'But right now, these moments are not stories - this is happening. I can see it. Just one moment when you know you're not a sad story. You are alive. And you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you're listening to that song on that drive with the people who you love the most in this world. And in that moment I swear, we were infinite.'
- Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Sunshine and Frosty Swirls
I'm happy when, after a particular chilly day, the sun shines brightly and envelops me in warmth. I'm often mesmerized by how everything appears to glow; how the little specs of dust collide tardily in the ray of sun light that enters the key hole; how sunshine has the power to invigorate you almost immediately (especially after a gloomy/rainy day). I'm happy when I read a novel that makes me cry, laugh and dream. I often jot down quotes and paragraphs that I connect with and when I re-read them, even after months, they speak to me in a way I can't quite describe. I'm happy when I go shopping, and make a bee line for the nearest accessory store, and try on a ring with a big flashy stone and a smooth metal band. I keep little notes, bits of tattered bills; letters; wrapping paper; shells and other novelties of significance. I feel like a hoarder sometimes, stuffing new additions in every crevice of space I find - but then again, I know that on a bad day, nothing will make me happier than looking through those piles of memories. The sight of food makes me happy. I love the recherché combination of fragrance, flavour and a good presentation. Most often, even curd rice fills me with such joy, I start to clap like a seal in a circus or do a quick jig before I start to eat. A family dinner with dogs running around; familiar faces; laughter and a strumming guitar makes me happy. Eating a frosty swirl with my best friend in the auto, while we make a mess of our clothes, makes me happy. A Breaking Bad episode, a movie that stays with me, fruity lip gloss, lace, a cupcake, a painting, a connection with a stranger, a hot cup of tea, a drive on a rainy day, a blog, a story, a date..I truly believe that the little things in life are as meaningful and important as the bigger life changing ones.
I think as human beings, we inadvertently fantasize about the idea of being happy, when instead, we should be embracing the very moment when we are. For instance, we promptly dismiss fleeting moments of felicity - in the hope that there will be something better, something more worthy of the term 'happiness'. I'd like to quote Orhan Pamuk here, who so beautifully sums up what I want to convey - "In fact no one recognizes the happiest moment of their lives as they are living it. It may well be that, in a moment of joy, one might sincerely believe that they are living that golden instant "now," even having lived such a moment before, but whatever they say, in one part of their hearts they still believe in the certainty of a happier moment to come. Because how could anyone, and particularly anyone who is still young, carry on with the belief that everything could only get worse: If a person is happy enough to think he has reached the happiest moment of his life, he will be hopeful enough to believe his future will be just as beautiful, more so."
I think as human beings, we inadvertently fantasize about the idea of being happy, when instead, we should be embracing the very moment when we are. For instance, we promptly dismiss fleeting moments of felicity - in the hope that there will be something better, something more worthy of the term 'happiness'. I'd like to quote Orhan Pamuk here, who so beautifully sums up what I want to convey - "In fact no one recognizes the happiest moment of their lives as they are living it. It may well be that, in a moment of joy, one might sincerely believe that they are living that golden instant "now," even having lived such a moment before, but whatever they say, in one part of their hearts they still believe in the certainty of a happier moment to come. Because how could anyone, and particularly anyone who is still young, carry on with the belief that everything could only get worse: If a person is happy enough to think he has reached the happiest moment of his life, he will be hopeful enough to believe his future will be just as beautiful, more so."
Thursday, October 11, 2012
We've all heard it before - live in the present, why worry about the future? Seems like a fairly reasonable mantra to live by, right? Wrong. The way I see it, the future is an ubiquitous shadow lurking close by. It peeps at you from behind the nearest alley, constantly reminding you that it is around - watching you, judging your every decision. Eventually when you give up eluding the future, you decide to plan for it instead. Yes, I am one such planner. If you think I'm trying to sell this idea to you, I'm most definitely not. I hate how I constantly worry and dwell on what is to come. On a good day, I am thrilled at the promise and possibilities the future holds. On other days, I fear the change it will necessitate and the disappointment it will bring. Very often, I am vexed by the thought that everything I have done so far will be for nothing. A degree in Mass Media when my passion has always been Art, deciding to stay in a city when I could've been somewhere else, choosing to work instead of travelling the world and going back to college - and most often, this isn't just restricted to my professional decisions but my personal relationships too.
Being at constant battle with yourself is the worst kind of conflict, because you can't shut it out like you can another person. There are no doors you can slam or long drives you can take to get away from it. So, that leaves me with just one option : find a way around it.
Stop planning three years down the line, stop being unsure, stop dwelling and most importantly, stop looking back to scrutinize. While there are hundred things that can go wrong, there are also hundred things that can go right. How's that for a start?
Being at constant battle with yourself is the worst kind of conflict, because you can't shut it out like you can another person. There are no doors you can slam or long drives you can take to get away from it. So, that leaves me with just one option : find a way around it.
Stop planning three years down the line, stop being unsure, stop dwelling and most importantly, stop looking back to scrutinize. While there are hundred things that can go wrong, there are also hundred things that can go right. How's that for a start?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
The Important Things
I once dated a Writer and
Writers are forgetful,
but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but they remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date...
They remember every story you've ever told them -
like ever,
but forget what you've just said.
They don't remember to water the plants
or take out the thrash,
but they don't forget how
to make you laugh.
Writers are forgetful
because
they're busy
remembering
the important things.
Writers are forgetful,
but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but they remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date...
They remember every story you've ever told them -
like ever,
but forget what you've just said.
They don't remember to water the plants
or take out the thrash,
but they don't forget how
to make you laugh.
Writers are forgetful
because
they're busy
remembering
the important things.
Monday, August 27, 2012
The weather today reminds me of Bombay, which consequently reminds me of one hell of a trip in June.
I've never been a big fan of birthday celebrations, per se. Although even for a non-believer like me, twenty one was a pretty big deal. Which is why we ended up in Bombay. However, now when I look back, it wasn't so much 'Twenty One' that made that trip so incredible, but the people (my cousins and best friends) who were with me that week.
Our day would start at 11am. We would sleepily find our way to the noisy kitchen, grabbing the first hot and crispy chicken nugget and omelet in our line of sight and quickly sit down to chomp on it before someone asked for a bite (When you live in a house of 8 people, you gotta fight for your right). Reaching a mutual consensus on where to go/what to do for the rest of the day usually took between 60-80 minutes. Getting everyone to go for a bath took another 60-80 minutes. By the time all that was done, each of us had to be ushered towards the front door like a flock of sheep or all the chaos would be for nothing. Everyday it would drizzle while we stuffed our selves in the car, singing Payphone and Feel So Close on top of our voices, as we made our way to some Restaurant to binge and indulge in the joys of unhealthy food - yes, after the lengthy brainstorming session, we would all settle on eating again. Full to the point of collapsing and promising not to eat another meal, us girls would win by popular vote and go shopping. Contrary to popular belief, shopping in Bombay is not dirt cheap. That fantasy you have of breezing your way from shop to shop, buying everything you see, does not actually happen. In fact, a lot of bargaining and stomping leaves you more or less empty handed. Piling ourselves back into the car, we'd go back home, only to freshen up and change into better looking clothes and set out again. The highlight of everybody's night was always 'gyaara bhaje ki bambu' which can be translated (not literally cause that is a bit coarse) to giving someone shit at 11 pm. Somehow, my cousins always made a mock court out of the entire thing and we would always end up laughing till our stomachs hurt whilst the bambu giver and taker would always make up (you aren't getting anything for guessing who they are).
There is something about waking up to a house full of chattering and familiarly, of people you love and cannot live without - and I don't think there is a worthy replacement or something you can even compare it to. Without taking into consideration the new and exciting city, the yummy food, the long drives on Sea Link, the bloody amazing clubs, the drinking, the cozy Menezes house - it would've still been the best birthday. Ever. Because there isn't a bunch of people I would've rather see than them, on the morning I turned 21 :)
I've never been a big fan of birthday celebrations, per se. Although even for a non-believer like me, twenty one was a pretty big deal. Which is why we ended up in Bombay. However, now when I look back, it wasn't so much 'Twenty One' that made that trip so incredible, but the people (my cousins and best friends) who were with me that week.
Our day would start at 11am. We would sleepily find our way to the noisy kitchen, grabbing the first hot and crispy chicken nugget and omelet in our line of sight and quickly sit down to chomp on it before someone asked for a bite (When you live in a house of 8 people, you gotta fight for your right). Reaching a mutual consensus on where to go/what to do for the rest of the day usually took between 60-80 minutes. Getting everyone to go for a bath took another 60-80 minutes. By the time all that was done, each of us had to be ushered towards the front door like a flock of sheep or all the chaos would be for nothing. Everyday it would drizzle while we stuffed our selves in the car, singing Payphone and Feel So Close on top of our voices, as we made our way to some Restaurant to binge and indulge in the joys of unhealthy food - yes, after the lengthy brainstorming session, we would all settle on eating again. Full to the point of collapsing and promising not to eat another meal, us girls would win by popular vote and go shopping. Contrary to popular belief, shopping in Bombay is not dirt cheap. That fantasy you have of breezing your way from shop to shop, buying everything you see, does not actually happen. In fact, a lot of bargaining and stomping leaves you more or less empty handed. Piling ourselves back into the car, we'd go back home, only to freshen up and change into better looking clothes and set out again. The highlight of everybody's night was always 'gyaara bhaje ki bambu' which can be translated (not literally cause that is a bit coarse) to giving someone shit at 11 pm. Somehow, my cousins always made a mock court out of the entire thing and we would always end up laughing till our stomachs hurt whilst the bambu giver and taker would always make up (you aren't getting anything for guessing who they are).
There is something about waking up to a house full of chattering and familiarly, of people you love and cannot live without - and I don't think there is a worthy replacement or something you can even compare it to. Without taking into consideration the new and exciting city, the yummy food, the long drives on Sea Link, the bloody amazing clubs, the drinking, the cozy Menezes house - it would've still been the best birthday. Ever. Because there isn't a bunch of people I would've rather see than them, on the morning I turned 21 :)
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Saturday Musings
Don't you just hate when the Saturday you were looking forward to so eagerly isn't the Saturday you hoped for? Well, today is just that.
Work has been getting more hectic. I don't have the 'I'm the new girl' excuse to lean back on anymore - there are certain things expected of me and I have to deliver. I try to assimilate as much as I can - and most nights I dream of press releases and instructions. I often look back at my life before my first job and I miss it terribly. But I also know that it is only natural to miss it, as it was the only life I ever knew. Right above my computer, is a piece of paper that reads, 'The starting point of maturity is the realisation that "No one is coming to the rescue." Everything you are or ever will be is entirely up to you'. It's funny how I never noticed it all these years and kind of fitting that I did today. Because I would've never fully understood it if I read it when I was in college. However, now, I know what it's like to wake up and not know what is in store for me. I know what it is like to make decisions that I have to live with. I know that sinking loneliness while I travel back home in a bus full of people. And I know that reassurance that washes over me, when I look at the familiar faces of my family, and how it reminds me that they can't look after me forever - I need to learn to look after myself. And when I'm overcome by this realisation, I know for a fact that this foreign concept of work; independence and learning will slowly start to fit better - like a pair of old jeans you grow comfortable in, with time.
When I look forward to a fun Saturday night with all my heart, I suppose I feel disappointed when it all goes downhill and I'm left with only my thoughts for company. Sometimes, I just want to forget what happens the entire week and dive head first into a good time with people I love. However, that seldom happens and I now see that that is okay, because atleast I get to sort out a few things in my head - leaving it less clouded for next Saturday, or the one after that...
Work has been getting more hectic. I don't have the 'I'm the new girl' excuse to lean back on anymore - there are certain things expected of me and I have to deliver. I try to assimilate as much as I can - and most nights I dream of press releases and instructions. I often look back at my life before my first job and I miss it terribly. But I also know that it is only natural to miss it, as it was the only life I ever knew. Right above my computer, is a piece of paper that reads, 'The starting point of maturity is the realisation that "No one is coming to the rescue." Everything you are or ever will be is entirely up to you'. It's funny how I never noticed it all these years and kind of fitting that I did today. Because I would've never fully understood it if I read it when I was in college. However, now, I know what it's like to wake up and not know what is in store for me. I know what it is like to make decisions that I have to live with. I know that sinking loneliness while I travel back home in a bus full of people. And I know that reassurance that washes over me, when I look at the familiar faces of my family, and how it reminds me that they can't look after me forever - I need to learn to look after myself. And when I'm overcome by this realisation, I know for a fact that this foreign concept of work; independence and learning will slowly start to fit better - like a pair of old jeans you grow comfortable in, with time.
When I look forward to a fun Saturday night with all my heart, I suppose I feel disappointed when it all goes downhill and I'm left with only my thoughts for company. Sometimes, I just want to forget what happens the entire week and dive head first into a good time with people I love. However, that seldom happens and I now see that that is okay, because atleast I get to sort out a few things in my head - leaving it less clouded for next Saturday, or the one after that...
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