PRAMILA

She came in my life when I was merely 5 months old. she was not only my nanny, but my very first friend,my eye to the outer periphery of my sheltered atmosphere, my very first look into the gruelling and battering nature of the world. Pramila was thin and frail,but her eyes shone with the great strength her mettle possessed. Her husband had left her when her youngest son was born. left her for what or for whom, is a question still hanging in the vacuum of oblivion. She was not only my nanny, but also provided domestic services to my mother, who had fallen gravely ill after my birth. Pramila at the age of 29,had two sons and a daughter,who at the time of my birth must be at least 13. Even though she suffered much cruelty, and was looked upon my many on the streets, and maybe even looked at by some very lecherous men, she never ran out of love for the baby waiting for her in the big household she worked for.
Days went by, months turned into years, and I grew closer and closer to Pramila, my dearest friend. My attachment for her was so much that I would throw a fit and sulk for days, every time she went for her annual leave. I would sit alone in my room and cry, and pray that Pramila would return soon, and then after what I would think was ‘penance’ for my little being, Pramila would return, and I would jump into her arms and hug her tight. Pramila immensely pampered me. She would convey my mother my demands for the special treats, and even save me if I angered my poor mother to the limits of spanking me. When my mother, out of sheer frustration of her naughty and talkative daughter’s activities, would rush at me to give me a little dose, Pramila would always hide me behind her and say, “leave her sister, she is only a child. I will explain her later”, and my mother would reply, ” you don’t understand, this darling of a devil always gets away.” and would stifle a laugh.

Years rolled into a decade. Pramila was forty now. Life’s brutality and beating were finally starting to show on that gentle face which I had looked up to and adored for years. Her daughter was getting married. Uneducated herself, Pramila had made every effort to educate her three children. She had raised her family, and taken care of her in-laws. She had been the mother, the nurturer and the man of the house. After serving us for ten years, Pramila wanted to return to her hometown. Getting her daughter married in pomp and style was her dream, which was coming true. She had accomplished her aspirations, and now wanted to retire. Yes, she was only forty, but she had planned one whole lifetime for herself in her village. She wanted to grow more wheat and vegetables in her fields. She confided in my mother that she wanted to spend all that was left of her life, in her village, amidst the lush green fields, and humble dwellings. My mother, a sympathetic and understanding woman, understood her needs. She decided to let her go. I was ten at the time. When I got to know that Pramila was leaving us forever never to come back, I burst into tears and begged her to stay. Seeing me cry, Pramila’s own eyes welled up with tears and started flowing with the same constancy as mine. My mother and her, gently explained me the need of a woman who had struggled alone all her life, and was finally getting the bliss she aimed for. My young brain understood this with much effort, and there I was, tearfully waving a good-bye to my first friend.

After that day I realized that Pramila for me, was the epitome of female strength and independence. I respected her with all my heart for each and every selfless effort she had made to make the life of others easier around her. Its been ten more years since she has left, and even today I miss the time I spent with her, but most of all, i feel happy, that atleast somewhere, a woman is blissful and satisfied, and most of all, completely independent.

And The Stink Rises

Yesterday as I switched on the tv to ‘enlighten’ myself about the headlines, well, enlightened I was. Every year, since the concept of IPL has taken birth, there have been small and big issues. This one though, is rather ridiculous.

The corporators of Bangalore REFUSED to clear the garbage, and let it stink in the Chinnaswamy stadium, which will be holding an IPL match, and will be seating about 40,000 or more viewers in the audience! No, the reason is not the strike againt IPL’s hypocrisy but because (hold your breath) the corporators were refused free passes for the match. A situation like this will probably be enacted in a farce, but this is real! It happened yesterday! There are a million or more questions which arise out of this because I am sure a million or more are flabbergasted with this piece of news, or should I say, unnecesary sham. The corporators believe that getting free passes to the IPL matches is their birthright, to which many would like to counter by asking, since when have IPL match passes become a part of one’s job incentive or perk? The next time one applies for job, will he have to be ensured that he will get to watch the IPL match free of cost in the stadium?

Leaving the garbage unattended, is not only unethical but also plain unhygeinic. There is no rational reason which has led to this irrational behaviour on the part of the corporators. This behaviour is highly juvenile, and has not been subjected to any reasoning.

By the looks of it, the stink is still rising, literally and symbolically.Free passes for IPL matches have become an easy loophole for blackmail. Free passes have become a standard barter for taxes, harmonius living and now clearance of garbage. Laugh out loud, or bang your head to the wall, its the IPL. Ironically enough, ‘aisa mauka aur kahaan milega?’

THE DIFFERENT GIRLS

These women here are not unnaturally different, but they are  different from the rest all the same. Often, many women sit and reflect over how they really are, how they don’t get the things they sometimes differ or are simply confused by the rate they get things and cannot handle the speed. I am sure that deep inside many of us would actually identify with them…

RADHIKA

It was one of those days when radhika would sit and ponder about all the decisions she ever took in her life. She would bother about what was going to happen about her future, her friends, her another friend, her interests, her management of those interests and her own time. she had grown to be patient over the last two years. She had grown to be more temperate in the last two years. She had grown to be more mature. She had grown indefinitely in the last two years. She had changed, and she hated it. She hated the fact that she had started talking more sense (funnily enough), she hated that she had become more feminine (she adored her boyish self and had never wanted to change), and most of all, she hated that even though after all these changes, the one thing which hadn’t changed in her was her sensitive attitude. She was strong, but a different strong. She was strong when it came to work, she was strong when it came to her career and managing it, but she was comparatively more vulnerable when it came to her friends. She hated the fact that her growth couldn’t change this one thing she would have been glad to change. She had developed a hatred for the word ‘different’, because no one appreciated the difference until they encountered the stereotypes. For example, she knew that as a girl she was different. She had entirely different ambitions. She hadn’t seen herself married with two kids lurking around and a husband to cook for. She had seen kids, yes, but more like a single mother… adopt them! She had aspired to do good for the society that way. She was a feminist. She believed that everything in the world was achievable for women without the involvement of men. Focused as she was, she still chose to nose dive into a relationship. She nose-dived into everything she thought she should get a hang of. she thought a relationship was one those things she should ‘get a hang of’. She loved the man she was with, and he loved her back, evidently more than what she did. Everyone knew that she was still emotionally stronger than him. She was a career-oriented woman who hadn’t regretted a decision in her life. Yet, she had realised in the past one year of her being in this relationship that she had become a degree more vulnerable to her counterpart. Radhika didn’t like this. There was a time and only one time when she had been fully vulnerable to someone, and she didn’t want it again. She had pulled herself out of that disaster and had coated her heart with stone. Her heart, literally speaking, could be equated to a coconut. Hard from the outside, but soft and tender from the inside. Aaarghh!!! she hated to emotionally this attached to anyone. But again, when things were tumbling down around her, he was the best friend. when things were perfect and didn’t need anything to change them, he was the one she loved sharing them with. Here she was, the aloof feminist entangled in attachment and adoration , and quite enjoying it.
So, it was one of those days when Radhika actually sat down, pondered and came with the conclusion that she had landed herself in a pool of sweet confusion which she just couldn’t solve. She was purely and royally helpless. Helpless. How she hated describing herself like that.

JOEY

Joey was one of those different girls again. She knew what she had to do. She was focussed. But her focus was subject to entries in her life. We all know what that meant. She knew she had been stuck to the idea of having that one person, but she didn’t mind exploring more options, which sadly enough backfired. Unlike Radhika, she thought a lot. If you ask her today she will say thinking is her hobby and she wouldn’t be joking. Thinking was actually her hobby which led her to her constant bouts of low moods and mock depressions. She wanted a stable career as a child psychologist. She loved children, and children definitely loved her back. She was a romantic. She wanted a husband who would love her, and children whom she could adore. But for now, her friends loved her and tried hard to crack into her mind all the time because if her mind was a stadium, strangely enough, it was a stadium for all kinds of games.Her mind was always occupied with myriad thoughts. She never really found herself satisfied with anything around her. One day it was her friend, the other day could be her friend’s friend and the other her own self! There was a part of her which liked reading Sidney Sheldon, Jeffrey Archer,Agatha Christie, there was a part of her which wanted to read Robin Sharma and Paulo Coelho, and there was another part of her which wanted to read Mills and Boons and Julia Quinn. The latter two parts made her the most vulnerable and sensitive. Evidently, triggering the long periods of ‘thinking’. She loved music and dancing, but sometimes the music she wanted to listen could make everyone cry. She was another one who was different, but again, she didn’t understand what was so wrong to be this different. She refused to open herself completely to anyone and was happy in her found security. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t let go. She had been either oblivious or ignorant to the fact that one should not love anything or anyone so much that she cannot let go. Joey was confused almost all the time. Her own thoughts were so many in number that she could not put her finger on which one was more problematic, and this was an issue. She hated issues. They boggled her mind, played with her mood, affected her lifestyle, her food habits everything. Her thoughts were what made her function.

A lot of us would say she invited them to herself, but a lot of us on the other side would say that this girl had a sense of uncanny attachment. The same attachment which was her strength and her weakness. the same attachment which Radhika wanted to avoid, and Ahana here simply wanted.

AHANA

The word complex would shy away from describing such a personality as hers. Smart, intelligent, beautiful, sensible, sensitive, mature, generous, friendly(with a little help), everything a girl would want to be. She was shy, but once the ice had been broken she could be a lot of fun. Ahana was never actually happy still. As much as she was committed to the best of her friends and her aspirations, a part of her, a part which hated to admit, that she wanted a spark in her life. She was happy and satisfied with her work, but on seeing her friends, she longed for the excitement they had with a man in their life. She dreamt of having a loving husband, couple of children, a nice house with beautiful curtains. All her life she had taken care of her friends and other people important to her. She was waiting and most definitely looking forward to the day someone would saunter in casually in her life and offer to take care of her, to pamper her. She wanted someone who would cherish and hold her, ‘in sickness and in health’. She, on the other hand was different because she never made an effort to achieve such a thing. Yes, she looked forward to it, but never made arrangements for it. There was nothing in her which was willing to change herself for what she truly wanted out of her life. She rejoiced in other’s joys, and hoped to have her own someday to rejoice in. She was rising in her career. She was a counsellor. She helped people with their relationships. Funny, how she helped people with their relationships but hadn’t yet found her own to help herself to (she literally would treat it like a piece of desert, the romantic she was). The only thing which pulled her down in her mind was her difficulty in opening herself up to people. Unlike Joey, she didn’t mind opening up, but she was the silent-observer who would laugh at the right time and at the appropriate jokes. She somehow couldn’t bring herself to be the type of person who would approach a person and get him talking. This affected her self-confidence and she blamed herself repeatedly for not improving her shortcoming. Her friends tried to help but, somehow the conversations just couldn’t proceed beyond a certain point. She patiently waited for the day when someone would actually discover the person she was inside and love her for what she truly was. She was easy to love. She wasn’t haughty and was extremely approachable. She was everything she would have wanted herself to be but THAT still lacked something. She fought with herself all the time. She hated that she wasnt an option just because she took a bit of time to break the ice! How very ridiculous!

These are three different type of women. The different ‘different’. The type of different who do not attract the other sex that easily, But definitely the type who are more sustainable, accommodating and most of all, less fussy. Even though these women know that their sense of humour and their intellect is higher than a lot of women out there, but still they end up being bound in their thoughts.

Also, these are three different women. One who doesn’t exactly want that close an attachment, one who cannot help but get badly attached to an individual, and the other who is longing to be attached.

Such women are a cult of their own. They not only design themselves to be different from others, but also seem happier than the rest of them.They loathe the fact that most men run behind physical beauty, and mental sluggishness. Both if combined in one, serve as their best choice. They hate the male hypocrisy that men are ready to get into a relationship of the above description, but want a wife who will be of the same intellectual and emotional wavelength. So they carve out a separate niche for themselves. The niche which houses the women who are actually strong,and actually independent. Who hate to be underestimated by any kind of fad stating otherwise. These are not the women who would probably spoon dollops of ice-cream in their mouths, but the women who would probably to open a separate ice-cream factory as a business idea. Not the bearers of tissue papers, but the suppliers nonetheless. They are the ‘neo-independent’. The type which doesn’t just pose to be independent and self sufficient, but claims to be to a great extent. Yes, they want the attention, but no, don’t need it. That, is simply where the difference lies.

SMOKE

This is for all those who continue smoking even after getting the concerned taunts, the hopeful gazes, and the traumatic deaths caused by tobacco smoking. This is nothing less than a revolution.

When I see it around you,
When I smell it in your breath,
A strong fear grips me,
And then i imagine your death.

The fear is smothering and choking,
I choke on my fear,
You choke on your breath.
The breath which to you is seemingly not so dear.

The smoke makes you cough,
It makes me flinch.
‘Who are you trying to bluff?’
I look at you and think.

You cough loud and clear,
Clearer than your own voice.
Louder and louder it gets,
In the tightened grip I fret and I fret.

The smoke consumes you.
Once again I flinch.
The grey vapour smothers you,
I look away from the stench.

You shake off the ash,
I look at you with contempt.
Even though you know a cigarette is but rash,
I know soon you will make another attempt.

I see your lungs go weaker.
Your face has become dull and dark.
Yes, it has gripped you,
The fear of the illness that ain’t that far.

Your visage becomes duller,
Your body looks drained.
Slowly, like torture the smoke is devouring you,
The smoke from which you never refrained.

Now I stand here,
Looking at nothing but emptiness.
I had stood here once with you,
When there had been a healthy countenance.

Though the loneliness kills me,
I cannot cry,
Because though death took you away,
It was you who chose to die.

Life As It Was Shown To Me

Reblogged from reedhi:

The last time when I had written something like this, it was titled ‘Life as I see it’ becauseit was life as I saw it. Today the case is different. Today it is actually “life as it was shown to me”. I had been pondering over what exactly to write in my blog since a while. Every morning I would wake up, think for a while, and after failing miserably go back to sleep until I was fully late for my day.

Read more… 471 more words

Life As It Was Shown To Me

The last time when I had written something like this, it was titled ‘Life as I see it’ becauseit was life as I saw it. Today the case is different. Today it is actually “life as it was shown to me”. I had been pondering over what exactly to write in my blog since a while. Every morning I would wake up, think for a while, and after failing miserably go back to sleep until I was fully late for my day.

Today after my day at college, I found myself highly distressed by a certain statement my friend had used to describe my current self. I was disturbed with the mere fact that someone thought I had changed. Being the type I am, I felt bad, no, I felt pathetic. No one had ever told me I had changed so accusingly and it hurt me to such an extent that it made me angry with everything around me. I fumed as I walked to my favourite tea stall,and I continued fuming while I sipped the hot, steaming tea, surrounded by my puzzled friends who were obviously puzzled by my very strange behaviour. While they seemed totally perplexed with my behaviour, their perplexity only added to my anger. I was just not satisfied with anything at that time, even angry at myself for thinking so hard about something as trivial as this.

When it was time for all of us to leave, one of my friends told me something which would always ring through my mind if I again found myself in such a situation. He said just because someone tells us we have changed, and we think we haven’t, doesn’t mean we ponder over it. We should infact think that if the change is making us happy, then it is a change for good. If the change has made us like our lives better, made us a better person within ourselves, and we haven’t lost anything whilst this change, it is definitely not for the bad. I thought over what he said and it all suddenly made so much sense.
If I was changing and if I was basking in my new found change, then I was changing for the good. I was growing.

All our lives we keep contemplating on how things were and how things would turn out to be, but we never think that when nothing is permanent, it is only for good that it isn’t. We never think that instead of blaming ourself about the change we have undergone, we should look around us and see if we are happy,and if we are, sure enough we arent losing anything.

Everytime my friends came to me with their issues, I always said nothing is permanent, and everything is subject to change. Just as the sun has to rise again each morning, just as the layers of the skin have to change, just as each winter has to be followed by the spring, everything has to undergo a tranformation, a change we should embrace. Today, I learnt to apply it in my own life. I learnt that everything that is replaceable in our life, is bound to be replaced, and everything that is meant to stay will stay no matter the number of vicissitudes.

AND FINALLY THE NEW YEAR HAS ARRIVED…!

Its one of those times in a year again. Suddenly when everyone looks fresh, everyone seems happy and 31st of the previous december seems the most important date to discuss. Its one of those times when the world decides to fulfill certain criterias, make goals for themselves, resolve to achieve something. But there are some who conveniently do not have a resolution for the new year.I belong to the second category. This year I do not have a resolution. This year I have no specific decision to adhere to. Nothing to fulfill. I havent set any goals for myselfand nor have i decided to improve anything in me (shamelessly enough!).
I believe in living the year as it comes. Being me, just the way I am and keep walking wherever the year leads me. Every year has an element of surprise in it and I have done nothing to disrupt or change that element. I believe if there is nothing decided, nothing to follow, no popular new year resolution, there’s an unsaid promise each year brings with itself .As we wake up to our lives everyday, the year constantly unfolds itself to the promise it came with. The promise of growth, the promise of new experiences which will only enhance the joy of sharing it, the promise of making new friends and new accquaintances and yes, the promise of once again recognising yourself after the year ends. Yet, there is the element of oblivion, which has its own magic. Knowing what may happen when, makes life as predictable as bollywood, and lets face it, even if some of us may want our lives to be as entertainaining as the movies, you really dont want to know what is going to happen next.
Thus,I earnestly hope that those who have resolved to do something achieve their goals, and for those who haven’t yet made their list of resolutions or shall I say,’ demands’ of this year, should stop and think over the joy of being oblivious of what the future holds for us. Let us all look forward to an exciting, magical and joyous 2012.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!