It is never too late…..to take that pause!


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

*************************************************************************************

Between the hoots of the silver white owl

that sits on your table with a button of snooze

And, meeting reminders that sing from your phone

While you lie there and wonder, if you could just be left alone….

While you take in the first whiff of coffee, after your first floss,

Remember milady, It is never too late…to take that pause!

 ********************************************************************

Between singeing your fingers in the simmering tea cup,

when you attempted to get the day’s first sunny side up

And, reading those blazing headlines of fire and blood,

You somehow missed your usual eight o clock bus!

And so, while you take a cab and roll down the glass….

Remember milady, it is never too late to take that pause!

*************************************************************************************

Between the never ending home chores

That feast on your wows and woes,

And, towering over kids while they scribble and babble…..

You are engulfed by waves of never ceasing trials

As you stand ramrod, making those flat breads and sauce,

Remember milady, it is never too late to take that pause!

*************************************************************************************

This post is dedicated to all women who tirelessly work with no breaks, managing home and work with the same finesse but, rarely appreciated. To all those women, it is never too late to take that pause!

Pause-Breathe

Will the next conflict be over water?


There is God and, there is the Devil. 

God is kind. He allows humans to explore their wolf, dog and sheep sides alike. He allows humans to make mistakes and learn.

Devil is sinister. He prods humans to feed the wolf side more. And, he ensures that mistakes are repeated in countless different ways!

And then, there is Mother Nature.

Mother Nature is the equalizer. She doesn’t take sides. When the time comes, she looks at her log book. The checks and balances have to be evened. And so, she brings back the balance in unfathomable ways that shift the core in humans. And then, everything becomes calm. Just like it did after 2004 Tsunami.

We pray to Gods that we cannot see. We despise the Satan that we cannot feel. But, we continue to ignore and abuse Mother Nature, the only visible force of omnipresence, the only life force we have, the only mother who holds us together.

Ironical? Sadly so.

*************************************************************************************

Temples are made. Yagnas are performed. Gods must be appeased. But, Gods smile back. Because, the caretaker Mother Nature is not happy. And, humans haven’t realized the horror that is yet to come. Because, we have disappointed Mother Nature and her rivers!

Below is stats collected from Rally for Rivers Campaign

  • Ganges has entered the endangered rivers list.
  • Godavari is drying up.
  • Cauvery that is being fought for by two foolish states has lost 40% of its density.
  • Krishna and Narmada have lost about 60% of their volume.
  • Other rivers like Bharatpuzha of Kerala, Kabini of Karnataka, Palar and Vaigai of Tamil Nadu, Musal of Odisha and Kshipra of MP are heading towards the same sinister fate.

25% of India is turning into a desert! How worried should we be?

Men in power are busy chasing fame. Masses are busy sharing images and news of dastardly acts of shame. Teenagers are busy jumping off roofs because a game by a sea creature’s name challenged them!

But that doesn’t change the fact – Rivers, Our rivers – the very life force that give humans everything they need, are dying. Slowly. Painfully. Steadily.

That day is not far when water shall become the source of a war, an ugly war that shall tear humanity to shreds! Today, I saw a poster with the last drop of water clinging to the faucet! In years to come, humans will be killing each other for that one drop. And, the bulwark for the calamity is already getting laid at the same pace our rivers are drying.

SWA And Team. 

SWA (Service Wives Association), a formidable force of army, navy and air force wives, has joined hands with this campaign and, are bringing this important message to every school, every home and every town.

 

SWA

SWA and ISHA’s message to our parents and teachers

  1. Tree plantation is not a one day affair. Planting saplings, watering them daily, tending to them like your children is synonymous with the very idea of raising children. So, SWA and ISHA sincerely request you all to inculcate in children, the habit of tending to plants and trees on a daily basis till it becomes a habit. Beginning with children of pre-primary and primary phase, this daily habit shall leave an indelible impression as minds of little children are like wet clay on a potter’s wheel.
  2. Parents and teachers can together adopt the concept of compost pit where seeds, peels and other discards of fruits and vegetables can be put into the pit evenly to decompose. They turn into a carbon and nitrogen rich source of natural fertilizers which are a great source of nourishment for the soil. (Learning how to make compost pit.)
  3. Every drop of water that is saved, is a drop of prayer to calm our Mother Nature. Beginning this message with children will surely bring in a positive change.

 

If you are reading my blog, sitting in a place where you are not in a position to be a part of this immediate change, just give a missed call on the image given below. Pledge your support today. BECAUSE, IT IS NOW OR NEVER.

rr

Watch this video in which Sadhguru explains the situation of rivers in India as it is. And, it is not a good situation.

Click on –> RALLY FOR RIVERS (or,  copy paste this link –> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tg1OaK_JzM on your browser)

 

 

 

 

 

WoWs and WoEs of a content writer!!


Scene 1: (Two years back)

“What do you do?”
Me: “I write for websites.”
“What do you write?”
Me: “Whatever the client provides as requirements….I take the cue and write.”
“ohh….So do you get paid for it?
Me: “yes, I do.”
“How much do they pay you?”

I almost cringed. If that gentleman had next asked my age, I would have pulled off the clingy facade of sweetness and exposed the acerbic person underneath. But, the gentleman survived. Why? I did not answer. And, he did not ask again. Anything more.
Not long after this conversation happened, another interesting conversation happened a couple of months later.

Scene 2:
“So, you write for websites…i.e generate content for websites….”
Me: “Yes Ma’am”
“But, there is no creativity in just taking content from Internet and rephrasing in your own words. That is the reason, I do not relate with this career. No originality..”
Me: “…………………………………………”

I did not know how to respond. So, I again kept quiet. I don’t believe in breaking mind bubbles of people. As long as their thoughts do not bubble out and intrude into my head space, I am fine with them screaming their lungs out from roof tops that Galileo was wrong about Earth being round and, the rabbit they caught had three legs. Only! (The Tamil proverb literally translated from – Naan pidicha Moyalukku moone Kaalu)

Scene 3: (Happened recently)
“So, you are a content writer eh…”
“Yes.. ”
“Basically, you just play around with words right?”
I took a deep breath.
“Yes, that is exactly what I do. Only that playing takes away half of my day”

Predictably, the person did not understand the later part of my statement.
I sighed.

**************************************************************************

“What do you want to become in life?”
This question was my Achilles’ heel in my growing years. I have never given weird answers. But, I had many in the head. The three that topped my list were –

“I want to become a pagan.”
“I want to become a newsreader.”
“I wanted to become a Beatrix Kiddo!”

….I wonder what the reactions would have been. Thankfully, I spared my parents the horror of the first and the third. But the ‘newsreader’ thing of the three was the first to enamour me. I began watching DD news at the age of seven….(I am sure my parents thought it is the DD music that I took a liking for….)

The way Salma Sultan perched a pink rose on the side of her bun that matched with her pink saari is a sight that is still fresh in my memory. It is like I can almost smell that memory. Neeti Ravindran’s mole, Shobana Jagdish’s sweet voice, Kaveri Mukherjee’s crisp cotton saris and Gitanjali Iyer’s hair style had some tantalizing effect on me. I never quite understood what they spoke, given my age. But, I connected with the way they spoke. Clarity is the word. Even today, I feel there is no news reader that could present news like this breed. And, I had wanted to become one then.

Seasons passed. These memories were pushed underneath the pressures of academic world. And soon, I was 18 years of age with the same annoying question staring at my face– “What do you want to become in life?”

***************************************************************************

It is almost a decade since I quit the IT industry and, chose content writing as a career.  No, there was no preconceived notions about it. I tried it because I wanted change. And, I dreaded if this professional change wore me out soon… But, it did not. It stayed. Maybe, I finally entered a zone where I did not have to feel competition that worked on “There is only way to the top.” philosophy

But, the beginning was not easy. With no lit background, my pace did not match with the ones that had. However, I was ready to learn. Blogging happened along the way too. Slowly and steadily, I got into the arena where, I was a small fish trying to find my path in the ocean.

Post marriage and, having a kid, I freelanced. It is here, I experienced encounters of all kinds. There were a few that did not pay me as they had promised. It hurt. But, I did not fight back. For some reason, I was indebted to even those, as my writing skills went up a notch having written quite a lot of articles for them. There were a few that wanted me to change my writing style, which I couldn’t. After a few stumbles here and there in the virtual world, I finally chanced on an email from a well known author who was interested in giving me writing assignments. And that, she mentioned I had a nice blog, made me feel good about myself.

And, I began my work with SSK, an army wife like me who was not only nice but quite professional. It is under her, I got all the exposure I needed. If I asked for experience, she handed me the horizon. The pay was not great. But, I thoroughly enjoyed writing articles for the clients that came through her. I think, I covered almost every topic under the Sun – be it business, art, academics, travel, medical et al..I also got to write gist for TedX videos, in the process getting to hear some of the amazing people reveal their simple side to us. It was a liberating experience for me. But, I also struggled with deadlines. The lady was kind though, and gave me a day more than she gave other writers. A few months later, I found myself in a better position. And, I moved ahead, took a break and, joined another firm, looking for different topics to work on. This firm was run by a nice couple who gave me a list of subjects that I had not explored yet. Product reviews, brands, Gaming technologies and, everything related to e-Commerce came my way. Although a part of me felt quite drab writing about them, but I continued. After all, work is work. The struggles continued. And, I was always the last one to submit work, nevertheless on time. I took a break after a few months of intense writing. And now, I have resumed work again.

However, this time the pressures are not breathing down on my neck. I am a bit more relaxed than what I was years before, as a struggling content writer. And yet, I have a long long way to go. Every assignment that I undertake makes me work hard. And, once I submit it, I always look at it and, question myself – “Could it have been better, any better?” It may appear strange but, I get this feeling after writing even a blog post.  For some reason, I do not let that question die. Somehow, it makes me yearn to make it better.

***************************************************************************
It so happened that post marriage, a relative had casually passed a remark – “Narayani…I don’t think content writing is something unique. You shouldn’t have left that job at MNC. And, you not only left it but, now have taken up a job that is paying you peanuts! And, writing is something that anyone can do! No big deal. Why? Even I can write articles. I have a pHD background.”

That was the day I had submitted my first article of 600 words, a week after I joined the firm that provided content writing services.

Would anyone believe that it took me a week to write those 600 words with around 15 keywords that should not be repeated in a way that the reader loses interest and, in the process I had to make sure that the article was not only grammatically correct but also plagiarism free? It was a very simple topic and yet, I struggled for a week while, my subordinates wrote around 4 to 7 articles per day in the time window between 10 AM to 6 PM (with an hour of lunch break)

Did his statement demoralize me? No. I understood, he just couldn’t see the challenge and beauty in the field of writing, the way I saw it.

And for people who think, assume and believe that content writing is mere word play and nothing more…..I have nothing to prove. You have the right to express your views. And, I have the right to reserve my silence.

Because, there are days when as a content writer, I take about five hours to write a 500 word article on the dynamics of marketing in business with strategies deployed, covering as many related subjects and, as a blogger in my personal space, I end up writing more than 1000 words in less than thirty minutes! Just like I did now.

Now, that is the difference, my friend. That is the difference.

snoopy-writing

Disconnect to connect ~ Part 3


For some reason, I have been toying with the idea of expressing my thoughts on this ailment. But, as they say there is always a time and place to let the thoughts flow. To say, this ailment bothers me would be an understatement. After all, I am not the severely affected one. So, why should it bother me? Yet, it does. I am made of flesh and blood to feel the wave of repulsion, after all. And, repulsion from what? …..an ailment that spares no one, an endemic that affects the body and mind, a termite that destroys the voice that questions from within. – The illness of appeasing.

ii

The illness of appeasing is far desired to be left uncured than to be destroyed.

A year back, I had visited an event somewhere away from my place. A VVIP was arriving and so, the arrangements were exemplary. Rangolis with fine colours and, vibrant white and yellow marigolds sprawled across the entire porch. It was a beautiful sight. And no wonder, people making them had put every ounce of devotion into it. I could see the last minute directions too when, one of the hosts felt that a particular addition could be made in the designs near the entrance. It was definitely a scene of a queen bee instructing the worker bees to prepare for the hive. If I could give that compliment in the real world too, I thought.

Queen bees lead a regiment of worker bees to make a living. Although I have already committed a cardinal sin of even drawing an analogy between the queen bee and the hostess, I couldn’t help comparing the worker bees with the group of people who were engaged in the beautification, which was neither their job nor their hobby. Let’s say these people helped with good will. Or, let me add – it was a forcefully induced goodwill that usually comes closest to following instructions. The VVIP arrived. The event took off well. And, once the event was over, the photographs were taken. A deluge of compliments poured in from the guests. The hosts were happy. The guests were impressed. The food was good. The clicks were well timed and perfect. And, everyone went back home, happy. No, not everyone. I wasn’t happy. The huge patterns of rangolis with beautiful peacocks and earthen lamps would be cleaned off post the event. All good things have to end, right? All that hard work by a group of people for a host who wanted to appease a guest  would simply be wiped out. I was repulsed. And, it was not the first time I saw the manifestation of this illness. It won’t be the last time either.

This also explains why I feel sore at the very thought of attending glamorous weddings, extravagant parties and, exclusive meets that demand too much of man power for a decor that shall be razed to the ground once the event is over. Simplicity is not everyone’s forte in character, just like the uncommonness of common sense.

That said, as long it is done as a job that is paid for and, people are earning a living out of it, I cannot diss it completely. But, I will continue to harbor untold concerns about the profligacy that people look for when they host such events.

Why make people happy?

I have never understood the need to appease a person who is revered. He could be anyone, right from the ‘Bade papa’ at home to the VVIP politicians, Godmen and all those who lead a clout. If the person is truly revered, there is no need to appease him. But then, we have all fallen for that trap. That one person has to be made happy and, has to be made feel good. Else what? I don’t know.

And, the trap gets laid right from home. It is a very tricky situation. As much as one doesn’t want it, the centripetal force releasing from the vortex that has rooted itself from years of social conditioning, continues to pull you in. After all, to be in the middle of the pack is any day a better option to survive than walking like a scorned tiger. Man is a social animal, they say. He cannot be an island. Now, that is cliche.

I faced a very similar trap in the previous station for a different reason though. My son was a preschooler those days. And, a home with a preschooler cannot be a museum. It is more often than not, a Mowgly’s Jungle that is often visited by Pete’s dragon, Fee-Fye-Fo-Fum from Jack’s world and sometimes, also by three bears from Goldilock’s encounter. To keep my sanity from disintegrating was a daunting task. And, needless to say, men can only help as much as they can. Women have complex minds that sometimes spew lava in the form of frustrated mothers, nagging wives and, disillusioned women who stare in horror at the rehashed décor of their homes that suddenly look the insides of a birdhouse as compared to the palatial decors around. Today, while I type this post I can say with brutal honesty that I have sailed past those turbulent phases wherein, the hubby’s desire to have a home sans clutter and my own inability to meet that expectation made me feel out of place in this world. It was in those days I learned to question – “Why? Why should I keep a home in a way that must only make people happy but not me?”

Housekeeping is like politics. Everyone has a say in it but no one wants to be a part of it.

Here, I would also like to add – Housekeeping is an absolutely thankless job and, continues to remain so until you have clearly outsourced your home keeping business effectively.

I understood it early. My husband resigned to the depth of this statement later. And, the son reaffirms the statement every single day, as he chooses to create his Jurassic world countless times, in every room. And, I have no qualms admitting that my true self sustains in utter chaos, much to the annoyance of my parents and my husband who are all afflicted with the opposite of it.

But, we did find a solution. It took me a long while to help the men in my family understand that, the desire for a good home should spring from within and not from an intent to gain appreciation from the world. The idea is to appease the self first. And now, Sundays are days when hubby and son take charge and do their bit in furniture dusting and removing cobwebs. No job in the world is exclusively designed for a woman, except breast feeding.

My perception of the illness

After all these years, have my thoughts towards appeasing changed? No. I still detest the idea to impress someone with the thought that it would make them happy. Because I am a selfish female, I always end up asking myself – “Am I happy doing it?” And yet, I have done my bit for people not because I wanted to gain trust and confidence around but, to try every experience that felt new. There have also been times when I have refused politely. Not because, I could not do it, but because I did not want to do it. And, I am not guilty of it either. But such instances, I can almost count them on my finger tips. Maybe, there will come a day when my refusals outnumber my give-ins and, I finally can choose where and when I want to help.

Do I sound rude? Oh yes, I am. Helping, is one thing. When that help becomes a tool to appease, it enters a rife mode. And trust me, the line that sets apart one from the other is as thin as a hairline. It is very much there but often, misses the eye! What is worse, the intention to help soon transforms into a self imposed moral obligation and, soon becomes a burden that one is neither able to unload, nor carry. Quite a predicament, right?

No more advice on ‘judgmental(s)’

Every action of ours is connected with how we respond to the little things out there in the world. A woman who believes she is a doormat should not expect to be treated like a queen by a man. A man who believes he is spiritual enough to alter people’s thoughts with his words, should be humble enough to accept that there is a chunk of people in the world who may not concur with his views and yet, believe in God. Not realizing this fact leads to all major wrongs happening to humans. Because, while they are supposed to disconnect with the world to connect with themselves, they end up doing just the opposite – Disconnecting from self to connect with the world.

This is primarily why I have stopped expecting people around to be non judgmental. No, it is not possible. Such negatives define us humans, right? Common, let’s face it. The moment we go vocal with our self righteous streak shining bright with statements like – “You have no right to judge”, we have already turned into one. And, you know the funny thing – At the end of the day, it don’t matter how the world judges you. It just don’t matter at all. People need new meat everyday. You, my friend are not going to remain fresh in their memories forever unless, you have disconnected with them to connect with yourself!

So, what matters after all?

What really matters is how you accept yourself with no malice, with all pluses and minuses intact.

What matters is the pat on the back that your mirror reflection gives – “So what if you had a very bad day? You have come this far. And, you will go far ahead too.”

What matters is the confidence the face on the other side of the mirror gives you while you brush your teeth in the morning – “You is important”

And, that is all that matters.

All. That. Matters.

Disconnect to Connect ~ Part 1

Disconnect to Connect ~ Part 2

 

 

Disconnect to connect ~ Part 2


Dissociation will come first. Then, the dissent!

willo

How much do we yearn for our own kind? Here, I talk about those, who not only agree with our plane of thoughts but also, disagree with us on some terms without malice, in the process accepting that there are 10 sides to a decagon, with each side facing a different direction. It is rare, I tell you. It is just rare. Now, I know why pagans that lived in the earlier ages felt superior to mere humans. It is because mere humans succumb to the fear of scrutiny. The need to not only look good but better than others, the need to feel appreciated and, the desire to rule people’s hearts and minds silences the very voice from within – “Is it even required in the first place?”

And then, there are those who do not fear dissociation and dissent. And, very few, mind well, the genuine few make a humongous difference without making much noise. No one comes to know about them. And yet, their actions walk miles and miles, cross continents and oceans and yet, they choose to remain nameless and faceless. Their names may stay hidden. But, not their actions.

Carrots make us rabbits.

And, it pops a question – “Why we do what we do?”. Sharing anecdotes, snippets from our lives and, whatever we do that we do becomes a platter of delectable discussions, debates, appreciations and criticism on social media? Apparently, I realized a little before a couple of weeks, how drawn I was towards sharing my posts on social media, the handsome villain I continue to flirt with. I shared one, even today. But in the past, I was on a spree. The simple joys in parenting, the challenges that made the journey bumpy, the mistakes made and learned, the art of parenting and, blogging about the countless blessings were some of my pet preach topics. Too much of positive vibes? No negatives? Well, let’s say the world is a sad place already. Let me not add my share to it. So, I love to write mostly about happy things. (I blog about the otherwise too. But you need to find which ;)).

And, I will continue to. Why? Well, writing on the virtual space brings me a sense of acknowledgement that some people out there relate a little bit with my head space which is often in spirals, just like my intangible curls! A few years back, when I was just new to blogging, I had set some high aims on the blogging aspect. I wanted an audience. Human nature after all. Appreciation is that carrot we all rabbits gleefully run after! I did, too. I got featured on Smart Indian Women. And then, WomensWeb gave me a bigger platform to express. Parentous featured my post in their Parenting Decoded manual. I won a couple of blogadda contests and won two beautiful shades of Miami Blue sunglasses! It felt good. It really felt good. And now, after almost a decade of blogging, in which an earlier chunk of years were spent in gaining visibility, now I purely desire to do it with the intent to connect with a few select ones. The ones I talk about are those who read without assumptions. I believe there are so many dimensions and planes when it comes to thoughts. What if those planes intersected at points that could be touched only by few. Won’t it be a great feeling to meet those who catch what you throw without a miss?

The said people could be from anywhere…. some adrenalin pumped solo female tourist sitting in a tapas bar of Spain thinking about seeing Aurora Borealis in the higher latitudes some day, or maybe a woman sitting and knitting a sweater for her unborn in a shack in Mexico, thinking about the taco food truck she wanted to start, or some teenager in Sweden who feels out of place like Lizbeth Salander, the most beautiful character created by Stieg Larsson (rip)  (Will I find them in my own country? Maybe. I am incurably optimistic about it.

Disconnect to connect is what makes a connection

A string of unconnected thoughts made me start this series – Disconnect to connect. And somewhere, it made me question the need for a connection. A connection between people doesn’t happen because one expects the other to be of help at some time in their lives. Connections that grow on obligations are not connections. They are bondage. Thoughts of dissent cannot be expressed freely in such a crowd. Rather, dissent would be sacrilege! There cannot be a voice that sings differently. Is that a connection? I don’t know.

But do connections between people happen despite them being in different zone of thoughts and actions? Maybe. Maybe, it happens rarely. It happens when a set of people not only believe in their thoughts but also in their course of action regardless of the fact that difference of opinions cannot affect their intent. Does that connection seem visible anywhere? In a family, that is next to impossible. After all, one is so tied with expectations from family, society and the extended network of friends that, even if one’s thoughts were to be radically opposite to the other, silence or resignation happen to be the only two ways to choose from. Why? Who wants a war over ‘trivial’ issues? There is already a boatload of reasons to instigate one against the other.

If you probably disagreed with your group of friends over an issue and, expressed your fundamentally opposite thoughts in a civilized manner, a few friends will still take offence. (The world is so antagonizing) Even if one friend goes manic over your opinion, you clearly get the cue – “Ok! This was enough to make him or her against me.” It is not a very comforting feeling. However, when it comes to family, you still take things in your stride. After all, blood is thicker than water. Right? Right? Maybe.

I have stopped putting forth deep seated questions. Because, most of the answers shall be what I may have expected already. Questions that are predictably misunderstood cannot have the right answers. And some shall advise on the importance of acceptance of the world, “the world is like that. Life is like that” and, that my questions are a mere rhetorical. Is it?

For someone who has battled myasthenia gravis and, had almost walked a tight rope for two months in the hospital, with a two year old son then, husband and parents witnessing the life in me hanging by a cliff, acceptance need not be explained. Of all people, I know what it means. If I may add, my own near death experience has taught me to accept people for who and what they are. But, acceptance is not one answer to the many questions out there. It is important. However, seeking answers is important too.

I am sure, there are a few select people who can perhaps understand my abstract questions about the lesser known, questions considered taboo, questions that are not only misunderstood but also, damned….and so much more….And, I know those answers cannot be found on social media. I don’t seek answers in books. I seek answers from people. The keepers of those answers after all, are the ones who have knowledge to give, and the wisdom to know who to give. I wonder if I will ever meet such a breed. To sit among people who discuss civilizations and Nature, about seasons, stars and planets, about languages that are on brink of extinction and so much more…To even sit in such a sisterhood where, the camaraderie flows like a river with every tributary given its space to dance around is, indeed a gift from the Gods that I can only dream of (a wishful dream like that makes me a greedy woman don’t it?)

The more I think about meeting such people, especially women of class and few words, the more detached I feel from the crowd. One could say, I now associate with people only in certain phases and, not as a whole. They are not connections. They are mere stations that I am crossing. I may or, may not remember them later. But, there are those very very few (I can count them on my fingers) who I know, will understand my interests, my words and, my actions. They are keepers. Always.

Too many energies distort the thoughts

And, that brings me to the core – “Why does a crowd make me feel miserable?”  I have pet peeved the crowd for a long long time. But, I cannot quite remember the exact time in my life when my repulsion for crowd began.  Being a part of social functions like marriages, parties and night outs or even groups on social media drains me. Initially, it does feel good. Gradually, the crowd wears me out. And, I feel drained even though my tummy may be full of delicious food.

I might sound very rude when I say that I exited my school group on whatsapp twice (I was added back twice before I went vocal about my refusal) and people wouldn’t understand why. When I explained that I don’t check whatsApp regularly and that, I have nothing to contribute, it did not make sense to people. But, school friends are gems. They understand that there is a whacko hidden in every child! But, can it be done for whatsApp groups among relatives? I cannot become a stone. So, I am a mute audience here. The only thing that has kept me a part of these groups is that, I get to know the birthdays and anniversaries of people. Besides, I have this annoying habit of not remembering important dates. It is not that I am unable to remember. I just don’t feel like treating them important. Considering that my husband has a similar amnesia regarding dates, I have stopped beating myself about it. But that said, I don’t forget to thank God everyday for the good things in life, especially for the second lease of life I got in 2013. Thank you’s, I believe are important, very important!

The point of dissociation 

So, what draws me away from crowd? Is it the noise? Is it the actions of people? Is it the rules laid by a society formed by “I don’t know who”. (A woman never had any say in the making, I believe) Is it the discussions over mundane subjects? I do not understand propaganda. I do not reason with proofs for intent. I do not want to be a part of anything that forms a clique. That brings me to my next huge disappointment I have with the world. Cliques! I don’t fit in them. I detest them. I abhor them. Cliques destroy childhood. They destroy everything good. Cliques are what make humans weak, vulnerable, evil and reprehensible! It is these cliques that exposed me to the banal truth on how a woman can be mean to her own tribe and, how calling a spade a spade becomes more difficult than drinking water. I have exited groups because such group conversations made me burn. Visit some place in real or in the virtual world and, there is always some woman whose dignity is being torn to shreds even if she were a witch. Sometimes, the environment is negative. And, sustaining in a toxic environment created by women is like a closed room. You only meet four walls wherever you turn to. I have been pulled into such rooms of gloom too, where the walls close on you…. And, I have no qualms about admitting that I too have dissed women who have, at some point made me feel miserable, given their authority. But off late, something changed for me. There was this quote that used to pop on my timeline quite often. I don’t remember it but it meant something like this –

Try to understand why people are the way they are rather than, trying to fight the misleading arrogance with a misguided anger.  

And, the recurrence of this quote felt like a sign.

So, I am not aware of the potholes and puddles ahead. I am also not aware of the pastures to be walked and the mountains to be climbed either. But, I am aware of the connection I have with myself now. I have my choices intact.

Choice to ignore what drains me

Choice to fight the odds

Choice to be content in my space

Choice to be silent when the urge to retort feels like the itch on a healing wound.

Choice to read what I feel like and, leave what I don’t want to…

And, that is the best part. There is peace.

That said, I am still a wanderer with a thirst for a sisterhood where ‘the camaraderie flows like a river with every tributary given its space to course…’

Dear Will-o’-the-wisp….Will I ever find my tribe?

Gratitude.


What a beautiful feeling that is. Gratitude.

gra

It is that sunshine feeling that you get what you need and, get what you may have wished for but, haven’t demanded it, and you got it only because someone out there saw your work with the same silence that you did your work with!

It is exactly that feeling of being indebted to someone with a prelude of an innocent triumph over those small bouts of success.

It is a constant reminder of the fact that – Success is a beautiful butterfly that does not profess its loyalty to one. It fills its wings with the hues that belong to everyone around that one person aiming for the goal.

Small pebbles of appreciation. Kind words of encouragement. A pat on the back for overcoming initial hurdles. They all go a long way for everyone.

And, I am happy. A reason that may have recurred in the past prodded me today to see and, acknowledge the reason. Yes. I have come a long way from writing amateurish posts and rants to something that makes more sense and, is more about my experiences rather than I, me myself – the angry woman.

And, I have such a long long long way to go yet. But, walk I will along this path. There may be occasional stumbles and rumbles. There may be large pauses too. But, I shall walk the entire length, as long as it goes. With the genuine acknowledgements that have come from unexpected quarters, I know that there is a part of this world that believes in my dreams, my goal, my purpose. And, my gratitude towards all of them and, you – the readers of this blog shall be my magic wand that shall forever motivate me to pursue my goals.

my blog

A big thank you to @BlogAdda for announcing my blog post as one of the winners of the WoW contest. And, heartfelt thanks to all who read my blog regularly.

And, this is what I have earned 🙂

wowbadge

 

‘Give me a magic wand and I will…..’


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Give me a magic wand and I will….. bring the Jurassic world back to life!’

So, when BlogAdda came up with this interesting WOW prompt, I was glad considering the myriad wishes I could come up with in writing. However, a few minutes of pondering left me with absolutely no words. And, I gathered….writing on seemingly simple topics is more difficult than writing a research article..

jw

“How to begin a post?”, “How to headline?”, “ How to bring out the best of one’s thoughts?” are the Q’s that plague my head space when an interesting topic comes my way. And just look at the cue – “Give me a magic wand and I will…..” It is such a happy question that brings along such wishful answers. Had I been asked this a few years back, I would have demanded a genie in the split second of the time my eyelashes meet each other.

Well, the happy thought quickly entailed a plethora of doubts –

“A genie that would do just house keeping, perhaps….”,

“Can I trust the genie with taking care of my family?”,

“What if it goes rogue?” (My worst fear!)

It took me a couple of years to understand that human greed clubbed with doubts is as high as the sky and, as wide as the milky way. And, like a typical Indian homemaker, I might end up demoralizing the genie that the work could have been better without its contribution. So, I did not get a genie I wished for years back. Rather, I transformed into one – the feisty home maker. I did everything a home maker does, but at a slow and steady pace. There would be days when the home resembled a museum and, there would be days when people would have mistaken it for a birdhouse. And yet, all those moments of taking care of home, family and additionally, work from home (freelancing) made me realize how lucky I am, to be the genie of my life. The reason that I had absolute control over my home and my life, regardless of the chaotic manner in which it happened, gave me the peace of mind I needed. Had by the faintest brush of magic, a genie entered my life, I would have probably transformed into a fossil given that there would be nothing I would be motivated to do in life beyond the basic needs. After all, there is the genie.

Now, that I mentioned about a fossil, I remember my son’s fascination with the Jurassic era. And, I feel the answer to this wishful question is best answered by a child whose imagination is burning bright with countless possibilities of magic.

So, this was a small conversation between my son Arjun and I, that happened today.

***************************************************************************

Me: “Arjun, what would you do if you wished for a magic wand and, you got it?”

A: “Why do you ask?”

Me: “I have to blog about a topic and the cue for it is this – “Give me a magic wand and, I will…“. I thought I will take your help. You will help me, right?”

A: “Blog is what you do on that laptop? Tapping the keys and, the words appear on the screen?”

Me: “Exactly! The same” (In Tamil, “Adhe!”)

A:hmm….So, what is a magic wand?” (Clarity first! I like it, son!)

Me: “Magic wand is a tool of magic that fairies use. They swish them with your wish and, your wish comes true. Just like the one from the story of Cindrella.”

A: “aaah! That is interesting.”

Me: “So….what have you thought? What will you do if you get a magic wand?”

A:Give me a magic wand and I will.……bring the Jurassic world back to life!

Me: (I should have know this was coming. Having watched every part of Jurassic series with rapt attention, my son has deduced that the ‘painfully wronged’ dinosaurs should be brought back to life.) “But seriously, why dinosaurs?”

A: “I like them, mum! I want them back! And then, I will raise baby dinos just like Sid in Ice Age 3 does. They are so cute!”

The conversation was not a spurt that happened in a day. Ever since my son watched the first movie – The Jurassic Park, Richard Attenborough’s research clubbed with Jeff Goldblum’s hesitancy over the entire plan of recreating Jurassic world, it created a soft corner for these fossil-ed reptiles in my son’s mind. The ending of the movie was exactly what he wished for, especially the scene wherein the banner of Jurassic park falls across the good T-Rex towards the end. For him, the ending felt like magic – The reptile had survived the acid tests of human times!

A few weeks before, I had given my son some work in Maths. And, I had dozed off since the cough and cold got to both due to traveling. For me, sleep was a need. And for the son, no sleep was a need. After an hour, when I woke up, I saw something that made me first angry and then, happy. Angry, because he had conveniently ditched the work I gave him. Happy, because he created this….

FB_IMG_1499696354837

Moments later, I had posted about it on FaceBook. And, I don’t mind sharing what I wrote that day:

nn

Can there be a more potent magic wand than a child’s imagination?

Dear son! You don’t need a magic wand. You already have it. And, it is called Imagination. Keep it alive even as the world of humans would try to kill it. And that, my son is your test, the test you actually need to pass and come out with flying colors! And, I am sure you will! God bless 🙂