The Smile

Sometimes a smile can convey more than words. A smile can complete your day. A smile can give you a good night’s sleep.

A long time ago we went to a beach to spend the evening. We grabbed some chips, a bottle of Pepsi and we drove off to have some good time. It was nothing less than a picnic. In fact it was a picnic.

The beach is a beautiful place with lovely parks throughout the stretch of the beach. On either sides of the road you will find families having a good time and kids playing football, flying ‘spiderman’ kites, riding tri-cycles. It is a place full of life. And there is always the appetizing aroma of barbeque in the air.

After a while I wanted to take a walk in the grass, barefoot. I love the feel of grass on my bare feet. My friend joined me. We then noticed a shadow, from the park lights, of a little girl, not more than 6 years, following us. We turned back and she ran away laughing. I noticed that girl a while ago running around and playing with someone who I thought was her father. She again slowly started walking behind us and we turned back. She seemed to enjoy this small game as she kept doing it and laughing. She gave us 2 pamphlets that she picked up in the park. I made a boat out of it, my friend made a rocket and gave it to her. She took it and ran away giggling to where her family was sitting.

She kept coming back with more and more such papers and we kept making the same things. She seemed to enjoy it all. She said something in Marathi that we didn’t understand but we knew she was having fun.

We started having our dinner and still the kid kept coming. We offered her to sit with us and eat but she handed over some more papers. We finally served some food in a plate and gave her thinking she will eat. She smiled, said something, took the plate and went back to where her family was sitting. After about 10 minutes, she came again and stood before us extending the plate as if asking for more. She again went back with the plate to where her family was sitting.

After some time, I saw her walking towards us with the plate in her hand and a smile on her lips. I was about to serve her some more food when she said “Khattam! Thank you!” (Finished. Thank you!).

She left the plate next to me and ran towards the beach, washed her hands, came back to us, gave a contented smile and said something and ran away. We couldn’t follow what she said except for ‘Thank you!’. But her smile conveyed more than her words.

What she did next was so unexpected. As we were packing our stuff and getting ready to leave, she came to me and gave me a small packet which had some leftover popcorn. She shoved it into my hand, again said ‘Thank you!’, shook my hand with her innocent smile and ran away.

Yesterday, for some reason I kept remembering the smile on that little girls face. It was priceless! And it made my day. Again.

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The Starting of the End.

Ending everything isn't as easy as putting it to paper. To cut yourself away from what drives you everyday can be scary. Not everyone can deal with being self sufficient or live off the grid.

Most people don't know how to put up with living in a one bedroom apartment with five other people. Where your main goal is to find a $1 so you have enough cup of noodles for the week. Or finding a $20 dollar bill is the highlight of your life.

In order to see what truly drives a person to do what they do everyday, I cut myself off from what drove me. The things that took over my life are gone. A chance to start fresh, to give what

I took for granted a new meaning in my life. Most people say I'm stupid, why would I do such a thing. I will only end up asking for charity and fail in my "journey". But I don't care. I don't care if people look at me differently because of this. I'm not doing it for acceptance, for a chance to be considered "cool" by others, I'm doing it for me. I want to look 5, 10 years from now and say I was able to do what I wanted to do without regret. All that I earn is what I deserved and what I wanted from the beginning.

Nobody will pressure me to do what is expected of me. Nobody will force me to admit failure and seek aid from people I never want to associate myself with. I'm doing it on my own and I'm going to succeed.

So I'm starting now, with my laptop and my life savings of almost nothing to see what drives me in this world. What makes my heart flutter in the morning and makes me want to move during day. What job is the "dream job" for me? What car makes me want to "burn rubber"? Do I really need a phone to stay in touch with the ones I care about? I hope I find what many people strive for because I'm starting now.

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Wanderlust

I say this often - with big dreamy eyes - shaking my folks out of their reasuredness about my being grounded; "There is romance in travel, Ma".

This post has been waiting in my head, with just the same title and no words underneath, for over 3 years now. The words that will tumble out here, will indeed not be impressive. Not extra ordinary in their incomprehensibility. All they will say over and over again is - Have you felt love? I have felt love, the extreme sense of safety, security, groundedness - which no man could ever probably give to me - in travel.

I have found, in the eyes of a stranger, the feeling of belongingness. I have found deja vu in the smoke rising from a dhabba, the red/blue/yellow signboards passing by in a blur ... like I have in my dreams, seen this place. This exact same place with the exact same fixtures, sitting in the same auto, looking at the same metre reading.

It makes my heart pound, such is the surge of emotions I feel. In a quiet moment, nostalgia will hit me, and I will think of someone special. Maybe I will pick up my only source of connectedness to tell them I miss them, and just maybe, just like that - I will feel a quiet tear rolling down the contours of my cheek. With no one to witness it, or question it. Just me and the whirlpool of emotions.

I have felt a pair of warm hands clasping mine, not shaking me out of thoughts and memories, just standing by, feeling my pulse rise and fall, as the wind hit our faces and the lights went by in a blur. In conversations with just the eyes, I have known simplicity, without a question or a thought clouding my mind. In a white room, disconnected from the world, I have felt loneliness as heightened as it can be. In a graveyard, I have found myself looking for something with such conviction, as I never knew I would come to have. In the city I loved, I walked around, searching for that familiarity I felt with this someone I met randomly. Wondering if I would bump into them again, much the same way, to feel that exact sense of love I felt then. In the eyes of a committed man, I have seen that sense of belongingness to that woman, who awaits him at home. That nagging little sense of guilt for not buying her something worthwhile, from the city of his travels. Looking into the anxious eyes of a co-passenger, I have with bated breath wondered if he weren't a terrorist. Fear. Doubt. In the hasty rush of separation, I have felt the pang of sadness hit my innards. In losing that face in the crowds, I have felt some despair and much longingness. Looking at the card handed to me, I have felt me smile from the bottomest bottom of my heart. In scribbling on the palms of a stranger, I have felt the surge of child-like happiness spread inside me.

In my little head, these thoughts they swim. And they draw me towards themselves, asking me to experience them again. All over again. In the same intensity. It is such romance, I just close my eyes and let my thoughts wander, to find love - in my own heart.

In this lone moment, I do once again feel my eyes well up, awaiting a sense of permanence to take over something that I feel only once in a while.

How beautiful humans can be. Our minds. Our feelings. Our expressions. Such heart wrenching beauty that it makes my heart turn in twists and turns till it hurts and lets go of that desire to feel so much in love, all the time

Lust. I lust for that Romance.

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Forgotten Fairytales.

There was a point somewhere in some of these years gone by, where I left me. For fear, that if I didn't pick up a new identity soon, I will cease to exist. That was the first and till now, the only time I abandoned me. Left it at some point, the way to which I do not remember, and I didn't really leave any trail to take me back to it. Further more, there are bits of me, left strewn here and there over a time frame of how so many years and a vast expanse of space. 

Of late, I have been longing for those bits of me. I look me in the mirror and I see lines which changed, eyes which reflect the depth and fields of solitude which were merely just muddy green and nothing more back then. I see a calm face, and in it the countless animated lines it contorted into back then, I see a controlled quiet smile which knew no boundation for it's lack or excess earlier. 

Somewhere out there lies a mind uncorrupted by possibilities. 

There was black, there was white. There was a swing in the rains. There was sweat in summer. There was a garden. There were facts. In stubbornness there was a relenting hand. In tears, there was empathy. In anger, there was a sorry. In hunger, there was food. In love, there was happiness. In sorrow, there was company. In defeat, there was a buck up. In victory, there was a cheer. It was to be that, only that. 

Then, it rained. And how. In my heart.

And it kept raining. And I didn't know anymore, the landscape, it changed. 

Forever. 

Possibilities. 

Corruption. Fiction. Lies. Hunger. Love. Hate. Myth. Trust. Promise. Breaks.

And many more. They all had a million different ends. A million different things with that many ends for each of them.

I want that. I want the end of possibilities. 

For it was for the possibility of making it through the day, that I shrugged off who I was. I want the garden, the empathizing hand, the cheer, the happiness. 

I made it that day. What did I gain but. A self I do not recognize. 

Why didn't I perish then. 

Why didn't I. 

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I, The Rainbow.

There's the rainbow all around. In chance blogs and in chance conversations. Only, I missed it completely. A cold morning lamenting over sunny days. I love changes. Especially, when it comes in the form of a huge thunder and a crash of lightening first thing in the morning.

Please believe me

If you don't need me

I'm going but I need a little time

I promised I would drown myself in mysticated wine

Have been listening to this song in a continuous loop. I seem to be moving past endlessly snaking rivers. I can't cross over to the other bank. Sometimes, I do feel like letting go of the jetty corner I am holding on to, and let the river take its course. I did that. It's some heightened philosophy we are following when we say we don't know why we are doing something. Get absolved of all blame? Or know, it's evidently a mistake, so shirk off responsibility from the beginning. I did that too.

Now, I am struggling in midstream. The cleaner, greener banks I had hitherto noticed are nowhere in sight. I am in the middle of nowhere. Something pulls me down. Blame it on philosophy. I shouldn't have started on this free trail in the first place. But hey, no regrets. So where does the river take me? I just need to stay afloat. Surprises? Changes? All are in hold, waiting for the right time to tear off pretentious masks. Inside the mask is innocence and happiness. Inside is subtle mockery. Inside is an unadulterated smile.

Before I knew what I was missing, the Rainbow was gone. Now that it is gone, and I haven't seen it, do I really miss it? How can you miss something that never existed for you! Sometimes, life is just stupidly clueless of what's happening! :)

This voice is intoxicating. The morning is amazingly cloudy with a touch a coolness. It might rain. Rainbow. Might. I will not miss it this time.

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Survival Theories

Upon receipt of news which ruffles more than a feather or two, one feels the blood rush to the cheek and eyes. No you do not know how to handle it. You don't want to know either. You want to slip away quietly. Get out, hide your feelings and unleash the plethora of emotions on someone who will not judge. 
So you slip away. You do not want to be seen by anyone. No one must know what your mind is going through and the mind is not helping at all in making a secret out of it. Flushed, drained, shaky - you seek solitude. Avoiding darting glances, you stealthily find someplace you can lock yourself up in. You feel the emotions flow down. You want to talk. You want to just talk to someone who will not just get it, who will tell you that it will be okay and means it too. 

 There's no one though. So you sink. To the floor. Telling yourself that it is okay and that it will be better. You wipe your tears. Dilute the emotions with a fake smile. You check in the mirror. Once. Twice. Wishing away the redness. Must wait some more. The muscles they contort again, as the eyes stare deep into the reflection of the eyes. Not wishing for anything. Just wishing for nothing. Give nothing at all. No grief. No happiness. You pick it up, the sinking smile, the sinking heart, the pang of loneliness. Gulping down a glass of water, you shroud everything you feel inside, brace yourself to face the others, only to find a lonely spot soon, feel the muscles breaking away from the smile - sinking. With noone to witness it. 






You survive. Not happily and satisfactorily. But you do.

One Missed Call

One missed call. She unlocked her phone hoping that it would be the phone call she had been waiting for. And then she saw who it was.

It was nothing. A zero must feel exactly this way - a thought flashed through the head which was concerned with the going-ons of that day. After giving it exactly one second worth of thought, she called back.

The voice at the other end was all too familiar. "How have you been?"

"Been good"

A few more sentences were exchanged and she hung up. She had never thought it would come to this. This vast expanse filled with nothing-ness.

And the next second, she was back to wondering about the missed call she had been waiting for.

On Being Good

With an almost blind belief, I have led most part of my life following the diktat of what goes around, comes around. And for the most part, it turned out to be just that way. For the one injustice I did to a certain someone, I got it back in full measure in it's vileness and how small it all made me feel. 






So far but now. A certain someone told me that I was the best they will ever know. For a fact, I know they mean it too. But of course, there will be very very few people I trust when they say some such thing to me. But then, the first question that popped up in my head was - is that enough or even necessary? Why is the one who is complimenting me sorted in every way and I am not. And I was the good one. Where am I? More unsorted than what I have been before, in my present years.More clueless with the years advancing. Did I get too busy being those things that define 'good'. Why was I even hung up on being the good, the fair and the honest one. Always. What did it get me? Peaceful sleep and no regrets? But then, I regret being good. I never had the fun. I never screwed up and mostly managed to be perfect. And on more than one occasion blamed everything apart from my own self for such a state of affairs which make being evil a tough and an unthinkable proposition. 


Is the belief over? 



Not really. Not till when I am jolted out of it with the shock of a lifetime. And maybe even then I will walk on and live in my own little bubble of 'karma' - just in case there really is such a thing.

Respect.

It is rare that I will have a heart to heart with any of my folks. Mostly the lack of deep conversation emanates from the discomfort of being judged on choices made. Though for once, the first in my lifetime I, the so called strong woman in the family reached out to the motherhood for help. The help word freaked out the folks because they know their daughter to be someone else altogether. In a moment of rage, hurt and stinging tears, the confessions tumbled out. No surprise. No judgments. Just soothing words. A few scattered comments. But mostly, all attention.

And then the advice: It isn't going to be rosy. You must settle with it.

I grew up in a typical household wherein I saw the ladies doing the "holding the family together" bit. Mostly, I grew up to understand the importance of equality as much as the folks tried to instill in me the reality that I was in fact a woman. And settling in would be something that I will be required to do. At various points. Not compromises. Compromise is still a mutual agreement on dealing with certain situations a certain way. Settling in - no arguments, no show downs. Just coming to terms with how it is. Often, I would question - Why can't the other party do it as much as I do it. These questions would be in relation to broken friendships, people who turned their backs in the moment of crisis etc.

The more I was told to come to terms with the settling in part, the more rebellious I became. Partly, because I knew it to be unfair. And partly also because an extremely rigid sense of right and wrong was installed in me long long ago. So long ago, that I do not even remember when. It is probably something that never came from the surroundings. It came from within somewhere.

Mostly, I have come to respect what women from the generation of my folks have managed to do. If I was in extreme denial and disbelief as a teen of 15 or 16, today I have managed to put it all on a pedestal for worship. Not because I think I need to be that ways. But because it requires courage, patience, sacrifice and letting go of your own desires to keep things together and tethered. To scatter is easy, to keep it together is going to be painful - says she. And I believe her. I tell her I won't be the only one doing the keeping together bit. Because, I know I am worth it. I am worth being fetched, loved and kept. The folks shake their heads. They probably know that someday I might give up. But I think I won't because I know that if I have a daughter, I want her to know that she is beautiful and that she deserves to be respected. I want her to know that her feelings are valuable. That in no way she should get bogged down or let anyone mess up her self esteem. That she must be open, that her own values might get tested, that she must sometimes stand her ground firmly. And if I have a son, I know I will tell him that there will be someone who will make him special and he needs to be fair to her. And if he can't, I would blame my upbringing. That's how my mother brought me up. That's how every woman should feel. Because, many among us will put in our hearts and souls in to nurturing others. And it is only fair, to be loved and respected and have the rest of the world be grateful that we can indeed love you, cherish you and make you feel the center of our universe. The least you can do is - respect that; and deal with the things we can't do.

Because on good days, we will stand by you, love you, hold you and be good to you. On bad days, just like you have those, we will need exactly what we gave to you.

It is fair. And many among us, truly deserve that.

Since You Left

The pain and hurt remain as vivid in the heart as if it was happening right now - like you were moving away in all of that lazy haze that swirled around you. I held out my hand in release or as a desperate attempt to reach out to you still - was it yesterday? 

Was it time that swept you away across the farther end of the board and then stood still or was it my own mind forgoing all physical strings that remained long after the mind had already nipped off all vital connections between you and me. Why still is the pulse beating lazily setting off the jumbled mumbo jumbo of a movie - snippets of you and me, of you, of me, and then of you and me. Were it supposed to be that I will mirror you - aren’t you the past which has forever crept into my present and every moment of the future; slowly passing through the present and moving on to become the past again. Why are you not past. There isn’t a denial, neither any desire to pull back the past to the present. There is a dull throb in the head filled with an overwhelming realization that you; my friend are forever going to be what defined me. What defines me. What will define me.

 
You are the experience. The learning. The regrets. The good. The bad. Me

You are the loss I have no regrets for. You are those faces I know are not the same. The reflections that got caught and froze in the mirror of my mind. The reflections that remain oblivious to reality and change. I reach not to clasp you with both my hands; for you are gone. Forever. The pulse beats lazily. The movie plays. In rewind. Then fast forward.

The games we play - are just scenes from a memory.