A Healthy Dose of Amnesia

Maybe I'm not a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one.
Twenty summers now,and I can tell
The heart's been squelched,the mind has won.


March on soldier,keep your head on
Lest you fail to hear the beats of the drum.
Foolish ponder shall not haunt you,
Trite talk cannot shake the future that is come.


But no,wait,I must confess,
Over the drum sounds a faint cry.
When it comes to you,I take 
A healthy dose of amnesia;I cannot lie.


I rebel against what is,
I forget the rules by which I abide.
I forget how good things don't last,
I simply forget..when I'm by your side.


You and I could never be,maybe.
And yet these crazy dreams,I do not deny.
For when it comes to you I take

A healthy dose of amnesia; I cannot lie.

Calling all Sinners !

People turn purple with rage, red with shame, and green with envy at least once a day, and more than a handful of times a week. It’s statistically proven. Ok, maybe it’s not, but that doesn’t make it untrue, and I’m sure you could vouch for that. Shades of these emotions certainly make life more interesting, but while no one wants to lead a boring life, maybe living sinfully isn’t the solution. It’s one thing to talk about the evil effects of these …! GASP! vices, and a whole another thing to live with them.

Envy.

Something we’ve all befriended, ever since we saw our neighbor propping his Mac Book against the dashboard of his BMW, or ever since we secretly wished we too,could put away a cheeseburger and fries along with a chocolate latte, and still look like that amazingly fit friend (everyone has one of these friends, everyone).

Envy.

It’s never pretty, and sometimes, it gets downright ugly. Although it might be a bit of an ego boost when you know someone secretly envies you, it’s not so much fun when above mentioned person decides to indulge in a little behind- the- back slander or _______(insert backstabbing activity of choice here). After all, ‘Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, and spite spawns lies.’

Unless your skin is as thick as dragon hide and you are unaffected by the petty crimes the world and its denizens commit around you, you might want to square your shoulders and learn to deal with it.

Look for the good in everything, and also teach others how to do it. More often than not, green eyed monsters are usually big warm marshmallows inside, but with a baggage of low self esteem attached. Counting our blessings and remembering that each of us is unique is an amazingly simple gift we forget to give ourselves. We tend to get so involved in marking our win against the others on that giant imaginary scoreboard, that we forget that we aren’t even in a race.

This season, we stop the sins.

This season, we turn our wasted minutes into useful ones as we finally join that salsa class, or get that A on our report card because we’ve kept ourselves busy and wonderfully so.

This season, we lock up our envy, and give that friend of ours a high five while falling into step beside her during her morning jog. Maybe we even pass Mr. Hotshot neighbour and his car, enroute, and flash him a smile. And just maybe, that classmate who always picked on us for being a Harry Potter nerd will ask us if we’d like to go watch Deathly Hallows: Part 1 with them next week. After all, what goes around comes around.

This season, we shed the green.

Teach me how to Be.

Taureans don't like change.

It's true.Even the corny zodiac coffee mugs say so.

And yet I have battled my inhibitions to change....for you.

And now that you do not want me anymore,I do not know to change back.

I have lived to dream ,now I dream, I wish,I yearn to live.

It is funny how you think you're having the worst day ever,and suddenly,what you've been waiting for happens.

It's not so amusing though,when you have prepared for, rehearsed,anticipated,and waited for today,only to find out that today wasn't what you thought it would be at all.Sometimes it bums you out.Sometimes you brush it off and prepare,you dreamer you,for tomorrow.

What if you don't know what to think anymore?

Or what to say,or do,for that matter.

For better for worse.I see a pattern there.It feels like every single time I try to become your idea of a better person,I end up alienating you a little more.I'm driving you away,one improvement at a time.

I have tried and tried,and tried,but those smiles you bestow are harder to earn than a pleasant afternoon in May.Or a warm December night.

It's easy to be evil.

I do Ridiculously Happy once in a while too.

Tears drop thick and fast,occasionally,without waiting to be bid upon to do so.

I can manage to be humorous and funny every now and then.

You obviously can't stand any of this though,can you?

How then,ought I to be?

So I ask what is rightfully mine..a lesson from you.

Teach me how to Be.

Teach me just how to Be to be so I can attempt,yet again,to be one of the people you accommodate so easily in your life.

Teach me how to Be,so I can reassure myself that I'm not working in vain here,and that acceptance will come,someday or the other.

Teach me to Be,for I don't remember how to anymore.

You are my undoing;surely you owe me this much?

I belong with the Flintstones.

I know that teenagers are supposed to remain un-fazed by technology,but hello!You just hopped onto the blog of the exception.

I'm not saying I don't like impressive new gadgets.It's just that I'll need more than a user manual and a crappy customer service agency to figure out how to get it working.

Which is why I like MS Powerpoint,and Post its on my dresser's mirror.

And good ol'd email,or maybe even posted letters,if more people cared to send em around.

I do like Facebook,it's true,and may have borderline OCD about checking my updates everyday,but since when has FB been the new kid on the block?!Old news right?

I like it when people call me to tell me something important,rather than sending a teeny lil text that screams IMPORTANT on its first line.

I simply can't wake up to an alarm clock.I never hear it,honestly,I don't see how anyone expects a tinny, shrill,possibly ultrasonic weird noise to rouse them from the deepest REM cycles.

I need a human to jolt me awake,and oh,if you have a cup of tea in your hands awaiting,brownie points for you :)

I love watching reruns and old movies,speaking of which,I also do not watch movies online if I can avoid it.

I like my 3 hour sappy surprises in the cinema halls or at least playing on my tv in the bedroom.

Salads with a generous drizzle of olive oil are yummy indeed,but I''d rather grab a bowl of curd rice and pickle instead of a low fat wrap.

There's something about the comfort of an old blanket that a new pashmina bedsheet can never achieve.

Old possessions do bring a lot of bliss,and that's the reason I hardly ever clean out my closet.'De cluttering' is a nasty little word.

Like Phoebe says,they(I mean the old stuff,can you try to keep up?!) remind me of a simpler time,and that's a good thing right? :)

PS-I'm blogging a lot nowadays.Wonder why that is ?I have a lot to say to world,apparently.

Hope you're listening.

Cheers!

Value based education :the whats,the whys,and more

Education.

One word, whose presence or absence in one’s life can dramatically alter his/her destiny.

Education.

Widely accepted as the art of elevating its receptors from ignorance to awareness.

Education.

A device meant to teach young students how not to merely exist or survive, but to live.

Alright.Alright.I’ll stop with the definitions.

Assuming then, that we indeed live in a world where everyone knows what education means, why is it that in this same world, education needs to be specifically described as “value based”? Surely the concept of value is so integral to education that one could not possibly dream of an education system without it!

However, discussions on the relative merits of value based education systems abound, leading one to realize the gravity of the situation the world of academia finds itself in.

A value based education system, simply put, is one that aims to inculcate moral and ethical skills in students, besides enriching their knowledge. Values lend purpose and direction to knowledge, much like oars do to a sailing boat, leading to a holistic development of the human mind.

Ah, human. Possibly one of the most abused words in the entire dictionary.Abused, because being human is easily overlooked definitely underrated. To be human, one must learn to recognise the true spirit of humanity. To do so, one must be acquainted with values that instruct one on how to develop oneself so that he could truly be part of a harmonious, progressive liberal, and just society.

This is where value based education systems come in. By combining formal education with virtues like impartiality, compassion, non violence and freedom of thought, and life skills like good leadership, emotional maturity, perceptiveness and independence, a value based education endeavours to create a better society.

In this one little world, many worlds of terrorism, corruption and injustice thrive. Why? Is it because the perpetrators of these problems are unintelligent? No, it is because they failed to understand how to put this precious intelligence to good use. Knowledge is but a double edged sword.

We must act,and act right!

The debates about curriculum can wait,the firm etching of values on these souls must come first.

The surgeries can wait,the medicine must come first.

A pen,a sword,a stethoscope,an axe, a paintbrush,or even a gaming console,take your pick.What you must possess though,is the ability to ensure that your actions uphold the unspoken law of morality,and achieve what we may call,an honest success.

I quote my hero,Dumbledore.In times of darkness, one must simply remember to bring in the light.

Roughly translated to Mugglespeak,this means :

Students must be introduced to both the theory and the practice of leading a value based life. This would translate to learning and imbibing values, and participating in social service, donation camps, character building workshops, self introspection and myriad such activities of the like,for how oft is it said,we are what we do!

In today’s youth ,we must reaffirm values that will help prevent the misuse of technology, that will break any existing barriers of race and faith, that will help encourage fairness of opportunity, that will protect the environment, that will help retain the inherent wisdom of the ancients and paint us a better tomorrow.

So make a change. Embrace your values. Pink Floyd did ask, why be another ‘brick in the wall’?

In pursuit of happyness...?

We all love it.We all need it.We all seek it.
Happiness is that one thing that sometimes eludes us as disciplinedly as garbage chuckers in India avoid dustbins.
Odd,isn't it,how happiness seems to get harder and harder to find as we grow up?
Coincidence?
I think not.

I remember,as a kid,when my dad was posted in Calcutta, (yes not Kolkata yet) and trips to the South could be made only once in a year;we would gather our mattresses and suitcases and board the train to Madras(bcoz somehow,all Tamilians have to go to Madras : ).
More often than not,we stayed at this little motel called Tourist Home,which was nestled in its own cozy corner,right opposite the Egmore Railway Station.I don't quite remember who made the decision to stay there everytime.I never questioned it,though.
It was one of the truths of my 7 year old life.
I always enjoyed the stay at Tourist Home.It was our family's thing! :)
We would trundle up the hotel to one of the rooms on top after the train deposited us in the early hours of the a.m. Then,after a quick shower with Hamam soap (yes,another one of those "must do,don't ask why" things) we would all rush down to an early bird breakfast.I always ate Dosa.Wow,I sound like a fussy little kid .don't I ?But no,I wasn't. really.I merely loved dosas way too much.
Dad would always eat a variety (and a lot) of things for breakfast while Mom would cast murderous looks at him,whilst he unconcernedly told the waiter exactly how he wanted his oothappam to be made.:D
My Nani,on the other hand,was an absolute delight.She was my playmate,whom I most definitely drove to boredom with my never ending stories,and yet she listened.Always.Uncomplainingly.
And this was only breakfast. :)

Relax.I'm not going to narrate the entire itenary here.I do want to mention those evenings though.If we weren't at the beach,then I would perch myself near the window and gaze longingly at the huge white-grey domes that topped the station,and watch both the noisy pigeons that flew atop it,and the noisy crowd that jostled beneath it.
I would count the number of train whistles I heard,and I'd feel strangely happy each time my tally increased.:D
My point being,it was so easy to be happy then.Easy,effortless even.
Now,it's a whole another story.I have lived for eighteen years now,and I suppose I must have gotten wiser,but I still don't know what exactly happiness is and where and how one must seek it.
So,for now,after a whole evening of some soul searching,I declare ...
Happiness is a day at Tourist Home.
Later .
:)

Time to rhyme ? a.k.a thought for the day # 3

Melancholy brings with it,the poet.
Atleast in my case.
Wonder why that is?

Unfinished sometimes=complete

Everyday at 1 p.m. ,this past one week,I've been doing something soul-stirring.I've been having lunch up on the third floor of an unfinished building on the college campus.

Not what you expected is it?

No scintillating conversation,no beautiful music.Well,unless you count the sound of the wind blowing in your ears, at once fierce and frenzied,at once soft and soothing.That ,and the heartbreakingly beautiful silence that resonates within that unfinished space.



I love this building.It's like the agony aunt I never had,the shoulder that never was.This is where I pour it all out,not the usual hair tug-teeth gnash inducing stuff,but also some anguished wondering.It's not a place to vent frustration or something though.Sometimes I also unwind,listen to something Coldplay,and write a bit,like I am now.


What makes it a good retreat is that everything-every emotion that you throw at the stone walls rebounds and returns to you.You would think that this kind of a boomerang sounds plain awful,but it isn't like that.You just have to sit there and drown in the thought that's plaguing you till it engulfs you and you finally learn to accept it.Then,then, the pain,the resentment or whatever it is that's bothering you,ceases.
Quiet.
Eternal,evasive,unattainable quiet.


People aren't usually crazy about a landscape of stone.Not me though.Spare me your rolling hills and your bloody bloomin' flowers.

Give me some raw wet cement,some bare stone, swirls of dust clouds flying about the place and a patch of endless sky to watch.All of it.
Give me a place that's comforting in its constancy,etched irremovably on my course, as if in stone.
Give me a place that is as soulful as it is simple.
Give me a world with no mirrors,save the ones you find in other people.
Give me a world with music everywhere,like an orchestra on autopilot.

And that's why,everyday,at 1 p.m,I have my lunch up on the third floor of an unfinished building.

We watch.We wait.

When is the end?
Everyone faces trials.Trials test people,and reward them with pure unadulaterated joy at the end.The survivor is crowned and all is forgotten as he catches up with long sought peace.
The question is : How long do these trials last?

All of us pay.Pay for our foolishness.Pay for our sins.Pay for our "free" lunches.Pay in exchange for any small glory.No more.I'm broke.I can't pay anymore.

I want to know where my redemption is ,and when it will come find me.

I want to know when the present will become the past and rest ,closed, as an unceremonious chapter in history,forgotten in the wake of a great new beginning.I wait for the day my trial ends,and the jury acknowledges my survival and makes suitable compensation.I don't want to consider the possibility that this day will never come,for hope ..I must.

Hope is all that I have.How pitiful it is that I hope,even as the night fades into a cold dreary morning.Cold mornings are pretty only in Jane Austen's novels and in books about hiking expeditions to Antarctica.Sunshine is what I want for my life.

I want to go ashore,or sink in the deluge.Staying afloat amidst the currents can be very tiring.
Watching and waiting as of now,is passe,and how we all hate anything passe.

Incomplete is a bad thing.

So I was idling my time away online as usual.I logged into Blogger as per routine,and accidentally navigated to the drafts section of the posts.Intriguing titles and dangling phrases led me to take a closer look,and I unwittingly stole a few glances at the past me.

I found a couple of unfinished poems.They weren't anything the world would miss(or even things I would miss for that matter,...naah!I'd be lying if I said that.I am narcissistic enough to miss my own verse,anyway,that's quite besides the point,isn't it?).I really couldn't tell what I was trying to say through the poems though.Somewhere,I think I was on the verge of getting hold of the soul of the poem.With sweet irony though,that beginning brought with it the end.Poof.Draft over.

I also observed a gradual change in my writing style.My older posts were more formal sounding,with attention to grammar,attempts to pay attention to punctuation,with proper and non silly sounding words.With time,I have begun to shy away from attempting poetry,and have stuck to writing post after post about my mundane life sparing the occasional bursts into melancholy,because I'm ashamed to rhyme,afraid to break out,and too busy to spare a few minutes for pondering.

I wonder if micro blogging sites like Twitter, and Facebook updates,have anything to do with my.....impatience.No other word for it.I try to return to my old self,at least when it comes to thought patterns,but it's impossible.That was me then.This is me now.I can't really seek out a past identity of mine and hide beneath it when I'm definitely not the same person underneath anymore.It would be like effectively making null and void whatever's happened to me in the last few months,like erasing a sizeable chunk of my experiences in life.And that's not what I intend to do.

The second best thing I can think of then,is to have a record of what I was like earlier,so that I can look back at some old memories and paint a picture of things as they used to be.Then,in bitter times,I can live on a bit of borrowed sentiment from the past.And that's where old post come in.To me,they are the key to unlocking my younger self.

That's why the sight of unfinished drafts frustrate me.The leave me wondering about what exactly I was thinking then.Sometimes,I remember the circumstances in which I penned a draft,but I do not remember my reactions to that situation.How unfair is that?!

That's why I 'm going to take this moment to remind you all to finish your thoughts.At least whilst you're on Blogger.You might not feel like writing just then,but endeavor to make your thoughts a little more lucid,so you can always come back to it later.Don't deceive yourself :your mind isn't an impenetrable bank,time gets through to everything.You eventually will forget.You might lose a moment of your life in the sense that you will not be able to remember what that moment revolved around.

Sorry if I sound half crazed,but I just want to impress upon you that your identity is the most important thing you can ever own,and so, a ManU vs. Arsenal showdown definitely does not justify leaving your thoughts unfinished.

I'll talk more when I'm not being strange rambling girl (which is what many of you must have begun to call me in your head,I'm sure).

'K bye!

Not your typical musical night

My semester has come to an end.You know what that means--->end semester exams.Sob!Anyway,I was about to tell you that I have my linear algebra paper tomorrow and that I began preparations in earnest last night,hoping to appease the rather stuck up gods that control the fates of all victims of mathematics.

Despite the honorable intentions,I fared miserably in my attempt to study.Deciding music would help clear my mind,I fetched my CD player and plugged it in(no,I do not like listening to music on a pod or mp3 or any other device which requires me to use headphones,earphones or anything of the like).I got further pissed when I couldn't locate my CD collection.Going with the desperation the hour demanded,I hit play,resigning myself to listening to whatever was in the blasted thing.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when some lovely Hindustani music notes filled the air!Frankly,I don't listen to much classical music myself.That's not to say that I don;t enjoy it,it's just not my first choice.The music was slow.Non distracting.It remained in the background.Mightily please,I went about my cramming.Every now and then however,I couldn't help but devote my attention completely to the music.There was some soulful raag alaap before every song.I particularly enjoyed the one set to the raaga Hamsadhwani. Some of you Carnatic music enthusiasts may know of the raaga Kaanada,it's my favourite,coz it inherently seems like a twang of melancholy.Last night,I discovered my second favourite--Bhoop. :) I couldn't help but digress,and spent some happy moments humming along with the CD.

It's true what they say,isn't it,about classaical music being one of the purest forms of music?My mother says that is among the few forms of music that can manage to pull anyone away from what they're doing(not that my case counts,coz almost anything manages to pull me away from math...still).

The tunes;they rose,they fell,they meandered,and they never failed to amaze.Aw shucks,I'm rambling here.I wouldn't know.

What I do know is that last evening,I got some good studying done.This might even be the first time in living memory that I enjoyed algebra,and that definitely is something to celebrate!

Alright,I've got some nasty exams lined up for me.Till later,then. :)

Rise up!

Rise up!
No,I'm not talking about the latest song that's got everyone in such a tizzy!
I wanna take a moment here to remind everyone to rise up.Simply rise up,beyond all the difficulties,beyond all the barriers,physical,emotional,or any other sort.Face the challenges,brush away the insults,and turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to all the negativity around.

Remember to rise up and I promise your day will end with a smile :)
There,that's better!


Cheers !

No,I'm not a Legilimens!

All of us,at one time or another,have faced double standards.And doled them out too. And while people may have reason to mask their real feelings from time to time,constant pretense is just …annoying.

Sometimes I wish people would tell me what exactly they think of me.But since they never do that,I have to play mind reader and lemme tell you ;it’s really hard to filter out true emotion from all the socializing crap.But a part of me wonders if I’ll be able to handle the truth. Dependent creature that I am,I dont really know if I’ll be able to digest the idea that a friend or a loved one prefers not having me around.


Sure,no one can hope for universal popularity,to borrow a phrase from Dumbledore.All one can hope for is a little honesty,some patience and a tinge of reality in the farce that are some relationships today.

Ah hope!

Truth and falsehood are next door neighbours

I'd like to believe that truth and falsehood are neighbours.Although there is clearly a world of difference between the two,overcoming that difference can be done in a fraction of time.

You see,when you stop believing in something that is true and real,it doesn't hold any value for you anymore.It doesn't represent any entity that you set store by.In other words,it isn't true anymore,not to you at least.

It also works the other way round.Once you start believing in an abstract,imaginary or unreal idea,concept or person,you start to function as if that idea/person/thing is an integral part of your existence.No matter how ridiculous it may seem to others,you're still going to set store by it ,aren't you?
It's a truth you've acquainted yourself with.

There's a fine line between truth and falsehood,my friend,and that line is you.

A plateful of art,with science on the side?

This is an oft-repeated complaint,and yet it needs to be voiced,because no solutions have been discovered yet.It started when I caught some of the Step Up! movie while doing some mindless matinee television surfing.As I watched the dancers fret over their showcase dance performance and have dancing companies come and scout for talent at their art school,I wonder why we haven't seen much of that at home,here in India.Art generally plays second fiddle to science or inevitably bows down to the craze of the nation ,"engineering".

I know that movies aren't exactly a parameter of life ,but it is common knowledge that the West takes art seriously.We hear about colleges offering a major in dance or music and many students actually going for it.There apparently are many scholarships offered for such programs too.Art is given its rightful place,and respected as a form of expression that requires as much creativity and genius as any other field does ,both at the workplace and at home or in society.

I hate to criticize, but can you tell me honestly if you haven't heard conversations like this before in and around your neighborhood?

Aunt/Uncle/Parent : "So tell me beta ,what are your plans for the future?

Son/Daughter/some teenager :"Yeah,I've always been interested in painting or photography or some visual medium like that ."

Parent :"Woh sab toh theek hai beta,but let's get serious.What do you plan to do for a living??

Kid:"Yes,I mean it seriously.I've found I'm good at it,it's not just some new hobby.

Parent: "I don't understand why you always go off on a tangent like this.Can't you be a grown up about your career?Look at [Fill in name of elder sibling here].Look he's a doctor now!Can't you..."

And so it goes.I've been a victim of it myself,when I wanted to major in Economics or English Literature. The worst part of it is ,no one is wrong here.You can't blame a parent for wanting to look out for their kids.In an extremely competitive land of the Indian junta ,you sometimes have just one opportunity to make it big,and they just don't want you to mess that up.In a family where financial troubles loom large,and insecurity becomes the topic of discussion at the dinner table,people tend to veer others towards tries and tested careers like engineer,doctor,banker,etc.

Ironic isn't it though?That this kind of prejudice should exist towards art in an era where our nation's pride ,A.R.Rahman wins global recognition for his music?Where reality shows are held every hour of the clock to discover the next singing or performing sensation?Where Carnatic singers' concerts are booked solid during the "Kutcheri" season?Where millions of dance schools select students from hopefuls every year and introduce them to the professional industry?


What's the problem then?Is it a fear of the unknown,a instinctive desire to stick to family tradition?Or a mere battle of wills?Whatever the reason maybe,the result is that kids have to lock up their precious ballet flats and ghungroos,or give away their electric guitar,and erase a shining dream from their eyes as they stick to the..what is it? the "conventional" route.

We've got to do some attitude improvement folks.Unless you want to unknowingly extinguish a spark even before it got a chance to burn brightly.

So,the bottom line is... I'm hungry.For once ,can you serve me a plate full of art,with science as a side dish for a change?

I don't like tall buildings

I don't like buildings,
They scare me.
With their awe-inspiring heights and tizzying grandeur,
They make me want to run for safety.

When I stand on a tall tower,I know I can reach out to them clouds.
Feel their delicious softness,bask in the dappled sunlight they nestle in their midst.

But when I stand on the roads,I don't stand alone.
I see other heads ,just like mine,peering up at the unseen heights above.
With hungry eyes and bated breath,we watch the heavens crossing by.
And yet,we know,they will visit again,with stories that enchant,inspire motivate.

Yes,I like the roads more than the skyscrapers.
The familiar roughness of asphalt lends more support than the enviable smoothness of marble.
The mediocrity of dust is safer than the uncertainty of glitter.


I like the roads,because they lie at the bottom of that abyss from where you can sight the elusive sight that is a dream!!! :)

Last time I was here...

You know what?
When I'm in a place I visit frequently(when I say frequently I mean more frequently than I would visit the toilet,and less frequently than I would visit the gym),I think about the last time that I was there.
Right now,I'm sitting at the same cafe that I was ,nearly a year ago.Though I don't live in the same city anymore,I'm actually visiting some friends there now.
With no homes to invade on a scorching Thursday afternoon,I'm whiling time away at this coffee cum broadband cafe,and thinking about the last time I was here.
Judging by what I posted then,I was high on coffee,jobless and happy.
And I suppose now I am pensive,nostalgic,and ...yes,jobless.
Anyway,take a look at what I had to say.

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,
It is very difficult for me to write a letter...not just to you,but to anyone in this world...and I think part of it is because I am impulsive.I think impulsively...no wait,scratch that out,because impulses hardly ever go hand in hand with though,do they?
I suppose I act,react,feel and express at an alarmingly quick rate,that sometimes,emotions tumble over.Musings that brew at the very back of my mind come out,all in a stutter.Petty spite and short lived resentment flare up and burn some fragile threads of conversation...and sometimes these threads can never be reattached.
I am too scared to lose the people who are a part of my world,and this prevents me from being downright frank and genuine with them.Hence,...the long silences.

Of course,losing people is something I've become used to.It's almost routine now.Moving out of Hyderabad meant saying Goodbye to so many lil friends,formal friends,"jus-for hanging out" friends and the ones whom I can talk to till two a.m.
Moving out of a familiar circle of faces was like leaving the pleasant Australian seas behind to sail out to the cold,gloomy lonely Antarctic shores.
The difference is that I know that I mustn't sail back,even if I knew I could.

I always hated your job,Dad.Yessir,living out of the suitcase for months together can douse the wanderlust in anyone.Moving to a new place every three years ,fitting into a cozy group of your own only to abruptly leave again,and always having a different house,a different school,a different identity is something I cannot,and probably will not ever understand.That's just the problem though,isn't it?
I didn't understand.I didn't understand that it wasn't all just about me.I did not even meander around the possibility that there probably are bigger losses in the picture.Deeper disappointments,stronger regrets,or more wistful expectations that float around in your mind.

And yet, you haver never let me remain with a frown on my forehead for too long.With hot cups of cheerful coffee(with the chef's special ingredient:double pyaar), sincere apologies,earnest promises,warm smiles,and even more warm words,you wipe away my tears,and bring in a little more hope,a little more light.
You are the best pick me up drink Ive ever had the fortune to taste,Papa,and I will always be glad that I was picked to be your daughter.


I know ,that like you,all Dads,try to be the ideal "man",completely involved in dressing others' wounds,while their own blood trickles unnoticed.I admit that I sometimes took this for granted,secure in the thought that there was always one person whom I could fall back on,my cushion,my infallible barrier from all things that are big and bad,cold and cruel.I remember ,in a flash,a conversation we once had,back when the world was a happy riot of colour.You asked me:"Always be with the people in your life.You can buy everything in the market,heck even hearts,but not people."Only,I've never had the need to reflect upon these words,until now.

However,I've opened my eyes to the fact that,barriers shatter too.
Mighty oaks sway,houses of brick start to shake,and the bravest of hearts shudder.
And that is when the willows sway too,trying in vain to block the oaks from the gusty fiends.That is when the humble powdery cement tapes the red bricks onto the foundation,and that is when little hands soothe the hurt,pieces of bravehearts.
If prayers can move mountains,then surely prayers can carry my heartfelt sentiments across the borders to you ,Papa.

My father.My hero...
I pray for your mental and physical strength and well being.May the angels watch over you.

Peace,
Your loving daughter.

Where's my hammock?

"Sometimes in the winds of change,we find our true direction."

When you're in your comfort zone,you never ask if this is what you wanted for yourself.Face it,epiphany and enigma aren't exactly our best friends when we're well settled in an idyllic,lazy,cozy spot in our lives.
But what happens when you're pushed out of the hammock?
You'll fall down..Maybe you'll bruise yourself.You might even earn yourself a few deep scars in the process.You'll want to lay in the mud for a while,because you're scared if you'll be able to walk again.
But,eventually you will dust the dirt off your hands.You'll shrug,and walk away with a little of hurt pride,a grain of defiance.Slowly,you'll walk across other lawns,and see other people there...living their lives.And before you realize it,you'll be glad you decided to walk again...glad that the one tear you shed didn't prevent a thousand smiles from coming your way.And just when you've made peace with life,you'll find an empty hammock,of the right height,in the right spot,with the right amount of sunlight and breeze around,just right...right for you right then,anyway.
So..what if you fall out again?
Go back to line 1 and read...:)

Epic dreams

Googling random words is something of a pastime with me.It's the second most interesting thing you can do on the net.(the first is blogging!D'uh!)

So when a Google search on "dreams" threw up a website dedicated to dream interpretation,I checked it out.To my surprise,dreams are actually dissected,analyzed and interpreted in myriad ways till something interesting and tabloid worthy comes out of them (and to think we're asked to live in reality!)

Now the most interesting of all these dream categories is The Epic Dream.

The Epic Dream
Very few of us are fortunate enough to witness epic dreams .This is a title given to dreams which are large in proportion,magnificent in detail,grand in occurrence,and spell binding in entirety.The are expected to last for a good few hours of your sleep ;which is quite a rarity for a dream anyway.

I wonder if I have ever had one of these fantastic things unleashed across my unconscious mind;I never would know though,because I hardly ever remember my dreams.

But I can't help wonder what kind of epic fantasy would capture my Inner Eye,what I would dwell on ,what kind of elements this phenomenon would incorporate.

Scenario one
I'd be walking across a large,rolling green meadow,with blades of grass rippling in the wind.The hour would be that of twilight,and the sound of the sea crashing onto the haughty rocks would be the ideal background score.I'd commune with the powers of the heavens,ponder about life,death and everything that falls in the abyss between Life and Death.Stormy clouds would race across the tinted sky ,and Nature would be at its best...fearsome,wild and wacky.

Scenario Two
Colonial Rome.The Rome of Julius and Octavius Caesar.The Rome which was caught in a conflict of political ideologies,and shimmered with the pixie dust of change.Adorned with a befitting armour and helmet,armed with the finest ruby encrusted sword,and
pumped with the adrenalin rush that precedes action,I would march across a vast battleground to parley with the opposition.
Later I would lead my men into battle,and with me ,my army would seek their justice ,their truth ,their dawn in a whirl of movement.I would be the triumphant princess who led the land to freedom.

Well,these are the only two ideas I've had which come close to being my idea of an epic dream,but that simply is because of my limited horizon.Your epic dream would probably involve seas,mountains and the like.Or maybe even an unimaginable exploration of other galaxies.Or the much sought after chocolate factory tour,competing with Willy Wonka's version for first place.You never know,do ya?