Why we all Yearn to Stick to a Routine

Get up. Get dressed. Get set. Get going. Sleep. Eat. Start Afresh. Repeat.

Sounds familiar? Well, it definitely should, each one of us more or less follows the same format day in and day out, daily.

Routines form a big part of our natural way of life. What's funny is that we are taught to follow a certain format right from the word go. No one ever gives their routine a thought unless they are facing some sort of mid-life crisis or the sorts. What's so great about a routine, I've often wondered...

The other day, not that long ago, I had to visit a dignitary for a presentation. I got set and prepped up, the way I always do before something of the kind. As I entered the corporate premises of this establishment, I chanced upon the entire Administrative Block of the Building first. I, always the keen observer took a moment or two to stick around and observe the people present there.
One lone woman caught my eye, not because she demanded any wavering attention in any way, but just because she seemed, routine-bound.

I like observing people. I may not often open up and talk or interact with many, but I like understanding the core of a person's nature by simply observing everything about them, from the way they dress to the way they walk and speak. 

I'll tell you why her meagre appearance caught my eye that day. She was focused on her work, at the time actually, she was in the middle of what seemed like an emergency work call. It's the way she got up from her table and slowly made her across the floor that caught my eye first.
Nothing about her demeanour or her general gait and behaviour exuded excitement. The years of hard work, a desk job and probably chores made her attune to the fact that this was it. 

Work. Perform. Work. Go Home. Sleep. Repeat. 

Over the years, the centuries rather people have struggled to make routines. However, its when you focus on something too long that I believe it becomes a bane.

This race to have a routine and get comfortable in one has made most of us lose the spring in our step.
How often do you find a 40-something professional walk about with a spring in his step, with the magic in his eyes and the yearn to dream. To dream after all, is everything.

I believe that in many ways, a set routine can affect the way you dream and grow. Its probably why we are so resistant to change as a race, to begin with. When we get too comfortable with something, we don't want to accommodate much else.

As I observed the lady at the Administrative Block the other day, with her aimless gait and dull eyes, I knew exactly who I didn't ever want to be. If a set pattern can take away the light you once had within you as a child, then it's probably better to just dream instead.

Too many of us struggle to meet what we set out to, or what we are told to achieve. Too many of us are trying to make ends meet while some are just portraying things the way they ought to be. Too many of us have gotten lost in the struggle, in the way of what we choose to call life.

I do believe its now time to dream.

The Shackles of Society

One of the reasons I find that I'm at my best when I'm alone is because of the space I get, to think. I do of course like my usual group of close knit people once every way. But in all, I value my time alone like I do a bottle of wine on a cold winter night.

Society has always displeased me. Being an Indian by birth with a mindset that wanders, I've often wondered WHY people in a country so torn between wanting to progress and yet hold onto tradition is so entwined in the web of "what will they think"? I'm probably one of the many who form this web, on occasion. But I thrive not to live by it. 

A lot of my present day elders believe that the sole reason a majority of Indian youngsters are getting divorced at faster rates than choosing to marry is because of a lack of tolerance. After deliberate thought, I've come to reason that this is not the case, necessarily.

You see, in the older days, women were subdued. If you were to ask your mothers, and their mothers if they were ever completely happy... they would shy away from answering. Women were expected to do, not what they wanted but what they were told. They were expected all throughout these several years to be what   their mothers were and their grandmothers before them. The general nature of a woman's presence in those days and maybe in certain cases even now assured a warm meal at dinnertime, a clean house and happy children. Was the woman ever asked what she wanted? Rarely. Was she given the chance to share her opinion. Hardly. Was she allowed to do the same things men were. Far from reality. 

In today's time on the other hand, when marriages break, when people choose to live apart, the main suspect is the woman, still. Why? Just because she now wants to breathe, have her say, probably not cook four warm meals a day but go out into the world and do something that makes her feel like someone. The woman  of today and in some ways entire generation of today is trying hard to find a balance, because there was a grave imbalance created by the shackles of society, till now.

Ask yourself. Why do most Indian men want a girl with long plain hair? Why do they still want someone who can cook, who can take care of their parents and subdue her own needs? Because, like us, they were taught to expect just this.

Modern cities have in the recent years tried to break away from these chains. But no one is ready to accept the follies of our elderly. While there was a pro in all of this in some way, there was definitely a great big con in it too.

On the same note, I question the theory of joint families, a system so rampant in our nation...that today people wish to live in a nuclear set-up just for the peace. How can you expect, realistically, 3 or 4 different generations of people to co-exist without a war? In the line we drew as a people, we forgot to see clearly. We forgot to see and understand the changing trends of the natural human mindset. One that has to happen in order to allow the world to move forward.

As a nation, or more particularly as an observer, I often see the cracks in our shackles. Of course, the imbalance today is practically ruining the sanctity of marriage, pure love, respect and relationships.

But, I really wonder...till the last generation. Was it really ever there? Weren't our parents and theirs just living the life laid out by what their elders told them.

And now, if the new world wants to ask questions because there were never any real answers to begin with, is it really fair to point and throw the blame?

I never supported a lot of things society laid down. I never understood why and how a people, a population can be so intertwined and introvert enough to shun everything first before they grew the heart to accept change.

The shackles of society that tried to bind families and people till today is exactly what's tearing us apart. Day after day. 

Welcome to the Dog Days

It's never been a secret, I've loved dogs. I've loved animals. Always. I always considered domestic animals  to make better friends than people. People, for some reason seem to have an incredible knack of doing the wrong things at the wrong time. Well, I do know it isn't fair to generalize, but shall I list the facts?

Anyway. I always found peace in the strangest ways. And forms. I always cherished furry dogs of all kinds and while growing up had an array of pets throughout. From little birds, big parrots, fish, baby squirrels, even a little chick! The list would have grown longer had I not grown up, I'm quite sure.

So anyway, somewhere around mid-2010, the year I got married and moved to a little town in one of the biggest states in India, I found my present furry companion - Elsa. She was a little pup at the time, abandoned on a side street of the small town I called home at the time. It just felt right to give her a home and so I did. Sometimes, decisions aren't that hard to make. If your heart is set. The point is, you have to have your heart set on something first.

This basically means that Elsa has been around and been a significant part of my marriage ever since! In fact, she is considered a valid and VERY important member of the family today. As are most domestic pets in any household.

About 12 days ago, (on the evening of 4th April) to be precise, our little dog, Elsa gave birth to 6 healthy, thriving angels. It was always on my mind to breed her, at least once.
It just so happened that Siddhartha and I were at a party of sorts that evening. However, I had an ounce of an inkling that Elsa was going to deliver her angels that night. How did I know? God motherly instinct? Or just plain instinct? :-)

Well, to be honest, she had been showing symptoms of a "dog in labour" through the day...so I had my guess in check. This is why, like the responsible parents we are, we left an attendant at home when we went to the party (well, it was a social function that neither of us were allowed to skip, to be as honest as I can).

An hour into the party routine the call came. Elsa had started her delivery.

Why did I choose to write about it? Well, here's why.

We rushed home, Fortunately, we weren't too far away from it to begin with. I remember feeling a sense of great worry at the time. I mean, my dog was going to have babies! Only a true animal lover would understand what it's like to care for your own dog. And worry about it at the same time.

As soon as we entered, we were greeted with the sight of one small, tiny, palm sized puppy lying on the mattress we had prepared for Elsa and her family. The miracle had arrived. 

It takes a while to understand why the simple birth of any creature is such a miracle in itself. It happens every day, every moment of the day. Yet, everyone claims it to be miracle. Why? I guess it's because the entire action of creating something with life is a story in itself. A story that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you wonder about every little thing you have ever come across.

Elsa had a total of 6 puppies, the first one was already hale and hearty by the time we came home. However, the 2nd one and beyond needed some help to get here, into our world. Siddhartha and I, played the role of untrained physicians and inexperienced vets extremely well. We got on our specially bought gloves for the purpose and started helping her deliver her puppies. One by one. After each, cutting the umbilical cord and helping the puppy out of the phlegm like shell it was born in. An entire night of labor and 6 puppies later, we could finally rest.

Did I ever think that I would help deliver a litter? Never. 

The entire, naturally conducted process made me think. Birth, death, the life in-between are all parts. Natural parts. Phases. Yet, we play around with it, every chance we get. Humans seek extravagant medical art to help deliver children. They walk into hospitals and stick around till they are assured and reassured that everything is and will be alright. In a way, we like putting ourselves at the mercy of others. Why else would something so natural need so much interference?

A lot of people would call this thought unimportant. But, it really does make you wonder. The rules were never really laid down. 

Nature is a canvas, a canvas of miracles. It takes a simple book and an open mind to actually recognize it. The rest of the things around you are just things. Be it people. Be it places.

My Parents, My Life

As an adolescent I might have been the greatest rebel.
I was always strong by nature. I had strong views, strong opinions and a strong get-up. I loved living life my way. If anyone tried to tell me what to do, I hardly ever listened.

Of course, these traits tend to have their disadvantages but I do believe in hindsight that they have their advantages too. You need to have a head on your shoulders when you go through life. In order to have a balanced head you need to think for yourself and not be biased by what you are told and not told. Or otherwise.

My rebellious nature was probably one of the things that worked for me, even if it didn't work for the people around me.
But everyone has their moments and everyone tends to grow up. Trees mature. Flowers bloom. It's the art of nature.

Today, 27 years into my exciting and event filled life I suddenly wonder. Would I have been the person I am, irrespective of my successes and downfalls without my parents?

So many of the world's children grow up without a parent or both in some cases. I've always felt for them.
Because, no matter how far my work takes me and how much money I earn, I can never be complete without my parents.

At the end of every day, I can always breathe a sigh of relief because I know if I ever need something or can't handle a situation my father and mother would be right there, beside me. Ever ready to drop everything and race toward me.

How many people would do that for me? It's one of the bittersweet truths in life.

Every day before I sleep I know that I can rely on something, on someone. And that is the single most, greatest assurance of this life.

It's enough to agree - my parents are my life. Without them, I'd be anything but me.

Even if it's not a Romeo-Juliet kind of Love Story

As an army wife, a new one at that, I tend to still struggle with getting used to the constant change and new surroundings. For someone who craved stability yet adventure, this sort of gypsy life seemed interesting yet a tad bit tedious too. But, without the cons how would we identify the pros, right?

A couple of weeks ago my husband, a Major in the Indian army was nominated to go on a UN mission to the Syrian-Israeli border. Unknown to most of you, the Indian Government does send Indian army officers on various UN sensitive missions, all around the world. I guess that's India being at it's diplomatic best, to some extent. 

When he broke the news to me, ironically on his 33rd birthday (in December last year), I took it in calmly. I was in Bombay at the time, visiting friends, family, my old life. Maybe that's why the sudden impact of it didn't hit me quite as hard.

Siddhartha always expressed a keen desire to go on a UN mission. The greatest drawback of marrying an army man is their intense love for all things potentially dangerous and extreme. He always has claimed that paper work and desk jobs are not his thing. Give him his tanks and gun sack and he'll be more than content with life.

At first I was happy because it's what he always wanted. I mean, what is the point of being in a relationship if you can't let your partner grow? Or just simply do the things they'd rather?

If he was happy, who was I to take it away? 

Between December and today we spent a lot of time apart because he had to constantly travel to get things in order for this mission. We hardly got time to really talk about the next step. Which was, leaving each other, to live alone for the entire duration of the mission - which is a little over a year starting anytime now.

I got so involved in work that I didn't realize how quickly time just flew right past me. Until today. Until this moment.

I chanced upon a news article in a famous French journal :

http://www.lemonde.fr/proche-orient/article/2013/02/24/le-photographe-francais-blesse-en-syrie-a-succombe-a-ses-blessures_1837952_3218.html

It's about a young French photo journalist who recently passed away after being severely wounded while covering the Syrian conflict.

They say, it takes a sudden jolt or event to make you realize that you were unconsciously fighting something within you to begin with. 

Siddhartha and I have our good times and great times. In the middle of it we definitely do have our bad times too. But today, after all these weeks of getting used to the idea of him not being around I realized how hard it all is going to be when he finally does leave.

He is my husband after all. We may not have a Romeo-Juliet kind of love story, but we do have something. Why else did we get married. Relationships are not about perfection or striving for it. Maybe that's where we start making the mistake.

Attachments happen, over time. At some point of time we all get attached to small things, certain people, maybe even an idea. It becomes a part of us. 

Tomorrow, or the day after or when he finally gets the order to leave for the Syrian-Israeli border, will I be happy? I don't know. I can't tell. We've spent every waking moment of the last 3 years together and the time before that getting to know each other. However, I do believe that you can never really get to know someone. We all change with time, with experience. With life. 

At the end of the day, if I think about it, I sadly realize that it is not about getting used to him not being around as much as it is about his safety. The current situation in Syria is far from stable. And when you are legally bound to someone who wakes up so far away from you, it can take every emotion away from within you. Wouldn't you think? It's more about knowing everything is going to be alright, which in this life we can never be sure of.

As the one whose left behind, I can only hold onto the thought of hope. 

It doesn't matter if ours is not a Romeo-Juliet kind of love story. There's still something there after all. 

Goodbyes were never supposed to be the best part of anybody's life.

The doting eyes of pure, pure love

In this life, this modern age of failing relationships, flings and casual affairs, it is extremely difficult to find pure love. Maybe that is where we all go wrong. We look for something that isn't there anymore.

Since time immemorial,  Love has been the single most deadliest emotion that has brought people to their feet and probably broken every hope or dream they had, even if only for a short phase of their life. Of course, on the contrary Love can also give you new highs...but in reality does it ever last?

Today, this very evening. I experienced love. Or rather, what it should be and isn't.

The Regiment my army husband is from hosted a small get together this evening for a young woman who was married to a Regimental officer of the unit. The officer lost his life in a severe road accident, 4 years ago.
As fellow unit members, everyone bled to hear of the loss, all those months ago. Everyone felt immense sorrow and pain. But a rule of nature states and I strongly stand by it, in times of sorrow, pain or happiness...you cannot even begin to imagine what is going on in the victim's or his and her supporters or family member's minds. You can only empathize but sadly that is just not enough.

This young woman wanted to dedicate a small trophy to the Regiment in her late husband's honour and that is why she was visiting the unit today.

Today, as the young woman tried to speak about her deceased life partner, her eyes welled up. Not with sorrow and pain. The tears were tears signifying so much more. When you speak about someone you love who isn't there anymore, it isn't sadness after all this time. It's regret. It's a nagging guilt. It's an emotion that we haven't been able to name yet. No, humans identified what pain, grief and sorrow was. But they haven't identified this feeling...this feeling of loss, of love, of remembrance,  of anguish, of wanting and need all meshed up together.

How easy is it to be a widow in your late 20's with a small child after all?

And then, as I observed her tears and heart give way, I glanced across at her father who had accompanied her for the painful task of visiting a unit that once was her home when she had her husband with her.

Her father, who stood quietly at the other end of the room looked at her with the care and concern, the worry and pain only an understanding parent and doting one can have. Those eyes looked at her when she wasn't looking just to see if his daughter would be alright. But we all know, she is far from being alright.

Those eyes, that secret glance, the strong image of a full six foot man just checking to see. Those doting eyes of pure, pure love. That is what we all aim to have and often have but can't see or often never get and won't ever.
Because, somewhere down the line we forgot what it is like to really care and love along the way.
It's not about love anymore. Everywhere we go. We look. But love...real love...it hardly exists even if it does.