Thursday, February 01, 2007

Switches

Edit: http://camphor.wordpress.com/

^.^

I'm there now.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Anchor

It is my security blanket, my safety net, my strength. Like an anchor, it holds me and binds me to one place. Restless pacing aside, I cannot move. The length of the room is the further est I can let myself go before the anticipation of its coming, and the despair at missing it, calls me back.
Eventually, over the days, I learn one simple fact. It does not come when I want it to; it comes when I least expect it. I learn to sit with serenity, and eventually to do other things in the time that I wait. I read, I work. I think, I dream. I live, it is true, because living does not stop even when one does not live that life to the fullest. I talk, I laugh, I cry. But always, amidst all chaos that surrounds me and the whirlpool that tries to pull my attention away, one corner of my mind and heart – even my soul – are keyed to that corner, that anchor.

I linger, knowing that the moment it comes, my heart will take a wild leap of joy, and I will go to receive it with more energy and enthusiasm than I have for anything else in my day … or night.

So I wait.

As time drags on, and there is no sign of it, I must admit my tolerance fades and patience grows thin. Yet I wait, patiently or impatiently, for it does not care. What does it wait for? It will humble me, and then it will come. Or will it?

I run full tilt towards it, this fixed point of my life, as my patience pays off.

The phone is ringing.

~*~*~*~

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

It's one of those days...

It's one of those days, you know?

When you feel nothing can go wrong.

When you do have one of those missteps, you shrug it aside lightly as a lesson learntand not a failure met. When you can't put a foot down wrong, and when you do, it's exploring new grond. When you feel confident that the world is your oyster, it was made for you, to be, to live, to take, to give.

It's one of those days that you should aknowledge that you are in love. Yes, I do love you.

It's one of those days when no difficulty is too hard to take because it isn't a difficulty at all. When you can't get a 'no' for answer, the world is so positive and you see the good in the not so pleasant.

When you are happy with whom you are, where you are. At peace, but your desire to acheive is not submerged. Your will to live makes itself heard, and you are confortable with dealing with it. When you are ready to cope with - nay, ride through - every step of this glorious journey someone called life, and you are too busy living to call anything.

It's one of those days when you are totally confident, your steps are an inch off the ground, and not all the world telling you to "come back to earth" can convince you to. :)

It's a day of acceptance. Of catharsis, the purging long done.

It's one of those days that you're grateful to be alive.

It's one of those days you want to share with everyone, because they do not smile enough, and you have smiles to spare.

When you can write a sappy post, believe it, and not cringe to accept that you felt that way.

When you wish that life could be like this forever, even though you know it won't be, and that it is precisely because this is so rare that it is so precious.

When you realise the true meaning of 'empowerment'.

It's one of those says when you feel limitless. When action and peace are not at loggerheards with each other, when anything, but anything is possible.

It's one of those days that your eyes shine and your soul speaks, and people wonder what it is that you have and they don't. And no, the answer is not Rupa underthings. ;)

When you feel alive.

When your thoughts and emotions are not in conflict. When you leave fear (of what, anyway?) behind, and walk in the middle of the road, really, exactly where you want to. When every new sensation is a delightful puzzle to resolve and a peice of the jigsaw that is coming together with no trouble at all.

It's the sort of day that the fruits of your labours show up, land in your lap, and feel like undeserved honours and pleasures until you realise that that you've earned every second of it.

When if you ask questions, you'll find the answers. When treasure trails have the treasure waiting, but you have a gala time looking anyway.

When you feel complete, and fulfilled, and when the people in your life are not perfect, but just perfect as they are. When it's ok to be exactly as you are.

It's one of those days that the scratchy tip of the ink pen settles down to a smooth flow and a three page write up has not a single scratch out in it.

It's that sort of a day, you know?

Friday, March 10, 2006

And there then there was light...

There was a disgusting school - or junior college on the way to the best bakery in the City. They had avoided it for months now, but Shema was allergic to eggs, and the only decent eggless cakes were in that bakery. They'd put their heads together and come to the conclusion, after much mulling over the pros and cons, that someone had to go order the cake. They found dates when at least three of them were free and made their way to the Bakery as rapidly as they could. Placed the order. Unanimously – and silently - decided to forget the message on the cake, just get it blank. Didn’t want one of their names said out loud – just in case. Ignored the stares from the small group of boys-men who were smoking just outside the sparkling glass front of the bakery. Left as soon as they could.
Luckily, only one of them understood the local language, and she refused to translate. As it happened, her ears had turned red with embarrasment and her eyes were flashing anger. But she only urged her freinds - lets leave a little more quickly. The others understood. One did not need to understand what was being said to know the general drift of it. Anyone could recognise the ugly tones of what people were content to call 'eve-teasing'.

What a simple, almost harmless name for such a terrible thing to do. I would not claim that I am scarred for life, but those incidents do leave me feeling - ugly. Greasy. Anything to get the feel of those eyes and those words off...

But back to the 'story':

However, they forgot that someone would have to go pick up the cake. It had to be cut, hadn't it? And on that day, there was only one person free. She resolved, nobly, that she would do the job. It was fair, after all, and besides, what could happen? She finished lab - being a normal college student, after all - and felt unusally jittery. It was just a cake! She considered calling a couple of guy-friends for backup. She checked her clothes, found the jeans and t-shirt that were normal for college far too 'dangerous' for the job at hand, and went back to the hostel and changed into the loosest set of clothes she could find. Salwar Kameez too. She did her darnest to hide the streaks in her hair, all the while frantically SMSing her friends, hoping someone, anyone was free. There wasn't. She bit her lip and decided to bust a solid 80 bucks extra on taking an auto for those 120 meters of the city.

Her luck, the autos were nowhere to be found. Worse, the school wall was lined with blue-and-navy-blue wearing hooligans for whom (unfortunately) school had just let out. She hadn't prayed for her last exams (no joke) btu she prayed now, but for what, she wasn't quite sure. Please, God, let nothing happen. Her normally lesiure stride was short and rapid, and her bag was clutched into fisted hands. She all but ran to the Bakery.

She did survive. Nothing - much - happened. She did not know what was being said, but she knew what it was being said about. She would learn, as would others, to shut thier ears to these things, and move out of range quickly, especially if you are alone. What a joke, like numbers would make a difference!

And it would happen again.

Really, and they call it teasing? Like what you do with your best friends when you are at ease? TEASING?

I first wanted to write something about this when it first happened to me. I was amazingly protected as a child, I never realised how much till I moved into the hostel and 'independent life'. Again, when I read MumbaiGirl's post. And now this BLANK NOISE PROJECT, even though I am a few days late.

By the way, that anecdote, except for Shema's name and the allergy to eggs bit, happened. I cannot write about the time that something DID happen, but rest assured, that too is 'normal'.

It is 'civilised' and it is 'acceptable' and even in sarcasm I cannot say it is the girl's fault.

It isn't.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Little somethings

Her hair leaps into my hands, clinging to the plastic comb she hates. I let it go and immediately, like blown by some unseen wind, it rushes to cover her small round face. The cackle of static electricity sounds as I swap the comb for the hairbrush and run it through the length of the hair. There are no knots, but I continue brushing. Her little face shows extreme impatience, and she’s begun to shift around uncomfortably in the high backed wooden chair she sits on.

Hold still, I murmur, enjoying the smooth silky hair, but she won’t. She is too anxious to be off. Her mother had leaned into the strokes. Her mother was a little lady, unlike this one, who was tomboy if I ever saw one.

Enough, please! Comes her still sharp voice, and she jumps off the chair. Her legs had dangled well off the floor when seated. She grabs my hands, the contrast of my dry wrinkled calloused hands – softened by time alone – and her pink fat little hands strikes me suddenly. I feel old. She suddenly kisses my hands and takes off, to her friends. To her life.

~*~*~*~

Friday, February 17, 2006

Even IF

Do you see the moon today? Such celestial beauty cures all pain.. think of it, that little white sliver of silver shines sedately over and over me… and there is a connection – can you not feel it? Across the miles and through the fabric of time…
Can you not see it?

And even if the storm were to brew as it threatens to, out of sight, out of earshot, even if the clouds were chased across that sky to cover that crescent symbol of peace and harmony, you know that the beauty hides there, waiting to be revealed, if only one would put aside that pain and look.
My body tingles with electricity, and look, the plants feel it too. A shiver passes through them, as if they are telepathic and empathic, I can hear them echo the sigh that I release. Was it a shudder? A release? A relief? A moment of respite?
It is so still, it seems as if time has stopped for me, for this moment, just so I can pause, take a breath and … miss you. Why have I been running myself ragged? Does enough action help me not to think?
I miss you.

And even if this is the dead calm before the storm, and the whole world suffers tumultuous change, even if I get up now that my cup of coffee is over and leave to the familiar world of cement and concrete and men who act as strangers would, I’ll know I had that moment to cherish all those memories, on this lonely bench in the middle of a park, surrounded by high walls…
I feel tied to the trees, the bushes, the little pink-white flowers and bow their heads and wait for the opening of the jasmine in the time between twilight and true night, knowing they will be overshadowed by the blooming queen of the night, knowing that their time is past, and yet waiting patiently as nothing else changes…
Tied to the teak that I sit on, the land, the air that does not stir and carries with it the faintest traces of chill, cold decision – is it contempt? Is it malice? Is it just what is, and for me to take as it comes? Weightless, and yet so heavy that it bears me down, though in this moment, I am free from responsibility and those bonds that I wear willingly. I soar. Into yesterday, and what was.
When I leave, I know I will put this behind me, I fell no longer feel as I do now, this instant, but I will not forget. The magic is as much with the place and the time and the state of being as it is to me - whole of the cosmos – yes, even that I can see the Orion clearly and not the pole star at all – as much as it is with me, and I do not wish to leave this enchanted stop. But I will.
Someone told me ‘don’t cry because it is over, smile because it was.’ And even if you don’t, I will.
I promise, my friend, I will.
I do miss you.
~*~*~*~

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

XX

Twenty years up, and as anyone with Google or perhaps the right statistics can tell you - as an Indian Woman, I have 46.66 years to go. That’s one third gone… Today doesn’t feel any different from yesterday or the day before, but one more to the counter that man created when he chopped up time into what he considered as regular intervals. No earth shattering changes, no reassessment of life and a change in the way I live or am treated, really.

People change. Fact of life. People ought to grow. And I certainly hope that I have. Grown, that is.

Two decades spent here, and it's been unbelievable. That seems like so long to have invested in one project, in one item, one life. Then you look back, and wonder, where did time fly? Here I am, and I have spent that much... And you know the best part? I have just begun.

So yeah. I've hardly wished anyone on their birthday on time. No reason why I should be an exception.
Happy Birthday to me.
Belated, of course.