Friday, November 11, 2011

The Child

The child hopped, skipped and jumped over the broken glass.
She seemed to enjoy the game,
Her keen eyes glistening at the multi-coloured, shiny pieces,
Hair flying like wild horses, mouth still dirty from the last chocolate she licked.
She was unsupervised, no mom, no dad, no siblings,
No bad boys who often pulled her hair and pushed her around.
She hopped freely over the sharp edges,
Hopscotch with invisible chalk,
Her entire life focused on this game she played with herself.
Time forgotten, fear never known,
She played.
Her pearl feet landing like little fairies,
On the shattered glass.
And as her tresses jumped up and down with her,
She watched herself in litte bits on the floor,
Painted in green, pink, yellow and blue.
It was fun,
This game,
On broken, shattered glass.

Saturday, October 08, 2011

Failure

I meet it often. Sometimes, when I'm going for the fifth round of the maidan or when I push myself down while doing a full leg split. I meet it often in class, where no matter how much I try, I mess up my movements and hence my focus. It's there when I attempt a second pirouette, sometimes even the first. I meet it on the staircase, on the weighing scale, at the 'medium' section in a store, at school when see others flying around, so light and agile. So perfect.

I even meet it at work; my list of deadlines noted meticulously in my notebook speak loudly of it. I feel it's presence in relationships, those that were and could be. It's always there, stalking me, passing me by in the street in the rain or cruel heat.

But stepping back and looking through different glasses, one thing stands out in all my fated rendezvous with it. At least I tried.

Saturday, August 06, 2011

Driving me up the hill

I have been known to make generalised statements about men, much to their consternation and fury. However, no matter how hard they try to prove me wrong and act out a different character, when the guards are down, men act like men. SO! At the risk of losing my male readers at this very point, sorry guys, here's another one.
I can't say about other parts of India, but the rural to semi-urban strata of Himachali men (men born and brought up in Himachal Pradesh) are downright xenophobic! And this especially towards 'foreign' women. For them, these fair-skinned chicks (mind you, I'm talking only about the west here) are meant only for porn, music videos and bed.
So if an English lady walks into the state, gets upset about the heaps of garbage piling up and decides to do something about it while the government and locals prefer to lay back and snore, they can't stand it. Anyway, women are best kept at home under wraps where they can't be much trouble, soon to be married off to a stranger. But this here is a 'foreign' lady to top it all! Ouch! Those smarting egos!
Hearing their derrogatory banter, I felt like slapping all of them in one go. They treated her like a dirty joke. What she had done and achieved held no regard nor earned her the respect due to her. All those obnoxious mules saw through their blinkers was the colour white and a British accent.
I've felt and observed this in my course of work in Himachal and it's beginning to bug me. I'm afraid that these men, their blatant jealousy and insecurity may just drive me 'up the hill', enough to give them the sounding of their lives - in Hindi, pure desi style!

Sunday, April 03, 2011

Thorns

There are some people we bump into, who appear to be great in the beginning. They stick around, get to know you better (or they think), and gradually, when you're busy looking somewhere else, they pierce your unsuspecting flesh. And once they're inside, they fester and breed discontent, unrest, fury and attack your foundation of self-assurance. They work hard day and night to make you feel that you've been wired all wrong and the life you have led has been least enlightened. Suddenly again, they jump onto the scene, the self-proclaimed, indomitable saviours to 'help' change you, and lead you to the 'right' path. I sometimes wonder if they ever introspect to realise the flaws that lie within them. Their own mirror lies to them! Tells them that they're perfect, infallible, God-like. I seem to be passing through the valley of thorns lately. I hope it passes soon.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Something called ‘Purpose’

There is purpose. I feel it right this moment. Very powerful and overflowing the limited realms of my human existence. It is bigger than anything and can hold my entire life in its fist and shake it till all complacency is killed.

It will not let me rest, no matter how much I coax my thoughts to abandon me. It stalks me and though it threatens my comfort bubble, it also brings in its fold a thrill. The thrill of achievement. And honour, not from others, but from myself. The thrill of walking away from the trophy knowing that having earned it is enough.

There is no tangible reward following the purpose. But then, the best rewards are cannot be seen, held or spent.

This purpose will drive me nuts if I don’t grab it and leap off the cliff. Now.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Teacher

PB is gone. The first of my teachers to go.
Even though it's been some years since I met her last, there is still a void, a lump in the throat. A pool of regrets - why didn't I keep in touch more? why didn't I direct plays with her like she wanted me to? Why?
She was an outstanding person - free, honest, outspoken and compassionate. Waiting for Godot would not have been the same without her, the way she made us read out all the plays in class, with assigned characters. Life was a drama, and she was always the director.
But now that she's gone, the show must go on. She would've wanted it to.
And I hope, I never let the curtain fall on her stage.

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

He loves me...he loves me not

I'm sick of it.
When I love him, he doesn't love me.
When he loves me, I feel differently.
Can it never match? The person and the feeling?
This whole dog chasing his tail thing is absurd!
And when I want him, I want him bad.
Strangely it works both ways too.
When I don't want him, I mean business.

Love still eludes. Someone asked me today how I interpreted love. I said, "It doesn't come easy, and neither does it leave easy."
Love...ha!