And what stops you?

Boredom, really.

You?

The Ghajini Dilemma

I've been wondering. The protagonist in Ghajini, Sanjay Singhania suffers from short term amnesia. So every fifteen minutes, he forgets everything. Every morning when he wakes up, he has to remind himself that his girlfriend was killed and he relives the whole trauma everytime.



He has reminders like 'Find Ghajini. Kill him' written at random places. But how does he remember why Ghajini is to be killed? And why does he not balk at what must necessarily seem like a strange and cruel message to him, every time the reminder beeps? Surely, the morning's reminders about Kalpana being killed do not last him the day, to justify not being shocked by a reminder to kill someone.

Poetic genius

I found a priceless treasure today, all thanks to the cleaning up that mom made me do (so I guess I should actually be thankful to her, instead of cribbing about all the 'child labour'...)

This old treasure is a thin little pocket diary sans its cover... the pages have yellowed, and I can't quite place it's date, except that its atleast 15 years old. In a very bad handwriting, it has in it, a poem scrawled in ink... without further preamble, let me just present it to you.

Bewakoof Prajakta

Ek ladki thi Miss Prajakta

Na usse tha kuchh aata jaata

Waise usse marathi ka period tha bhaata

Specially jab teacher hoti Mrs. Nivedita

Uska har ek joke hota tha flop

Phir bhi kehti 'I'm top'

Uski bewakoofi ka na tha ek bhi stop

Intelligence ka na ugta uske brain mein crop

Poets ne usspar poetry banaii

Phir bhi uske brain par bewakoofi thii chhaaii

Woh karti bas apni badhai

Aakhir ek din uski bewakoofi rang laaii

Ek din shuru kiya usne doosron ko kaatna

Shukr hai nahin chaha kisi ko chaatna

Yehi dukh humein hai doosron ko baantna

Log uske liye lage naamon ko chhaatna

Koi kehta woh hai crocodile

Koi kehta woh maarti hai crow ki style

Main kehti hoon uski hai bandar jaisi smile

Usski report banati hoon main file by file

Kabhi na hoga iss poem ka khaatma

Kyunki bewakoofi na chhodegi uski aatma

Yehi hai iss poem ka climax

Jiske liye loongi main sabse tax

I kid you not, people. This is for real. I know this was written sometime back in school, but darned if I can remember who wrote it. I admit with some regret that the handwriting is not mine. I have a sneaking suspicion though, that this might be the work of the over-fertile imaginations of more than one mind, and that the writing merely belongs to the person who put it to paper.

Weren't we just perfectly horrid when we were kids? And very happy being so, if I recall correctly... I remember vividly how we teased and harassed the subject of this poetry, Prajakta, and feel a little hot behind the ears about it, at the moment. I called up Meenal to read this out loud to her, soon as I finished laughing my head off about it (so that I could begin again, of course). We both agreed that we were wicked and horrible and completely hateful to her, the poor thing, but we couldn't really help cracking up over this! This is a very insufficient apology, and one that I'm sure will never reach the intended recepient, and I hope, also unnecessary and that she has forgotten and forgiven all this!

Does anyone remember who wrote this? This is an open appeal to all the other girls to tell me, if they happen to read this and remember anything...

Chasing the Clouds

I have been away from here for too long. I kept telling myself that I was posting, that I was keeping the blog ‘alive’… but when I read through the previous few posts, I knew I was kidding myself. Not one of them is my thought, not one of them, me. And today I was filled with this intense desire to write… write about? I didn’t know then when this feeling hit, and I had to keep it at bay long enough to get through the day’s work and get home where I’d have some privacy, and I don’t know now, when I’m sitting in front of my PC. But write - I want to.

Oh hell, I might as well be truthful. I tried my best to drown this unrest in me. I watched TV, I called up friends, but I could concentrate on neither. I knew then that I had to write today… I have been to so tied up in things for the past few weeks, that I’ve barely acknowledged this side of me, barely remembered the pleasure I get through writing. There’s a goal to achieve and work to be done, and the flowers can wait till next year, and the music must hold on too. Today, I must run, and not pause to ask what I am running for, lest I lose the reason to run. And to stop running is to get run-over and to accept defeat. Right now, anything but defeat….

But maybe today I can pause? To close my eyes and lose myself in the things I enjoy, if not to ask what I’m running for? Surely, that much I can risk… I struggle to find an answer… I wish I knew. I wish I could decide one way, without feeling guilty about abandoning the other. All my life, I’ve wanted to avoid these guilt traps, for I know them for what they are. And in spite of being so aware of their guile, I’ve only rarely been able to avoid them. It’s not easy. And yet, if I am to find pure pleasure in anything – success or leisure, I must rise above them.

My mind is running amok, like a calf released from its pen after being tied down for a long long time. Very like the calf, it’s chasing the clouds, never concentrating on one… a thought comes, and the mind follows it for a while, till it sees another more interesting one, and it abandons the first… and the second is soon deserted for a third and then a fourth and a fifth… till I don’t even remember where I began and what I started out to say. There’s so much that has been waiting to be said, it’s quite a revelation! Maybe there’s still hope for this blog… maybe I haven’t run out of things to say!

I'm Ranting

Its official. After months of deciding to focus on only the good, I'm ranting.

Counting your blessings is good. And venting steam makes it easier... Nothing like a good old bitchy rant, to get the load off your chest, I say. Clears the way for the good things in life.

So do go read my rant at Rant Factory. It's Soumitra's blog, and he's been uncharacteristically kind by adding me as a member of his blog. Of course, after I informed him that I'd posted my first rant, he said he'd go check if it's good enough to be allowed to remain. I hastily did a Ctrl+ A and a Ctrl+C, while throwing back some not so nice remarks at him. My post has remained, but whether that's because it's 'good enough', or because my threats worked, is anyone's guess...

Maybe you could tell? Go check out Rant Factory...

Loyalty Bonus?

This is an actual conversation that happened between me and a sales rep who called me up, trying to sell a credit card.

Me: Hello

Sales Rep: Is this Miss Rashmi?

Me: Yes.

SR: Hello Ma'm. I'm calling from Standard Chartered Bank. Can take a few minutes of your
time?

Me: Is this about some credit card?

SR: Yes Ma'm. Actually, we're offering you a...

Me: (cutting in) I had a Stan C card earlier, but I returned it because I got some really bad service. I don't want another Standard Chartered card.

SR: Hmmpphh! We're not even going to give you a credit card! Standard Chartered is a good company! Thank you and good bye!

Click.

My jaw literally dropped. I've touched new lows with this conversation...

I only hope, for the poor girl's sake that the call was not recorded. But I wonder - would Stan C offer her a loyalty bonus?

Medicine, anyone?

Gloom is an infectious disease, deadlier than cheer.

I need a doctor.

Happy Birthday...

...to me!

Yes, it's my birthday today. Yes, I've turned another year older. 25, to be precise... So that means, I've already lived more than a quarter of my life! Ouch!

So what is it that makes me want this day to be magical? Its just another day, isn't it? What's the big deal about having lived for one more year? Or is it about having survived one more year? What difference does it make anyway, whether its 14th March, or 15th march or 16th march?

I don't really know. But there's something... something that makes me expect something extraordinary today. For no reason other than that its my birthday today.

Every year, I wonder what is going to happen on my birthday. I wait for it almost like a ten year old does. Will there be any surprises? Will I get any special treats? Will someone send me flowers? Will there be a party? I scarcely admit all of this to myself, but I know I wait for something magical to happen every year. Something that will make me feel like a princess (sic)!

Of course, as the years pass, and I see more and more birthdays, my expectations go lower and lower... but my hopes don't. Only my way of admitting those hopes changes. Earlier, I'd honestly hope for a surprise party, or a gift that I'd waited for a long time, or a home delivered bouquet of flowers... anything - anything out of the ordinary. Now, I tell myself not to. But of course, I still do! And when nothing as big as what I'd want happens, somewhere inside I feel like a complete idiot for having waited so eagerly.

The whole things is quite idiotic, of course. By any standards, I always have a good birthday. I'm usually at home with my parents, or with close friends. There's generally a small party, and of course there are gifts.. and those who are not with me call me up. And like every year, that is how it was today also. It's been a good day.

But I'm still waiting.... maybe next year...?

Life ain't THAT bad..

... or is it? Umm... don't really know... but I'd like to think it isn't!

I mean, I've got a roof over my head, a well paying job (even if no work to do at the moment), a supportive family, independence, a cosy little place of my own, lots of books that still need reading, music to listen to, and friends I can fall back on... definitely sounds like a recipe for a decent life.

Sure, I'm bored and a little lonely right now, and maybe a little confused about where I'm going... but isn't the quest really what life is all about? I keep reminding myself that as long as I have a brain that's working and the will to enjoy life, what can stop me from making my life what I want it to be - happy?

Much as I know all of this, and believe it too, it does become a tad bit difficult to remember it always. But I've found someone, who never ever fails to reinforce my belief that life is not all that bad, after all... We just need to open our eyes and welcome the blessings we receive with open arms. Clare has a blog 'Three Beautiful Things' in which she posts the three beautiful things she finds each day. Its been a fortnight now since I found her blog (I've added a link to her blog here), and each day I wait eagerly for her to post her '3BT's as she calls them.

I did not think it was possible, indeed, I had rubbished the very concept, that anyone would be able to inspire me to such an extent. I've found pleasure in reading her blog, and solace too. I'm pretty sure her life can't possibly be as easy and as positive as she makes it sound, but I guess that's what gives me a boost - her insistance on focussing only on the beauty. She has started a 3BT movement of sorts, and its heartening to see the number of people who are involved in it. I've followed her and others' 3BT blogs for a while now, and thought of joining in. To be honest, I have been thinking about having my own 3BT blog for the whole week now, but resisted it for the foolish reason that I did not want to be a copy cat! Today, I've finally seen sense, and am joining the positive wave with Life ain't THAT bad. Wish me luck!

The day's only half done and I've already found three beautiful things. What are your Three Beautiful Things for today?

My Secret

I'm quite addicted to it, and on more occassions than one, I've pestered my friends to visit this blog:

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Its a very honest and frank site, where people send in their secrets on a postcard and these postcards are published on the blog. New secrets get posted every sunday.

I've found it to be hilarious, sad, thought provoking, heart rending, night marish, comforting - all at the same time. Reminds me that I'm not alone in this world. I may have my share of problems, but there are people who have worse problems and worse secrets than I do, and they are learning to cope with them. Gives me strength. Teaches me to let go and to have patience (both of which are lessons that are much needed). Most importantly, reaffirms that whatever today may bring, there's a tomorrow, if only I want it.

Why does sharing a secret make it more bearable? I guess its the thought that now that the secret is out in the open, the consequences can finally be faced and the burden of hiding it is off one's shoulder. And perhaps also because the confession acts as a filter - there will always be people who will stand by you even after your secret is out, the others will slip away.

What makes this blog unique is the compassion - no one is mocked at. We're living in a less than perfect world and and while everyone is busy celebrating heroes or berating villians, no one pauses to consider the souls tormented by secrets - big or small, people who have made mistakes in life and are trying to deal with them and their consequences. For once, here is someone who's willing to just listen and not pass a judgement, if only you'll reach out. There have been more instances than I've bothered to keep track of, when I've identified myself with the secrets posted here. And I'm sure there are others out there like me, who have too. Many of them reach out and share their experiences and how they've dealt with their secret. And there are others who didn't know how to, but have found solace in knowing that there is at least one other person in the world who's going through the same upheaval they are.

Anyone who is interested in understanding human nature and the intricacies of the maze that is the human mind would find this blog to be of immense value. The postcards have surprising insights to offer. And many boundaries are crossed in the process, for issues that one has ignored for long - consciously or otherwise, are thrust in one's face. Needless to say, this can be pretty unsettling for those with a weak stomach, and I stongly recommend that those who fall in that category should stay away from this site. For he that can take whatever life dishes out, read on!

Wicked!

Just finished reading ‘The Book of Wicked Stories’.

There’s something about wickedness that charms the heart. Perhaps the stories are a manifestation of what the heart really desires, but is afraid of. The cold blooded frivolousness touches a chord somewhere… ( Wait a minute! Isn’t it love and goodwill that’s supposed to do that? Ah Well..!)

The stories range from simple to bizarre – from everyday situations to unearthly incidents. And they all have a common thread running through them – a complete disregard for anything considerate or generous. An anthology compiled by Ruskin Bond, all the short stories have been picked out with an acute sensitivity – anything that is even remotely kind has been strictly avoided. The authors stand united in their wickedness and take the reader on an absurd journey of heart warming malice. All notions of propriety are discarded, save those that are necessary to remain within the boundaries of wickedness, and the reader finds, with an almost child like glee, stories taken from his heart and fancy, come alive in the pages of the book. For who can deny, that within every man, woman and child lives a devil – big or small, repressed or free – a devil scarcely acknowledged and mostly veiled. Hasn’t every being felt the prick of the devil – the nagging voice that tells him to abandon prudence and the guise of the saint and to do as his heart truly wishes – to take his revenges, to steal, to lie, to cheat, to heed none of the shackles of gentility! And to do all of this without a pang of remorse or guilt?!

A must read for all whose hearts are not pure white, and a fitting gift for me, from one who understands the wickedness of my black heart, only too well…