Confusion.

The arcade
Looks like an open circuit
Form the front window of my car.
Like monochromatic, illuminated Lego blocks
Arranged with mathematical precision.
The parked cars look like they might overflow
Onto the busy streets.
People don't really make an appearance there.
They are there, but they are not conspicuous.
People - young parents, older couples,
High school kids and Security personnel
Armed with the clink of coins
Disguised as neatly folded dollar bills
And tiny slick credit cards -
Loiter around - peeping through the enticing window displays
That beckon to them
Promising happiness in the form of
A brand new dress, Kitchen Gadget, Curio trinket
Or updated makeup.
The clink of coins bounce back and forth
Through numerous hands and cash counters.
The inconspicuous people,
The innocent, inconspicuous people,
Rush there, armed with what they perceive as the paved way to happiness,
Peace of mind, satisfaction, gratification
Exchange coins
In a desperation, passion, obsession
To find
One thing, perhaps more than one thing!
The only thing my peepers see
Through the freshly washed front window of my car is
A crystal clear, conspicuous, careless
Confusion.

Okay, this should have been prose! LOL.

Glass bubbles.

While enjoying a scoop of cake batter ice cream and admiring Marie Osmond's after pictures in Nutrisystem pop up ad, It stuck to me that I have a ponder about - no, not weight loss anymore - but about a thing or two about parenting, sportsman spirit and dealing with disappointments in life.
Aarti's third birthday celebration was totally unplanned until last afternoon. I decided that I'd finally had to throw a mini birthday party for her just to keep up my word. So I decided to gather a few girls in the neighborhood and plan for a high on merry low on money princess party. A part of the high on merry thing was the plan to crown the best dressed princess of the evening.
I informed all the moms that there would be a "best-dressed princess" title and prize to be won and all girls should come prepared:-)
It all was received with much enthusiasm till a mom I spoke to this evening sounded skeptical about the idea over the phone. "I think the other girls would get disappointed" she said. For just a flash of a second, I reconsidered my decision to name a best-dressed little girl but then I thought - is it really a good thing to shield our babies form disappointments? I mean, in the bigger picture, the whole world runs on a choice of the best in the perspective of the person or group making the choice and all of us cannot be winners. So what if one of the little girls really outdoes the rest of them? Can we teach our kids to recognise excellence in all fields and appreciate it? Can we - instead of telling them that they are the best, show them how to gracefully accept not being on the top and strive to reach there and also appreciate the ones who are ahead of them?- be it playing dress up or solving algebra problems? I think we can. We should. We cannot put our children in glass bubbles and show them only victories and no loses, smiles and no tears and Achievements and no disappointments? Can we in the long run promise them only the best life has to offer? And will they really appreciate winning without losing and achievements without pains?? So , I really think I'll bring up Aarti teaching her to accept herself the way she is and bending and accepting defeat when the situation demands. If she ever has a sibling I'd love to teach her and her sibling that life will never offer them the same things and thus, I cannot buy both of them shoes or clothes because I am buying it for one of them and the other might get disappointed or might feel that I love their sibling more. Nay, never so. I think I need to do things only on an as needed basis and raise them secure enough to understand that being in a glass bubble that Shields them form disappointments will not take them anywhere. Now, there might be arguments that a three year old might not need to face all the brutal truths of life right away...but what can a child accept in future if she cannot accept sharing a toy or calling someone else better dressed? Yeah, there will be yelling and shouting, perhaps tears but eventually there will be peace within themselves and in their surroundings.
So, should we not all prepare our children to gear up and compete and nurture a sportsman spirit in them? may be we should. I certainly should and I will start it by picking the genuinely best dressed little girl on Aarti's big day!

Finding voice.

All day today, I'd been jumping form one random blog to another. Some talked about memories of large cities, some about atrocities on women, some about the so called resilience of Mumbai which is actually helpless, some about ample bosoms and some about fashion fauxpaus. The more I dug into people's style of writing and pattern of thinking, I was coming back ponder on my own style and pattern. I once told my friend that I can recognise the music director if I listen to a song (based on the style of the song and the instruments used) and I actually do a pretty impressive job identifying them. Rahman usually has unusual instruments cutting through the flow of the song( Remember the harmonium in 'kehna hai kya - Bombay'? ) Anu Malik has a variation of the tune (or lyric) repeat thru the composition and Illiyaraja is all about electronic instruments, chirping of birds and sheer melody. Music needs a mention here since I'd long associated all forms of expression to creating music - Every person has his style, his own signature and his own melody that chimes in with the words and actions. I'd seen that most females my age are passionate about ponders with a cause - The ones that question social norms and rediclue stereotypes. At some point, I was really not sure if the profound voices lead to profound thoughts as well or vice-versa. So... how exactly are we supposed to find our voices, the features, the pseudo physical form of our communication? Is it difficult to establish a personality for a two-dimensional communication or does pausing at the break of sentence or stressing on the right word change our voice (things that are not possible when one types one's thoughts on to a virtual screen or writes on a piece of paper!) I sometimes find it difficult to imagine what a person must be feeling when typing say, a general scrap on Orkut or writing wall to wall on facebook if they do not say something like :-) or :-O or :-( at the end of what they type unless it is a obviously happy, sad or mad statement. These emoticons have become the voice of WWW connection. K seems to end her blogs with powerful questions and statements. The ones that justify her powerful topics. S has found a juvenile voice and talks about the Doc that could have kissed her the first time :-)) S seems to be so attached to his Bubin and all the blogs invariably end with Bubin said this, did that, laughed at this and grinned at that! No complaints here - Bubin became his voice. That's all - And it really is cute. I neither know or read enough about Josh, Kiara, Crimson or Lisa , the random bloggers to comment about the voice they have found. I for once, seem to be in a creative spasm but I keep on going in circles sometimes. Like I'd said in my recent attempts to write poetry, I have so many flashes that have the potential of finding my very own voice, but they seem to fade as quickly as they appear and I resort to talking about a conversation with Verse, a bout of anger or a search for Zebra print handbag. I think my current genre is 'abstract' or 'confusing' to be more accurate. I think I am safe that way and just camouflage my creativity with confusion or may be it is confusion as creativity. I am sure I am not searching for my voice, but I do hope I find one. Something that can make everyone have a glimpse of what I am feeling when I am typing something - my own abstract DNA, my own, my very own - what was that? Voice - I guess :-))

In Search Of!

What are you looking for?
Verse asked me!
I wore a perplexed expression
And looked back to see if she was talking to someone else.
No - She wasn't.
I was stuck with a question
That hadn't an answer.
A question that wasn't a question at all?
In that very flash of a second, I look within.
For answers, for reasons why I look
Like I am looking for something.
Am I really?
I figured I am.
Verse looks back at me,
Repeats her query
Looking me in the eye.
Her face stern, her mood serious!
Now, I have an answer.
An ambiguous one.
I know I am looking for many things.
How many can I name? None.
Is it peace? Is it identity?
Is it just a little spirituality?
Is it wealth? Is it love?
Tell me how I can answer this. Tell me now!!
May be it is not many a thing.
May be it's just one.
That one thing I wish to find
And put all searches behind.
I search for zebra print bags
And earrings I misplaced.
I search for ways to keep the house clean
I search for instructions to be a mom!
I search for the perfect jeans,
And T shirts with side slits.
And bottle green brocade saris
But all these quests just seem empty.

I still am in search of something
And verse still look at me
With hopes to find an answer.

For now I am in search of an answer!
An answer that can convince her
That I indeed know what I am looking for!!

Unnamed.

Like a volcano
Bubbling to erupt
Something in the stomach churns
Creates a ripple effect.
The heat expands the heart
Spreads to the head
And makes us lose our cool,
Reason.
Makes us unruly beasts
Our tongues utter un-meant words
Our eyes shower ambers of hurt
Anger takes us nowhere.
Just alters us from inside
And changes who we are.
Forgiving Does!

Animation

Transform me, O take me
To an Eneimone or an Apartment in Paris
Over looking the Eiffel.
Make me Remy, the culinary expert
Or Nemo, with the lucky little fin!!
Give me a magical touch
With Gossamer wings and a wand.
Let me make a castle out of normal land.
Fiona's thick long braid
And the Donkey's funny bone
Should transform me into a class of my own.
Let me oh let me be
Timon the meerkat
And make my comedy timing
The talk of the town.
My own little space,
Under the vast blue sky
Limitless, flawless and filled with adventure
Where good prevails
And love wins
And All creatures act like human beings.
Make me a little girl again
Make me simple, make me innocent
Make me a part of the make believe world
Make me carefree -
And as free as can be!

Sly

Tip toeing on dainty feet
Carrying the burden of a mature thought
Like a performer trying to balance
But still looking effortless.
Tip toeing to relieve
Tired winter feet
From the added pressure of a weighty thought -
Shielding the soft flesh
From being extra bruised -
Never knew, thoughts add to weight
And glide to a physical form.

Color

From Crayons to water color cakes
From Spice racks to eyeshadows
From flowers to Birds
From visions to words -
Color colors my every little wish
To express my inmost desires
Be it to create or just admire
The numerous shades that beautify
Every virtual lane my thoughts tread.
Am I just trying to give it in black and white
As to what color means?

Clusters.

Verses like misfortunes
Come in clusters.
Dangling half baked, half formed visions
Enticing me to capture their essence
Devour their presence.
Bunches of sceneries
Of music like words
Dancing like agile ballerinas
Play hide and seek
Disappearing the moment
My senses grapple to have a clear look.
Clusters of thoughts, Bunches of them
Dangle above me.
Sometimes I just give up
Capturing them in verbal strokes
On my mind's canvas
Convincing myself
That they are way too sour
To justify the effort:-)

Forgotten.

Last night
An image flashed
Admist the ambiguity of semi-conscious sleep.
I wrote down a verse
An eloquent one
Almost typed it
Blogged it
And felt accomplished.
Why does it not flash again?

Some things take for ever:-)

Does it not happen to you sometimes? You seem to be stuck with something and it never gets done. The "work in progress" sign hangs way too long that it gets dull, jaded, tarnished and sometime the sign itself is obliterated form memory - The figurative sign that is. Happens to me all the time. The day I started painting Winnie the pooh and friends on the walls of our then formal dining space to make it our now Aarti's play space, I was all charged and possessed to complete it - like a woman on a mission. I did it too...except for the fine detail edging that was supposed to painted in the cranny where the wall starts and the foot board ends. No one notices it as incomplete. But to my own perfectionist eye, that is the first thing I notice every time I look at the painting. Yeah, my first of the infinite entries on the forever list.
I have a friend from my growing years. A very special, landmark friend of my life. He moved out of the place we grew up in. He comes and visits my parents every time he's in town. He makes sure that I am updated about the new kids on the block and all that progress his life is making. Ever since I had Aarti I wanted to trace him down and send him a picture of my lil angel. Sarat has his number stored in Sarat's cell. It takes me forever to make that call that can re bridge the gap between me and my best friend.
I have this smashing new idea of making my portfolio for my dream job. I have the details planned out meticulously in my minds eye. Ever night after I lie down in an attempt to sleep, I create - painstakingly, carefully - my portfolio. A sure shot gateway to my dream career. I know - but, it never gets done making my own intentions of getting in my dream career questionable. May be I am way to cozy in my 'homemaker' shoes and never want to work. Why don't I darn well admit that???
I never get charged enough to lose those 10 crucial pounds that would make me fit into half of my existing wardrobe without getting conscious about the spill of fat that would bulge and make me look like 'work in early progress' to make Aarti a big sister. Every time someone takes a second glance at my tummy even just like that, I announce that it is just long piled up baby fat and not really a baby. LOL.
Right now, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is taking for ever. Aarti goes to bed and I could comfortably slip into my luxury threadsheet laiden down comforter and get at reading the book. I don't. Instead I get trapped in the world wide web and browse ebay, samachar.com, delphi forums or the good ole Orkut jumping from profile to profile to find Kiranmai, my long lost childhood friend. Edgar Sawtelle is here to keep me company for ever - it looks like at least for now.
Why do somethings take for ever? Because we blame it on our mood? Because we are not motivated enough? Because we don't want to do them?
Somethings take for ever if we let them.