Life beckons! Life beacons!

I wandered along a unit of time, and I wondered if I can call it "Life".

I say no, it can't be so, just some stuff happening over a period of time? Is this all that is my life?

A series of happenings, perhaps?

Of questions and answers maybe...

A herd of Actions?

Or a bunch of results? Karma & Karma phalla?

A race to the end? The end being Death?

A wait.

A lesson learnt...

Chaos?

A process of unfoldment...

A journey.

When the going gets tough...I get going.

After a rather short stint in Mumbai, I rushed home at the call of my mother and my inner voice. The situation at home was as it had been for the last three years now, except a little worse. A happy home it has been in the toughest of situations, and everyone here hates to admit it, even when the evidence that we are going through a tough time, is extremely high. I have to give it to the Puri's for this, there is no such thing as a family "Crisis" in our dictionary, we have seen too many to call them that.

Its a loving home. Created by loving parents. A great place to come home to after a tiring day. To be honest, Mumbai had been tough on me the last few days before I came home, so when mom called, I did not argue, I packed my bags and left. For the first time realizing what a loving home my parents had made for me and how fortunate I was to have them.

First two weeks back home were blissful. Being with them, making my folks smile, it was the absolute best feeling, always is. I saw myself being sensitive towards them, thinking of them more than of myself. Long chats with mom were an absolute delight, even she was surprised that I enjoyed them so much! I feel truly blessed to have a mother, friend, philosopher and guide all in one. I discovered a friend in my mom, and that is perhaps the greatest return gift I shall take from this trip back home. It's amazing how I never bothered to see this side to her before, the same things that I love about her now, I would find annoying just a few months back! It is true, when something is taken away from you, you realize its true worth.

The thought of going back scares me. Even though I have a choice today, I choose to go back to that place, where my mom isn't there, that place which offers me challenges on a silver platter, no comfort. But I choose to make that, less comfortable choice, because I have faith.

Everything I dreamt of being as a little girl was in line with this. I want to be confident, independent. I want to be a person who seizes opportunities and doesn't run away from whats tough. This is one of those moments in life, when you know that the choice you take at this instant will make all the difference. It will define who you are.

I know what I stand for. I know what will be said about me in my obituary. They will say:

When the going gets tough, Natasha always, got going.

Zenyasi & I

06-09-2009

Dear Goondu, Independence is the best Gift of Love. Think.

Love Mitrananda.

I have been fortunate. Blessed perhaps. Zenyasi, as most know him, has been more than a teacher to me. A parent, a Guru, a friend, philosopher and guide. I have felt his presence in my life constantly and have grown up, holding his hand. With such love he has raised me, it is rare that one experiences such love in one’s lifetime.

The love of a Guru is purer than even that of a parent. Who could have imagined, and so I say not many experience such love, love in its completeness. With absolute selflessness he takes you under his care, helps you grow. Sometimes with the help of a stick he disciplines you, forces you to look within, to introspect, to transform, to reflect. At other times he looks at you with overwhelming affection and love, or holds your hand, or gives the warmest hug.

Like the Eagle that pushes its eaglets so that they may fly, fly high, the Guru, pushes the child so that he may truly soar the skies of freedom.

That which ties us down, can that be love at all?

My salutations to the one, who taught me to be dependent on no one.

My love to the one, who loves me the most.

My gratitude to the one, who makes me think.

To my Zenyasi.

Date with Mumbai

Day 3

So, this section of the blog titled "Date with Mumbai" shall begin with Day 3 simply because I have just about started comprehending where I am right now. Though most of you know it well, just as I thought I did, I am talking about Mumbai.

The movies give you this idea about the place and when you get here, its almost magical. You try to see things just as they show them in those bollywood masala flicks, the slums, the people, the trains, the rush etc. etc. Though all of it doesn't seem to be true, some of it might have some truth in it. I can't say for sure, as the Demystification of Mumbai continues.

Now, one would wonder, what's the big deal...why is this girl writing about Mumbai and all so enthusiastically, considering half the world stays in that city. While that is almost true, for me this is a huge change. I have never been away from home, except my 3 months in Chinmaya Vibhooti in Kolwan, which was still very protected and after all it was an ashram. And here I am, almost thrown into this whirlpool of a place, with its own rules, its own ways, its own culture.

The other reason for all the excitement around Mumbai is that it's Mumbai you know! The place where Shahrukh lives! The place where the Underworld rules...Bollywood rules...so many experiences are undergone by so many in this very city! There is this hysteria, this legend around this place, and however dumb it sounds, I find it pretty magical.

So lessons learnt on Day 3:

Distance: Mumbai is all about the distance. But to aid us there is the BRILLIANT public transport system. Love it! In Mumbai, travelling in cars is totally uncool. Trains are coolio.

Time: Here the evening begins at night and night doesn't really come at all, I think. People are in a hurry. There is movement everywhere, in the ladies compartment in a train, on the platform, in the auto, on the roads. Everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere. I just hope they know where they are heading. And for what.

Culture: This place has reinforced my understanding that a strong sense of culture is the foundation to a disciplined and balanced society. For, the people here are so considerate, I mean, considering the pace of the city, One would think people would be ready to walk all over each other, trying to win in the rat race. But it is not so. Atleast till now, my experiences here have shown a side of people I didn't think Big cities were capable of producing (rather preserving). The safety of women, is an effect of this one cause, which is a strong sense of culture.

That's all for now folks!

And this chapter of Date with Mumbai can be called:

"There is never nothing happening."

The Insignificance in Solitude

Staring at the plastered walls around me

I wonder how I got here.

From the very first day of this known life, I try to remember

Each choice I made, each decision.

Unaware of my power I went on, till I got to this.

Every thought brings with it a feeling,

Of happiness, pleasure, others of remorse and regret

Yet some power in me observes these objectively

It has no eyes, it feels nothing

It judges me not, just watches.

It sits there, uneffected, shining.

What are these thoughts, feelings and discomforts?

They donot bother me.

They pass, I remain a passerby, ever alert, yet uninvolved.

Ever independent, ever humble, I realizes its insignificance.

While I fade away, I remain.

The Purple Mist of winter sweet

Shining diamonds and shouting monkeys. How does one stop the craziness. How does one start to believe. When words lack sense and people lack sensitivity. How is one to believe.
When emotions run on a overdrive and people run astray. How is one to believe.
Does it every go away? When does one become complete? When does one start living? When do children find their way home?
In all this mayhem and madness, how is one to believe?
When life becomes a question and loneliness becomes the truth. How is one to believe.
The purple mist of winter is Dipped in chocolate, hanging on a flimsy screen of reality. Once blown over, what do you see? An empty house atop a lonely hill with windchimes singing a song so beautiful, you cannot hear. Stop and listen to the sound of nothingness.

To Just Be.

Why does it all have to be so 'unconscious'? And make sense only in retrospect everytime? Why can't I "see" my life changing? The "phases" of my life...Why can't we tell one phase from the other while we are in them? I guess that's why we need friends and generally, people, so that we have an outsider to tell us, "oh, it's just a phase.." or "awww...this is love!" or "don't worry, you WILL move on!" or "honey, there is something better in store for you..." Jeez! Are we just CONDITIONED to WAIT. Just wait. Wait for things to happen. Wait till you are old enough. Like Right now, I know what a kid I am. How scared I am. How "directionless" I am and how lazy I am. I see that for myself, and yet I don't see a way out. How does one GROW UP? Is there a ladder I can climb? *Looks at you pitifully!* I have never been in a hurry to grow up, really, never wanted to go to a disc when I was fourteen, never was in a hurry to have a boyfriend (debatable), never in a hurry to do "it" (still not) or all those things that kids are in a hurry to do. But today I sit here thinking, and my god, with so many "opportunities" from God, I still am such a kid. And here's the kiddish part, I dont want to take any responsibility for my actions. I don't want to take a call. I still want to be able to say at the end of the day, "hey, I did it because You, told me to..." This is NOT what I wanted to see myself as after three years of college. Bah.

Or maybe it's just "institutionalisation". There I go again. Blaming the system. Maybe it's just something that "happens", "unconsciously", as one steps out into the world. Really, am I so insignificant that things will just keep "happening" to me all my life while I "wait" for them to happen! Jeez Lewizzz (unfamiliar with this expression but seemed apt)!

No man. I refuse to let things happen to me. I am done living in such "unawareness". I refuse to believe I am made for that purpose. To just Be.

*Uuuuughhhh* Disgusting.

To Forgiveness and all that Jazz

How many words can you say to get me to forgive you? Keep trying you, someday, something may just do the trick...What do the words even mean? And how does it even matter now? What is expected of my "forgiveness"? And maturity? In a matter of six months? wow! What I had been trying to get you to do in four years! Woohoo! Love? Are you kidding me? What do these words even mean? My mental dictionary is totally in a state of flux, still! You figured out already?! Bravo! 

The only thought I have today is that, none of it was worth this. Except for the fact that I am stronger now and blah-dy blah, I wasted my time. Before you give yourself undue importance, let me tell you, that I am not angry, and as far as I am concerned you are "forgiven", for I don't know who you are. What makes me sad, and kills me everyday, in each moment, perhaps, is the fact that I lost someone I loved. I loved and I lost, and fuck whoever said that "its better to have lost than to have never loved at all", he was a man, and had no idea what he was talking about. I have never seen a death in my family, till April 1st. I lost a man I had truly loved. Perhaps that was the day I realized I had lost him, for he was gone much before that day. 

April 1st: Haha. I truly felt like a fool that day. A fool to have loved. And boy, do I regret it!

Anyhoo, donot flatter yourself. The guy I speak of is dead, doesn't exist and was probably my imagination. 

What is flattering is the power one gives to their beloved. While the power he had over me was because of love, what you feel now, is due to sheer guilt. But no sweat, I don't enjoy having power over you, i truly think it's pretty pathetic. 

The irony of ironies remains, however, the power, a powerless man has over me! 

Talking about fiction and reality. So which bubble are you living in these days? 

I'm sorry to be sounding rude sir, but I don't have much respect for you. I hope you are "on your feet" now, and I hope so only for you, stranger. I see you as a third person, and I regret to inform you that I cant help but judge you for what you have done in your past. Your credibilty, your character, are all hanging under the Damascus' sword at the moment. 

Lastly, you should know that I am not angry. And like you, I am also trying to crawl out of this sad place that is inside me. And like you, I am trying to understand why I have lost my love, and like you, I am trying to forgive myself for loving someone so deeply. Finally, like you, I am trying, to give myself a second chance. 

Acts of absolute futility.  

 

Strike Two

Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, "Clobber me."? or something like, "I'm nice, hence, walk all over me."? Sheesh. Or perhaps there is some truth in what Carrie Bradshaw's (from Sex and the City) shrink has to say to Carrie, "You go for the wrong men."

Whatever it is. I must declare. I AM NOT NICE. I REFUSE TO BE NICE TO YOU. YOU SHALL NOT TAKE ME FOR GRANTED. MOST IMPORTANTLY, MR. MALE, I AM NOT THERE WHEN YOU NEED ME.

Except that I am.

Damn.

To Whomsoever It May Concern

If you are reading this, I am probably writing this for you. 

There are a whole lot of things I want to say. Mostly questions I want to pose to you. Simple questions, that even a mind as great as mine cannot find answers to. 

Questions like while I write this post, why must my mother ask me redundant things and sit beside me hoping to start a conversation about my career. I mean, why now?

Tell me, is "modern" thought regressive?

Or is religion, a utilitarian notion?

Are human inconsistencies crap? (Howard Roark said so.)

Is moving on just something that happens, or are matters concerning emotions something that can be deliberated on?

Am I just lazy when I say I'm waiting to figure out my calling?

Is the irony of life that everyday that you live, you are a day closer to death?

Do we need each other?

If yes, then what is your purpose in my life?

If no, then why do you exist at all?

Every moment that passes, is a moment lost, or a moment gained?

When did you take charge of my life?

What is the difference between survival and living?

What is the greater purpose of my existence?

Will the human species also become extinct someday? (I hope soon.)

Am I anti-social? Am I anti-you?

Is Self-obsession, the best obsession?

Is silence over-rated?

Are you a threat to me?

Are emotions over-rated?

Why is positive, positive and negative, not so nice?

What do I want to do with my time here?

Who are these people who make me feel these things?

Are thoughts superior to emotions?

Why do people cry at the feet of their Lords?

How does "surrender" to something "greater" give me "strength"?

Then, does "helplessness" become a cause for "strength"?

Does the mind prescribe to the order in nature?

How free, is freedom?

Who decides my limitations?

How much can one (wo)man do to change the world?

Is the purpose of human existence:

a) the creation of a system

b) sustaining an already created order

c) creating disorder

Feel free to comment. Or ask questions. But do not expect any answers. 

Regards,

To Whomsoever It May Concern

All shook up

Isn't it funny how some people or situations shake you up completely?
How easy it is for others to alter your self perception, to change you, to shake you up from your very core.
Everyday he asks himself. Will he love again? And he says these words, with an uncanny numbness, mind you. There is no emotion attached to it. But then again, will it ever be the same?
"My life is fiction. And I'm trying so hard to fit in.", that's what he told me once, again in one of his vague moods I so enjoyed. It was hard to get him to say the truth.
You'd like him if you ever met him. Undoubtedly a charmer. So happy and so alive...and yet.

The boy who lived...

"There was a death that day, wasn't there?"
She asked. Who had died that night? Did I die alone? Did I suffer alone? It's a funny kind of feeling, the pain. The irony. Sharing the hurt with the one who hurt you. While one lives, the other is merely in exile, for they can't exist together. And yet, as queer as it may sound, they become companions in pain. Noone chose to, the suffering came to them both. As guilt, to one, and as pain to the other.
"Must I share this with you?", she asked. "Anything, if it makes it go away, my dear." and he shed a little tear for her. Was that salt water the medicine to her wound?
My mind is yours, my love. The thoughts, you've taken them with you. It runs through the meadow, while i lay here, hoping, and wanting.

A moment's folly? Or was it an intentional crime?

It left me wounded, my love. And my heart still lies with you. In the wilderness. Where you buried it.

Somebody did die that night.

While my thoughts still wander in the meadows, and with lips that can taste your tears, I yearn. To say goodbye. To the boy, that died.

falling out

On a lonely monday morning, she lay in bed with her eyes open. She can't remember the last time she slept. She could only feel the weight of every breath she took. And the force of every move she had to make to get by. And every time her lips broke into a smile. Just like she did every morning, she questioned. Life, reality, and her existence.
With every breath she felt life entering her lungs. And she felt a blow in her chest every time she exhaled. She was an island. cut off. But somehow, alive.
What is the truth? I am tired, just like you. Must I pretend to love you.
I want to crawl back into your arms. Kindly give me some space my dear. And hold me till I don't have to breath anymore.

It's easy

It's easy to be me
To be me today
It's easy to breathe
To look into my eyes
And smile.

It's me, oh so Free.
It's clear now
No wrongs from where I'm looking
It's getting easy to be me.

It gets better
I promise
Everyday I'm new
I feel free now.

forgetting you

I am moving away
They want me to forget you baby
And they are right aren't they
You haven't left me with much to remember you by baby

You had your reasons
And I'm so caught up to see mine
I pray for me only now honey
I wasted His time on you too much,
too often.