Friday, July 9, 2010

Butterfly fly away



She was a dreamer… the kind that doesn’t just dream of a beautiful place, but the kind that constantly lives in it.

Day after day, she sat by the window of her tiny little world and looked out wanting nothing more than to break through. She wanted to experience that high, drink it, get intoxicated and live in that trance. But the world around her wouldn’t understand it… they all came back to tell her the horrifying stories of the big bad world. And she always listened with bated breathe, not wanting to believe it but scared it might be true. Afraid, she created a shell around her, luring herself into its false sense of security. She was gloomy, she was just so sad… but this was home after all, can anything really be better than this? She would look out of her box over and over again, and the brightness would just hurt the eye. But she still took another nervous peek, and wondered whether there could be a better world out there.

But then she asked herself…
What if the world of her imagination isn’t all that shiny and bright as she had hoped?
That the stories others brought back with them are actually true?
What if she was making a mistake; that it was just not meant for her?
What if…?

And she dreaded the answers, too scared to find out on her own, and she fell back into her sanctuary, deciding that this in fact was the best thing, no matter how horrible it might be. And she wrapped up her folding even tighter, refusing to let go.

But one day, the patience broke through, the carefully built wall of inhibitions collapsed, the frustration spilled over and she flung all cares to the wind and broke through her cocoon. It was scary, blinding, too vast to contemplate compared to her tiny refuge. But she took a deep breathe and took the plunge. She spread her wings, the ones she didn’t think she had and soared up high. She stumbled, she was clearly confused, it was all just too overwhelming but she kept going now that there was no way to turn back and suddenly she found herself enjoying her new journey. Soon, sooner than expected, she was in her zone, she was comfortable, she was actually enjoying herself and she realized that this in fact was what she had wanted. She saw that the world really was just as shiny and bright as she had hoped.

Finally, she looked back towards her tiny shell, too little, too far behind and she asked herself the wretched question again – ‘What if?’
What if she’d never shown the courage?
What if she’d still been too afraid?

And she knew… she finally knew that the answer to this question is much more dreadful than the ones she asked herself before! She still didn’t know if the world of her dreams was waiting for her or not, but this time she knew she wanted to find out!

She was after all, a butterfly – not a caterpillar!


Caterpillar in the tree, how you wonder who you'll be
can’t go far but you can always dream
Wish you may and wish you might
don’t you worry, hold on tight
I promise you there will come a day
Butterfly Fly Away

Flap your wing now you can't stay
Take those dreams and make them all come true
Butterfly Fly Away

-          MILEY CYRUS

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Going down the Slam book lane...

 

Remember the school days, college? Particularly the send off?
And what about slam books? ‘Oh right, where did I stash mine?’

Well, I was introduced to the culture of slam books in schools. When you are parting with friends, knowing it’ll never be the same again, you get desperate to preserve what you once had, trying to lock those corridors firmly in your memory; those graffiti-ed benches, the chalk fights, the blessed P.E. periods... all of it suddenly doubles up in it's worth and you want to pack it up and take it away with you.

Perhaps Slam books were just another way to do that. But for the love of god, I wouldn’t get what all the fuss was about, or maybe I was just too lazy for it. But school was nearing its end, and emotions were running high. And not wanting to be left out, I too made a slam book and passed it on enthusiastically just because that’s what all my friends were doing.

Well, I can tell you now that it does pay off. One fine day almost 9 years later you are bored with getting bored and decide to clear out your desk and stumble across that faded colourful book, full of posters and drawings and copious amounts of scribbling, some of it in really bad handwriting... and it brings back a flood of memories.

So leaving all work at hand I sat down to go through mine. I had decided to keep my book really simple then – just the contact details, and an opportunity to get a little philosophical about life, friendship...
I think the decision to keep it simple had perhaps come from the cramps in my fingers after writing on and on in other slams about my favourite actor, favourite place, favourite movie, song, outfits, teachers, dish, colour, newspaper (?) and also dream partner, dream date, dreamy moments and dreams in life; even about what I would wish to reincarnate as, or demand if I was omnipotent for a day.

Anyways, going back through my simple slam book, I saw a lot of nice, funny, stupid, really funny, witty, really really hilarious stuff!

For example, one Mr. A had painfully scrawled everything backward so I had to rush to the mirror to read that page. 10 seconds later I was bent double laughing. In his opinion about me, he has written ‘well I think that you should talk a little more since I feel that you are a silent ‘gay’’.

And then Mr. S, a classmate I had broken ties with a long time back and after reading what he had to say I wasn’t at all surprised that we were no longer in contact. Reason? Page after page of friendship being described as a ship that never sinks, finally here was the opinion of a classic cynic, ‘Friendship is a ship which sinks anytime, anywhere, anyhow etc.’

And then, reading between the lines I was also realising that the last few years had not changed many people.
Like, all of Mr. V’s answers were similar – can’t think – my brain is corroded – No aim in life. And curiously, I realised he still gives similar answers to any questions he wants to dodge!

Ms. A, thoughtful and sombre as ever had written ‘Life is a pendulum oscillating between sorrows and joy.’ What a thought!

And then there’s always someone who’ll write either on the last page, or somewhere in between, so it's a good idea to flip through the pages to make sure you did not miss out anybody. I found one on the last page, turned out to be Ms. L, unconventional as ever!

And of course I wasn’t too surprised to see that all advice to me was... to eat a lot to gain weight – eat a lot, you are too skinny – don’t take tension, you won’t become fat – please don’t go on a diet – and with one person taking it too far to emphasis the point with this sarcastic remark ‘you are too fat’! Well, it finally seems to be working!




Looking through everyone’s ambitions, I wondered how many of us have actually accomplished what we wanted to be. At 15, did we really know where life was going to take us? Then again, was 15 an age too young to dream and plan? Maybe at the simpler mindset that we carried at 15, delineating our minds and feeling was much easier than as we grew older and more confused.
Wouldn’t you say than that the simpler, wilder dreams of a teenager made more sense than that of a flustered adult with concepts of security and stability drilled into the head by parents and society? With the age running out, hunger for success & pressure to make a comfortable living, coupled with the uncanny marriage proposals kicking in, it's no wonder we are producing a bitter, frustrated and more harassed-than-ever generation-next who all seem to be running after the MBA!

But right now I’m too nostalgic to worry about that...

I never really had a proper college life, and being a CA student meant you were too busy or too harassed to think about slam books. So school days were the only ones where I had most fun and they are the ones I remember with longing. They were one of the best days of my life and I miss them a lot.

So with another parting look at it, I stashed my slam book deep inside again so that I find it in another 9-10 years, to go through it again and perhaps to write about it once more from a different perspective, this time from the point of view of a 30something.

One Ms. A described it the best:
Writing with pleasure, parting with pain,
Because our school days will never come again!








Saturday, May 22, 2010

Kati Patang...


It was the movie we had waited for… especially since it was the first promising movie releasing after my exams, and we made plans… plans that we immediately put to action on Friday. Komal went through all the trouble of harassing the theatre staff till the advance booking opened and I risked going for a movie without reading the reviews, which is a huge deal for me!

And now after watching the movie, I want to say that at least it should not have made me want to run out of the theatre during Intermission, which Terence almost did… and I had to pull him back inside reminding him that we had paid 140 bucks for it.

And that’s what Kites is, a complete bore! It was a huge disappointment… it has a very half hearted storyline, makes you wonder whether the writer had more to say but was just too lazy to pen it down. It moves at a snails pace, so slow that (spoiler alert : read ahead at you own risk) when Hritik stands at the edge of the cliff at the end of the movie looking over at the vast and gorgeously blue ocean, you just wish he’d jump off soon and finish it off.

It’s a plain love story, kind of reminds you of one of those 80’s movie where two lovers from distinct backgrounds run away cos the world is too harsh to understand their love… broke with nowhere to go, one of them with a poverty stricken family to support, continuously facing a dilemma and the unruly, money powered, arrogant villains chasing them wherever they run.

The only difference this time is the language instead of the caste(she doesn’t know English, he doesn’t understand Spanish), casino barons instead of the big haveli rajputs, high speed car chases with police sedans painted white and blue instead of the usual khaki gang in open jeeps and the blatant acknowledgment of their sheer desperation for chasing after the money instead of the age old pride and honour ‘we-don’t-need-the-money-when-we-have-our-love’ funda! Hritik is Hritik, nothing more, nothing less! And what a waste of Kangna Ranaut.

A few good things if you must go and watch the movie;
Barbara Mori in a bikini, even being a woman I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Amazing landscapes in bright contrasting colours; the casinos and the luxurious villas. The whole feel of the movie is larger than life!

But all in all, this one is worth a miss!

My verdict : **/ 2 stars.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

If I were...

Now i had to kick start my blog with something, its been dormant for too long, and currently I'm blank to think of something new! So here's answering your blog post's answer, Janaki.

If I were a Month, I would be August ;
If I were a Day, I would be Saturday - So i'd have the whole weekend ahead;
If I were a time of the day, I would be Midnight ;
If I were a Direction, I would be Up ;
If I were an Element, I would be Oxygen ;
If I were a Liquid, I would be Water ;
If I were a gemstone, I would be a Diamond ;
If I were a Tree, I would be a Cashew tree - big strong branches, low lying, so u can climb up n go to sleep;
If I were a Bird, I would be an Eagle ;
If I were a tool, I would be a swiss knife;
If I were a pair of shoes, I would be a pair of Hiking Boots ;
If I were a color, I would be Green ;
If I were an emotion, I would be Happy (is FREE an emotion?) ;
If I were a Fruit, I would be a Mango ;
If I were a Sound, I would be the sound of the gushing waterfall;
If I were a car, I would be Land Rover;
If I were a Food, I would be Mac n Cheese ;
If I were a Taste, I would be Sweet ;
If I were a place, I would be the tip of Mount Everest ;
If I were a Material, I would be Cotton ;
If I were a Body Part, I would be the Eyes ;
If I were Music, I would be Instrumental ;
If I were a Dance, I would be a Dance, doesnt matter which ;
If I were an Animal, I would be a Koala Bear ;
If I were a gift, I would be anything You need ;
If I were an Element Of Earth, I would be the Water ;
If I were a Historical Figure, I would be ;
If I were A Famous Actor, I would be Julia Roberts or Helen Hunt ;
If I were a Book, I would be The Harry Potter ;
If I were a Poem, I would probably not exist ;
If I were a Room of the House, I'd be my room .

And a few more from me
If I were a Smell, I'd be the smell of earth after the first Rains, closely followed by coffee.
If I were a Dessert, I'd be a Cheesecake
If I were a Clothing, I'd be a pair of Jeans
If I were a Gadget, I'd be a Camera.

Anybody wants to add something, feel FREE...

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

I surrender...

I give up the fight
Let there be an end,
A privacy
An obscure nook for me,
I want to be forgotten
Even by God!

- R Downing.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Half empty or Half full?



Source for the philosophy this time:
a SMS received on Tuesday, 24 March 2009, 19.50 hours!

Source reads as follows: We are camping in the forest. To pass time we start narrating real life incidents. My turn is up, you are next – narrate the nicest incident in your life!

??? … ???

I dodge the question by saying, “You go first!” and then sit down to think… several minutes later I realise that if I was asked to narrate one of the most painful or terrible memories, I would have easily come up with a dozen! But ask for a nice incident and I’m black… I mean, blank! Does that make me a tragedy queen? Someone with no good thing in life to talk about? Hardly! It makes me one of those who always insist perhaps to look at the glass as half-empty. Oh my god… it makes me a whiner, a pessimist! No, i refuse to believe that - come on now, think! One good sweet incident that isn’t a good result, birthday or a wedding!

Several more minutes pass, and I notice something. Hey… the guy didn’t answer back! Does that mean he couldn’t think of anything either? Of course it was a forwarded, right? So it means he must have received it from someone else and just forwarded it on, because he couldn’t reply himself! Hmmm… is this theory correct? Are we all like this? I decide to test it for more blog fodder… I forward the same SMS, wording it differently to make it personal and send it to 10 different people.

24 hours later, I’m sitting in front of the laptop screen typing away that I’ve not been disappointed… not a single reply back… and mind you it was some of the closest people I know who would never ordinarily ignore a SMS from me!
A few days back, when it rained unexpectedly, the sun and the clouds met and they shot up a beautiful rainbow in sky. I was in market and I cried out loud when I spotted it. People around me followed my line of gaze and once they saw what was causing all the excitement, they gave me a look that plainly said – why are u behaving like a 10 year old?

Gosh human tendency! We make the terrible times larger than life, but we forget in our worldly mess the pure joy of small (read ‘petty’ in common terminology) moments! And ask for a happy memory and we perhaps come up with, “hmmm… when I topped the class some 7 years back!” Oh, quite an achievement I’m sure, but come on people – is that the best you can do? I’m talking about the small things in life that nevertheless make it worth living. Perhaps a lovely weekend somewhere secluded, meeting some stranger who made a journey worthwhile or a Valentine date with a friend laughing at the mushy couples surrounding you? Yeah, those were some of the sweetest moments and I have to remember to remember them. It’s the phrase – smelling the proverbial roses!

Conclusion: I believe – Look at the glass as half-empty and it doesn’t take time for it to dry up completely; but look at it as half-full and the glass really does start getting full.


P.S. - This is an old post, that I recently found buried in some corner of my computer, so its finally seeing the light of the day after almost year. :)

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Finding Me

Sometimes I think, if I had taken a class in philosophy, I probably would have scored top marks in it! For me, life's every mood, every turn of events, every decision to make... marks a quest, a pursuit to decipher a deeper, hidden meaning – constantly trying to see myself in a different light that would make more sense. Maybe sometimes I overdo it, but then again as common philosophy would suggest, isn’t that how we find ourselves? Isn’t that the whole point, the way to do better, by knowing what we are made up of, at last for starters? But me, I still get confused, like now, while typing this, a constant dilemma… because ‘Finding Me’ is a test which is not so easy to crack after all.

Sometimes Life’s just so serious
And there are days when naughty is the way to be,
But now I’m curious and confused;
Which of it is really me?


P.S. – If all the above gibberish did not make sense to you, don’t worry – it just proves that you are a very sane person! :)