Births and deaths.

Births and deaths.

"She is a brave girl" she told my mother, after i obediently filed out of her bed and room, after my first check up.

I never knew what made her call me brave. But of course i was thrilled to punch, nonetheless.

She had inquired about any morning sickness the third month, and i had confidently said. No not that . I m spared there. Its the evenings that i am usually sick.

silly girl, that cause u cook in the evenings. she chided sternly though not unkindly.

The remaining months were non eventful. Except maybe the seventh month where i lost weight instead of gaining some.
No excuses. another stern moment. Next time, u r not walking in through this door without some extra weight. ( i had to secretly binge eat on sweetmeats to meet the target btw).

Sadly during my delivery, which was a week earlier than scheduled, she was on her weekly annual vacation.

She did a little hop when she heard i had delivered. I had thought so! She had chuckled, clapping her hands lightly.

Somehow after that i never got to see her .

I could never really predict whether it was vast her rich experience that guided me, or whether i was one of those naturally lucky ones, but i had a fairly easy breezy delivery.

It must be great to be a part of a profession where people remember you with the same awe and respect that was aroused by you 25 years ago.

Today's TOI obituary carries the news of her demise.
K Shankari age 93.

Thankyou maam, thankyou and May your soul rest in peace!

mood swings

And then there are some tiring tedious moments, lurking in some days, when nothing, absolutely nothing works.

You feel lonely, In a crowd, In a bus or a train or even a lift filled with people. In a room filled with 'friends'.
You have exhausted the mandatory 7000 words, but the heart is vacant. Alienated alone. All alone.

Mainly because the heart still feels empty. It wants to feel something.....something strong, something moving, as in something not static, like something hmmm something blooming, something vibrantly alive!

Or Someone who makes you feel. Feel all that, or at least some of it. Some one who makes u feel as if you belong, who makes u feel wanted in the world's scheme of things. Someone who makes you feel camouflaged, safely hidden, harmoniously blended, all things miraculously in place.

Some one who reminds you that you are not a sore thumb!

And then sometimes, breaks the bad spell!

At times, its just a familiar smile or look from a stranger, other times a rude awakening by daily trivia, but it pulls back to routine, and sometimes makes you feel replenished all over again.

At well at least Till the next bout!

And then there are those other moments in other days, which ordinarily should be have been as drudgery, but surprisingly are not.

The break in sleep the previous night, which cause a ten minute delay in all aspects of the morning, which then translates to ten minutes late, every where, including the tube train which forces you to take an un regular, more crowded train, and the struggle to wiggle yourself into the sardine tight compartment, with an added worry of protecting a very loose almost, but not fully shed, thumb toenail on the left foot, from being permanently pulled out, through unintentional yet expected trampling, and then you stand waiting thirstily for the ten odd stations to glide by to your work place, as you remember you have forgotten to carry your water bottle, and yet, somewhere the magic begins its work.

You are not sure when it starts rubbing off on you. Is it while you were watching three brown happy tribal teenage girls with their numerous ear piercings (which would have been maddeningly cool in different circumstances ), gaily chattering on the now relatively empty footboard, or the uniformed blue collared employees diligently oiling the railway tracks, in the piercing sun, but u feel a burst of life. Like some new budding leaf still folded tenderly.

Your inner child is suddenly floating free, and she looks empty minded, at the railway tracks, winding and quant, bordered by concreted bricks, imperfect and yet fitting the scene perfectly, the green in the grass, the exact shade it should be, the tiny wild flowers growing around, swaying the exact speed they should be swaying, u feel unfazed by anything, at that moment, not because u r brave, but because there is nothing to feel fazed about,solitude never felt so warmly embracing!

every thing of everything is a perfect part of a perfect whole, and you too are a perfect part of the same perfect whole. And life is beautiful!.

expectations

Strange
indeed is love
It awakens
Only after
u lose
Your
expectations

mourning

Mourning

If you ask me
What business
I have
To choose sadness
On bright sunny mornings
Like these,
Il say
I am mourning
Not for
things
dead and gone
but
For things
That are going to
Die
Before i do.

buy degrees instead of education

Ok i was clearly wrong !

losing out coveted educational seats to some one 200 ranks below you in competitive exams is not the pits

Some privileged people not even even needing an education err degree to succeed is the pits.

After the recent degree exposes, I kinda wonder how stupid we parents are when we impart middle class nonsense of how education is an important way to success

boredom

" u say u are bored! again? yet again?
Has it ever occurred to ask yourself as to What stops u from not being bored. ....the answer is too simple.Talking. Yes talking to somebody always relieves you, albeit temporarily

But 'only talking' soon bores you again. You now want more. You want the talks to mean something. Be something meaningful. Profound. Each and every time. (Well you are not that greedy, but yea almost each time.)

Later, even if you did find profoundness in the talks,cause the gods chose to be just that benevolent to you, you go and spoil the profoundness of the talks by insisting on the integrity of the talker, and or the listener.
Cause once the integrity is doubted, you are bored again.

You once again, crawl back, inch by inch, into that same darkness, that the profoundness had made you leave, and you once again lose the sunshine that was yours just not so long while ago.

Look inwards, somebody mechanically chimes and u wonder 'damn,
what does it even mean?'

Somewhere you stop to think and You are forced to admit to yourself, that, you are bored, because you expect others to be authors who are given the charge to keep you entertained.
As though the profoundness and the integrity is something the world owes you.

No baby, the world owes you nothing, and if boredom is what you perceive, then boredom is what you create. Not something somebody else creates.

Its that simple"

Anger management ( or how i managed to not get angry)

Anger management ( or how i managed to not get angry)

It was one of those unpleasant tasks, that after reaching its tether of procrastination, had to be finally dealt with.

My third sem marksheet for some unknown reason, had been kept in reserve, by the university, and a long tedious process had to be undergone to get it back to the fold.

It involved writing a letter the college, then another letter to the university, a two month  wait for their postal acknowledgement, and then Inquiring at the college if the truant mark sheet was back.

It was more than a month since the postal acknowledgement greeted my door, but i was dillydallying about collecting the cert from  the two clerical staff woman from college who always  knew how to push my buttons, without really trying.

'Shumb' and 'nishumb'  are the two 'rakashishis' who were so habitually impartially rude to all and sundry that im sure that eevn Modi wud have got the condescending  are u stupid vibe rubbed into his face, PM not withstanding if he came a visiting.

 My immediate goal is to get thru the ordeal without losing my temper. Much to the amusement of my fellow students, who always grin as they watch me making a screaming swearing spectacle of my self. Till now i had never succeeded.

I try to enlist hubby, but no luck for he wiggles out too. Those women stress me out too, he pleads.

I  decide to conserve my freshness and energy for the unpleasant task ahead, by opting to take a  rick instead of a bus or walk as i usually do.

Luckily the place is rather empty. No swarming crowds as it usually is.

I ask 'Shumb' for my marksheet.

'Its not come' she answers without batting an eyelid. 'Go collect it from the university! '
'Are u sure? 'I ask, my tone slightly sharp, temper already beginning to rise. 'you haven't even checked'.

Ok, she says and then surprisingly obediently starts to check. No, she says again as she halfheartedly shuffles thru marksheets. Not here.

I am glad! I mean i got thru the ordeal without a scream.
Even if i ddnt get the mark-sheet!

Then i remember i need to collect my graduation marksheet too. The one i had deposited here  two years ago. Another badly procastinated project.

This time  she asks me to wait.

And then  i worry il lose it this time. My temper that is.

I immediately pull out my cell and check my wassap as i wait. Luckily, two active groups and one friend online. I quickly bury myself into multiple conversations, to take the sting off the waiting.

About 15 minutes later, which normally  would have seemed like eternity,  passed surprisingly quick, and she hands me my old  crumbling greying grad marksheet

As i saunter away, I feel grateful  to both ......

shumb as well as the internet world wide web for helping me tide through the self created crisis with commendable dignity and aplomb.