There was once a girl named S, of warrior blood, who lived in a little cocoon of her own. Her friends found it hard to read her, strangers, impossible to approach. Her piercing black eyes could leave you speechless, her rhetoric made you weak in the knees, her mood swings made you want to, at times, bang your head on the wall, and at other times, not let her out of your embrace.
Each moment you spent with her was an experience by itself and made you miss her the moment she left. Her smile could floor the grumpiest old man and the naughtiest little devil, the well bitten nails and the spelling mistakes were endearing, the nail polish, not so much, her kiss-take you the seven heavens and back and her anger- a sleeping beast. Her passion in what she believed in, made you feel inferior and inspired at the same time. Having several voices in her head, her conversations were brilliant, random, nonsensical, loving, naughty and sometimes, hypnotically fixating.
As she roamed the plains of the countryside, she left an impression on anything she touched. Gentlemen-singing her praises, ladies-their envy, children could not get enough of her. One day, she met a fairly handsome young chap-confused and a little low. Over the next six months, she connected with this young (??) man on levels which at times, surprised her. The fellow, on the other hand, was enchanted by her and wanted her by his side at all times.
All was well till one day, the chap, torn between his emotions and his past, went down the road well travelled by others and awoke the hidden beast.
The beautiful damsel, angry and bitter, wanted nothing to do with the young man again. Having realized his folly, the incorrigible brute tried his best to appease the beast. Now, a beast being a beast was at times quietened, but having to fight the ugly head of the ego for no fault of her own, the damsel was in a pickle. Every week, the beast would ask for his share and the young man felt helpless, almost beaten. But, resolute and convinced of his feelings for her, he used every weapon to silence the beast. In his quest to win the heart of the princess, the man came to a few decisions.
to be continued.....
Showing posts with label coffee thoughts.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coffee thoughts.. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Monday, October 13, 2008
Done!
There comes a point of time in your life, when you look at all the choices you made, and it’s not the good ones, it’s always the bad ones you will think about. Because it’s the bad ones that change you and make you realize that there is something wrong, something wrong with those choices.
It takes one friend, 1 bottle of wine, and 1 long night…
This is a confession, and hence I dare but I will say it anyways for I have nothing to loose, I am done!
So when I look at the pattern of the bad choices, I see now I attract the opposite, I see my need for the confused and the immature, the ones who stare at the blank and except it to give you answers, not realizing the answers lie within.
And it all makes sense now, when I have it all figured out in my head, I enjoy the ambiguity the uncertainty that my choices bring. I feel I could do with a bit of irrationality and immaturity. But this approach ends in a sort of pain which is so deep I can’t sense it. I am in denial.
But not anymore…
I am done brooding over my choices, I am done hoping for them, I am done enjoying the ambiguity and I am done with the uncertainty. Anticipation is no fun.
I just need something to happen, I need a sign that things are going to change. I need a reason to go on. I need some hope! And in the absence of hope, I need to stay in bed a feel like I'm going to die today.
It takes one friend, 1 bottle of wine, and 1 long night…
This is a confession, and hence I dare but I will say it anyways for I have nothing to loose, I am done!
So when I look at the pattern of the bad choices, I see now I attract the opposite, I see my need for the confused and the immature, the ones who stare at the blank and except it to give you answers, not realizing the answers lie within.
And it all makes sense now, when I have it all figured out in my head, I enjoy the ambiguity the uncertainty that my choices bring. I feel I could do with a bit of irrationality and immaturity. But this approach ends in a sort of pain which is so deep I can’t sense it. I am in denial.
But not anymore…
I am done brooding over my choices, I am done hoping for them, I am done enjoying the ambiguity and I am done with the uncertainty. Anticipation is no fun.
I just need something to happen, I need a sign that things are going to change. I need a reason to go on. I need some hope! And in the absence of hope, I need to stay in bed a feel like I'm going to die today.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Sometimes.... somethings
One of the reasons, I would choose to go back to childhood is because it was soo much easier to say what you felt then, As a kid it was simple, I would cry when I was hurt, I would scream to be heard, I would even go blue and I am not sure weather the purpose was served, but it didn’t really matter then, all it needed was for me to say it.
As individuals, we are blessed with this ability to communicate and I am not sure at what age that blessing simply disappears.
Yes, communication is the first thing we learn in life. Foolishly ecstatic on that ability, naïve to the fact, that one once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking the harder it will become to know what to say, to say what you want, and to want to say what you really feel.
Ofcourse, on such days you would scribble in your diary or blog random things on which no one really gives a damn. (giggles). But the point is, you don’t see it coming, I wish there was a rule book for these kind of things, you know they would tell you
When your wrong: Shut up and listen!
When it hurts : Cry (and its okai to do so)
When your happy: Smile!
When you know it: Say it!
Ofcourse, this is my version of a pseudo rule book, of which I don’t live by at all.
Because, then one day, just I discovered some other secrets of life; I realized that this inability is a blessing of its own.
Some times, you needn’t say what you feel, sometimes, its good to contemplate; sometimes you’re glad you never opened your mouth.
But sometimes, there are some things you just can't help but talk about.
Sometimes, there are things, we just don't want to hear, sometimes, we cant wait to hear somethings and sometimes, we say some things because we can't be silent any longer.
Some things are more than what you say, they're what you do. Some things you say because there's no other choice. Some things you keep to yourself. Some things someone else would say it for you.
But most importantly, sometimes, not too often, but every now and then, some things simply speak for themselves.
As individuals, we are blessed with this ability to communicate and I am not sure at what age that blessing simply disappears.
Yes, communication is the first thing we learn in life. Foolishly ecstatic on that ability, naïve to the fact, that one once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking the harder it will become to know what to say, to say what you want, and to want to say what you really feel.
Ofcourse, on such days you would scribble in your diary or blog random things on which no one really gives a damn. (giggles). But the point is, you don’t see it coming, I wish there was a rule book for these kind of things, you know they would tell you
When your wrong: Shut up and listen!
When it hurts : Cry (and its okai to do so)
When your happy: Smile!
When you know it: Say it!
Ofcourse, this is my version of a pseudo rule book, of which I don’t live by at all.
Because, then one day, just I discovered some other secrets of life; I realized that this inability is a blessing of its own.
Some times, you needn’t say what you feel, sometimes, its good to contemplate; sometimes you’re glad you never opened your mouth.
But sometimes, there are some things you just can't help but talk about.
Sometimes, there are things, we just don't want to hear, sometimes, we cant wait to hear somethings and sometimes, we say some things because we can't be silent any longer.
Some things are more than what you say, they're what you do. Some things you say because there's no other choice. Some things you keep to yourself. Some things someone else would say it for you.
But most importantly, sometimes, not too often, but every now and then, some things simply speak for themselves.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Still Life
A common thread runs among all the places I like to hang out at, they are the ones that let you be, they have no dress code, no unsaid rules on your shoes or your clothes such places let you breath,they let you do what you are there for. Unfortunately work places aren’t of those kinds, but you wish they would be, since you spend most of your waking hours there. Ironically, the freedom of being liberated by education gets limited by our desire to become a professional.
‘m referring to an article I read in Times recently, about growing discrimination at workplaces, and it wasn’t clichéd gender/sex/race, discrimination, it was the superficial kinds, the kinds that make you wish you had washboard abs, slimmer legs, or worse, it was the kinds, that makes you hate who you are, than what you have become.
Instantly I felt myself filling up with hot rage, drowning in so much anger and outrage, not because I thought that article was directed to me, but I know it spoke to some, who probably missed a meal that day or went half hour extra to the gym.
Now there is a lot about this productivity bull crap that I don’t buy, for example, one article said that, the weight of an employee is inversely proportional to their career and remuneration growth. (Bull shit!!).That’s like justifying that women should be paid less because they shall avail of maternity leave at some point of time in their life.
I don’t believe that productivity benefits based on employees potential health condition has anything to do with employers. However I do believe ones appearance has a lot to do with opinions made on the so called professional workplace or even in their daily lives
This is prejudice- it is never reasonable and therefore cannot be reasoned by logic. But before you are quick to label me as a hypocrite (especially when I posses the irrational ability to spend a handful of mere boots) Let me clarify, that I aint against being concerned about your outer self, but I am at people judging you on the basis of that.
I am not polishing my halo, but you see- I haven’t tasted perfection, so I don’t know how that feels, I never let it settle in my marrow before I began to look for flaws. And I believe that, perfection is what we all seek – for respect. Respect that makes up for the lack of, many things!.
But the truth is respect is a cold bedfellow. It is just pride- the kind of pride that wrinkles its nose disgustedly at you when you know you are being undervalued, when ‘almost’ just doesn’t become ‘enough’ anymore, for any of us.
But somewhere I hope we are willing to take that in the lieu of abject self respect (or in my case sheer boredom)-that pulls you up short of a folly, or perhaps from the truth-who knows. Even when I could do better-I’d chosen not to.. for various better reasons.
(Too late! Too late!)
Perfection- even its fickle beauty so tainted, by my own knowing hands, does not wash clean-all my Lady Macbethian efforts wasted. And knowing that, accepting my incompleteness, resigning myself to this shallow world, my ego will never knucle, kneel or break down in supplication.
A friend shares a thought with me, What it boils down to,she says,is on all the planes you exist in this superficial world- among friends, with a lover, in a boardroom - nothing can make up for an impefect body,beauty or lack thereof!
But, some part of me - and I dont know what she likes to wear, I dont know if she wears a saree or if she smokes - rejoices in imperfection still!!
‘m referring to an article I read in Times recently, about growing discrimination at workplaces, and it wasn’t clichéd gender/sex/race, discrimination, it was the superficial kinds, the kinds that make you wish you had washboard abs, slimmer legs, or worse, it was the kinds, that makes you hate who you are, than what you have become.
Instantly I felt myself filling up with hot rage, drowning in so much anger and outrage, not because I thought that article was directed to me, but I know it spoke to some, who probably missed a meal that day or went half hour extra to the gym.
Now there is a lot about this productivity bull crap that I don’t buy, for example, one article said that, the weight of an employee is inversely proportional to their career and remuneration growth. (Bull shit!!).That’s like justifying that women should be paid less because they shall avail of maternity leave at some point of time in their life.
I don’t believe that productivity benefits based on employees potential health condition has anything to do with employers. However I do believe ones appearance has a lot to do with opinions made on the so called professional workplace or even in their daily lives
This is prejudice- it is never reasonable and therefore cannot be reasoned by logic. But before you are quick to label me as a hypocrite (especially when I posses the irrational ability to spend a handful of mere boots) Let me clarify, that I aint against being concerned about your outer self, but I am at people judging you on the basis of that.
I am not polishing my halo, but you see- I haven’t tasted perfection, so I don’t know how that feels, I never let it settle in my marrow before I began to look for flaws. And I believe that, perfection is what we all seek – for respect. Respect that makes up for the lack of, many things!.
But the truth is respect is a cold bedfellow. It is just pride- the kind of pride that wrinkles its nose disgustedly at you when you know you are being undervalued, when ‘almost’ just doesn’t become ‘enough’ anymore, for any of us.
But somewhere I hope we are willing to take that in the lieu of abject self respect (or in my case sheer boredom)-that pulls you up short of a folly, or perhaps from the truth-who knows. Even when I could do better-I’d chosen not to.. for various better reasons.
(Too late! Too late!)
Perfection- even its fickle beauty so tainted, by my own knowing hands, does not wash clean-all my Lady Macbethian efforts wasted. And knowing that, accepting my incompleteness, resigning myself to this shallow world, my ego will never knucle, kneel or break down in supplication.
A friend shares a thought with me, What it boils down to,she says,is on all the planes you exist in this superficial world- among friends, with a lover, in a boardroom - nothing can make up for an impefect body,beauty or lack thereof!
But, some part of me - and I dont know what she likes to wear, I dont know if she wears a saree or if she smokes - rejoices in imperfection still!!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Another Life:
I am sitting alone, away, in my space, and what I desire from life, is piece of land I can call my own. I am sitting in a crowded place, because it’s only here I can find solitude, its only when your in a crowd you can be alone.
I squeezed some time out of my packed scheduled form this much awaited Sunday, pulled on my old rugged jeans and headed for the coffee shop. I did this when I was in college, and my favorite hang out was the open café at Leopolds.I always believe in taking time out for yourself, as should be the case with most of us, for some it’s the retail therapy, for some it’s a coffee shop. (Albeit I would prefer the retail therapy, but I think it’s a function of affordability)
And it’s only when I sit in solitude, force time out for myself, alone, I realize how far I am from where I want to be. I don’t know how many of us truly know, what we want. If you could, try asking yourself that? Can you find a definite answer?
Me, I have a list of things I want to do, none which are connected. But what I really want at this moment in time, is to travel, away, anywhere, with anyone. Now, this doesn’t mean I question my journey so far, I am here for a reason, to find out why is a quest.
But it’s really a comment from an old friend that compels me to further introspection. I have ambition-oodles of it! This should not be confused by drive. Each one of us desires to be on the top of a mountain, rise above what you desire; problem is we don’t know what that mountain is. You just walking a path, not carved by you, but paved by someone else.
Sometimes, I feel like I was shelled to smithereens and there are parts of me strewn all over. There’s a part that exults in a new pair of shoes and a good haircut. A part that wakes up after a late night; for 6:00 am swim, a part that prays every night, a part that dreams every day, a part the competes, a part that doesn’t f-ing care. So many parts, none which match, much like a bad jigsaw puzzle. A bit like Humpty Dumpty, except I don’t think I was ever a nice complete whole. Every time a new facet of my existence branched out, it just grew independent of the rest of me.
Therefore, I disagree with my old friend.
But self inflicted introspection is a bitch! It’s like a free of cost psychotherapy with a wannabe shrink who went to college on a marijuana scholarship!
The most galling thing about pain-my personal variety – is that it robs me of my expressions. I wanna crawl under my blanket stuff my head under the pillow, and never come out of there. But they say, ‘pain-you have to ride it off, live through it, hope is goes away, coz there are no solutions’
A thought occurs to me, perhaps the divine intervention is favorable to those who don’t try to tame the chaos, me, in all my ability to be carefree and careless, I try so hard to feel the winds of change. And I think that the winds of change don’t break those that swim in tandem to their erratic whims. Excuses don’t wash off the sorrow of having fallen down from my own estimation –again.
But hear me when I say, that perhaps floating, half sunken on your back with water blocking your hearing and your eyes squeezed against the sun is the only way to swim.
I squeezed some time out of my packed scheduled form this much awaited Sunday, pulled on my old rugged jeans and headed for the coffee shop. I did this when I was in college, and my favorite hang out was the open café at Leopolds.I always believe in taking time out for yourself, as should be the case with most of us, for some it’s the retail therapy, for some it’s a coffee shop. (Albeit I would prefer the retail therapy, but I think it’s a function of affordability)
And it’s only when I sit in solitude, force time out for myself, alone, I realize how far I am from where I want to be. I don’t know how many of us truly know, what we want. If you could, try asking yourself that? Can you find a definite answer?
Me, I have a list of things I want to do, none which are connected. But what I really want at this moment in time, is to travel, away, anywhere, with anyone. Now, this doesn’t mean I question my journey so far, I am here for a reason, to find out why is a quest.
But it’s really a comment from an old friend that compels me to further introspection. I have ambition-oodles of it! This should not be confused by drive. Each one of us desires to be on the top of a mountain, rise above what you desire; problem is we don’t know what that mountain is. You just walking a path, not carved by you, but paved by someone else.
Sometimes, I feel like I was shelled to smithereens and there are parts of me strewn all over. There’s a part that exults in a new pair of shoes and a good haircut. A part that wakes up after a late night; for 6:00 am swim, a part that prays every night, a part that dreams every day, a part the competes, a part that doesn’t f-ing care. So many parts, none which match, much like a bad jigsaw puzzle. A bit like Humpty Dumpty, except I don’t think I was ever a nice complete whole. Every time a new facet of my existence branched out, it just grew independent of the rest of me.
Therefore, I disagree with my old friend.
But self inflicted introspection is a bitch! It’s like a free of cost psychotherapy with a wannabe shrink who went to college on a marijuana scholarship!
The most galling thing about pain-my personal variety – is that it robs me of my expressions. I wanna crawl under my blanket stuff my head under the pillow, and never come out of there. But they say, ‘pain-you have to ride it off, live through it, hope is goes away, coz there are no solutions’
A thought occurs to me, perhaps the divine intervention is favorable to those who don’t try to tame the chaos, me, in all my ability to be carefree and careless, I try so hard to feel the winds of change. And I think that the winds of change don’t break those that swim in tandem to their erratic whims. Excuses don’t wash off the sorrow of having fallen down from my own estimation –again.
But hear me when I say, that perhaps floating, half sunken on your back with water blocking your hearing and your eyes squeezed against the sun is the only way to swim.
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