Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Saturday, October 08, 2011
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
"It is painted that way" She offered her explanation, her acne accented cheeks which were already red from the inflammation turned a shade brighter as she spoke. Her perfectionism making her wonder if he thought she'd painted the letters that way. She suddenly remembered the way one of her uncles asked how stationary was different from Stationery when she was in primary school. She remembered how she felt insulted that he'd think she'd not know. This young woman, all of eighteen was a lover of all things perfect and Her language topped the charts.
"Just saying!" He smiled. With a twinkle in his eyes and disappeared into the busy platform. She looked in his direction and smiled without her knowledge.
"What are you so happy about?" A colleague's question brought her back to the moment and she got back to her work in the enquiry counter.
"Is the east bound train coming in anytime soon?" A familiar voice made her look up from the book she was reading. She was in her night shift and the relatively free schedule of trains allowed her to dig into books. She looked to find him again - her face broke into a beaming smile.
"oh, you? How are you"
"Yeah, the train will be here momentarily"
"Thanks - By the way, what keeps you so engrossed?"
"Oh- this book" She lifts the book into her hands and flashes the cover.
"Anna Karenina?" Nice read. Heavy, tragic - but nice read!"
"You read it?"
" I think I did!"
"You read a lot?" Her heart was racing now. There is a connection with this person.
"I am bound to. I teach"
Now she got up from her seat.
"Awesome!" She squealed in joy.
"Don't tell me you teach English"
"Yes, my dear! I do!"
"No kidding - So tell me we can discuss 'Paradise Lost'
"Sure we can. Tell me when and where?"
She wanted to say "Right here, right now" but contained her excitement and said whenever you can spare some time.
Now it was obvious he loved her. Like his own, and how would a hopelessly romantic eighteen year old not love him back? They were walking back to a nearby coffee shop to get refreshments.
"Get something" he insisted. " I think I am okay" she excused herself. She was lost in the way he sang to her on the platform - a divine hymn singing the glory of Goddess Shakti. She got off her schedule to meet him on the platform while he waited for a train to arrive. They both sat on one of those benches planted into the concrete of the platform, oblivious to the world around them. From a distance, it was an amusing scene - for no bystander would understand what connects them so intensely as to make them lost in each other on a busy platform with all the hustle and bustle thrown in.
The train arrived and his guest who was passing through the station, got off the train to wish him. "Meet my friend" - he would introduce her to the guest. "Meet Daya Mata - the head in our Ranchi headquarters - he told her, as she joined her hands to greet the guest. He was heavily into spirituality and meditation - one of the other aspects that intrigued her to no end.
"I am dropping you home" he confirmed as the train took away the passing guest - without asking her if she wanted him to.
"I'll take the bus" She insisted.
"Follow me! No arguments"
They drove home on his motorbike - lost as ever in their own world.
He drove to her home with the copy of his Thesis. Read it - you'll love it" He offered. And then he asked her to come over to meet him at his work - in the nearby Degree college.
She walked to his work - found the college peon and told him that she was here for the English professor.
"Sir told me Miss" The peon would flash a grin. "Please wait while I get you some tea" He'd walk her into the staff room and offer her some tea.
"There you are" He said - with unmistakable joy in his voice.
" I hope the peon recognized you"
He pulled a chair to sit next to her and lowered his voice to a mock whisper "I told him there would be a girl looking for me in the evening - A strikingly gorgeous and poised one"
His love and awe for her out did the collective efforts of the all the boys who hit on her. His words made her feel beautiful and confident.
She managed a silent embarrassed smile.
"What are you smiling about? You know right? - You are a very pretty and sensible young woman, and I wanted to warn the peon beforehand so that he would get ready to lose his heart"
Her smile stretched from ear to ear...is it not enough that this man taught her ' Paradise Lost' and made her discover Milton? Is it not enough that the man connects with her like magic and sings to her and awes her with his outlook on life and endears her with his gentle kind ways? Is it not enough that he charms her with his intellect?
She collected her notes that day and walked home feeling like a pageant winner.
It is their usual place of meeting. The coffee shop opposite the railway station. A man walks to him and wishes him
"Good afternoon professor, what brings you here?"
"I had to meet some friend passing through"
The man looks at her and recognizes her.
'So, she works here with the Railways?" the man asks him.
"yeah she does - what might interest you is that she is a student of literature as well"
"My daughter is a student of literature too - the man adds. It is endearing when daughters take up their fathers' passions"
She understood the misconception going through the man's mind and attempted to offer a clarification.
"Yeah, it is endearing - he cuts her off" and hurriedly takes leave of the man saying he has some work to attend to.
She follows him while saying bye to the man they just met.
On her way back home, sitting behind him on his motorbike, she asked him
"But the man thought I was your daughter - it is funny though, one of my traffic controllers called me the other day on the network line to give me some work related info and he assumed the same thing as well - telling me he was your student and he never knew that I am your daughter, it seems the other day he saw us in the coffee shop together."
"What did you say to him?"
" I told him you are my daddy's friend. You know what was funny? He was telling me how handsome you were in your day. Funny cause I think you are hands down one of the most interesting and handsome men I'd met so far"
He let out a loud laughter.
"Thank you I guess?"
"But anyway, why did you not tell this man I wasn't your kid?"
"Because I feel you are mine"
She smiled to herself - one of those beaming smiles that bloom on her face when she is in his company.
And they drove back home lost in one of those conversations.
Friday, May 13, 2011
She finds a seat on the bench. and lifts up to look at the endless ceilings. It is hard to believe that it is middle of the day with the all powerful sun frolicking at his hottest, brightest best on the outside - the dark expanse of the inside of the cathedral has no traces of artificial lighting. The stained glass accents glow in the darkness along with the nimble wicker of the naked flames from the candles that are lit around. She is lost in a trail of thoughts again - drawing comparisons of how the inside of this dark place of worship with little flecks of light coincides with her own inside. Little flecks of thought shine in her gaping, empty heart. She is transformed into the past...a past that comes and gets her a decade and a half later.
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Her service is the tip of the iceberg.
"Take it if you like it" she'd offer her every worldly possession from saris to accessories. "Do it your way" she'd withdraw, when family decisions are being made. "Let me take care of that" she'd volunteer to wipe the butt of a grandkid.
Her daughters in law afford the luxury of PMSes, boredom and break from the kids in forms of shopping trips while she works like a machine that could have been fortunate enough if she were an actual machine, that she could break down and stop working from the overuse.
The pampered sons and daughers in law think they deserve it, think they are so good that their mom is all over them slogging her last bit of energy off, repaying them for their worth!
If there were a human form to anger, ego and selfishness - this has to be THE man. He'd gamble, drink, womanize and come home to a dreading family that hides behind the doors when he smashes his dinner plate into the wall just because the fish isn't done right! His wife would weep silently while the sons and daughters follow instructions to the q, not looking in the eye, not questioning, not rebelling. He'd have it his way - shouting at the pitch of his lungs and making the house a living hell. The last time he comes home with an overdue bill at the local bar, the son pulls out the money earned from tutoring and pays the dues. The daughters cook and clean while the wife silently suffers the atrocities of holy matrimony. He specially makes it a point to show off in public as to what a dread he is to his folks and how much respect he commands and how disciplined his family is.
Little does this monster of a person know or realize that it is their love for him that makes them endure his eccentricities and to question a person and put him in his place, it does not take a whole army and ammunition - all it takes is a little giving up!
The boy lives with a purpose - to love the girl. He has eyes only for her. He yearns for nothing except to give her what makes her happy. Smiles, cards, chocolates, flowers, gifts, reassurances - you name it! She chases a goal, a mirage, a nothingness - which makes her blind to the emotion, to the pure love that is being served to her on a platter. She doesn't look at the love, or may be she doesn't care to admit - for her world lies elsewhere, an elsewhere where there is everything but love. She admires him, acknowledges him but when it comes to realizing how lucky she is, she fails - she moves ahead in life, leaving a shattered heart that holds her in its every little piece. She gets what she wants, but will never live to realize what she threw away was a million times precious than what she chased.
The worst thing in life is not lacking it - it is lacking the realization of having it.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
More than a smile that comes your way
When thoughts of despair doom your day!
What matters more than
A bellyful of grub,
Dreams to be - small but meaningful.
Does a closet of full of clothes
Define your inside?
Like the words your speak
Or thoughts you think??
Adornments, sparkly and shiny
Don't take away from the filth within.
What matters more
Than a friend in need?
Than a helping hand,
When you are hurt and pained?
A shoulder to cry
A word of love
That'd take the turmoil away!
A conviction to speak
And not be afraid
Of telling the truth
Or supporting it!
What matters more?
Than a non-judgmental take
On things you might not like
Or do yourself!
Does anything matter more?
Than being yourself
And loving and giving
What you can spare??
What matters more than a good deed
A kind word?
A caring seed
For folks around you?
What really matters
Is spreading the love
Not driving cool cars
Or fighting big wars!
The bags of money,
The heaps of wealth..
All stay back
What matters is health!
A healthy mind,
A healthy thought
What matters more
are battles fought
To fight our egos
To kill our selfishness
To be a Samaritan
Of humanness -
Is what matters more than
Having it all!
Like a persistent toddler
With separation anxiety.
Your Emotions that cling
Smothering my existence.
Your words echoing
In the abyss of my heart
Your never-felt touch
Mocking me of the lack.
Your love that was there
Without ever announcing itself,
Or impacting me,
Like the way your absence does.
Dreams of you
That take me back in time
Leaving a void in my present.
Where do I live?
In the non-existent past
Or the painful present??
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Through the debris of the past
A heap clumped
with the moistness of my tears
I gather cysts of pain
Malignant, life taking -
Know not what they would come to mean.
I dig the graves
Of buried hopes
Cry over the remnants
And mourn the loss.
Is this getting them back?
Or letting them go?
Sunday, March 27, 2011
like luck in loads.
To translate a picture
into strokes with language.
She finds words
Like swift sharp swords
To haul attacks
She finds words,
Like simple codes,
To put forth her thoughts
Of everyday life.
She finds words
To feign her feelings
To mask, to conceal
And confuse the world.
Alas...she finds not
A single letter
To tell Him
How much it hurts
When the love
Emerges out, piercing her heart!
Friday, March 04, 2011
In search of answers
looking for them -
In grass, side walks,
Flowers and buds.
In critters and bugs
Trees and bushes!
In search of answers
While lumbering around -
In bloomers and suspenders,
squeaky boots and pom pom caps!
Till the bloomers bloom into formals
And then the transformation of
Question and answer sessions
Take unexpected turns
Looking for them in people -
Their ages, lives, their homes and dreams
Inquisitiveness takes an ugly twist!
Ah…the pains of growing up:-)
Sunday, February 06, 2011
I got some down time, finally, to watch Guzarish, the film that I'd been wanting to watch all these days. Sanjay Bhansali intrigues me as a director. I saw his debut "khamoshi" and noticed him for his keen observation skills and sensitivity to the handicaps that exist around him. It was a failed but laudable attempt by a new kid on the block, brave enough to questions the 'song, dance, fight, cry and happy ending" sequence of commercial Bollywoood cinema. If my friends' observation of my taste being 'weird' is true, I seem to like cinema that addresses more than entertainment. I do enjoy the mindless dramas or romances that Indian cinema churns out, but I love directors who look beyond what meets the eye and make attempts to put forward a message. Who ever said that cinema is meant only to entertain and not to preach or teach or invoke thought, is, according to my humble and honest opinion - wrong! I see the influence of cinema all around me. People imitate the style, the dialogue and even the mannerisms of the characters that are created and depicted on the silver screen and we all do, consciously or otherwise, get influenced by the medium, which collectively, can effect the face of the society we live in- so to present a deep, thought provoking subject is a very laudable attempt in an industry where most movies are made with an intent to succeed at the box office.
Guzarish, or a plea - touches the sensitive subject of "mercy killing" or Euthenesia as it is popularly known. According to the House of Lords Select Committee on Medical Ethics, the precise definition of euthanasia is "a deliberate intervention undertaken with the express intention of ending a life, to relieve intractable suffering*
To come back to the plot, a slightly plump Hrithik Roshan, who plays a quadriplegic (Ethan Mascarenas) tied down to his bed, but not tied down by his spirit, counsels the hale and healthy brethren that calls him for advice and teaches them a thing or two about love, life and living, through the medium of a radio show. Aishwarya Rai plays his extremely diligent nurse (Sophie D'Souza) of twelve years, who'd not taken even a day off from her work during this period. Enters Shernaz Patel with her theater-trained performance, as the buddy and lawyer( named Devyaani Duttaa) of Ethan Mascranecas , and it is then and there that she takes away form the dumb looking Aishwarya with her out of place costumes and expressions. Aishwarya, I'd opined earlier, and I do again, is a woman India should be proud of - but not by any stretch of imagination is she an actor that is watchable. In the scene in which she confronts her husband that conveniently appears at the fag end of the movie, to make the 'marriage' of the leading characters possible, Ash displayed acting skills of an armature - and pulled the movie down with all her might and main. I am not critiquing her costumes or the scripting of her character - to me, Aishwarya is not born to act - and she seemed to not have learned form all the experience of being mentored by directors like Bhansali and Ratnam. She falls as flat as ever!
Back to the plot, the movie, for dealing with a sensitive and controversial subject like Euthanasia, didn't evoke the thought or emotions that I anticipated. This is coming form a movie goer that could cry at the slightest provocation, and I am surprised that no scene in the movie spoke to me in terms of sensitivity. The student's character played by Aditya roy Kapoor is worth a mention for his very natural acting skills but again, the character is not molded to its true capacity.
Bhansali is known for his grandeur both in terms of sensitivity and sensibility, but his movie is more like a first draft that would have had a great potential if it was worked on the way Bhansali is known to work on. Hrithik shows the shades of the actor in him which is a pleasant and powerful change form the star we usually get to see. The rest is mediocrity at its best. The soul of the film is flawed and so are the characters and the execution. The sub plots that walk in and out at their will are loose ends that leave the audience with a lot of questions about the love and rivalry aspects of the protagonist's life.
There are a lot of layers to the person that is Ethan Mascrenas and those layers are meant to be manifested in the numerous relationships the film portrays - but none of them kindle the underlying warmth or passion the director envisioned. There are a few scenes that attempt to steal the show - like the one in which Ethan refuses a hug saying he has enough attachments and the one in which he opines to have undergone 'Chinese torture.' All these moments lack the depth the intensity of the subject demands.
I shall remember Guzarish as a brave and expensive attempt with unnecessary ostentation that distracts the viewer from its soul. It is like the beautiful statue of a woman - breathtakingly beautiful, but lifeless and lacking personality. All it displays is the sculptor's skill and attention for detail. All else fades in the glory of the visual.
*courtesy - Wikipedia.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Enters a man who e-shouts at me - that the OCCASION doesn't warrant such comments and I should 'understand' this as a 'woman'. At first I thought there was some miscommunication - since the ever wordy yours truly who cannot say a simple phrase in less than 500 words happened to reply in all the lengthy glory, which contained a lot of negations to convey an utterly positive observation, as a response to the friend's playful feedback to the alleged unparlimentary comment.
Then, I panicked - I think - ever so slightly, since what my general physician said about my recent jaw pain and doc's visit was ever so slightly true and I do, in reality have some mild anxiety that comes as a side effect of having a over active toddler and a job that offers no fiscal benefits and loads of physical deficits, or because I have this OCD of a guilt complex that only a fellow sufferer of 'middle child syndrome' could empathize with.
I read and reread and then took the aid of the kid sister who chanced to call at the same moment when the concoction of ever so slight panic and middle child syndrome occurred. "The dude got offended by your "Hot" comment she offered which put me in a 'lack of reaction' mode. I could not, for once, figure if I had to laugh my heads off or feel sorry for the self appointed etiquette police on planet Facebook.
My brother once came home, post the 'Slumdog' fever, form a trip to a shopping strip in San Francisco and related to me a story about a co-shopper, who walked to him, confirmed that he's indeed Indian, and told him that "The hot little thing" in Slumdog is giving him sleepless nights and in his 'halo effect' mindset and said that he wants to go to India and fall in love with all the women! My brother managed a thank you I guess - and came home and told me the story as if he were Aishwarya rai's brother and was just relating to his sister, the extremely memorable and endearing compliment a very enthusiastic fan had urged him to convey. He didn't see anything unparlimentary about the words, hot OR little thing - and neither did I. I am thankful - since, had he been the self appointed police of 'saving the grace of Indian women' the guy would have though very highly of the Indian Gentry :-D
I feel the necessity to mention here, that on a site like facebook, where every one and their neighbor's forefathers have more friends than humans I'd ever seen in my three decades of living, you say a thing and it gets noticed more often for what it is perceived to be, than for what it is. I have this extremely funny younger friend who finds endless humor in 'gay' related statuses and comments. Though I am not a whole generation older, some of his observations come across more as 'cheeky' than funny. Like I said, I have an OCD guilt complex and often wonder how a 'fighting with the sexuality, still in the woodworks person' might get effected by that humor. I once happened to watch a telugu movie that was a mega hit in it's times for a comedy that ridicules speech impediments. By a strange twist of fate, we watched it with a neighbor that had stuttering issues and I could not, for the life of me, get to understand how a full house could go into a mass hysteria of laughter that is aimed at a handicap. I am probably in the minority and would be branded as a 'holier than thou' snob but Back on track - I would personally not make humor targeted at a certain group, but I do have the dignity to keep my opinions and judgments to myself when I am not asked for them and when the said 'comedy' is being expressed on people's own walls and blogs. So, why would anyone get offended if I called a certain group of women 'hot' in a space other than his, under a picture other than his, and a senior, well respected, head on shoulders member of the same fraternity seems to have taken it as a beaming compliment?" I fail to understand.
Like some wise soul opined in one of her blogs recently - "that people attach their own egos to what is being said - and seldom take things like they are meant to be, or it is just the fact that we are so engrossed in finding faults with every thing we set our eyes on, that we forget our boundaries of grace. I say that being judgmental is the worst thing anyone could do - and I just did that worst thing by saying what I just said. But Hey, I am trying to make a point here - meaning, like beauty, lies in the eyes and mind of the beholder.
Monday, January 10, 2011
"You remember me?" he asks - without looking surprised!
"Of course I do!" I add wondering if he remembers me.
He lookes like he remembers me, or may be he doesn't care to remember... or care to remember if he rememberes!
He has that same carelessness about him - but a tenderness masked in that carelessness.
He pulls a sheet from the pile that is stacked in front of me.. I try to help him get it without rummaging the stack. He shoots a look at me with his mouth pursed tightly and his eyebrows knotted and pulls the sheet with all his might. I let go in fear of tearing the sheet into two. He lets out a carefully concealed smile but quickly goes back to his grumpy expression.
I get lost in the things I need to finish at the table - and when I look in his direction I let out a little shriek...
"What are you trying to do?" I ask him without sounding too bossy! "This is not how you do it!"
He shoots back that same disdainful look at me. A look that I try not take personally. He pauses a couple of seconds and holds on to the craft work tightly.
" I want to do it my way!" he almost yells.
" Your way?" I question back helplessly. Looking at a supposed snowman - that looks like a pile of unclean dishes with food drying on them. The embellishments that need to go on the snowman are probably dumped into a pool of glue and scattered with the hand. The hat stuck to the center with some feathers that are soaked in Elmer's washable glue.
I give up. I cannot really win with this kid! He has a very strong mind of his very own.
"All done" he smiles and walks with careless aplomb to put it on the drying rack.
The Following day:
"Hey Alex! How are you this afternoon" I question like a hyper door to door salesperson.
He doesn't answer. He just looks back at me with a pouty mouth and knit eyebrows. I smile and he makes a silly face at me. I look to my sides to see if anyone noticed his making fun of me.
"Never mind!" I say aloud. " DO you want to come and make a penguin?"
He doesn't answer. He grabs the sheet and attempts to cut the outline.
I look away to help the other kids at the table.
By the time I look back he has what looks like a Halloween ghost cut-out in his hand, instead of the "rounded at the edges" rectangle.
"let me trim it for you" I offer.
"NO" he yells. "This is his hair" he say pointing to a horn like protrusion on the 'supposed to be penguin' craft work.
Then he glues the eyes to make it look like a couple of belly buttons stacked in the center of the stomach.
"My way" he pouts mischievously.
"Is this a monster you made here?" I ask in funny mockery.
"It is a penguin silly" he snaps back and glides to the drying rack.
The 'supposed to be penguin' leers through a row of actual penguins grabbing my attention just like this little guy does in a class full of cute toddlers.
"I want to do it my way" I over hear him saying.
He is a menace, but an original menace!
God bless creativity!
Thursday, January 06, 2011
A few years ago, when Titanic made all the hoopla after it's release, my then fiance called me up and told me how moved he was with the movie. I vowed to watch it with him, and thus, didn't really care to watch it till a couple of years later when we became a couple. Zack and Rose became these larger than life icons of true love and I did sit up and notice Leonardo DiCaprio and of course, Kate Winslett, the porcelain skinned, wholesome beauty. By wholesome, I don't mean chubby. I just mean that she is the perfect balance of a woman who didn't look particularly emaciated or perfectly beautiful. She was this tender, believable and lovable young lady with whom a free spirited boy like Zack would have fallen in love.
I noticed them, and then, like my usual self that cannot be in awe with a single thing for long enough - moved ahead with my life. I have a problem when people ask me what my favorite movie, actor, color, dish, restaurant or book would be. I don't pick favorites I say - or I just say that my favorites depend on a lot of things. For instance, if you ask me what my favorite color is, I'd say - My favorite color on the walls of my living room would be a minty, saga green and on my finger nails would be a nude, pinkish beige and on a sari it would vary from a delicate, organic off white to a deep, enigmatic navy blue. So - you get the idea! I cannot understand when people say their favorite actor is Shahrukh Khan or Paul Newman. I always like to keep my favorites unlocked so to speak. I like a lot of things and why I like them depends on a lot of things, so, I should give Leonardo DiCaprio the credit of holding my attention for a decade into noticing him all because of his one portrayal - and probably his debut - as a mentally challenged brother to a painfully young Johnny Depp. "What's eating Gilbert Grape" is a story that unfolds so realistically on the celluloid, and the raw talent of Leonardo only adds to the depth of the soul of the movie. If I am ever asked what acting means to me, I'd refer to that outstanding performance by Leonardo.
Like I said, I am very non-committal about favorites, but the DiCaprio lad haunts me from time to time. On one such haunting episodes, I googled him recently to find out that he is older to me. So - I can officially declare Leonardo as an actor who is my semi favorite. You might wonder why his being older to me would entitle him to that honor in my books - it is because I look at every one younger to me with an almost motherly attitude - probably because I was only the second oldest in a gang of a couple of dozen cousins and I grew up with these little siblings and cousins around me. So for me to be in awe with someone, that someone has to be older - so luckily for Leo, he still holds that 'soft spot' owing to his year of birth! LOL. My superiority complex would not allow me to look at anyone younger to me with a 'admiration' quotient. I only look at younger people with an older sisterly or motherly quotient.
I named my Nook e-book reader Leo. I'll probably own a sexy car one day and call 'him' Leo. If I get a chance, I'll name a baby boy (other than mine) Leo. Like I said, I don't believe in fanaticism...I just semi believe in it!
Sunday, January 02, 2011
Now I see a "mini me" in the making. My little daughter. She can sit and color and paint and write the alphabet and sing and dance for ever - but when asked to write the numbers, she doesn't refuse to learn but never really learns them the way they are supposed to be learned. "But I want to be an artist" she'd announce and whine and sulk till I let her get away without writing the numbers for me. Determined to make her develop an aptitude for numbers, I employed the logical half of the marriage to teach the kiddo some numbers - it resulted into a "Indian parliament in session" kind of scenario in the household for the past so many days. I see an otherwise cool dad rising his voice and an otherwise peace-loving child getting into wild argument and name calling. Helplessly, I intertwine and give the little lady and ultimatum that if she doesn't learn it form me, I'll look for places that she'd learn it from (read boarding schools)
I still am not successful to make her love numbers as yet, but it is a public promise that I shall - very soon! So all this drama gets me to think - Is there really something called aptitude, or is it just a pretty mask to disguise the laziness to learn things that need more than a quick scanning?? The answer is pretty simple if one ponders about it - just like we blame our mood on things we don't want to do/not do - we do take the pretext of aptitude as well. I once told a very intelligent friend of mine (who happens to be an Ivy league grad and Fellow in technology - that I am technically challenged and I don't really care for it) all this, during an internet chat! He was quick to bite back - "how can you use a medium so fondly and not like it?" he asked! "Liking something is all about making an attempt to know it for what it is" - I hold on to these words like a talisman, and the more I thought about what he said, the more similarities I found in prose, poetry, technology and numbers. writing a computer program is like writing a classic piece of poetry and solving a math problem is like creating characters in a novel - all these acts require brains and creativity. Come to think of it in a "knowing something before loving it perspective - how could I have loved the person I married if I had not made an attempt to know him in the first place? Right?? - Right! - so does aptitude really exist? May be it does - and so does determination, concentration, grit and conviction. I might never enjoy numbers as much as I do words, but that need not be a reason for being ignorant about numbers - so I'd say, inclination should rule over aptitude. It is said that we use only a minuscule part of our brain - may be we can increase the usage a wee bit more and we might not really have anything that we'd not enjoy. And the' girl things' and 'boy things' we divide tasks into is also a hopeless stigma - that is probably the reason why I love women who can repair a computer and men who can make yummy food.
I look back and regret why I didn't love numbers, and why I didn't pay heed to my intensely mathematical sister when she chased me around to teach me exponents. I'd have had a beautiful relationship with them and solving number problems would have probably taught me a thing or two about life itself - as a compensation I promise myself - I'll not let my daughter be a slave of aptitude. She'll know all and do what she loves the most - even if it means that I need to pop in a Tylenol for that stress induced headache to argue with a logic-less toddler over logical numbers. It's all in the game of parenting, living, making mistakes and learning!
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Much like New years now. A new year - tough it is just a mark of a new calendar - kindles a lot of hopes, aspirations and ambitions big and small. New ventures form in the grey cells. New hopes sprout in the form of firm resolutions - like wanting to rise before the sun, yearning to lose the flab around the midriff or giving up junk food or wishful thinking to learn to play an instrument or revisit Algebra and figure out why it really was a challenge back in school days. New years day sees the temples overflowing with devotees who flock around the Heavenly father to convince him to be on their side for the year to come. "New" - the buzz word becomes ubiquitous in all hearts and minds thereby encouraging new hopes. The second day of a brand new year dawns and the squeaky clean shine on the new year tarnishes ever so slightly - It isn't that new any more. Resolutions still go strong till about the time Valentine's day hurries in. The hopes, aspirations and expectations start exiting slowly but surely. The magic is gone, along with the newness. When the newness goes - most things lose magic - Cars, electronics, homes, fashion, food and even relationships. That is probably the reason why most magazines I read have "ten ways to put the zest back into your marriage" or "top three mistakes you make to drive your partner out". As a child I read a self help book that claimed to teach the readers how to stop worrying. "Live in day tight compartments" it said - urging the readers not to look beyond any give day. The idea is to make the most of the day you have on hand and not worry about what might happen ten years form now. In a similar fashion - if we probably start looking at each day as a new day, we'll have the zeal and the grit to make the most out of a brand new day - the one that is fresh without any mistakes - chances are we'll have a new hope each day, every day and the resolutions will stay put through mother's day, father's day, 4th of july, labor day, haloween, thanksgiving and Christmas. We'll not really have to wait till the magical new year to put some pizazz into our lives. Each day is new, each minute, each moment - enjoy responsibly - live fully, entirely!