eeeeeeeeeeLegal

The hallmark of a Good Bengali will always be that he has at least 1 legal case that he is embroiled in.
Growing up i was often told that one of my great grandfathers had his portrait in the High Court,since most people in that generation were solemn and whiskered , me thinks it could not have done much to cheer up the dark halls.
However it might have put the fear of many dreads into young lawyers of yesteryears who scampered down those hallowed corridors to argue their first deposition.
Lawyers whom one meets today are a far cry from the benign stories one has grown up with. Independant thinkers, freedom fighters,people who accepted payment in kind from their poor clients and often no payment at all.
Today it's all about the Money. and maybe it's only about the money...and even that doesn't guarantee anything.
I have a lawyer. He has been fighting a property case for me for the past 2 years. In these 2 years, the world around me has changed, the recession came and went, friendships were forged and broken ..long term relationships ended..the only thing which remained constant was my immovable court case.
Winter, summer, spring or fall. my lawyer says,' Court is not in session maydum.
When he gets bored of this excuse he says,'I am in Tirupati maydum..' or some other pilgrimage Hot Bed.

Of course he does not always avoid me, like clockwork before every major festival he summons me to his chambers to discuss the case.The poor sap that i am, I trudge along with my light little purse.After a 10 minute discussion of where the case is stuck,I am asked to fork out a nice little packet..to cover the festivities with , you see.
Many a Dusshera, Holi, Christmas has passed. The case remains unsolved, the lawyer remains benign...the typist in his outer office changes, the first flock of junior lawyers have left for another flock who chatter , scrape and bow......
While the Wakf Committee who shares rooms on the same premise prepare for the ID celebrations.

Heaven is a place on earth

Remember the Belinda Carlyle chick song ,' Heaven is a place on earth.'
Believe it or not, chick mush does sometimes couch sterner stuff underneath.
I often wonder , as must you ,about life after death.
Philosophy teaches us that the world around is , transient.
Most religions claim the concept of paradise to be the ultimate state of freedom and happiness.
However here are a few questions which keep me thinking

a)Who does one meet in heaven?Imagine bumping into all those people whom we thought we were well rid of and then,' Hello Dolly,'
...Most unpleasant

b)Can you see people back on earth, after you die?
I really dont want to know whether my kids are bonking or not and who they are doing.Most indiscrete .

c)Do you loose your corporeal body or not? I am guessing i am going to pop it when i am in my '50's , imagine going through the rest of eternity as an overweight 50 year old woman..Not fair.

d)Where do you live in heaven?Imagine all the billions of dead people out there. Me thinks there would be a shortage..of housing and other much scarier scarce resources.

e) Stands to reason that heaven therefore would only have souls ...no corporeality to crowd things up.I do hope my soul is not complete white..I would rather be candyfloss than cotton, wouldn't you?

f)Also , i would rather not confess my sins in front of those people i had committed them against. A private chat with God, no problem .....
but imagine telling your ex best friend,' hey you know what , it was me who started that rumor that u slept with most things which moved and some that did not.' Most humiliating..

g)And what about sins done unto me, i dont want apologies, is there some way in which one can exchange all those misdeeds into some extra luck, love,money , happiness for the people whom we leave behind to brighten up their birthdays and twilight hours..Ha that would be a gift worth giving.

All right this blog is becoming sickly sweet and does not reek of the depressed , down and out writer that i am...so my last comment

If a bit of heaven is available to us on a daily basis , mine would be
A day..... just like today
A home filled with flowers to return to
A washing machine which has washed and dried last weeks bundle
Wine is the fridge , Bacardi and Vodka on the dresser
A friend to share the oncoming winter evening with.. a poem, a smile, some coffee..some fallen leaves
and Sahdev, the little guard who dances without music in front of 159 Belview...

Let It Be

I was listening to the old Beatles song yesterday,'When i am in times of trouble, Mother Mary come to me.Speaking Words of Wisdom..Let it be ..'
If u think about it ,in times of trouble we do our full faith rituals ..but what of the happy times?
So this blog is dedicated to happy memories..thankful memories which tend to get forgotten during the monsoon of our lives.

The '80

1. The smell of burning leaves in a cobbly, cantonment town.
2. Playing Red Riding Hood and Sleeping Beauty at the age of 3 and 4 in pre-school
3. The soft comforting feel of a worn out sari which used to belong to my didu.
4. My great-grand aunt's stories of people repaying debts with mangoes, her photo with gandhiji , peacocks in her dad's courtyard in Bangaladesh which were gobbled up by the 'did not know better ' farmers..mystical stories of a bygone era.
5. The first taste of Rose Cookies, Christmas Cake and Beef Vindaloo - my nana's wrinkled hands as she blew my always stuffy blocked nose.
6. The fusion of flood waters in the drawing room and khichdi in the kitchen
7. George Michael ,Tom Cruise and Amir Khan smiling down from the walls every morning
8. Summer holidays which streched into afternoons with curtains drawn, hot and sour imli pickle and discovering different worlds through borrowed frayed library books
9. Perfecting a dance movement so ....that the guruji, raised his hand in appreciation
10. The message of sex.....on an afternoon which had been dedicated to Retreat Time for a bunch of Catholic girls

The '90's

1. Becoming a person, acquiring a sence of self not of purpose.
2. Getting lost in a pasture with my papa...him playing on his blues harp..the sound of silence
3. The discovery of communism and intellectuals..sence of bonhomie amongst corridoors of musty libraries and ancient colleges
4. The Threatre-finding friends among fellow actors, living life as if it would never end ..the exaltation of losing oneself in the greater belief of friendship
5. Standing on stage with a 300 member audiance listening in silence. Weeping and for just that moment.... believing in your pain.
6. Sitting on the lawns of an institution of radicals , discovering professors who were so much hipper than you were
7. Cold mornings, hot coffee and endless marches for liberal rights , gay rights, children, for the poor , for the helpless , for yourself
8. Simon and Garfuncle,in the twilight hour, the celebration of knowledge , exchange, dialogue of ideas ..the whirl of the imagination....the sweet toke.
9. The discovery of the Big O ....stoned

The 20'00

1. The excitement of living in a mighty city by the sea, which never slept
2. Sitting on the parapet of an 14 story building..and looking at the twinkling stars below and the ships beyond
3. The discovery of night life, endless escapades of being and non being,validation from your first corporate presentation
4. Being able to fine tune ' falling in love' into a fine art form.Wandering aimlessly, not understanding but trying to fathom high art and high fashion
5. Yacht parties, champagne brunches, muharat openings, agency gigs...& diwali nights at the stock exchange when endless crackers lit up the hopes of investment bankers ,sharebrokers and the gambling nowhere man
6. Impromtu drunken holidays, spending salaries by the 15th of the month, the thrill of being employable,the sweet disovery of money and all the wonder that it can buy you
7. Insitutionalised Sex , fairy tale weddings and going back home,excitement of being a new bride in an old city...Being able to escape institutionalised sex
8. Growing into an adult long after adulhood had passed me by
9. Losing a father, a husband ..losing dependance ,Discovering the strength of standing still in the quiet of a storm
10. Finding life after losing faith.. Building a home with blues and malhar, a gnarled old rainforest tree..and new curtains.

Still Trying

This is a lament..so for readers who want joyous tidings..please skip it...
For the last 8 years , I have been trying
Trying to crack the right conversation which should be made in corporate loos
Trying to realise the difference between being office buddies and developing interpersonal skills
Trying to hop, skip and jump between industries to see if the length of the pyramid differs anywhere(it doesn't)
Trying to demonstrate self starter material, initiative, hard work and getting pegged as a Complete Loser Ant
Trying to unashamedly & insincerely butter up every Hari Sadoo who came my way and getting shouted at and passed over for all my pains
Trying to change myself into one of those super sexy people who keep getting the big raises and right jobs and failing so terribly..That
It's no fun watching myself, making loser faces in the mirror anymore ,after i get stoned on a rainy day..i have become the mirror

The money ain't dirty or sexy..the jobs are useless..and one day you have to face the fact that you should probably stop trying....it's just that u never know when to quit and generations of middle class inherited values will tell you...Quitting is for people who can afford to...not middle class daily wage earners like us.

Some really talented people, take the cue (more power to them) and branch off on their own paths...become their own bosses...
but what about the rest of the dead beat mob..are we to wallow in this existential angst ..moving around in circles, till one day we fall flat on our cubicle space and die..
People don't get it ...
It is not easy being a loser.. Like success ,it is a cultivated art form..which takes an immense amount of time and patience , and being able to accept getting howled at from various cretins..
How to i deal with it?..I don't..
I write a blog and move back into my stolen cubicle space to get onto my next useless call ......!

Next life am going to come back as a cat , have a few kittens,steal a few fish..not move my ass and soak in the sun ..;)..and for now ...3 solutions to negate the everyday life

alcohol(dont water down)
drugs
And More of The Same.....
:)

I 've got Sunshine

I've got sunshine
On a cloudy day.
When it's cold outside,
I've got the month of May.....
Lovely song isnt it...?

I ran away from home at the tender age of 3 . In the cold Himalayan cantonment town , the essentials i took with me were a pink frilly pair of panties and a tin of talcum powder......
I went looking for some sunshine..

From then on I have been running ,
into trouble, from the mistakes of the past,into arms which did not give comfort ...
I embraced ideals,exchanged them @ the megamarts of hope, sex, institution, whim and reality.
Still looking for my 'sunshine'

It has been my belief that we build our personalities to compensate
for the lack of a quality we seek in our lives and not the presence of it.

Many a bitter cynic wants something to believe in
Many a despot wants to be much loved and popular
Many a sworn homophobic questions his own sense of identity
Many a religious begot is looking for God
Many a wandering star is looking for a fixed place in the firmament
and Every one's looking for some sunshine

After 32 years of smashed relationships..I think i found my sunshine

Want some indicators..here goes..
You Know you've got sunshine when..

When someone lets you snore peacefully through the night without poking you every hour or getting irritated by you....:)
When someone gets the detergent, mop, brush, dry cloth ,wet cloth and cleans the house with you..:)
When someone goes out of their way, changes their route to drop you home :)
When someone whom you abuse roundly ....ignores you and comes around the next day with a new joke ...:).
When someone looks at you and believes , that you look better without make up , though their sanity may be questionable but ..:)
When someone holds your hand in a dark hour and never reminds you of it or makes you compensate for it ..:)
And of course the sure shot way of knowing when you have got sunshine ,is when someone lends you money and forgets all about it(This of course ,is the next level of finding sunshine..it's like owning the sun)

So
It may not be one person ,
it may be a tribe, it may be a stranger, it may be your wife...
It will definitely not be the tele-caller on the phone..
But the only way to find your sunshine...
IS TO MAKE YOUR OWN.....Ha and you thought it would just fall into your lap..nice and easy!.

Cyberfinance and poor old me :(

I have been held hostage by a bank who claimed my soul and purse 2 years back. I had joined a 100 year old company and was forced to bank with this mega financial house(one of our key customers) .....and thus began my downfall.
The snooty, cybernetic ..baboons have refused to interact with me for the past 2 years and a typical conversation with them bears the following trademarks.

' Hello ! May I know which branch i belong to?'
The officer replies,' What is your TPIN number madam, without your TPIN number , we are not authorised to talk to you.'
So you humbly ask...
'How do I get my TPIN number?'
To which the cyberwoman sneers, as though she cant get over what a dumbass you are and jeeringly says,' From your online Internet account.' The Duh is silent ...but it is there.
You feel the agony in your backbone,your heart does a beep bop, you know she has got you..and you bleat out,' But I cant access my online Internet account,'
My quavering loser voice awakens some kinder chord in her and she says,' You cant if you don't have an IPIN, but you can apply for one you know!.' (Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass..all the merry way)
'How, where?' Joyfully I yelp,' How can i get an IPIN number?'
'From the internet online banking option, of course,' she robotically states...
Surreal walls started closing around me. I am reminded of the old ditty .
' I have a whole in my bucket,dear Eliza , dear Eliza.'
'What is your name maam,' I ask her
Better to get acquainted i thought, since both of us seem to be destined to dance this cybernetic waltz for a long time ...
Namrata,' she replies in a bored voice.
'Well Namrata , taking a step back, I have been talking you for the last 5 minutes without a TPIN and an IPIN..so you see, it can be done...why don't you flower into the wonderful person that you were meant to be , and tell me which branch i belong to.'
Needless to say , Namrata is not amused. I could hear her silent curses heaping on my grandfather's grave.
' Maam,for your own privacy and security we cannot communicate with you..., you can however access your IPIN by applying for your OAC number on the Townbank url.'
OAC the new Demon warps my comfortably dumbed brain...and i hang up..

After several such conversations with Namrata, Pinky, Arnab and Bonny and nameless others, I am glad to report that i got my OAC number , I also got my IPIN code.(Not so dumbass now, huh!)
Triumphantly I tried to log on to my online account and the system told me.' You have entered the wrong IPIN password ..for your safety and security ..you must apply for a new OAC number which will enable you to get a new IPIN and TPIN. This will be mailed to your address.

I have unfortunately made the collosal mistake of changing houses and to give the cybernetic devil his due , he may have sent me my new OAC number...But since i cant update my address on his inaccessible system it is not to be.

To top it all,the new guard from Chattisgarh , Sahdev who has been recklessly employed by the building association is turning away one and all from my doorstep.He has overheard me conversing in Bengali with my flatmate and Einstein has decided that i am not allowed to own a name like Da'Silva and hence all mails addressed to me are promptly sent back with,' Resident not residing.'....

So I wait in this cyberwhirl..wishing and hoping and pray that i will be rescued someday by a state owned ,'tea sipping, paan chewing ' babu..whom i will know and call 'Samiran Da....,' who will talk to me, make me wait and make me come back another day...But at least I will be acquainted with the mafia fronting my money.
When will i be set free to make this choice..i don't quite now , since my cyber savvy bank has protected itself against me with symbols, cyphers and codes i do not comprehend and cannot unravel in this lifetime...Woe is me..Is Big Brother Listening?

Finding Bohemia

The entire city, today is wrapped up in a cloudy windswept cloak.
I met my dawn today..Phyllis Maam ,a beautiful woman ...who reminds me of warm hugs, chocolate coffee, and a time when i thought i would be an actress.

Phyllis Maam was our Tambourine Man.
Sleeping on our old beds , in different lanes across grisly old Kolkata ,young and untouched by anything extraordinary except communist academic pretentions which we did not quite empathise with..
We who knew no better ,sought our NeverLand through this Welsh Wonder-Woman who had come to our old drenched city to find a new home.

Phyllis Maam introduced the brood of us to the greater world beyond.

She spun Chekov,Feiffer, Neil Simon, the opera and the greek tragedies into a pot luck of liver pate and white wine.

Fine dining, fine living, an appreciation of a scene played out through a little window in Paris all became magically believable ........
through her large french windows , her tinkling laughter,her dark green curtains,and her motley group of performing amateurs... in a small Ballygunge Lane.

Some of us actually jumped through the skylight,
Arnab JUMPED..
He was accepted at The Sorbonne and is a journalist in Paris

Mahira JUMPED..
She was accepted at Juliard School and performs just Off Broadway.

Sidharta JUMPED
He was accepted by Columbia but became a poet and I believe has taken London by storm.....

I was too scared too JUMP ..and so did a lot of nothings and at presently peddle technology which i quite dont get.. But

In perfect moments ,in imperfect places i still discover a little bit of that promised Bohemia ..

Some Blue Cheese in a bumper buffet, a saved desktop image of Monet and Manet, a visiting theatre group, pink champagne on retail discount..

That is all that I have..
but then at least i did JUMP...out of frying fish in an oily kitchen
and i still have hope and time
To live New York,
To understand Matisse
To Discover the frutiness of a misty Roset.
I ride on the love of an unquenching search for Bohemia.
spurred on by a tongue of thirst .......that will span my eternity.

and ....my Phyllis Maam

Simbly Smiling.

Writing a blog every Friday had become a habit .....and then one day it all stopped. My friends kept asking ..waz up dude?..and frankly I think , though i am loathe to say it ..I lost my angst..Just Like that..it caught a plane, packed it's bags and on a one way ticket left. I missed it , how i missed it , in between the midnight hours..i tried to concoct it ..but it never came back

Blog writing in my opinion,happens when you build so many walls around you that to explain each of them away ,u write ..it happens when life is complicated and the answers to most things bob in front of you like the little blurbs which form when you squint at the sun ..

When life unfolds in a happy tune in your head what do u write about ?
..You just dont care anymore about..recession..u are living in it ,why wallow more .?..bosses-they are still alive , why say more..?Mother..at a distance..moving on.........

World Politics..Election, French Open,Aussie Indian strife..all get internalised over the morning paper and tea...they dont make me rant , rave or go on morcha..or write.

Looking back ,i can classify every rite of passage ,from one hysterical high point to another..from one obesession and belief to another..and now..for the first time in my 32 years ..peace has come home...in a blue knapsack

So you never know when you have it good and u never know when you loose the good..
but if you get a bit of a day when u can put your feet up, thank god you dont have to dash off to do anything, when your faculties still work and everyone around you ...is breathing easy...you stop reading Woodehouse and live it...

Keep it simple ,is a much undervalued proposition.. ...look forward to your next cup of tea, your next page to read, your next laugh, your next meal , your next vacation and the quiet smile of companionship from the old lamp on the table.

OCD: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

I suffer from OCD.

Obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder in which the sufferer develops anxiety based on the dread that something bad has happened or will happen.
The sufferer then feels compelled to voluntarily perform irrational, time-consuming physical behaviors to diminish the anxiety.

Hell! I suffer from it but so does the system and everyone within it.
A few examples-

Meeting OCD
Any recession scared organisation requires you to chair and attend a gadzillion meetings..which propose nothing , solve nothing and involve only intellectual masturbation ...and this we do 24*7 ..Yeah!
Sometimes we get up in the middle of the night to attend meaningless nothings...Fairly repititive behaviour you would agree..
But why does the system have OCD..What does it fear?...The system my friends and all of us ants working in it fears extinction..someone somewhere is going to figure out that this is not the best optimisation of money, space and time...and so it is busy socialising the myth across all it's sectors that the only acceptable behaviour is investing in Meeting OCD...So next time you glibly call a meeting..take a step back and think ...are u a basket case or not?

Relationship OCD
This is a given...Our post modern society keeps pushing love on us guised as OCD.Irrational continuous behaviour like non-stop sms, non stop calls,non stop chats, non stop declarations of love ...are all the hallmarks of a rocking relationship..aren't they...?
But my bone of contention is not with the OCD of love but the OCD of the other relationships which make up life..

The parents and greater family network...They always know dont they, what's the best you could have been,and complusively they remind you day and night of what you obviously are not..Dont they get it ....I know.
But the messaging across the mother, aunt media countinues....And what about the OCD of friends...
Friend 1 OCD- Give me space...Ur Ignoring me .Blow Hot ..Blow Cold. Love You in the Morning , Hate you just sometime after that...
Friend 2 OCD- Let's meet , let's meet, let's meet .....Who are you again?
Friend 3 OCD- I want to be someplace else with someone else..and yes let me remind you of that once more
Friend 4 OCD- Your such a loser..and man do i rock and do u even know the number of people who love me and whom i can pick up and drop anytime.....again and again repeatedly...Realllly!
Friend 5 OCD- Everyone is more important that you are..However dont you dare stop being around for me when i want to bitch , wail and cry...:)

What do they fear? What we all fear ...Being invisible..unimportant..and just another face in your album..We strive to leave a mark..for in memory we live as deities because in reality we are jerks.

My Personal OCD- I fear the world i live in...I fear that fact that work, love , commitment, friends, the world I have defined as my life is such a transactional , negotiated space..where the only rule that exists is the rule of extreme Narcissism...
That's the largest OCD -ur important and wonderful as long as you fit into someone else's plan of how they want to define their world.The moment you stop fitting in.....your waste or wasted..
As the childhood limmerick goes..Everyone Hates Me.. I think i will go and eat worms....

A Bit Of Goa :)

and we went to try the tide and the sun
and took pleasure in the loss of the horizon.

Hina's Song On Goa
A bit
of a freezing bus ride
of tasting the first afternoon's catch by the quay
of jumping with dirty feet on a freshly made bed
of a Portuguese Mansion with a freckled old soul
of Young Niki and Blank Sandeep in a Cocktail Glass at Cavvala
of an easy climb at Chapora
of sitting on a bar stool in a green pool with beads kissing one's neck
of trying on a sexy costume in a stinky shack
of a little lazing, a lot of driving, laughter floating in the wind
of smiling in the sun

Pritha's Song On Goa

A bit
of a Purdah to keep the cold away on the Sunshine Bus
of wishing for a quiet moment in the gaggle of noise
of watching a red moon on a brightly lit beach
of getting propositioned by a man who mumbled much
of savouring each mouthful of butter soaked crab
of rushing off every morning to forts which had crumbled down and religious institutions one did not believe in
of driving beside a river which was engulfed by the sea
of instructing people to swim from the confort of a lounge chair
of smiling in the sun

Elina's Song On Goa

A bit
of shedding a tear at every tree, cloud, wave, time
of thinking about the great dilemma between calories and the free breakfast
of trying to tick off all the spots one had visited and all the new ones that one had found
of trying to instruct young Jui on a purposeful new word every day
of being the guardian of clean feet on bed, fresh towels in room, and baths for everyone all the time
of trying to figure out the ingredients in the sorpatel and the richad
of completely dismissing the goan vindaloo
of dancing in St Anthony's , tearing a pair of borrowed sandals and walking home barefoot
of cradling another memory to the song of the sea
of smiling in the sun

Sukanya's Song On Goa
A bit
of basking in the sun in little shorts
of not quite getting the right tick from the massage
of spreading laughter amongst the murderous mob
of trying to feed the young, please the old and comfort the in between
of being the general bank and judge for every dispute
of wanting to be on another holiday completely
of being blown away by the wind in the Sonic Shack
of reading a book here, there and everywhere
of finding a warm , calm shoulder and a starry night in a clear sky
of smiling in the sun

Pritha's Poem : A Reply To Spring In Cubbon Park- The Spring Song Festival

With violets and purples and pinks and reds
The flowers play holi above our heads

The grate of traffic, the thwack of tennis balls
Someone singing, discordant bird calls

Tall bamboo curtains like prophets of doom
Suddenly among the maddening bloom

Dodging dog poo, watching the sky
Eyeing that bit of muscular white thigh

In future years all this will bring
Home to me this psychedelic spring

But for this morning, we three
Fill our senses and enjoy the company

Written By Pritha Choudhuri

Spring In Cubbon Park

Paths stretched in blue mortar , bathed in the late early morning sunlight
The air light.. with the mists of the night before and maybe a few lost years
The buds and blossoms fragrant, rich in texture and color shrouding the city sun
People and pets walking into relationships without expectation

Little china dolls smiling into camera phones surrounded by the purple jacaranda
The pink, the white, the yellow petals ,
Bathing fading sneakers

China dolls , grown up.. no longer unbreakable, no longer fragile. and yet
Surrounded by the jacaranda
beautiful, sublime, happy in the moment
and reaching to touch high branches laden in bloom

Milk: The Movement

I have come to recruit you !-says Harvey Milk.
Powerful orators often times make zealous revolutionaries, but being a revolutionary is not about great screenplay but conviction, passion and commitment.
The story of Harvey Milk is not only the portrayal of the struggle of the 'other' to be accepted in the ' looking glass' of a pathetic , rigid society but
a reminder to all of 'us' who are self proclaimed liberals , that arm chair theorization does not give any human being the right to feel complacent that they are rooting for the good guys.

Revolution is born of and from struggle. Revolution is born from and of praxis ( practical action , if you will). A revolution is not born of a man but of the recognition of a loss in many men. ..And then a messiah comes along ,adding momentum and leadership to the movement because he speaks what the 'other' and the 'us' know but are diffident to voice.
A revolution is therefore a collective voice and the movements of yesterday ,strangely , sometimes become the middle class truths of today.
Arguments for and against the recognition of homosexuality by society are no longer relevant.What is relevant is , that when u are divorced from a cocktail party conversation do u still go to bed with the same levels of acceptance.
I don't know, if any ,or all of us know this simple truth...
That every single one of us is born bisexual and it is the socialization process which teaches
girls to play with Barbies and boys to play with guns&trucks. The associated rites and belief structures of ' boy's don't cry,' and girls ' like to dress up,' inculcates in the ambiguous child the notion of gender. Sex and gender are divergent in nature,
simply put sex is what u are and gender what you are supposed to be.
Most of us loose out in this struggle to realise our sexual preferences since gender neutrality is not a part of the school curriculum.
My thoughts and belief in these emotionally crippled times, where love has been replaced by a modern day 'use''abuse''refuse' operation...is that if , you stumble on to someone who genuinely loves you and whom you genuinely care about..then gender should not be a restricting block. Inclination and choice not society and culture should be the reason why you are with someone or why you can be around friends who choose to be different.
As for the thousands of nameless people in the crowd who are suffering because they cant express their individual spirit for fear of rejection or false morality...may they find the strength of Harvey Milk....
More Power To Him who is different , because he has chosen to believe and define his world in his own terms..and that is the celebration of the human spirit, of life itself and the only true characteristic of Being !

I stand alone without beliefs,the only truth i know is you

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

These four lines from Kathy's song , define what the angst ridden, recession hit people ,conceive of the world they are living in.
In the hushed corridoors of plush offices you will see without a doubt , thousands of well pruned heads staring blankly into excel sheet ridden screens, brows furiously knitted up....calculating the TCO (total cost of ownership)of the life which one has led in comparison with the life one is supposed to lead in hard times.

As our sensex and our belief systems waltz arm in arm into a downturn..what do we turn to? ..how do we manage with the myriad problems of mortgage, E.M.I's ,rent and responsibility....?

When you see yourself affected by a system far greater and larger than your abilities and individual performance, all you can do ,is revisit your core...and hopefully if our core is not defined by material moments and instruments we will find our answers.

Primitive societies survived in spite their challenged technological state due to their ability to hunt , gather and farm in packs..The collective before the individual does not always lead to hara kiri, or altruistic suicide or communism ;) which might for a cynic ,be a subtle expression of the intercourse of both events.......
But modernism teaches us to celebrate the individual spirit and this stops many of us who believe we are self made brigands to reach out to other people.

In that circumstance how do you cope with this anoemic condition?

No one has seen tomorrow and there is no poetic justice in being a prophet of doom , my two bit for keeping angst and depression at bay, is reach out to the spirit you have acquired to fight your recessions through life.

This is not the first time you have been hit by lack and hard times. Recognise that.

Think about every time life has kicked you in the butt and how u have survived that hurt in the posterior...
Numerous inabilities which you have conquered will jump to the forefront.

You gave up sucking your thumb, and sleeping with your favourite night comforter,wetting your bed, the green monster beneath it.

You steeled out of braces, the inability to see distances or read close, imitating Boy George and Madonna,(the agony and ecstacy of stiff perms, one lobe pierced and leotards) stuttering,copying your parent's singature on bad report cards, lying about everyone u knew.

You got out of talking about your imaginary girl/boy friend,stealing money,pimples , acne, humiliations by the kule gangs u weren't invited to belong to,not understanding the merits of masturbation, talking to God.

You quit envying your best friend's good skin, better placements and partners, you quit hurting people who loved you because it gave you a kick ass sence of power, chasing people who u creeped out because it hurt your ego, and passing judgements on the world perse.

You stopped trying to erase your past, mourning for the friends and family who dimmed out of your world, took a break from sex, drugs, rock n roll and came to terms with who u were ,finally.

A person like any other ,inadequate but content, not mirror cracking good looking but loved, not vastly succesful but creating value , not very rich but a highly prized person,
not
an epic but a haiku...
not an opera just a lilting happy tune in someone's head,
not perfecion but a lasting imperfect impression.

And so my friends...you are the strength you seek and the recession is just a moment in time which will ebb into nothingness ..while you the Ullyses Of Unchartered Waters will conquer forever.
and even as you strive to be the capable loner, believe me when i say that somewhere there is always a person who will think of you ...and hum another verse from Kathy's song..

My mind's distracted and defused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day

Have a lovely weekend :) folks

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs

As Macbeth seeks counsel with the Three Wierd Sisters , the second witch, sensitises the audiance of his arrival with the memorable line, "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Of course by this point in the play , it has been established that the wicked thing is Macbeth himself, a traitor and murderer.

One wishes that one can similarly predict the arrival of dangerous liasons in one's virtual life.. My single friends are constantly complaining about the unfairness of fate...u just dont get the ones you want and the ones u dont ,.....well they ping, e-mail,and keep in touch with you constantly. And the only pricks you get show up in your phone bills..:)
It's a tough world out there for singletons. Across the gender lines there is but one Aersomith Song serenading the mob,' I let the wrong ones in and the right ones out.' Everyone's looking for someone and yet no one's getting 'any'....because the search is on.....virtually.....

The virtual world blossoms everyday with one more social networking site...which sends the whole singleton army into a Twitter....

Signings done, profiles are written up, status updates which seem suitably kule and blase are thought of.... The serious hunters rustle up their most enigmatic photoshop brushed pics ..which agian bear witness to how thoroughly and totally irrisistable they really are.....

In desperate times..we reach out to disparate measures..chat tooms, travel & similar interest communities, regressive matrimonial sites...anything and everything which bears a promise of freedom from being alone and yet wasn't it this sense of freedom and this need to be able to live one's life by one's own terms what we sought & and why we became singleton's in the first place?
It's all tangled, isn't it ? The strategy and the delivery?

So i guess..wanting to be a singleton is not just a life choice, it's not just the goodies and THERE ARE MANY!

a)You are free to be the Columbus of Mini Breaks.
b) You can actually spend a whole day in bed doing absolutely nothing.
c) You dont need to watch movies, read books , listen to music, seem interested in anything which u care two hoots about...
d)You can more or less make friends with Atilla The Hun or Jack The Ripper without being told to watch out!
e)You can spend as much as u want ,on your wardrobe, shoes OR on other completely superficial artifacts which give you intense pleasure and hedonistic high without feeling the slightest bit of remorse

But with singleton dom comes the lonely evenings, the silent house you leave behind every morning, the sudden pangs of wanting a hug in the middle of the day and of course the Lack of Structure of a life in which groceries, clean sheets, laundry, sunday afternoon smell of fried onions, flowers in the verandah, meat on the pot , and someone else's favourite song playing on the stereo all lend themselves to well rehearsed memory bytes of easy domesticity.

Net Net ....Get Off The Net ....and invest in real relationships. A lot of us , use the virtual saftey of the internet to protect ourselves from the vagaries of a real relationship. But hey, You are flesh and blood not an information byte..and you owe it to yourself not to spend another sunday afternoon looking at the second pillow on your bed and wondering who will ping, call , sms ,email u...while your actually in hiding...being a nowhere man in your nowhere land....

Zenias on a Bangalore verandah sliver

Slouching under Mr Gowda's weathered peeling roof ,you smile
at the red table cloth ,the Darjeeling tea cup , the half lit cigarette and the bronzed ashtray.
As that tangle haired woman scowls back at you...

U have grown pale ..your hues have faded into green.
She is scared that she will loose you,
You are delicate, pretty but de-flower in measured time
You crumble and fall..bemoaning the winter run

You are the icon ..the symbol of all things sublime
in this grey chalk of yellow mortar and purple lime
The sunflower and the museum wait in the corridor of tomorrow
You are the aesthetic which makes today..

In the war of the roses you have won.
Since perfume and promises you assure none,
Your beauty is bound in colour and clover
Like packaged modernity,our clay idols , our living celluloid gods

So bloom unstained, let your devotee devour
The new branch which carries the promise of the hour

Growing Up!

My dad used to sing this song to me ...

You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a goodbye

Humming these lyrics through most celebrations of life , I knew the words ...but today am discovering their meaning.
At every age block teens to tweens , tweens to threens..we convince ourselves that we have grown up, we tackle life with aplomb, we manage loss better and we aim to be mature.
But degrees, accolades, good appraisals, strong friendships dont really help us become capable, they are just trophies which we hide behind, re-assure ourselves that we are well adjusted people aging correcty like a vintage beverage.

The truth is we never grow up until we are made to , until life snatches away those masks of 'confident','succesful'' fun to know,'which we wear and under which we cower.

You can never grow up , unless you know that you have no fall back plan, safety net of wealthy benefactor and u and only u are responsible for paying for your life and your holidays from life.

You can never grow up, until you realise that all the accolades which crown you victimise you into a person whom you never planned on becoming

You can never grow up until you can be genuinely happy for a friend who has got the life you wanted but the one you know you will never have

You can never grow up until you can forgive your past, parents who have left you with insecurities, teachers who have left you with prejudice, lovers who have left you feeling ugly and unwanted , bosses who have castrated your belief in yourself , and yourself for being selfish and for seizing every opportunity to get your own back on the world

Growing up is about being at a good place..and all of us have different visions of what that Shangri La is ...So let's rip off those band aids holding the fragments of our lives together, expose our wounds so that they heal ...and then..write the rest of our adult history , BECOME OURSELVES AND BID THE PAST GOODBYE!

Is The New Age Man like a Little Girl?

She talks just like a woman, yes she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.

Bob Dylan pulled at the heart strings of generations of middle class flower children with these words...But a short twist of fate has lead me to state ..that breaking like a little girl has become iconic to the gods of steel rather than the mistresses' of spices..

With the debacle of the Aus Open behind us , the legend gave way to copious tears as his opponent consoled him and his female fans hit the bottle.
The symbolism of all that was great and good looking crying like a little girl is perhaps just an expression of the new age man today who have turned femme with a vengeance. They never cease to cry, whine, sulk, throw tantrums and put your pigtailed 6 year old to shame.

It isn't one man it's all of them...It 's like the Great Plague! As i keep tabs on the men my sisterhood are friends with ,wed, date, work with,offer friendly shoulders to...their tales all sum up to a summary of the anthology of angst...

Dont believe me ..u judge

Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs
My friend P has started an analytics firm with 7 men co workers. All the work which they do is squabble and sulk!Instead of Making Hay While The Sun Shines, they ARE RAINY DAY WOMEN who bicker continuously about recession, money, future, finances,cricket,politics, pubs to go to , concerts not to go to..and in this entire social debris ...their chief function is to whine, groan,moan and cry buckets! leaving Snow White wanting to trade all of them for the wicked step mother who , when last checked with Walt Disney plotted..planned..hatched , cracked a looking glass or 2 but never ever complained of getting stoned!

Hansel and Gretel
The Best Friend Syndrome is one which has been written in tears.
Men make the worst best friends, because they believe that a woman friend is something between a long last nanny and a fairy god mother who has to listen to them crib about their jobs, the wives/girlfriends who left them, the women they hope to nail, the boss who is way dumber than they are,and their oh so work in prgress hair and gymn stories.
..They also believe that as best friends they are entitled to continuously have an opinion on everything and force it down your throat, win every arguement,be the devil's advocate and always understand 'the guy who slept with you and never called back' point of view.
Learning : Gretel should feed Hansel to the wicked witch and not give in to any silly ideas about using breadcrumbs to find the way home.

Beauty and The Beast
The Prince Charming of yore was this dashing handsome man who would sweep you, a horse and a sunset off on his strong shoulders and not turn a hair.But today , the Prince Charming and the Beast have traded places and how.Love in the 21st century is defintely choleric!
You pay for most things...equality has given us a raw deal.
He is always broke or paying mortage or a divorce settlement or EMI on his jazzy bummed car.
Remember the beast who used to keep pining for beauty and eating rose bushes or similar vegetation..
The modern lover is no better, he pines, he wallows, he gets upset when the simplest trysts are not kept, he is emotional, he is painful, he nurses a mental image of a broken heart and yearns for those golden times when you could lock a woman in a castle and just keep her there..He smses , he calls,
he lives the Sting song,'Every Breath you take, I will be watching you.'
And he cries.how he cries ! having gotten in touch with his feminine other..he has switched over..so much so that today with his gymn toned body and his pretty Loreal Locks he is Beauty and she is the Beast

Question: How do we fix this gender bender..How do we stop the weeping, wailing ,whining?
How do we stop them ,'breaking just like a little girl'?

A word of caution!

All animals are equal but pigs more equal than others!
Borrowing from this oft mis-quoted line from Animal Farm, i would like to present my little musing on the discrepancies of life which we often face,when the other guy always gets the yummier partner, low emi , high value house, dream job, and lady luck!

a)Beware of a boss who pats you on the back and gives you extra roles to fulfill. It means he is going to give the raise and the credit to someone else , while you will clean the trenches.
b)Beware of the colleague who says you are looking great nowadays, it means that your flying too high and they are probably plotting to take you down a few notches.
c) Beware of the landlord who says you are almost family, it definitely means he is going to hike the rent because he feels you ought to fund the emi of his wife's latest little folly.
d)Beware of the gymn which says they will help you melt that weight away, they are sadists who are planning to plants bones where none existed.
e)Beware of the book which has 'Bestseller for 10 weeks' at the back....On whose List?The Visually Challenged and Illiterate.
f)Beware of the Relative who calls you weekly, they definitely plan to borrow money, get jobs for their children,or they are planning to move in with u Indefinitely.
g) Beware of the man or woman whom you like when they tell you , that you 'get them' , be very sure that they will end up with the people who don't get them at all and will drive them crazy.
h)Run from anyone who calls you sweetheart and friend. You are wasting your time..you are a shoulder to cry on , a booze to use....but hey your not the one! Get It...

Life's Not Fair! Moving On.

A story about New Hopes

2009 has dawned on us like a hangover Sunday ....and this could be a short summary of our hopes and dreams! Please accuse writer imagination!

This Year

The Lover is hoping to actualise his one true love. Kickboxing.........himself......the only girl in the world who refused him or a new fetish..

The Rainy Day Man is trying to find a new mailbox to write from, so that he can post a beginning and come home.

The Consultant is hoping to step into Alice's Looking Glass so that she doesn't have to drive to a job which is located at the end of the world for peanuts.

The Queen of Hearts is hoping to rise from the debris of heartbreak on her 2008 pack of cards to a braver world of corporate machinations freed from political love.

The Drunkard is hoping that his mother will find him a beautiful rich new bride and the sudden but traumatic death of his old one.

The Saint is strategising on the prospective future of 28 apostles while hoping and waiting for Godot.

The Genius is hoping to wring the neck of B.Ramalinga Raju to appease his equity balance.

The Singer is hoping to serenade a coy 25 year old into becoming his happily after..

The Grim Reaper is planning to recession at home.

The Party Animal is hoping to come out of the closet soon

The Entrepreneur is hoping to satiate her thirst on a calorie full or free account

The Child is hoping to celebrate her birthday in Paris.

The Good Friend & Advisor is hoping to get some quick loving, and wipe the rest off on the curtain.

The Painter is hoping to become a business tycoon and make Mandarin profits.

The Youth is hoping to dash around with a Singaporean, a Pakistani or mother's home made recipe.

and The Author is Hoping to Marry Off Mother....!