Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Racing Thoughts

Women's Day for me is a celebration I am not quite able to relate to. The sheer thought that a world belonging to both men and women, needs to be sensitised about the significance of women is disturbing to me. While I sat wondering about the weird hypocrisy that surrounds true and sound beliefs like feminism, women rights, etc. here are a few lines that came through:

Deck me up in frills, and bind me in chains.
Make me look all pretty, and then make the make-up my bane.
Give me a pretty dress while you scathe me on the inside.
Give me a great car, while you take me for a ride.

I am bound to your rules, I am tied by your laws.
You have governed my greatness, my values and my flaws.
I have breathed in the air, filled with your fake pride.
I have braved the roughness of the time and the tide.

You’ve caged me in your thoughts, in your judgements and your views.
I turn, I pause, I run as your muse.
I walk your path, I walk the line you drew.
I madly run across a desert looking for some dew.

I am the warrior of your choice, I am your muse alike.
I am the shape and size you want, I am the thought you like…or dislike.

But I am not the shoe you once wore, 
Nor the dress that you now discard.
I am the face you wounded once, 
I am the remaining scar.
Tied, bound, caged as I may be…a rare soul wanting to be free.

I am a hungry fire and you’re the dried-up tree.

You can judge these, because this is a mind speaking up. Don't think of this as a woman's mind, it may affect your judgement. You know who you are. Oh! And I don't apologise for the feminist streak I just displayed there. 

After all, you are a part of this world.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Thirty, you beauty!

A hundred things happen to you when you turn thirty. No, really! And come on, don't dismiss this as a rant. All of you there who are at the threshold of this number that is not just age, but a brink of altering change, will thank me for laying this out for you on a platter. For those who are older and wiser than I am (I hope!) here's a flattering look at the golden era of your life- the one that lies ahead.

30 is a great start: For me, it was a Himalayan trek, cycling trips, 5 large Old Monks at a go, driving class, backpacker's travel, graphic novels, art meditation, failed attempts at handicraft projects and lots of futile introspection. I am still making mistakes and discoveries in equal proportion. There's no stopping me.

30 is a great teacher: If I got a hundred-rupee note for listing all the people I have learnt from-including my bosses, colleagues, friends, ex-boyfriends and random strangers, these demonetisation woes would be a forgotten bedtime story!

Love and solace are found in learning new things and doing things that matter-to you, and to no one else. It pays to have that one special person with whom you can misbehave and still be as true and loving as you were when you first met.(A dash of romance won't bother you now, would it?) 

As Anirban puts it across in his most unique way- "For all the trash the world throws, one has to have a way to give it back." Although that is not by paying a visit to the WC five times a day, I lash out now on things that I chose to remain quiet on. I am now enabled with a magical ability to switch off from what doesn't matter, and kill lesser brain cells. 30 does things to you.

It took me a long while to know that it is perfectly okay to annoy a friend and watch from a distance if he comes back to you, fighting. Having lost a lot of friends, I am now left with a few who'd be around when my heydays are long gone, telling me-"I told you so." The lost friends I miss, some are a blurred face and some aren't even lost, may be- but one knows what one's worth. When you are done pleasing relatives, sipping coffee with unwanted company and being a part of unwanted Whatsapp groups, you will know who will stick around. 

And there is a lot of security in the thought. A LOT.

So, every time someone tells you you're a failure when you look back, don't look like 'a sheep with a secret sorrow.' (PG Wodehouse, The Inimitable Jeeves), just look ahead. 

Oh! And I leave you with this piece of art meditation to ponder over. 

Monday, July 27, 2015

A Mother's Muse

She tiptoed into my room,

Like a monsoon breeze, unaware

She strutted around for a while, fiddling with things.

She stood in front of a mirror, admiring herself, surveying her looks for the last time.

She picked up a bindi and placed it on her bright forehead.

Wrapped a dupatta like a saree

Puffed some talc from the case, all set to go.

And then she told her playmate- That's how Ma dresses up when she goes out with Papa!

From the corner of the curtain I looked at her, lost in thought. 

There will be a time when she will dress up and leave.

She will...dress up, and leave.

She will dress up... and leave.