be OUR claim to fame and glory. And oh, how it pains me the way it's turning out to be more of a claim to shame and agony.

First, the Queen decided she wouldn't be able to make it. All right, that's OK; it's beyond our control. But then, one thing led to another and rather gory-looking skeletons began tumbling out of our shoddy closet all at once.

According to news reports I've read and heard about the capital, roads are dug up and unpaved; as they always are. The rains are wrecking havoc, as they always do. And we are busy advising prospective visitors to not hug, kiss or wear 'immodest' clothes, and to carry their own toilet paper because our public loos are 'few and filthy'.

Honestly, at this rate, we might as well get Rakhi Sawant to perform at the opening ceremony and have the world marvel over our contradictory nature that allows women to leave nothing of their anatomy to the imagination while on stage or before a camera yet frowns at girls who wear shorts while walking on the street. At least that way people may BEGIN to somewhat comprehend our mentality and learn that all the embezzlement that's gone into organizing the games is just a way of life here, just another sad representation of our sad hypocritical values.

I respect this country, it's MY country, and I direly want it to do well and achieve greater heights in the global arena, but when I read all the disturbing, embarrassing stories and reports about the CWG, I can't help but quite cynically think to myself: 'oh well, this was BOUND to happen.'

Maybe, in a way it’s a good thing that the ugly reality of our political and administrative establishment is being unveiled to the world even if it’s leaving us severely red-faced. Maybe things will finally start to change only after we make a major mockery of ourselves at an international level.

Either way, I sincerely hope that we clean up our act quick – quicker than we use the lotas in our loos, and most certainly quicker than our police arrives at crime scenes or our judicial system doles out justice or our civic authorities act upon complaints by the aam aadmi, the mango man, the common man.

Emptiness

It creeps up on me, this feeling. Every few weeks, it comes crawling into my being and saps the life out of me, slowly, painfully.
One day I'll be all fine; upbeat and cheery and just plain happy to be, and the next, everything will seem dull, pointless, uninspiring. It becomes a great effort to smile and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and die because suddenly, life seems worthless, monotonous, a waste.
I think of times gone by and miss them direly, desperately. I want them back, those people I've left behind; I need it back, that carefree innocence of teenage.
I am unsure of where I am headed, professionally and personally. Will my dreams ever materialize? Will I find someone who loves me the way I want to be loved?
Life is uncertain. Will i lose people I love before I am ready to handle it? What would it feel like to die? Am I going crazy? Or are all writers insane?
Me wants out. I want to go to the beach and feel the sand under my feet. I want to walk on the squelchy shore and let the sea breeze whip through my hair. I want to curl up with a book and watch the sun set. I want to fall asleep amid the sounds of nature. I want no cell phone and no laptop; no pressures and no deadlines; just some music and someone nice to talk to. I want to be alone with my thoughts yet share them too. I want to be hugged and kissed and whispered sweet nothings to. I want to just sit and watch the world go by. I want to laugh for no reason and feel the sound ring through the air. I want to sing and dance and feel intoxicated by life itself.
I want no emptiness.

We, the world

Way back when I was in primary school, we used to sing this song in music class called From a Distance.



I have loved it ever since and today, it's the inspiration behind this poem that I've penned:

Tall glass buildings and concrete jungles;
Luxury cars and devices of every sort;
Dazzling smiles and unfathomable wealth
all coexisting -
with derelict slums and malnourished bodies
lack of basics and constant ill health
Politicians who preach and public workers who breach
all laws, all regulations, ethics and morals.

Bomb blasts in our cities, oil spills and chemicals in our seas
Filth on the roads, and in our water and food and air
Nuclear war, forever iminent. Verbal wars, forever ongoing.
Ghastly terror, in every form.
The wails of infants and the silent cries of the helpless.
Blistering heat that melts brains and burns skins;
Raging downpour that vanquishes everything in its wake.
More and more factories and fumes and disease;
No green spaces, nature abused.
Immeasurable waste, of food and water and resources,
even as millions go starving, without homes or education or protection from the weather.
A technology fixation and declining mental health
Aging populations and youth going astray.
'Honor' killings and rape and murder and incest.
Riots and hate crimes and vandalism and strife
Young girls 'auctioning' their virginity; 'legal' prostitution
Suicides and depression and devastation everywhere.

Terrible things, all confirming our worst fears?
No one can save us now; not even Captain Planet and the Planeteers.
From a distance, the world looks blue and green, the snow capped mountains white?
Not anymore, no. It's reduced to just one big suffering, pitiful sight.

10 Things I Hate About You, Me and Society

We all hate things. But are we ever that vocal about it? I know I’m not so I’m starting this 'tag.' If you like the idea, go ahead and tag yourself and write a similar post. (Gosh, it'll be such an insult if nobody does! lol) The ‘you’ part is directed at other people in general rather than a particular person. Just things I hate seeing in other people

So here goes:

YOU
1. I hate it when you pretend to be something or someone you are not. I hate it when you show off and brag and blow your own rusting trumpet.
2. I hate it when you wear things not made for your body type. Rolls of fat peeking out here, there, everywhere are repulsive, no matter how ‘sexy’ the garment you have squeezed yourself into.
3. I hate it when you’re overly interested in my business and my life and have too much free (unwanted) advice and opinions to dole out about everything, ESPECIALLY how I look or dress up.
4. I hate it when you bitch and back stab. It’s a sign of complete insecurity and envy too.
5. I hate it when you are minutely observant of me and ask overly personal questions when I do not know you much.
6. I hate it when you disturb me when I’m writing, ESPECIALLY when you can clearly see that I’m writing. If my train of thought was a literal train, I’d make it hurtle straight into you right then.
7. I hate it when you tell or ask me the same things again and again.
8. I hate your fake accent and your even faker personality.
9. I hate it when you talk vulgar. It’s ok to use cuss words and bad language but derogatory talk completely puts me off.
10. I hate your goddamn hypocritical tendencies and double standards and rigid opinions and judgmental attitude and inflated ego and false sense of superiority.

ME
1. I hate not having enough time to write all that I want to.
2. I hate having to wear a dupatta all the time at the behest of my mother who is paranoid about people noticing my boobs. I hate listening to my mother, period.
3. I hate not being able to stand up to her, my mother, and how I always direct my anger and frustration inwards. I hate not being able to scream and insult people who piss me off.
4. I hate living in Ahmedabad. The weather sucks, the systems suck, the societal norms suck, and the collective suckiness sucks the peace out of me.
5. I hate having sensitive skin that gets bruised and wounded oh so easily.
6. I hate being short-sighted and having to wear glasses and not being able to drive.
7. I hate living with my parents rather than alone. I hate having to follow rules and regulations and giving explanations and meeting expectations.
8. I hate being middle class and all the stupid values that are attached to this.
9. I hate being in my twenties with the burden of never having been kissed, never being in a romantic relationship, never having tried a drink or a smoke, never having done anything remotely wild at all. I hate having been such a goddamn good girl all these years.
10. I hate how I’m only allowed to list ten things I hate here, rather than twenty or two hundred or a thousand. I hate how I hate way too many things.

SOCIETY
1. I hate religion and caste and class and gender discrimination.
2. I hate being expected to marry and ‘settle down’ (whatever that means!) and cook for my husband and produce his babies just because I am woman.
3. I hate the pressure everyone puts on girls to be pretty and guys to be successful. I hate pressure of any kind.
4. I hate death rituals and how gatherings of grief quickly turn to gossip sessions for people who didn’t even know the deceased that well.
5. I hate traumatic embarrassments of childhood that continue to haunt each one of us throughout our lives.
6. I hate being expected to have a career plan spanning decades when I’m not even sure what I’ll do tomorrow.
7. I hate how great people who try something different or speak their mind are ostracized and/or ridiculed and/or condemned – e.g. Taslima Nasrin.
8. I hate politicians and religious leaders who vent their personal frustrations against works of art like movies and books and campaigns on topical issues.
9. I hate how we are all so disintegrated and fail so often to act against wrongdoings and injustice. I hate how we let divide and rule policies to break us and then complain about issues that we can put a stop to if only we made peace with our differences and were united in our agendas.
10. I hate society as a whole and its goddamn rules and establishments and norms and expectations. I hate being a so-called ‘social animal’. I’d rather be an antisocial hermit; at least it lets me live in peace.

Sorry, I'm just in a rant-y mood these days. I promise to write something worthwhile very soon!

Mera Bharat Mahaan?

People, if at all you have missed me, I owe you an apology or at least an explanation about my impromptu absence from the blogosphere. What to do, with no net access at home and a new job and my head full of confusing, conflicting thoughts as always, I’ve almost been forced to ignore my beloved blog for the past few days. With any luck, all is well now and today I shall write. But be warned that this is going to be a rant so if you’re looking for some creative nourishment, I’d advise you to move on rather than stay with me and end up commenting about how I’m always cribbing. (Which is sure to make me crib some more!)

Right, so a belated Happy Independence Day fellow countrymen and women. It’s been a whopping 63 years of us being an independent democracy. You can almost taste all the patriotism hanging heavy in the air. Well, sorry to be a downer or pessimist or whatever other label you may give me, but I scoff at those two words: ‘independent’ and ‘democracy’

I could get started about a whole lot of the usual issues that paint a sorry picture about our so-called independent democracy, but these are so exhausted that both you, I and your distant NRI relative could write a thesis each on the subject, so I’ll focus on only certain points which affect me at a very personal level and somehow dent my innate feelings of pride at being Indian. I am indeed gratified to belong to such a rich and diverse and interesting nation as India undoubtedly is and I love my country, but I really wonder if she loves me back at all.

Somehow, it makes me feel so unwelcome, so much like an outsider, like I don’t belong and will never belong. All because I don’t have the defining characteristics of brown skin and dark hair. Yes, I know it is unusual for South Asians to be blonde but in our glorious mystifying world, there are exceptions to every rule right?

So why doesn’t India just accept me? Why doesn’t it suck me into its ever-increasing population and camouflage the differences so that no one would give me a second look when I’m walking on the street or stare in bafflement when I speak perfectly unaccented Hindi or Gujarati.

I’ve tried for over four years to somehow fit into this country, to not long to run away to any foreign land where blonde hair is not a novelty and nobody stares, even at things that are, but I’ve failed and almost given up now.

I hate it, how I have to sort of prove my 'Indianness' day in day out. Once on a flight, an attendant refused to give me the disembarkation form meant for Indian passport holders. She had the gall to ask whether I was ‘sure’ I was an Indian citizen. ‘Yes, just give me the goddamn form.’ I wanted to say. ‘I do know what citizenship I hold. I’m not as dumb as I look.’

I hate it how some rickshaw drivers give me leering looks and try to fleece me of more money than what I know is the standard charge. Often, I just give it to them without argument, with a prayer that God will put them right and punish their dishonesty in His own way. I hate it how even when I’m in a rickshaw, people passing by on two wheelers or hanging out of packed buses will peer in at me, shamelessly ogling, sometimes even pointing. I hate it how waiters at restaurants will insist on getting me mineral water instead of the regular drinking water just because they think I’m a foreigner who will pay through her nose for goddamn bottled water.

I hate the way my mother insists that I wrap my head in a dupatta (something all girls in Ahmedabad do to beat the heat and pollution) to avoid people looking at me. It’s especially irritating in the winters when I want to feel the wind on my face and in my hair.

I hate not being able to cross the road on my own because my country has no traffic rules and I'm scared of being knocked over. I hate not being able to travel on buses everyday because people will ogle at me and men will try to grope me. I know that happens to almost any girl, but try being fair and blond and it multiplies tenfold. I totally relate to those ads featuring Aamir Khan depicting how local people treat tourists in a way that they never want to come back to this country. I would leave too, tomorrow if I got the chance. It’s become a sort of goal in my life now – get out of India as soon as possible and do not return. I hate living here, and I have every right to, motherland or not.

I hate the puzzled looks people give me when they hear my very Indian-sounding name. It really is not amusing anymore, after all these years. I hate the stories my parents still recount about how they’ve been confronted endless times with queries about whether I’m adopted. Those too, are just not amusing anymore. Ok, to be honest, I did go through a phase when I thought I was but lots of people entertain such ideas during the rebellious teenage ideas.

All in all, what I'm saying is that we perhaps have great potential to be 'great' but we are definitely not great in our current state. And I'm glad to have read several articles in newspapers and blogs over the past two days which echo my sentiments. It's HIGH time we stop living off the long-expired glory of our history and culture and actually DO something TRULY worthy of being called the next superpower. Making people feel welcome and comfortable in our midst would be a good starting point, in my opinion.

Jai Hind!