Never cease?

Years ago it was the late night flights piercing the dark Calcutta sky. Sleepless I used to stand in my window and gaze at them with longing. From my window I got a clear view of the sky above. Sometimes it would be inky blue sky dotted with thousands of twinkling stars, sometimes a full moon would envelope the whole sleeping world into its silvery rays, sometimes in the darkness of a moonless night a black bird would silently fly by, sometimes it would rain so much that I could hardly open my window, except a crack.  Most nights the planes would go by. They would come into my view as tiny dots of light, grow steadily to reveal a silver machine carrying hundreds of people to a far away destination. I would feel terribly jealous of all those sitting in those planes, flying far, far away. Away from all the heartbreak, tears, the known and the mundane. I would foolishly think that traveling physical distance would absolve my pain and rid me of memories.
Now I smile at my  foolishness. How naive I was!
Thousands of miles later, I know that distance does not erase pain, time does. I know there is no easy way out, a broken heart does not mend itself quickly, nor are there any good medicines guaranteeing hundred percent cure. I know new pain takes over older ones. From life's experiences a new person emerges, fleshed with a bit of past embedded in the present.  But inspite of it all life goes on at her own sweet pace.
This time there are no planes in my slice of the night sky. There are  trains whooshing by, rushing off into the darkness. The carriages of the trains look to be in a great hurry, pushing and clanging, making a mighty din. They seem so sure of their destination, they look eager to reach that place and dump the load they have to carry. In the dark of the night, they look like naughty, noisy children rushing off to play. Once they pass by, the silver tracks look empty and bereft. A deep silence replaces the clanging sound. The night regains its poise and lulls us back to sleep. I look longingly at those rushing carriages  wishing I could be in one of them, crouched among the cars, or other goods they carry, or sitting on top of one of them, my face raised towards the sky, the wind kissing my face. I would not mind the discomfort or the cold as long as it took me to far distant lands, to the unknown, to some adventure, away from the mundane.
Will my longing for the unknown never cease?

Clumsiness....

My husband says that he suffers from 'composed clumsiness'. He can be really composed yet be very clumsy. I too have my fair share of clumsiness.

Here is a clumsy list....

I think the first one would be trying to eat without dropping food on your clothes. And if you are wearing white or light coloured clothes, then it is the birth right of the food to be dropped onto your clothes before reaching your mouth. Remember those occasions while having lunch when a blob of gravy, rich in haldi would fall on your shirt, just when you have an important meeting soon after and you spend your lunchtime trying to rub that stain off and failing miserably???? Or when during a formal evening you drop gravy on your mom's favourite sari and then try dabbling at it with a napkin and the paper napkin instead of wiping the gravy, just dissolves into the sari leaving  paper pieces and adding onto the mess? Those are the times I so wish that I could eat wearing a bib and an apron!

The second would be trying to sip and instead of your mouth the beverage would hit your shirt. Coffee, tea, orange juice, wine, coke-- all the stains are equally bad. Not only is a huge stain left, you are covered in foam and sugar and it feels really yucky. It is horrible whenever it happens but usually it is worse when it happens first thing in the morning. It specially happens to me when I grab a coffee on the go and try drinking it while walking. I do not know how millions of people manage it just so expertly, I never could. I buy a cup of coffee to wake myself up and before I know it the hot coffee is all over me and I have to do serious damage control. By the time I can wipe the stain off, the coffee had gone stone cold and my day has started horribly.  My experience has been so frustrating that I have stopped trying to have drinks on the go.

After this I think would come trying to pour drinks, especially hot beverage onto wobbly styrofoam cups. In my experience, either the beverage gets poured just outside the cup, or the cup topples just when the beverage starts being poured and starts tickling down the table top. This has happened many times with me, but now thankfully I have perfected the art. Oh well almost!

Hey how do you fare when you try to carry way too many things? In order to save work, I always try and carry way too much, piling things up till they become wobbly and hope against hope that they would just dangeously wobble and not fall down. But no such luck, invariably they all crash and then my work usually doubles picking them up. If they are clothes, after picking them I have to refold them. I hate it the most when the cds I carry fall, invariably the jackets have to fly open into two parts, the cds have to pop out and roll under the bed or equally inaccessible place and then I go searching for them. I have had bad experiences carrying almost everything. The trick to avoid this is to accept that I am not an expert juggler and be realistic in the load I can carry.

Hey what about kitchen clumsiness? I am great at various kitchen mishaps due to clumsiness. Pouring oil onto the stove instead of the pan, plates slipping out of hands, spoons flying to the moon or rather hitting the wall and splattering the wall with whatever was there in that spoon, gravy all over the kitchen wall, sauces falling on the floor etc etc etc.

The last one is the most heartbreaking for me. It is me trying to walk in high heels. I know many women march past in stilletos (Not only in Sex and the City, I see women in real life too). I am so clumsy when I try walking in high heels. I sway from side to side, sprain my left ankle and them my right, by then whoever I am walking with gets really irritated and impatient, by then my feet start killing me and another wasted attempt trying to look tall and garious. I know some people are just not meant to do some things. This is what I console myself with!

Ok enough about me, what about your list of clumsiness? Do share. Come on now....

Blog Hooked...

Some days I feel blog hooked. Today is the day.

It is a bit of feeling like you want to cling onto your parents forever and dont want to grow up...if you cling long enough, or smell in your mother's sweet smell, you will not grow up...
It is a bit of feeling like you want to hold onto your beloved forever...just hold him...if you move, or slacken your hold, he may vanish, or worse you may wake up and realise he was a dream...oh is he?
Similarly some days you just write and write and write. It is as if you dont write, unpleasant thoughts wont come clamouring to you...the world would not be a happy place...no no...dont pause, just type on...breathe but dont let the oxygen reach your thought inducing grey cells...let words fill that empty space inside you...let thoughts erase the confusion, let ideas balm your soul...who needs chicken soup? writing therapy suits me fine...at least till I write...but the moment I stop...they all come knocking, it doesnt take them time to break through barriers...they march in and demand ransom which is too high...I cannot sit in office and brood...why is worry such a demanding emotion? why cant i put him in some corner and let him fizzile out? Nah that would make life way too easier....

Why do couples fight?

This is a light post not involving couples who are fighting seriously, filing for divorce etc.

My parents who have been married for the last 35 years, fight almost daily and those fights are mostly based on really silly things and embarass the hell out od my brother and me. While growing up I dont remember discussing the issue of parents fighting, I guess I was too embarassed about it all. One day in JNU hostel while discussing something or the other, this issue cropped up just by chance. And lo and behold it opened a huge plethora of reactions amongst my friends-- all the girls present complained about their parents fighting and how it embarassed them. I was amazed, at the same time breathed a sigh of relief that my parents are not the only ones who do such loony things, there are other equally mad people in this world. One of my colleagues once came about two hours late and when asked said that his parents were fighting and he was the alibi in that fight and therefore not allowed to budge!

When asked, my mother says that she enjoys fights, it breaks the monotony of her boring life and some such. Though post a fight, she hardly seems like she had gone through an enjoyable experience. Other friends report that their mothers report similar things-- that fighting with their husbands actually is a fun process and all that. It is best not to ask women much, once they open the list of complaints about their husbands, it is difficult to shut them up, my mother included.

When asked, my dad says that he does not enjoy fighting but ma is so impossible at times but he just cannot control himself, but he hardly enjoys the process. I have heard other fathers report similar things, the impossibilty or the immaturity of their 40 to 50 year old wives and how that forces them to fight. Men invariably don the cap of victim with the heavy burden of impossible wife. Being a woman, I know how untrue this is and how good men have it.

Cutting back to new age couples, my ten year older cousin sister is really sad that her husband cannot fight. She says it is the most frustrating thing in the world that one wants to fight, have a good roaring arguement and one's spouse is not cooperating, rather sitting there calmly with no sign of agitation. Previously I used to laugh at this-- I mean how funny can it be that the wife is all ready to fight and getting frustrated that the husband is not cooperating. But yesterday night I had a similar experience, I wanted to fight very badly with Indranil and he was not fighthing at all. Not that he is all docile and 'yes darling' type, his sarcastic barbs are of superior quality with perfect aim. But yesterday night he was just not cooperating and picking up my queues for a really roaring fight! I cannot tell you how much that frustrated me. Now I completely understand what my cousin goes through everytime my brother-in-law refuses to fight.

What I realised yesterday is that when we women want we should be allowed to have a good arguement, we should be given the space to vent out, have an attentive audience and that audience should also participate and make the process interesting. And then of course make up very mushily with chocolates and flowers et al. I think I should add this to Indranil's tor ;)
If he reads this, I can expect a fight tonight, what say????

What do you do when you have no money???

While growing up I dreamt of becoming a being of my own, a woman with an identity. I always assumed that whatever job/work I would do would get me money. I mean it never even registered in my muddled brain that I could become a modern working woman yet have no money in life. Women who have no money are the ones who are dependent on their fathers/brothers/spouses and cannot break through shackles however much they face discrimination. Since I had no interest in becoming such a person, money I assumed would flow naturally.

Problems cropped up when I decided to get into development field. In development field you get a lot of things like hands on experience, excitement, over work, interesting no highly interesting collegues, genuine warmth of people for whom you are working, sophistication of superior beings who work in UN and other such superior organizations but money. No ladies and gentlemen, you do not get any money. You go to work for a NGO they would welcome you, burry you under work but money, that is not a polite thing to ask for. What money? NGOs are hardly paying organizations, we can pay you enough to surivive a month in Delhi, well barely, rest please depend on others. So whom do you depend on? For me I went back to depending on my father.

Depending on father/brother/boy friend...does that make me a modern working woman? I mean not having enough money does that qualify me for the rest of the tag?

My colleagues and me, we keep cribbing about this lack of money in life. But lately this lack of money has been stressing me out with more frequency than what is good for my cholestrol level.

Time to look for some money making schemes.

• Ok, I could play lottery: Have any one of you won a lottery ever? I could play Lotto but going by my luck dont expect to win. I have never ever won any kind of lucky draw, let alone a lottery of millions. Worth a shot at least...
• Indulging in Criminal Activites: This could be a sure shot way to easy money making but since I am one of those hyper tensed people I do not think I would ever be able to enjoy the money acquired through this. Scrap...
• Business venture: Mmmmm...worth exploring....

Ok cant think of any more ideas...

Help

ok i need help big time. is there any starch expert reading my blog by any chance? i need to starch this cotton saree of mine and it is too big to manage...so if there is any expert plz do come to my aid!