May 10, 2015

Not just any day, certainly not every day, but every once in a while you realize that among the many lessons that growing  up teaches you, the most pressing is the irrevokability of life decisions. When you're younger (or just young-at-heart), jumping off cliffs seems like the thing to do. Everything feels like it's relatively simple. All you have to do is close your eyes, take that jump and let the future take care of itself. Because, frankly, you've never come across a situation that you can't walk away from. And with change being the only constant that you have known, it never occurs to you that a day will come when you wake up with a realization that 'this-is-my-life'. And whether you like it or not, everything in it is something you have to live with. Gone are the days when you could just pick up your (inconveniently-green) passport, have a visa stamped (or not, depending on where you decide to go) and catch a plane to-some-other-place. Gone are the moments when escape from your life had no consequences whatsoever - because, let's face it, who were you leaving behind? Gone are the days when your decisions had no impact (or none that you cared about at any rate) on anyone but you.

Gone are the days when you lived for no one but you.

And if you're honest with yourself, this is what you always wanted. Someone to belong to. Someone who belongs to you.

It's just days - like today - when you wake up to the spine-chilling awareness that whether you like it or not, there's nothing you can do about it. Contrary to past life events there's no 'k-thanks-bye' that you can say while you happily wallow in self-created life dramas and then move on to the next chapter.  Truth is after talking about it for most of your life, you've gone and done it. You've jumped off that cliff.

Whether you fall, or fly, is really up to you.


March 16, 2015



You
eclipse everything-else
but 
every-now-and-then
everything-else
softly murmurs
(somewhat apologetically)

I used to be important too
.
.
.
once-upon-a-time.

February 23, 2015

It's been a strange year. Relocation, job-less-ness, a transition to a completely-different kind of life. Not strange in a bad-kind of way, just 'strange'. Sometimes I wonder if any of us completely understand the consequences of decision-making until they are living them. But then I realize that knowing the unknowable is an exercise in futility-frustration best left to political pundits and religious zealots. Me, I've never really had a tendency to look before I leap - and so far this obsessive need to jump off cliffs and hope for a happy landing has served me well. And life - life becomes what I choose to make of it. And to tell you the truth, life is pretty-damn-good :)

How're you doing?

February 21, 2015

A year (and something) of marriage later, I realize that one of the repercussions is that I seem to have forgotten how to be alone. I've forgotten, I think, the years I spent waking up to only myself. Time spent, for example, with a single cup of coffee (or hot chocolate, actually make that hot chocolate), my laptop, a book and my thoughts. I've forgotten, I think, how to live happily inside my own head without the incessant need to share every little thing with someone else. I've forgotten that amidst the crazy-busy-talkative hours of my work-life, one of the smallest - but surest - pleasures lay in 'not' communicating.

I've forgotten, I think, how to spend quality time with me.

And I miss that.


February 12, 2015

Dear Religion (et al),

You impress me not. And depress me much. And make me wonder how many others out there appreciate the irony that the very force that insists on prescribing the formula for human-salvation is most certainly a key ingredient in the recipe for assured-destruction.

Just saying.

- Me 

October 14, 2014

September 12, 2014

I am a cucumber.

I think.

Why, you ask?

Why, not.

I say.

May 22, 2014

I saw a documentary called "Terms & Conditions May Apply" yesterday.

Today, I'm wondering whether totally erasing my digital footprint is still an option. Or is everything that I was archived in some giant machine somewhere forever to inform a total stranger at one click of a button? Worse still, I'm the one who has voluntarily decided to put my life on display to anyone-who-happens-to-have-the-authority. Or who knows their way around the world of information decryption around the internet.

I'm not entirely certain what (if anything) can be done about the whole internet-privacy-conundrum in retrospect (now that all this information is out there and saved somewhere), but do watch the film if you can get hold of it.

Creepy-much. 

May 17, 2014

This letter, written by a father to his daughter, made me stop and think a little bit about the future of the land-of-the-pure.

It's strange how even the shortest separation can make you re-look at things you used to call your own. I have lived in the motherland most of my whole life, give or take a few years spent here and there. I've survived countless tragedies, some at the epicenter, others standing at the sidelines. I've witnessed injustice and cruelty and a callous disregard for humanity all the while knowing that while I mourned today there would be another tomorrow - one where the latest tragedy would overshadow the one we were struggling with today. In a world where something bad happens every day, something worse makes the earlier injustice milder by comparison. And while I know that it might be the worst possible kind of coping mechanism - this gradual transition to utter numbness - it is all that most of us have.

Because what else will we do? Will we stop driving our cars, visiting our friends, frequenting the malls for fear of bomb-blasts, gun-shots or kidnapping followed (if we are lucky) by death? Will we hole up in our houses, hold our breaths and hope - if we don't move too fast - we will escape what the denizens of the Islamic-Republic have in store for us? Will we stop identifying with our religious beliefs because we're fairly certain someone will take offense and in an effort to attain a privileged afterlife feel like it's their duty to shut-us-down? Will we forget how to speak our minds and instead begin to conform mindlessly to what is dictated by those who pretend to know more, but instead jealously try to hide their own ignorance? Will we also, forget how to breathe?

Maybe we will.

Someday.