Life after a 100 days of rebranding ; celebrating life : Day 4, whoopsie doopsie

Why have I not posted, these past few days? C’os I went through an emotional roller-coaster.Cos I am scared, hurt but positive at the same time…yes all at once. I am in a state of emotional melt like never before and I am scared to share it for once.

I suddenly believe in the bad luck that boasting or happiness attracts, I am scared of losing my talent like Rembrandt; I crave passion, I need to live LIVE LIVE …if only my insides didn’t feel like jelly.I CANT discuss the why’s and wherefores…OH! simply because who knows who is reading and no I haven’t been up to anything naughty; never am these days!

I need to fit into size 10 jeans and pillion ride a jet ski…I need to have a conversation, an unbridled, crazy, conversation with someone with a vulgar IQ. I need to write the book that has been with me for 15 years but that book emanates out of emotions that I no longer feel…do I even feel? God knows…I guess I shall write it, only it shall be a book of today’s emotions, today’s learnings…the setting is dark macabre…even the darkest in me now has a zero watt light bulb..what to do; I don’t know what shall come out but I shall try and live the darkness…Three months my friend says, give it three months and we shall have a classic…I so wish to believe him…maybe I should give myself a personal 100 day nano…where I just clock the progress…number of words, good bad or disjointed.

Talking about filling in words, this post is sounding like as a friend puts it, “like disjointed sentences after a bad acid trip”. Well sadly or happily have never had an acid trip of any kind but knowing him, guess can trust his word..the optimist in me calls it Joyce-like…naa he is madder and genius…I am a sad, watered-down wannabe, with a disjointed but fervorless narrative style but then life…as I said has never been steady for me…I am new everyday…a new woman every 100 days…till she is rebranded yet again!

A 100 days to a new me: Day 92, remembering my legacy!

I woke up with a feeling of listlessness, a slight unhappiness at how things were. The last night had gone helping my niece finish her homework, and partially finishing it for her.The night was spent…having a rather interesting conversation, anyway that, as they say, is a story for another time.

After dropping my girl, I spent about half an hour unsuccessfully shopping and went on to the Gurdwara Sahib.As soon as I entered, I met a man who was propagating  a course run by the Gurmat College, which for a mere Rs.200/-, ran a course on the Guru Granth Sahib. Gurmat College, a college that was started to study the Granth Sahib, the minds behind it were highly educated intellectuals, people with a vision that wanted people to understand the principles of Sikhism in its broadest form.People who believed in interpreting the Granth Sahib with the vision it was conceived in, without giving in to blind ritualism. I remembered the fact that my Grandfather, Dr. Ram Singh had been one of the founding members. A radiologist, a Gold Medallist from London University, a man who had books on everything from tap dancing to Les Miserables, a man who had dared defy the Chief Minister’s orders for principles, a man so pious that meeting whom, people said, was akin to going to the Gurdwara Sahib.  He passed on, when I was a year and a half old, but I was his grand daughter and look at me, I could not let go of those petty feelings.

I did not join the course but that moment changed me, I knew I was not born to bother with petty emotions or carrying grudges, I owed it to my legacy to be better, higher…I was awash with shame, remorse and an eagerness to just hand in my shoes and rush in to my Guru’s feet and rush in I did.The ensuing prayers seemed to wash me from the inside, all was forgotten, forgiven…my path is higher than carrying grudges, I have to be the lotus untouched by whatever negative emotions reside around me, I am to stay true to my character, do what I know is right. I am so relieved to be rebranded so right…Anytime it threatens to change, all I have to remind myself is of my lineage.

 

A 100 days to a new me: Day 53, vegetating and day dreaming of dishy vets and basset hounds

Ah! vegetating…after days I read I did what I used to, ages back…spent the entire day glued to a romantic comedy named Lost Dogs and Lonely hearts by Lucy Dillon. Honest to God, I wanted to edit the first few pages as I felt there was a bit of redundancy and some stylistic issues, at least till I has progressed enough. The story was almost there, firmly lacking in parts…with none of the romances resolved to my satisfaction and unlike a Nora Roberts, it lacked the promise of a sequel. The only things that were more or less resolved were the lost dogs and financial issues of some to some degree…since the resolution was not so resolute; I figured the protagonist was still up for the taking…now that was one dish from the read of it. An ruggedly handsome man who dresses in checked shits (I love checked shirts on rugged men); a vet with a roaring practice, a man of his word, a man of values and a wonderful cook. And mind you, he carries the heroine around (well he did once).Ah! destiny, I think these Nora Roberts of the world or even the Lucy Dillons have spoilt us for the real men.Oh how I wish the vet were for real…and here, you know he is one of those slightly old fashioned types you can kind of snuggle up to and feel safe.If there is one thing I miss being single, is being held…being comforted, knowing that just because you are with that one person, all is well with the world. 

Oh and the dishy vet was not the only aspirational thing in that book, there was this adorable basset hound. So adorable was this innocent looking, refrigerator raiding basset hound. The first thing I googled on a book break was the dog and does it tug at your heart strings or what.The book actually sold me the dog better than the vet. (I did not google any vet!)

Oh did I mention by the way, that I seem to be on the mend. I even attempted about 25 drafts of that dreaded article I was supposed to submit by was it Wednesday. I never knew physical illness could actually affect your brains. I have never in my life taken so long to write anything; I am mostly a one, or at best, a two draft writer…this actually seems scary, not being just able to spew it out…of course after ruminating it over days but not being able to just write and get it over with…( I am not so dismal about writing mostly but this is the most uninspiring commissioned piece ever.)

 To make things better/worse I feel so removed from the real world…really! I have been having near out of body experiences for the length of my ’illness’. Research says fatigue n sleeplessness can do it to you, guess this is it..whatever it may be, the thing is I feel so removed from anything ‘real’. May be it is a defense mechanism, may be…who cares, all I know is I am just a couple  of hours from reality when I recover, start re-rebranding myself…might as well enjoy the sabbatical while it lasts…

A 100 days to a new me : Day (fill in later), failing and picking up pieces

All my plans have gone for a six, this is the third? relapse of my viral or is it more? I planned t take 5 day break and it seems to have extended to 25 days; simply because I can’t stop coughing. Today I could hardly walk or talk for that matter and so many things hit home. Things about saying your prayers when young, else you won’t be able to…Babaji says so and he should know.

Let’s face it, I have no kids who shall look after me when I am old, even if I did; there was no guarantee they would. A long time back I had dreamed of making a home for everyone I cared for, in Dad’s generation, his brothers n sisters, his friends, where everybody stayed together, ate together, lived together…this was 25 years back; when I was young…luckily all of them are taken care of, they have wonderful families. Also, the culture of Old age homes is coming to India, I had scripted a film for one such place…it seemed clinical in a way, too sterile.

So the ong and short of it is, I need to stay healthy and I am doing everything that isn’t healthy! I tend to steer towards one thing at a time…and during the earlier days of my rebranding days, I managed do change just that. Now it seems, that work has overtaken life and it’s a bad bad thing to happen.Mom says, and I agree my biggest flaw is, I don’t follow through, it’s my biggest weakness; I give up things…everything midway…It is my biggest rebranding challenge and I can’t seem to get round it but I shall…I am going to start at Day 1 again…

This has to be my shortest post ever, as I have a terrible headache, thanks to my fever and am leaving for Punjab tomorrow. A place from where I come renewed. So it shall be back to Day 1, on Monday, I have failed…so I start again…that’s what life is about right? Picking up pieces…:)

A 100 days to a new life : Day 35; it’s all in the paradoxes

An ultimate video about paradoxes in physics. Some of these, I had the privilege of hearing the charismatic physicist Jim-Al Khalili  explain at the Jaipur Lit Fest; this video is even more than his session. Since my blog is so anti-scientific I quite like the symbolic paradox of having an embeded post on paradoxes on physics about the much lesser paradoxes in my life!

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I have this friend of mine I hate. Is that an implied oxymoron? Well this whole equation that we have is rather paradoxical in its very existence.

We started out hating each other, actually by exchanging insults. However, the banter is so intelligently insulting that it’s actually uplifting. You’re on the edge, at your sharpest, waiting for the next punch/pinch. You have to match it in degree and expression and hopefully surpass it. It is not easy, trust me but then that’s the best thing about it.

I appreciate this person for his irreverentiality and the lack of a butter won’t melt in my mouth attitude. I trust him so much more than someone who is ultra sweet on my face and thinking of just how superior he is or I that I am a poor somebody who needed to be consoled and treated like a metaphorical candy floss…like fluff!

The ‘ I am better than you’, are even worse than the ones who have sugar cubes instead of brain cells or are they Splenda tablets? I can love them but then I also love the quite insipid Vanilla ice-cream just because it is cool and sweet even if a bit lacking in character. I can’t suffer fools, they bore me but I cannot absolutely bear a pompous one.

Now here is another paradox. Whatever I may say that in the retrospect and somewhat for effect; I am incapable of disliking people. I love everybody. Everybody; I genuinely do!

All of you who are my friends, everybody who is reading this with a smile, and everybody who is judging me. In fact everybody who has touched my life in anyway. Mostly I insulate myself from that feeling but behind it all,  I am the original mush head. The only place that I draw the line, rather where the line draws itself,  is with people who betray my trust. Forgiveness is a trait I need to learn. I don’t forgive eventually, no I don’t.

I have discussed in a past post that I don’t forgive myself, but I just realized I just do not forgive period ! It is yet another paradox I have in life in a convulated sort of way. Maybe because I love without reservation, I expect. If not from the person, then from life or in a long winded way from God for it to have ‘good’ repercussions. A betrayal of trust is the antithesis this rosy coloured view I have of the world, a world where good begets good.

Since the post today seems to have come down to paradoxes today, one paradox that bothers me is that I cannot channelize my love of God into religion. I love but when I am regular in my prayers; it takes away the uncertainty that keeps me grateful. When I pray, I am deep down in a way cocky, proud and demanding. The very process that preaches humility, takes it away. I do not know of a resolution.

No I am not finished yet; there is the whole thing about becoming a writer. As soon as I declare my intent to become a  writer; there  comes this whole spate of writing work which actually stops me from writing what I want to and live what I write. And the biggest paradox as far as the ugly side of publishing /writing goes. If you really want to be a read writer ie a writer who is read after he is somehow published. Stop writing; focus on marketing!!

And now the surprise paradox, while because I posted this post because I can’t of anything to say;  (because I can’t say what transpired (bound by a promise); and anyway would not have said it. Might as well tell you, there are things that I, on rare occasions, do not say.); so while this post is a post that is a resultant of avoiding to post, it still qualifies as one!

Hope to post a real one tomorrow and I do remember I have to post two posts, from the past, tomorrow. Now that sentence has no paradox but potential of onomatopoeia. Anyway this blog is about rebranding me and not reinventing…in a bad sort of way…the English language, so long…

P.S.: The biggest paradox ever, I am a writer and I write, some people say readably well, but when it comes to saying something really right and well meaning; I end up sounding the exact opposite of what I mean. I am sorry MM!…I meant it all in a good way and ended up sounding like a hot air balloon!Well am all deflated now, please accept my apology!

 

 

 

 

A 100 days to a new me: Day 32, on mass consciousness and a story to follow

Day 8-9 into Viral and the sneezing is returning just as I shake out the now empty box of meds and throw it into the bin. I seem to be becoming quite the medicine aficionado , I took the entire course, without missing once! It is an achievement with me and maybe I am becoming more contentious.

The kids and their parents are visiting Nani (maternal grandmother).The house is quiet, and my room seems to be the hub of activity. The entire day I have the chattering of maids and if you remember the two month old Flora, as everybody now  calls her(my maid’s daughter) ans Spiro our Chihuahua (a rather long name for supposedly the world’s smallest dog…no?) who is fascinated that there is finally someone his size. His expressions are worth looking at; he wants to go near her but maintains a cautious distance.

I am deteriorating, melting with the Viral, turning into a semi-solid mass of flesh and bones. Well aren’t humans flesh and bone masses to start with…well I mean a mass that like those energy figures in movies…the ones that are just silvery shapes, mercuyish…and how they melt into these puddles of nothingness. Yes I am today, or rather was yesterday, a big puddle of nothingness. I have had various almost out of body experience, in a matter of hours. I don’t stand behind or in front of my body, or do I? but I have these distinct moments of snap, and I am from a distance, looking at the computer screen.

I the living person and I the person in the blog, have at times started becoming separate entities. I think she feels better than I do, and I type better than she does. Whether the disassociation facilitates the writing or the writing has germinated from the process of disassociation is something I need to yet decide, and can I do it in a detached manner, I don’t know.

Am I  the only one who feels it ? I doubt, I doubt there is anything at all that we as humans can be original about anymore…including this one. Eliot’s said it, and then there is the concept of mass unconscious by Carl Jung or even the theory of monopsychism, the belief that all humans share one and the same eternal consciousness, soul, mind or intellect.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monopsychism.

I wonder if this story that I hurriedly wrote on the theme Green for my writers meet on Sunday, is a resultant of such inherited symbols? It is definitely not a part of my conscious, cultural heritage which is more likely to have women fashioned out of dust and heat, salt and sweat. I guess I shall leave it for you to read and decide.The only things I researched was the names, which I looked for after I had finished the first and nearly final draft.

States of Green

Hebe shuddered as a long finger nail, painted almost a gothic black beckoned her. Attached to it was a long slender finger that belonged to a body which was as slender, almost transparent in its luminosity.
The face was chiseled to perfection, taut and hard as it was beautiful. High cheekbones, perfect cupid shaped lips that were too thin to invoke a hot, pulsating passion. The most compelling were the eyes, deep green and hard as emeralds. One look could send a deep chill down Hebe’s spine for days.

She was thankful for the doe skin body suit that kept her warm under the thick, white shifts the staff was required to wear, even when the chilling North winds blew. She ensured, that her hair was firmly tucked in her bonnet, her eyes downcast and her demeanor completely bereft of any color. She wore doe skin slippers, to avoid her feet touching the floor which was too cold for her.

Fannadĩs was back from a particularly long journey. She had gone alone with a fury that matched no other, and even the tall and unshakable doors of the castle had shuddered, before closing behind her. The sounds of her rage even permeated the thick walls of the castle. As the tall vases on the mantle wobbled and the mirror threatened to jump from the wall and shatter; Hebe huddled in a corner, and put her hands over her ears.

Fanndis has returned victorious yet again, her white satin gown, was now a sheath of green, a mass of soft foliage as the lands outside were covered deep in snow. She looked ruffled but victorious, her eyes shining an even harder green, gloating with a cold pride. It was time for her bath.

A long tub of lucent white was laid with water from the nearby glacier, and laced with giant ice flakes and large white flowers, that grew only in the lower echelons of the castle.

Fanndis stepped out of her gown and stepped into the bath. The white-adorned maids looked on as she immersed herself in the ice-cold bath with an icy pleasure. Her stichless body was ever inch as white and supple as the first layer of soft snow that covers turns the world, into a fairy-tale white. However there was nothing soft about Fannadĩs adis, her godess-like body was a perfect ice sculpture – slender legs, a thin waist and high pointed breasts, her long platinum blond hair streaming down her back–untouched by passion.

  The castle was a white refuge lit with neon light emanating from age-old icicles. The staff consisted of nubile young virgins who had yet not experienced the stirrings of passion. No man was allowed in, not even the sun.

 As the white flower started to turn an unusual red at the edges, Fannadis’ eyes widened and radiated a rare sparkle which for a moment made them a melting, liquid green. She screamed and jumped out of her bath as she noticed the miscreant, a lone stream of light that had penetrated a crack in the roof. Fannadis ran to the refuge of her ice-room, where no such invasion could happen, her feet leaving behind increasingly bigger puddles of water.

 Hebe let out a deep breath.. it was time. She kicked off her shoes and ran out into the snow sheathed gardens as she tore apart her maid’s garb. She stepped out of her doe skin suit to reveal a nubile, lissome maiden wearing a wispy green dress that let the sun stream all over her. She pulled off her bonnet to reveal soft golden locks that reached her thighs.

 As the sun caressed her body, leaving soft butterfly kisses all over, she lifted her ambrosia-heavy lids. Her eyes were a soft moss green, the colour of a newly uncurled fern.

Hebe smiled as the snow began to melt in round patches, where her bare feet had touched the ground.

 

 

A 100 days to a new me: Day 23, washed out!

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The day started on a rather strange note, with my mom’s cousin’s call. She was trying to fix me up with this “really nice guy”! Seems this rebranding challenge is taking a completely unexpected turn. I remember a show on television called find a husband in 21 days!, this going even faster!

Well ten minutes later, the actually nice guy called. It was a loooong conversation. About reality, about life, about where we were in life and where we ought to be! It was a happy conversation but also something that set me thinking. Go and settle in the US at my age?, that too when I was settling in a new career…I don’t know…The challenge was it got me thinking about life per se. I was finally starting to come to terms with the fact that my calling was writing, this is what I planned to do, this is who I planned to be. Where does a new start fit in? Is this change going to be too radical?

I had already made peace with peanuts (that’s all you get to make I hear), these were the nascent days of romance, with my love…I would be struggling to wrap around a completely new system…am I equipped? These questions had strangely not come up with MM, he had seemed less intimidating…again I am just wondering, there is no ‘extra-reading’ required here.

Was it because this person had a standard of life, life not living… that was difficult to match up to? He had grown up focused, doing everything right, I had grown up rosy eyed, failing at every step…He was of the soil, the earth, I was ephemeral …of air, something of a soap bubble. Was I even meant to live a real life?…I have somehow surfed through life, waves have washed over  me but I am just the same, maybe a little saltier till my next shower! I have often felt that I have moon-walked through life.

Was it a sign for me to finally wake up? Or I have already done the waking up… I think I shall let life take the lead on this one …I am not going to let it rock my easy chair! Life has anywaysbeen better at surprising me,than I am at anticipating it…I shall cross the bridge when I come to it.

Most of the day went in retrospection; I just swam through the day or was it surfed? I need to get down to serious work, I have deadlines! I need a jolt but that’s post  15th, right now I am preparing for something special…

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I can’t remember anything of yesterday! I remember the four hour long call from CA which had me confused. I remember my niece coming out of her English exam, not the happiest.I remember feeling guilty, a tad disappointed but ensuring it does not show through, I remember me and my sis in law gorging on cake…caught again!, I remember my younger niece coming home with her rouged three n a half year old cheeks, in a shiny white dress with fluorescent polka dots and a matching head band. It was her annual day performance; only parents could attend. It is at moments like this life pinches at times…but no complaints, much more to be thankful about.

I finally posted the next meet up, I called up someone regarding a business opportunity, I waited for a promised phone call…I vegetated, the pressure of non-performance is now hitting/haunting. I need to literally pull up my socks…there is just one more day to when I have no excuses…till then I shall revel in whatever brand I am this minute…