Got respect?

Ever wonder why some days, events, phases of life have meaning only when the people involved uphold respect solemnized (albeit subtly) to one another? In absence of this, these days, events, even phases of life just crumble to become bitter memories that come back to haunt one. Respect is such a hard 7 letter word. Hard to get it, hard to keep it. Also, such an involuntary emotion one feels for another. Extremely tough to manipulate, is that mutual sense of respect two individuals have for one another.

Love, hate, anger, happiness manifest themselves much more easily and are so fleeting. Feeling that sense of respect for another person and gaining that from another, needs time, mutual-interest and is something which cannot be handed out lightly. Precisely why, it hurts so much more, if one shows utter disrespect - to your emotions, to your actions, to you. It makes all those days, events and life-instances suddenly seem meaningless, almost mocking one for having gone through those.

Here's the million dollar question - Is there any meaning to a relationship, ANY relationship, if there is no mutual sense of respect? To me, presence or absence of it is a make or break deal. We humans are pack animals. I would assume that anyone with a little bit of sanity, would want to be in the company of individuals who make us happy. Being respected for what we are, me thinks, makes us feel happy. Sounds pretty straightforward, doesn't it?

How then, do people, with intelligent minds and reasonable intellects end up in the company of folks who have absolutely no respect for them? Why do we, against all better judgment, let that happen to us? Love/affection,  I think cause each and every one of us to face this humiliation at some point or another in our lives.  It's the fine print that comes with every relationship which none of us reads. Sometimes it works out, most times it doesn't. And what we are left with are, days, events and phases of life which are now just moments of shame, pain and remorse. Meaningless days, lost events and empty phases.

The player, the bully

I am becoming too predictable for my own good. It has become imperative that I write every time I fly. It's mostly because my mind runs at a 100 miles an hour when I am alone. It's really hard to keep it thinking one thought. There's just so much to assimilate, so much of the present to record, so much of the past to rewind and play, so much to erase to ring in the new.

Why do we mortals become philosophers when we are flying, at the beach or on vacation? Anything and everything seems possible and our agenda includes conquering nothing lesser than the world itself. And the same locations bring sadness perpetuated through nostalgia, the lost and the freed. It's almost like we fill our lives with so much just so that we aren't surrounded by silence and complain when there is no peace and quiet. We set ourselves up for something that is either painful or irksome at the very least.

Among all the relationships I share with the people around me, extremely precious are the ones that make me think. Such people are so enriching, they bring so much to my life and what I can give back is but minimal. These folks, just by being themselves, input so much content into the eclectic stuff I put out in these blogs.

One such thought process began late last night and has been messing with my head since then. Why is it that some of us get beaten up constantly? It's almost like high school never ended and life ended up being the bully. Yes, we all taught ourselves to survive and tackle the bully, for lack of any other option to react otherwise. But it's almost like some of us get no redemption. Well, let me not sound that extreme. Some of us get no redemption in certain aspects of our life.

In my opinion, each one of us has a partial win in life. Some know what they want and fight the bully, knowing all too well that it is a negotiated out-of-court settlement. Others don't even realize what's missing till it's too late. At that point, they make their peace with life and learn to live with and get stuck with an out-of-court settlement on the bully's terms. Frustrated are both these sets of people, but at least the former probably end up with sort of an upper hand.

The point I am trying to make? By now, you must have realized that I ask more questions than answer any with reasonable conviction. What do I know about solving life's convoluted puzzle? I am but a mere player who happens to think that at the very least, I must keep asking questions, keep jumping contexts (this entry just goes to prove that!), keep the bully challenged and on his toes enough to warrant a break from messing with me.

Half empty?

I am silenced. If you know me, but at all, very few things have this effect on me. I don't know how to react to what I just saw. It is uplifting, saddening, humbling and deeply thought provoking all at the same time.

It's about a couple of kids. Remember childhood? How it was, to be kids? Endless fights with siblings about things which became unimportant somewhere between the hair pulling and the scratching, waiting for that recess period which never seemed to arrive, starting the day with a clean uniform, hair in place, all oiled and in pig tails, ending the day with dusty shoes, tiny stones inside them after all the boisterous sports, not one hair strand in place as the other kids got hold of you in kabaddi as you made it your life goal to touch that line, that victory giving you a happiness that no monetary/professional gain has given you, hating to go back home because home meant homework amongst other irksome things?

These kids, they hate going home too. Not because home means the end of fun and games, not because home means dad hogging TV to watch the 8:30PM news, not because home means mom's incessant calls that its dinner time. The kids hate going home because home means the red light district of Calcutta.  These are kids, born into brothels, and for no obvious fault/choice of theirs, either steadily reaching the age to join the family "line" or becoming pimps. The boys have no respect for women as they grow up to be young men, the girls swear without batting an eye lid, death is no shock and life is merely another day spent in a visibly toxic environment.

In the midst of what was a sick feeling in my tummy for 60 minutes, I noticed that these kids are actually terribly optimistic. They love their mothers, they know they work very hard to make a living, they respect their mothers, they try to love the fathers (ones that cared/needed to stick around) and dream big about their future.  They don't start their day complaining about the overflowing sewage, nor are they mad at their mothers for hitting them, much less complain about traffic from inside a high-end German car on an all American freeway or cringe because the guy in front cut the line at the airport as you ignore the 2 screaming kids and all that luggage in his hand.

Identify with this, my dear reader? If so, I needn't say more. My work here, is truly done.

Not a genius, barely a thinker

Is it possible to feel a sense of loss over something that is not yours to begin with? Humans are such strange beings! Blogs such as this, get any audience because people, being the way they are, never cease to stump themselves. We are a work of art, someone or something's finest pride and glory, yet, so often we manage to display little variation from chimps hanging off trees.


Some genius thinker once said, "If its absence doesn't hurt, its probably not worth the time you are giving it". That person is not a genius by any means and barely a thinker. Just someone random, walking the face of earth trying to make some sense out of a predominantly self induced chaotic existence.


Social beings that we inadvertently are, we are all wired to fit together in a certain way. Some relationships give us a sense of security, some give us pure unadulterated joy, some give us a terrible adrenaline rush, some let us fly free, and others make us feel comfy cozy. Of the above five manifestations of emotions, most of us tend towards folks that provide at least one of these to us. People who make us feel two or more of these emotions are in our list of folks who pretty much make our lives what they are, thus making them life support systems. If we are lucky enough to find that someone who can provide all of these emotions, it is a fairy tale beginning to something stupendous.


Needless to say, fairy tales find a better place in the fiction section of Barnes and Noble than in real life. In this instance, it is primarily due to the fact that it is almost impossible (dare I?) for more than three of the above manifestations to co-exist. Check out the portfolio of your relationships. You have your careless friends (ones that make you feel like superman), the adorable caring/giving ones (ones you tend to take for granted) and ones that challenge and tingle your thinking (ones that keep our lives on toes).


While each one of us stumble upon some combination of traits in every relationship we encounter in the course of our lives, which are the ones which leave the biggest impressions in our life? Which are the ones we cannot do without? Which are the ones that make us feel like the statement the not-a-genius-barely-a-thinker made?

Life of an eternal romantic

I spent a lot of time by myself this past week. Got me doing a lot of reading, a lot of thinking. Something I so rarely get a chance to do. I was listening to a lot of music, but music bugs me at times. Reminds me of days past and the phase of life that that piece influenced. Something incredibly romantic about the pangs of sadness nostalgia brings. One of the few things that tops it, is the phenomenon of falling in love. Getting to know a new person, a new presence, and getting washed all over. In the age where hand-written love letters have been replaced with electronic media and electronic media alone, this usually translates to waiting for that email notification to pop-up, that phone to buzz with the incoming text or call - definitely less romantic but having the potential to set the heart racing just as much.

That got me thinking - man (err pardon me, woman too), is so in love with the idea of being in love, that there is that eternal need to feel like a teenager having a massive crush. Well, maybe not all men (yes, and women). But there is a certain percentage of the human race (present company included), who are such die-hard romantics that, this drama and the sense of being weak-in-the-knees is almost like a life supply. At the risk of coming across as a maniac, I will continue to present the train of my thought.

I realize that one of my biggest fears in life, is the idea of falling out of love. If asked to portray a mental image of myself, it would be so. A certain character in a certain movie who is totally in love with the idea of being in love, causing her to sprint across vast expanses of green, dressed in white, trusting that He would give her a sign when she found her love. Sounds pretty corny, doesn't it? But that's me. When I saw that on screen, me, along with my co-inhabiters of the "being-foolishly-in-love" world, established a picture of themselves in their heads.

Leads me to think - what happened to that dreamer when she found her soul mate (dang it, I am setting myself up to be considered a totally crazy person today, aren't I? My take on soul mates needs a whole other  blog)?  Did she settle down to have a family of 2 kids, a dog and a house in the burbs? Or did she yearn for that romance to be alive and kicking for years to come, despite the blah of everyday life?

I leave you, dearest reader, with this thought - When the magic of it all fizzles out, how do romantics survive? What keeps them going? My take? - A romantic is never ever really out of that state of being in love, never really out of that state of having a muse. That, and only that, keeps them smiling, keeps them floating, keeps them sprinting across imaginary greens.

Care for a do-over?

Ever wonder how your life would be, had you got one do-over? I was doing my usual routine when I fly. I nap for about 30 seconds, reach out for the airline magazine, make a mental note of our next destination somewhere between the amazing hotels advertised and the things to do in a certain vacation spot, open my iPad to read, read for about 45 seconds before switching over to Solitaire. I was on a particularly bad streak of losing when i realized that the game allows you one do-over. That practically changed the course of my game. And that got me thinking - if the face of a game can change with one do-over, how would one do over alter the course of one's life?

More interestingly, I started to think of things that I would change, events/decisions/moments I would want to erase from my life and start over again with that one do-over. There are things that come to mind right away - that extremely embarrassing moment when I waved back to a person only to realize that the person was waving at someone behind me, the numerous heartbreaks, the bad hair style choices that ended up in pictures, the mere thought of which make me cringe, the genius moment when I decided to color my hair red, moments of utter dismal weakness, the multiple overseas flights alone, only to name a few. That's when I realize, this list will never end - for ANYone.

I WISH I could find one person who would attest that their life, it's course, their decisions, where they've been and where they are going, everything in their life choices was perfect. I KNOW that despite the unending list, my life feels perfect. It fits. It makes sense. Every single life experience has made me the person I am, and in its own crazy, twisted and imperfect way, my life is that of a very happy person.

I realize that I am weird and whacked out and to me, that's the only way to be. How can one take life too seriously? When the tick-tocks chime away unnoticed, how much sense does running behind making a grand big picture make? In its own convoluted form, my life, in all it's drama, in all its beautiful and bitter moments, in all its glory and darkness, has taught me a very simple thing. Almost too simple. The smiles that were, will always make you smile, and the tears that were, are gone. Life, in that vein, cannot get much more perfect now, can it? How would one do-over fix something that is already perfect?

Ever wonder how your life would be, had you got one do-over? Turns out you don't need that one do-over or for that matter any number of do-overs to look back and admire the magnificence of your current life story.

Power wars

Power. Even saying the word creates a stir. Makes one feel invincible, undefeated. Makes one do things according to whim and fancy. These very things make it terribly important to arbitrate the handing out of power. The power of decision making, of altering the course of actions, of breaking something that was visibly alright. I cannot even begin mentioning the people that get sucked into these power wars, who have absolutely no control or say, have no option but to watch as well functioning entities which they have put a lot of effort and hard work into, drop to, as one of my good friends puts it, "things that go poof".

The point I guess I am trying to make is, this power battle almost seems like a game called "dog and the bone" we used to play when we were kids. Two folks at each turn, try to grab a piece of cloth and bolt out. The one who is the faster one, and can manage to grab that thing without the other one touching his/her arm takes the honors. The key though is, the win IS a short lived one. You have to give another person his/her turn to try for the "big" guns. Whether you like it or not, you surrender your victory for others to go for it. Since that piece of cloth has little to no value to one, surrendering it almost always barely hurts. But as we grow older, as things at stake become more and more precious, so does the desperation to keep fighting and never give them up.

This inevitably leads me to think - When does this power struggle end in the course of one's life? The more important thing is, when power gets granted to the "wrong" person (well, who am I to judge?), do you suck it up and live with it, or do you break free? And is this decision, by any means, an easy one? There is that inertia to change, there is comfort in the current state, there is familiarity in the current state. Does exploring the unknown become more and more difficult as one grows older? Or is it just a personality thing?

Either way, I believe that in profession as in relationships, there are clear signs planted all through one's life. Signs that will guide one to make the right decision. The difficult part is knowing and accepting that the decision is a good one and will be a positive reinforcement to one's life, which will become apparent later, if not then. I truly believe that this trust, in and itself is such an empowerment. Faith that life has something amazing in store for you. That each and every day is here to unfold itself to you and take your breath away. That confidence in itself is such a high. On that note, I wish that this self-empowerment washes over your life, my dear reader. I wish I can infect you with the happiness and rush that this confidence brings to me. I wish that today and everyday of your life makes you feel like you and only you can hold life by its reigns and keep it galloping like you cant care less about the end to this wonderful ride.

True happiness - Fact/Myth?

Being genuine. What am I, if I am not genuine? On this blog, in my mind, with my people. I am an imperfect person. I have my weaknesses and my fears. I have my moments of absolute happiness and elation. The reasons behind either of these extreme emotions are so simple. Imperfection around me. Around each and every one of us. We need to learn to co-exist with the chaos, to silence the demons in our head, to live with the melodrama that each passing day poses to us.

Before I am branded of eternal cynicism, I do have some positivity at the end of this sentence.

In the midst of this mess that we have managed to make out of a seemingly simple life, there is that smile, there is that hug, there is that presence that makes it all worth it. It's really astounding that the vast majority of us barely even notice this presence, let alone thanking it, or reciprocating. We take it for granted and we complain that we have nothing to make out this complexity that we, in reality, have perpetuated. I am no different.

But there is this one thing by which I can guarantee happiness. In the true sense of the word. Terribly pompous claim for a 29 year old who has little to no life-experience, eh? Humor me and read on.

Stop focusing on what is lacking in your loved ones. Realize that you lack in a lot of ways too. You are less than perfect too. What matters, what really matters is this: Are they there for you when you need them? Do they love you for what you are and more for what you are not? Recognize these support systems, be there for them, treasure them. Genuinely try.

I will guarantee another thing too. It will be HARD. Loving things that are ours, that are jaded with time, is a hard thing. The mind is trained to see bad in what we have. To see fault is anything that is even close to perfect. It is within us, to calm the crazy within and choose to be happy.

At the risk of sounding terribly preachy, I will leave you with one thing: Today, before you go to bed, close your eyes for 2 minutes and sense where you are - literally and figuratively. I am SURE you will smile at what you know at the end of those 120 seconds.

Moving ahead but never moving on

One year. One year of silence. One year of memories where smiles turned to tears and tears turned to smiles. One year of never being able to forget a single day. One year of passing through the same street and reliving the same pain over and over again.

There are certain people who walk into your life and you know right then, it's never going to be the same after that very instant. Every instance that made you feel like that was a larger than life moment, will make you cry a million times. It's so strange how "at peace" one looks on the face, when there is a storm within. How one can try and try but never successfully bury any portion of this surreal past life.

For one, when you know that you can try your best but never fall out of being one spirit, every attempt you make to disengage is unfruitful. You can teach yourself to hate, a lesson that will never be learnt, a desperate albeit futile process.

I wish I did not remember. The dates, the incidences, the laughs, the jokes, the tears, the moments of complete and absolute silence, the moments of incessant laughter. I wish I could somehow let go, in the true sense of the word. I am never away from the surreal. I am never departed from it. I have never really gotten over it, and I don't think I ever will.

One year. One year of silence. One year of moving ahead but never being able to move on.

My Hero

Aaah I jest you not. The past month has whizzed past like nothing else. I spent quality time with my father and see traits of him that only a die hard fan can.

There may be few people in this world who do not love their father to death. My emotion is hardly any different. And by no means do I feel that I could do any justice to my view of my procreator in these few paragraphs.

He is an absolute super star. An A1 personality. Bright, charming personality, strongly grounded to his roots, humble beginnings, star studded aspirations yet heavily conscious of his ground zero. That's what keeps him sane in an undoubtedly crazy world around him.

From where I see him, I see my hero. A man who can falter but never do any wrong, a man who wouldn't think twice before coming to the aid of the same person who may have stabbed him on the back.

From where I see him, its his imperfections that have made him a perfect son, a perfect brother, a perfect husband, a perfect father and a perfect human being.

From where I see him, he loves nothing more than seeing my mother smile, enjoys nothing more than seeing my sibling and me hug, prides nothing more than our small victories in life.

From where I see him, he is perfect. My father, with his short temper, with his insane necessity to be more than perfect, his need to be super super crazy clean, his zest for life, with his "never say die" attitude, is nothing short of perfect.

From where I see him, my hero has his head high, his ego low, his eyes on the stars, his feet firmly grounded. My hero sits high up that pedestal and I shall forever be grateful to have this beautiful person, to have and to hold, and to lovingly call, my father.

Tears in heaven

I looked out of the flight window, thinking why is it that I have gotten so many signs of my past over and over. Past memories flood through my brain. Remind me of the lost. Things that I let go, things that let go of me. Nevertheless, they seem etched in my mind and soul.

How can one ever stop loving, I asked aloud once. I finally did. I gave up. Gave up trying to fool myself. Gave up the girl in me who was the dreamer aka the "self-pain-inflicter". When hearts break, there is no noise. It feels like an explosion but if I were to describe it, it would be so.

Two people staring into each other's eyes fooling themselves and each other that the moment would last forever, that the pain would not, that there could be some sane way of making things work, that the insanity that lead to this moment is unreal, that the imagined happiness is fact, and the factual pain inflicted is fiction.

Why is it that happiness and joy are never as long lasting as pain and tears? Why then are memories of happy times recollected more than the reasons for which the present is in fact present? The smiles that used to be smiles thought of more?

Some of us have a very special gift. Of forgiving and forgetting. I seem to be able to forgive or at least try to but can never seem to forget. What is a very romantic quality to have when you are in the middle of a relationship becomes an extremely painstaking delusion when it ends. Works something like this: reflections and stories fly past my mind almost like a movie but with no reasonable starting or ending point. It's like a super sonic flow of happy and sad.

Today I ask... How can one ever forget? How do you shut off the images, erase the virtually endless reels running through your head?

A dash of "faith", a dollop of "do"

The power of action versus the power of faith is such an old long standing battle. Is one bigger than the other? Who is to say? Does any of us have concrete evidence to declare one the winner? Can belief exist without action or vice versa? Is power of prayer interspersed with power of action, the sure shot to success, happiness etcetera?

Faith is such a powerful emotion. The ability to give in and surrender to a "greater" power. To be big enough in mind to accept that there is a stronger energy source who may be capable of doing more and be all pervasive.

While there may be more believers than atheists in the world, is it because we are all that humble or because we want to leave the decision/action as well as be able to blame an entity for our failures? Faith is seriously misundestood. Faith ought not be our answer for our shortcomings.

And it's this misuse that makes faith the obvious option for most of us. Defintely, pushing forth, trusting oneself and holding only oneself responsible for the downfall in addition to the sucesses seems very very hard to do. How can we ordinary mortals be sfrong enough to look at the man in the mirror and chide ourselves for failing? Isn't it much easier to blame it on fate, destiny and this is the best one of all...GOD.

If only we had the maturity to believe that while not all of our happiness is fed by us but all of our misery surely is. If only we had the guts to accept that we do possess a great deal of pathos and that while people who love us choose to ignore them and deal with them we most certainly should not. It all starts with us opening our eyes wide enough to even come close to this simple simple realization.

Oh my dear dear friend, you ain't any more perfect than me. And the sooner you wake up, and burst that bubble you are living in, the sooner you shall see meaning in my words. Till then, all I can do is hope that that day shall in fact arrive, if ever.

Get me?

It's strange really. How the same things, the same person seem totally different when your perspective in life changes. It's such a powerful thing, perspective. All you really do is put yourself in people's shoes. You will realize that it's much easier to let things go. Much easier to move on without the bickering, the arguments, the mess.

IMHO, there's no mantra to it. We just happen to love ourselves much more. We give ourselves more leway, way much more benefit of the doubt. And it's simply because of this that we find ourselves forgiving others more when we put things into perspective.

And why not? Surely it must make us better people, no? Just making an attempt shouldn't hurt? If it does help, we may just manage to make our already short life span somewhat simpler. And bring in more smiles. Now that seems worth a shot.

Almost appears to be a no-brainer to do the same for people on our speed dial. I mean these folks who you want to be able to reach at the touch of a button surely deserve that much, I would assume.

And somehow most of us fail, terribly. I by no means am any exception. And it really is a pity that we humans find understanding, adjusting, empathizing so incredibly difficult.

I have no sermons to give and most definitely no "life-experience" to add. But I do hope that this be your takeaway if you cared enough to read thus far. Each day as you complain about the weather, the long morning flight that finally got you to work that Monday morning as you got back from that vacation, broccoli for dinner, perhaps you will hold close to your mind and heart - one little almost magical word-perspective.

One big bear hug away from happiness....

I don't feel a hundred percent today. He is not well. He reminds me of all the good times we shared. He is forever doting and extremely possessive. I remember him being a choosy eater. Since he walked into my life, it has never been the same. He is indeed an irreplaceable part of me.

My heart skips a beat when the telephone rings these days. I am worried that its going to be news I don't want to hear. I refuse to accept the fact that he is probably not going to feel any better any time soon. I think of him all day, all night. I shudder to think that he has not been eating, that he is in a lot of pain but unable to say it.

Pepsi became part of our family 13 years ago. I remember picking him up as a little bundle and hugging him tight as he wondered what was it that was taking him away from his biological mother. He whined all of that autumn September night. None of us slept either. The next morning, he seemed to feel much more at home and has been ever since.

Today, 13 years later, he knows the smell of me, even though I have been away from him 7 of those 13 years. He knows that I was one of the 2 pesky people who nagged him no end so he learned how to bring forth his paw and shake it. Pepsi has always inherently been a scared dog (even though he did everything in his power not to make that obvious, barking incessantly for one). If he could read, he would hate me for writing this and letting the cat, ahem dog out of the bag. He masks his fear by displaying rage.

He is as picky with his food as a teenage girl. He wont eat bread as it is, unless it has a hint of egg on it. He would rather that you let go of all the food in your hand than making him feel like a dog begging for it. Oh, he has ego, that mutt. He has always been obsessively possessive of my father. He pretends to like us all equally but I know what goes in the mind of that fly-fighter. He could forget the world if my dad was around.

A piece of me seems to be going farther and farther away. I wish I could have hugged him longer before I said bye the last time over. I wish I took more pictures. I wish I got one do-over at all these things.

Rashmi Chitrakar, anyone?

I am late. It was only last week that I finally came upon the blog of Mr. Amitabh Bachchan. Inspite of being a huge fan, this site somehow eluded me thus far. I am impressed. How does a guy in his late sixties, shuttling between multiple cities in one day keep this going? He is probably making big bucks in the process but that got me thinking about what he is really achieving in this process. I call it the "secret perk".

What the Gaylord of Indian cinema is doing is what each and every one of us have ingrained within us. How people leave trails of their life for others who care to find out. How we humans, have the inherent need to be known, however insignificant our lives may be. Each one of us has the desire that someone somewhere knows what we did, thought about, desired, feared, admired, hated when we walked the earth. Some of us will express impeccably while some of us will leave no traces behind.

There are days when I am really sad or ecstatic. Those are the days when my creative juices are to the brim and a blog is usually one of the outcomes. Today is not one of those days. What's special about today is that its one of those "revelation" kind of days where things suddenly seem clearer.

One thing that is definitely clear to me after reading Mr. Bachchan's blogs is that he is SO normal. He has the same set of insecurities, the same need to "justify" himself, the same craving to correct a wrong statement, a incorrect judgment, a false accusation. Luckily for him, there are millions of people willing to listen to and see his side of the story. How many of us are given that chance? One chance to justify our stand, to not have people judge us without hearing our side of the story, to just let us be? I shudder to think that one day, I will fade away and so many, that knew nothing about me, have built an image that is not remotely close to the real me.

Mr. Bachchan has it easier in that sense. Today he has another person listening to his side of the story, another person giving him the benefit of the doubt, another person being inspired by the demigod that is Amitabh Bachchan.

Alone in a dark room

I've not written for about a year now. And I find that I am most reflective when I am sad. Well, not sad per se. I would call it a state of silence. Where you feel like you are in a dark room. Alone.

I will not say that my life is empty. I am in fact, making an attempt to make it, the opposite of that. But it is very important to put oneself in that "alone in a dark room" state every once in a while to really connect with ourselves.

Mistakes. We all make them, don't we? But sometimes our mistakes get pushed so far away that we lose out on things. Important things. Important people. Important relationships. And in dearth of these relationships, you realize that there is a portion of you that just doesn't exist anymore. And if you really look hard in the mirror, you've turned into this person whom you don't recognize much. Neither recognize nor like.

To what extent should you permit a person to influence your thoughts? At the end of the day, there is that person inside of you begging to differ, forcing you not to change your way of thinking. When you hear such a voice, it really makes sense to shut off every other influence and listen to that inner voice. Who knows you better than that "little-person" inside of you? Why do you have to listen or get influenced by someone judging you or your actions?

When you let yourself be brainwashed enough to stop listening to that "little-person" and start believing this "influence", what do you have to justify to the people who believed in you being a good person, just the way you were? People who loved you regardless of your flaws? How does one pick up the shreds that are left of those relationships and move on?

Peace - will thy be mine?

Why is it that life at times flies at 100 miles an hour and crawls at 10mm an hour in some others? Is it so much the company of people you are in or is it simply a state of mind? Or do we bow down to Mr. Einstein on the theory of relativity? Whichever way you go, its true. One second you feel like you are cruising through life and the next, you are down in the dumps. So further down that you feel like there is, to quote Jennifer Aniston from F.R.I.E.N.D.S, "Yesterday I felt like I had hit rock bottom. Today I feel like there's rock bottom, 6ft of garbage under it and then me".

To pump some sense into life, I think - isn't it so that when you control your mind, nothing else can really bother you much? But there too, the mind and heart are always at this eternal battle against each other. The mind - So pompous and loud. It feels like its all powerful without realizing that it is such a terrible loser compared to the heart. The heart sits by itself, not making these outlandish claims and simply wins out - always! The sad thing sometimes though is, the heart wins out without a sigh but the mind plays spoil sport just because it lost. Telling us things we SHOULD be doing. Things we SHOULD be feeling.

And while for each one of us, the result of the mind-heart battle may be different, and some of us are satisfied with the result, for a person like me, I cannot help but wonder, do I ever really win? The heart has its way most times and it makes me happy. But in those times when the heart wins but the mind spoils the party, how can I ever tell myself to be happy? Even if I tell myself this thing over and over, how do I convince myself so much so that I get back to being..well me?

Wake up sunshine

Wake up sunshine..may everything glow in the warmth of your presence..may every being be humbled by you..may smiles never cease..may there be eternal happines..let everything fun be a part of your life, let everything good happen to you. May success never elude you. Contentment be your chum forever. Peace be with you always!

Any hurt that you may ever feel be mine. All your pain mine. May all my happiness and peace be yours. You are what beauty is. You are the ideal definition of perfection. Mistakes..what do you know how to make them? Hurt..can you ever inflict that on anyone? Failure..do you even know what it means? Impossible..have you ever said that word? Nada..these words suggest negativity..and could you ever symbolize that?

You breathe life and energy, your smile lights up a crowd, your company..pure bliss..What more can I wish for you..what more can I bless you with..what more do I offer to you..but my meager share of fortunes. What more do I grant you..than all that could ever be mine.

Wake up sunshine..open your eyes and make everything beatiuful!

Ain't no mountain high enough

Defeat, failure..do these things just mean more to some people than others? Do they affect just some people adversely? I definitely think I am one of "those". Whether I blame (read thank) my mom for making me like this or my innate nature, I find that I suffer from this disease called "needing-to-be-on-the-top". I may sound pompous when I say this but it really is a disease. I have suffered from it since age 5. Nothing tastes/smells/feels better than success whether it's in career or in personal life. The ghosts of failed realtionhsips haunt me as badly as the ghosts of standing 3rd in class those 2 times in school. And I accept that being infected with this disease makes these things seem really big to me. I am never really at peace with either kind of failure even though I try to forget. Maybe it's because I never really forgive myself for those failures.

And as I write this blog, I am reminded of the words of a pal who is as dear to me as I am to me. He always wonders..why is it that I manage to pin point and pick myself on the things that I am worst at? Why can't I look at the sunny bright side and bask in glory of happy times? Why doesn't my unforgiving conscience smile at me ever and make me feel good about myself?

It isn't as bad as it sounds, I am a happy person. I just manage to shoot for stars so high up that it often makes me feel inadequate given that I don't enjoy the journey as much. But thankfully for me, success in my personal life far outweighs the failures and I am happy that I made some judgement calls. Call it destiny or karma but I am content. I am at peace. As far as career judgement calls go, I am just getting started. The stars are way higher than usual, the stakes are further high but I trust my gut that I'll get there. The only hope is when I do get there, I am content with the journey as much as I am with my personal life today. That, my friends will be the icing on the cake!

Turn back time

Desi is me. My ideas of fun, of amusement, of work, of moving ahead in life and career, of thought itself! They are so typically Indian. They say you can take the desi out of India but can you take India out of the desi? I scream from the top of my lungs..NO!! Coz no matter how much we try, we are so in love with everything that is Indian that we really don't like the idea of separating ourselves from "desi-ness" if I may. And I find that I appreciate, love and respect my homeland much more now that I have managed to put 10,000 miles between us. Strange isn't it? Everything good in life is like health..you never know it's value till you lose it.

And I beg to differ from people who manage to put the same kind of distance and "comment" on the sad state of India. I absolutely despise the "liberated-souls" who says things like.."Things like blah blah will never change in India". I have just one thing to say to them..."Good you are here..India can use some crap-elimination".

In my mind, I have such a sweet picture of home! And call me an ignorant fool and a dreamer but home..sigh, is filled with irreplacable memories..the pakoras and samosas with chai on a rainy afternoon, the power cuts leaving all of us singing at the top of our voices on the terrace, the bike rides, barrista coffee, star gazing on the porch, bollywood, the soaps where the bahus never stop crying and the saas' never stop torturing, mom's repeated calls for dinner in a desparate attempt to get the family together only to lose out badly on majority vote to watch TV while eating, ohh those were the days!

One of the biggest wars used to begin when there would be a cricket match and a filmfare award show airing together!! My dad would turn into a kid fighting for the remote. But dad that he was..he always won and we would drag our grumpy faces into our rooms..hmmmphh..dictatorship..but as we grew older, the tables turned..!!

And how I crave for one miracle to get back that time. The innocence in the pleas for that new dress, the joy on the arrival of that first barbie, the excitement to bits that birthdays were arriving, the goosebumps while hiding in a oh-so-visible spot while playing hide-n-seek, the naive hatred towards why-the-holy-smokies-did -my-parents-pick-this-name-for-me then growing to love it..Oh the nostalgia..Oh the desparate wish to get things back the way they were and enjoy them just once again..Oh the wonderful things that my country has given me, Oh my sweet home..Oh my sweet paradise.