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.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, April 15, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
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.
Friday, February 1, 2013
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.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
The side effects of life
I am presently suffering from a severe winter related ailment known as Chillblains. At first, when my feet swelled up and turned tomato red and when they hurt like as though a heavy weight champion was sitting on them, I was worried. A few Google checks later and a visit to the nearest doctor resulted in a 5 day dose of pain killers and stomach medication to curb the pain. Apparently, any problem like Chillblain is solved with regular home remedies. I was advised to dip my feet in warm water for a period of 30 minutes everyday till the results were proven.
The effect of having painful feet (for someone who likes to keep active) was pretty horrid. Although I went about doing most of the things I usually do, my pain killer influenced mind got to thinking about the side effects of life.
When I was prescribed the medication, my initial reaction was to ask the Doctor if there would be any side effect. To be honest, I am a paranoid person of sorts who always expects the worse. I therefore like to be prepared for anything that may or may not come my way.
Medication and professional medical practitioners can always share the potential side effects of every medication with you.
But did you ever realize that there is nothing and no one who can share the details of potential side effects faced in life, in everything you do and don't.
Life isn't anything but a series of side effects! Imagine, when a girl gets married she compromises. When you take up a great high flying job, you lose your social life. When you take things too easy you get nowhere in life.
Why don't we ever ask ourselves what the potential side effects of any decision we make may be.
Probably because we don't want to face what we don't know, in reality. And when unfavourable things do happen, we blame it on destiny and fate.
As a breed we aren't prepared, no matter how hard we try to be. For anything that comes our way. We can't control when we fall in love or why. We can't control illnesses. We can't control the next day or the one before and we surely can't control the weather.
Yet, we go on pretending it doesn't matter. We pacify ourselves in the thought that eating right, playing it safe, going to a Doctor and praying are one of the few ways to live well and live right.
So what does it all mean at the end of the day? That we are naiive as a species? That we can't really accept even if we try to? That we don't understand the concept of anything around us?
Think about it. Or don't. It's your call. But the next time you make a decision or have a tablet, be sure to wonder about the side effects of it and life.
The effect of having painful feet (for someone who likes to keep active) was pretty horrid. Although I went about doing most of the things I usually do, my pain killer influenced mind got to thinking about the side effects of life.
When I was prescribed the medication, my initial reaction was to ask the Doctor if there would be any side effect. To be honest, I am a paranoid person of sorts who always expects the worse. I therefore like to be prepared for anything that may or may not come my way.
Medication and professional medical practitioners can always share the potential side effects of every medication with you.
But did you ever realize that there is nothing and no one who can share the details of potential side effects faced in life, in everything you do and don't.
Life isn't anything but a series of side effects! Imagine, when a girl gets married she compromises. When you take up a great high flying job, you lose your social life. When you take things too easy you get nowhere in life.
Why don't we ever ask ourselves what the potential side effects of any decision we make may be.
Probably because we don't want to face what we don't know, in reality. And when unfavourable things do happen, we blame it on destiny and fate.
As a breed we aren't prepared, no matter how hard we try to be. For anything that comes our way. We can't control when we fall in love or why. We can't control illnesses. We can't control the next day or the one before and we surely can't control the weather.
Yet, we go on pretending it doesn't matter. We pacify ourselves in the thought that eating right, playing it safe, going to a Doctor and praying are one of the few ways to live well and live right.
So what does it all mean at the end of the day? That we are naiive as a species? That we can't really accept even if we try to? That we don't understand the concept of anything around us?
Think about it. Or don't. It's your call. But the next time you make a decision or have a tablet, be sure to wonder about the side effects of it and life.
Monday, January 14, 2013
My displaced mother tongue
I was born into a Bengali family. My parents and theirs were all Bengalis and probably the ones before them too. Surprisingly though, I could always understand the language without being able to speak it grammatically right.
In these days we live in mixed times. A diverse country like India has different state languages, not all of which are easy to master.
Since I didn't really grow up in the state my ancestors came from, I was always an outsider to my own culture. Not that it mattered because while growing up other priorities came first anyway.
Today, when people ask me What I am, (in India, you are defined by your state, religion and of course mother tongue to some extent) I don't like to answer "Bengali". Aptly so, I can't read the language nor write it. I can understand it but speak it like a Spanish immigrant speaking Polish. This doesn't affect me or the way I feel about being Bengali, but it definitely makes me conscious in some way.
So I coined a new term for myself. I call myself a Maharashtrian Bengali now. Someone who grew up in the vast state of Maharashtra but never in Bengal. In tribute to someone who understands the language of the Maharashtrians just as well but again, can't speak it. Why? Well because I wasn't Maharashtrian, I always thought it made no sense to learn the state language either.
So now it all comes down to me and What I am. When people ask me now, it's with a sense of confusion. How can someone be from somewhere and speak only English when she's Indian.
Indians have always been considered to be multi-lingual. That is of course a direct influence of being born in one state and growing up in another and coming from a family that spoke another tongue altogether.
At the end of the day, I suffice it's enough to call yourself human, isn't it? I mean, language isn't really a barrier unless you make it out to be.
In these days we live in mixed times. A diverse country like India has different state languages, not all of which are easy to master.
Since I didn't really grow up in the state my ancestors came from, I was always an outsider to my own culture. Not that it mattered because while growing up other priorities came first anyway.
Today, when people ask me What I am, (in India, you are defined by your state, religion and of course mother tongue to some extent) I don't like to answer "Bengali". Aptly so, I can't read the language nor write it. I can understand it but speak it like a Spanish immigrant speaking Polish. This doesn't affect me or the way I feel about being Bengali, but it definitely makes me conscious in some way.
So I coined a new term for myself. I call myself a Maharashtrian Bengali now. Someone who grew up in the vast state of Maharashtra but never in Bengal. In tribute to someone who understands the language of the Maharashtrians just as well but again, can't speak it. Why? Well because I wasn't Maharashtrian, I always thought it made no sense to learn the state language either.
So now it all comes down to me and What I am. When people ask me now, it's with a sense of confusion. How can someone be from somewhere and speak only English when she's Indian.
Indians have always been considered to be multi-lingual. That is of course a direct influence of being born in one state and growing up in another and coming from a family that spoke another tongue altogether.
At the end of the day, I suffice it's enough to call yourself human, isn't it? I mean, language isn't really a barrier unless you make it out to be.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
You cannot define life
Life isn't only about moments. It's about choices, memories, pain and joy. A series of things that cannot be defined by one word or sentence. Every time I see a greeting card with various sayings, sayings on life it makes me wonder.
At some point of time every one goes through a state of nostalgia, of questions, of confusions. A state wherein they question the purpose of everything they do. A state wherein everything seems fine but not quite.
This is when you look for definitions, to define who you are, what you do and why you're here. It's natural to emote and feel. And to experience phases throughout your life. Without it, what would you really be doing?
In the medley though how do you come out at the other end stronger than before? You can learn from your mistakes, you can live again, you can feel. But most of us are too scared to let go and to let live. We hold on to what we were and the things that went wrong too tightly. And when the questions come we comfort ourselves in the plethora of quotes writers sell to make us feel better.
Life is not a definition. No matter what you read and believe, nothing can prepare you or warn you. At the end of the day, when the sun sets on one part of the world it's all about hoping to wake up healthy, happy and warm again.
The sunshine and its strong rays are the world's way of saying every time you close your eyes, a light will guide you through.
At some point of time every one goes through a state of nostalgia, of questions, of confusions. A state wherein they question the purpose of everything they do. A state wherein everything seems fine but not quite.
This is when you look for definitions, to define who you are, what you do and why you're here. It's natural to emote and feel. And to experience phases throughout your life. Without it, what would you really be doing?
In the medley though how do you come out at the other end stronger than before? You can learn from your mistakes, you can live again, you can feel. But most of us are too scared to let go and to let live. We hold on to what we were and the things that went wrong too tightly. And when the questions come we comfort ourselves in the plethora of quotes writers sell to make us feel better.
Life is not a definition. No matter what you read and believe, nothing can prepare you or warn you. At the end of the day, when the sun sets on one part of the world it's all about hoping to wake up healthy, happy and warm again.
The sunshine and its strong rays are the world's way of saying every time you close your eyes, a light will guide you through.
Monday, January 7, 2013
It takes solitude to be you
Being my first post for the New Year, there really isn't much I want to say because my focus has shifted. Rather, my focus hasn't shifted, it's just been put through trying times recently.
I was always a loner by nature. It's not like I had a dearth of friends. I had a few good friends, still do and some more who are plain associates. However, I rarely find myself content when in a group of people. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate socializing or anything. It's just that I connect with fewer people at a time, if I do at all.
I somehow never wondered about this until recently. As an Indian girl, married into a severely traditional Bengali-Indian family I am expected to do things my otherwise bohemian mind may not approve of. It's during the time when the expectation became vocal that I realized how important being alone is to be you.
When you are part of a family that is yours but not really yours, in today's times it is hard to accept what in the old days you "had to". Further on, when a family is so rooted and hell bent on holding on instead of letting go, you realize that you can't always be what you want or simply breathe.
Sometimes, ties that bind can turn into a drastic weight, I believe. I also believe that it is good to have such strong ties, but only to an extent.
In life, you are born as one. And you die as one. There is a reason for that. Although you are born into a family, a brood, you are still meant to face your battles alone, for a reason. As humans, we can't be a pact without knowing how to be solitary bearers of our own life and destiny.
As the New Year begins and rings in change with every day it gives me, I hold onto a thought I have become fond of, off late - It takes solitude to be you.
I was always a loner by nature. It's not like I had a dearth of friends. I had a few good friends, still do and some more who are plain associates. However, I rarely find myself content when in a group of people. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate socializing or anything. It's just that I connect with fewer people at a time, if I do at all.
I somehow never wondered about this until recently. As an Indian girl, married into a severely traditional Bengali-Indian family I am expected to do things my otherwise bohemian mind may not approve of. It's during the time when the expectation became vocal that I realized how important being alone is to be you.
When you are part of a family that is yours but not really yours, in today's times it is hard to accept what in the old days you "had to". Further on, when a family is so rooted and hell bent on holding on instead of letting go, you realize that you can't always be what you want or simply breathe.
Sometimes, ties that bind can turn into a drastic weight, I believe. I also believe that it is good to have such strong ties, but only to an extent.
In life, you are born as one. And you die as one. There is a reason for that. Although you are born into a family, a brood, you are still meant to face your battles alone, for a reason. As humans, we can't be a pact without knowing how to be solitary bearers of our own life and destiny.
As the New Year begins and rings in change with every day it gives me, I hold onto a thought I have become fond of, off late - It takes solitude to be you.
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