Emptiness and epiphanies

As I was walking into my building premises at 1:45 am, I found a dog lying on its side, in an odd position. The parking light wasn't bright enough for me to see the details, but I immediately sensed that it had suffered some form of brain trauma and died. Since noone would respond at the time of the night, I made a mental note to call the municipal corporation's dead animal pickup service, and walked by. As I entered the house and locked up, I was struck by how matter-of-factly I took it. Where were my emotions? How did I not feel anything at the sight of a sentient dead animal, especially a dog, when my own four-legged boy had passed away in a very similar manner just 4 months ago?

I went through the motions of changing, doing my routine journaling, brushing, etc, and slept well enough. Went cycling early in the morning, and when it was closer to the time at which the municipal corporation starts answering calls, I dialed the number. Surprisingly, a well-mannered person responded in an efficient manner--asking for my name, number, and location, and letting me know that they will arrive sometime in the day--they could't predict the exact time, but they would call me an hour before they could reach the spot. By then, it looked like noone from the neighborhood had realized that a dead dog was lying in the compound. I made a hand-written note about having called the pickup service, mentioned their contact number for follow-up, and stuck it on the ground next to the body, just in case someone was curious enough to inquire.

Even though I had no tasks to do before bathing and leaving for work, I felt inclined to lie down and rest for a while. I went out to the balcony intermittently, so I could see whether anyone else had taken note of the event. About an hour later, I finally saw a woman kneeling next to the dog, so I went out to talk to her. She--let's call her PD--was crying profusely, because, it turns out, she had been looking after the dog since she was a puppy. PD told me they called her Kaali--easy to remember because of her coloring. Kaali was a sweet, gentle dog. I took down PD's number and asked her whether I could help in a any way besides making sure that Kaali was picked up. PD wanted to bury her in an empty plot at the back of the colony, instead. So I offered to load Kaali up in the car, and deliver her to the spot.

PD went away to get the tools needed for the burial and another animal-friendly person from the colony came by to assist a few minutes later. In the few minutes that I stood alone outside the car, looking at Kaali lying on the seat, I welled up. Not with emotion--okay, maybe a little,--but mostly with a sense of purpose. It felt right. Like, this is what I am supposed to do. The instinct to stay back home and to not rush to work even though I had a bunch of tasks awaiting me, served this purpose. I was meant to do this little bit of service. I would have even stayed back and helped them with the burial if it was a holiday. But even that little bit that I could do, of making sure that Kaali was moved away with a modicum of dignity, gave my life a meaning.

If the pickup service had not come through by evening, I had planned to take the dog to the cremation facility myself. That was an obvious action that I would take, to see this to completion. But the little help I could offer to the lady and the dog made me feel like--I was, for that slice of time at least--a piece of the puzzle that fit perfectly where it should. Like, feeling a strong emotion may not really be my thing, but acting on something where it makes a difference, or being effective in some way is what I am here for. And that gave me closure.

What a morbid, weirdly satisfying way to start my 40th year on this planet.

Three months ago

...this day, our remaining baby moved on.

This was an hour before he left...

We had force-fed him a little bit of the mush that we used to call food. I wanted with all my heart to let him be, not to torture him, and to let his body heal itself. I wasn't strong enough to act on my instincts. This will serve as a reminder--yet another one--to do what I know in my gut to be right for me and my loved ones.

The void and the paranoid

Phoebe's the former since she left a Phoebe-shaped hole in our lives when she 'left' about a month ago. I'm the latter, because I'm always on edge and always on the lookout for things that might hurt our remaining pooch, Mojo.

The anti inflammatory medication that we are giving him has played havoc with his system. He seems to have lost all the strength that he had gained over the past few months. I'm only hoping and praying that the one thing that has been consistently well with him all this while--his appetite and digestion--continues to stay that way.

We can handle issues that are visible and tangible, but we're losing patience with the 'unknowns'; we've been dealing with way too many of them. We have, of course, expressed our concern to the vet, and have tapered the dose sooner with his agreement. I'm anxious to know whether it slows down the downward spiral he seems ​to be going into. Today evening--a day since we halved the frequency--it seemed like his continence was slightly better, and he was taking some weight on his left hind leg, which seemed weaker yesterday. When I asked about it, the vet said that the positive effects of the medication may take a couple months to become apparent. I hope the positive effects of stopping it are visible sooner.

Living in metaphors

I've been quite addicted to playing a particular game on my phone these past few months. One of its features is that a bunch of boards are freshly available each day for players to solve. I've had a 65 day streak (as yet unbroken) of completing those. I've never had a 65 day streak of anything. Except maybe pining away for my boyfriend when I was young and stupid. But that's not some achievement, is it? What's so special about the game then? Not like I'm doing anything worthwhile here too.

The thing with this game is that it combines two of my favorite things, and maybe something I can claim to be skilled at, if only at an amateur level: pattern matching and path finding. And the reason why I'm playing so often is that it makes up for the things I can't solve IRL. When things are too chaotic, when I have difficult decisions to make based on too many choices with way too many risks, it's easy to be distracted by something that's readily available and that gives me an instant sense of achievement. Solving a bunch of boards--even difficult ones--makes me feel like I'm in control and can solve problems by myself and gives me a mini-confidence boost, however fleeting.

Also, I have quite a few epiphanies while I'm solving those boards. The way I sometimes solve a difficult board, or find a path after multiple failed attempts, or take too long to discover patterns that were right in front of me all the while, all seem like metaphors for how I am doing at 'life'. If only I showed diligence in recording them as and when they occurred to me! But then, that seems like such a chore while I'm thoroughly engaged and enjoying myself at the game. I guess I will make an effort from now on. It's only a matter of switching to a different app and typing in the words that have already occurred to me.

Apologies

It's been so long since I posted anything here that it feels a bit weird typing text into this UI. However, the apologies are not for that. Also, for a change, this is not a sarcastic post.

To the girl in the white burqa/hijab with the gray floral print who was driving a black scooter on F C Road yesterday,

I apologize to you yet again for my mistake. I intended to park next to Wadeshwar, and because the most efficient way to parallel-park a car is to do it in reverse, I halted close to other vehicles parked on the right. Being totally focused on getting to the spot before the traffic started flowing again from the signal at my rear, I made a mistake. I reversed the car before thoroughly checking the rear view mirrors. Thankfully, neither you nor I were fast enough, and I stopped the moment I realized that the rear left fender of my car had hit the front bumper of your scooter. It took me a few seconds to make sense of what happened and realize that I had to immediately move forward to help you regain control over your vehicle. I did so, got out of the car, and tried to repair the damage that I had done. It seemed to me like your scooter had not toppled over and that you were standing straight, which meant that you were apparently not seriously injured. I helped pick your bags off the road and placed them on your footboard, and I wanted to do more.

I hope that by now your shock and anger has subsided and you are ready to hear me out. I apologized then too, but you were in mood to pay any heed. Had I been in your situation, I would have felt the same things about you and said the same things to you... "Why do you drive if you can't reverse? You should simply stay off the road, etc" However, you said something to the effect of "An apology is of no use, it doesn't change anything." That got my goat. I totally disagree. I knew what my mistake was, and I had to decency to acknowledge it and apologize for it. In addition, I came over to find out the consequence of my action... Were you hurt? Could I help you get medical attention? Did I break something? Could I get it repaired for you?

Had you given me a chance, I would have done all in my power to undo the wrong that I did. However, you and I were both in a bit shock (you, understandably more than me) and tempers flew high. I have seen people who do not even bother to get out of their effing car and try to find out what their mistake has cost others. I surely didn't give off any such arrogant vibes. Not even remotely. However, when you yelled at me even after I profusely apologized and helped you gather your stuff and offered to do more, I got ticked off too. I did argue that I made a mistake and that it could have happened with you too, but it was more to get you calm down and try to establish a dialog rather than for the sake of arguing. It definitely didn't help, did it?

Then, because you didn't seem to need or want any help from me and because you were putting up a fight even against my apologies, I stormed off and got back into my car. Did you notice that I waited patiently until you moved away (still yelling at me) and I could continue with my task without harming anyone else? I'm sure you didn't.

What's the purpose of writing all this here? Well, I hope that you shared your story with someone and somehow someone you know gets to read this and lets you know about it. I pride myself on my driving skills and feel ashamed at the mistakes I make. I do try to learn from them and not repeat them. However, like everyone else, I am not and will never be perfect. So, I do the best that I can. Apologize for my mistakes and try to undo the wrong that I might have done.

I wish we had met in a better situation. We might even be friends. Inspite of the fact that it was all directed against me, I liked that your were spirited and didn't take things lying down. Also, unlike me, you were feisty without being abusive (at least I don't remember any cuss words being used). You remind me of my dear friend Noor, and not just because your attire indicated that you are a Muslim. I could totally picture her giving a piece of her mind to someone who had wronged her! Anyway. For what it's worth, I hereby record my apology and wish that the incident doesn't linger on in your mind. Also hoping that you weren't hurt, and if you were, you do recover soon.

Regards,
Simply Pallu

11.11.2011

Yeah, I hate shortening it to make it look cool. Just wanted to note that mom enters her 60s today. She's locked herself up in her house in a pseudo-maun-vrat because she doesn't believe in birthday celebrations. Is it a surprise then, that I like mine to be small, private events, and I consider it to be a time of introspection and making resolutions instead of doing them on every new year's eve? This year I hadn't planned on any celebration, but had a surprisingly fun day.

Anyhoo... mom's obsessing over how she can take better care of her mom who's now in her mid-80s. That, when she doesn't even love her and does it out of a deep-seated sense of duty. Thankfully, I love mine. That doesn't stop me from having serious doubts about how I would be able to manage her old age. Three decades on this planet and I still refuse to grow up. Tch, tch!

Dreamscapes

I was reading Harry Potter this morning for a couple of hours. Then, I decided to take a nap. When I woke over an hour later, it was due to some external noise, and not because I was rested enough. In fact, even though the state of my mind changed, my body felt like I was stupefied. I was dreaming, and the dream was an adventure, obviously triggered by the story I was reading earlier. It was a tad scary, I was tensed in the dream and trying to stay alive, which is why my body was tensed. Even then, it did not feel good to be awakened. I wanted to continue being in the dream.

The first thing that crosses my mind when I awake in the morning after an adventurous dream or after such a nap is: Oh no, not back to the boring old life again! All I think of when I wake up is how much I have left to do. My brain goes into auto-pilot and starts planning how to complete my tasks. The worst part is that all the planning does not translate into action. So, the effort of all that brain activity also goes down the drain.

Sometimes I wonder if it would really be possible to live a lucid dream, like they did in Vanilla Sky. If that technology ever comes into existence, will I really sign up for it? Assuming I am filthy rich of course! Or would I by that time have enough sense / ideas to make my real life more exciting? Would having enough energy or enthusiasm be enough to turn my boring existence around? I guess they'd have to set up a nuclear power plant inside of me for that.

Until then, I'll always look forward to my dreams to escape the daily drudgery.

One night last week

Me to the husband: Wouldn't our dogs be quite disoriented right now? I've used a face cream, a foot cream, a perfume, the mosquito repellent is at work... so many different smells!
The husband retorts: Yeah, and Mojo's fart and Fibi's fart and your fart and mine. It's a wonder we haven't died of gas poisoning yet.
Me: Drat! Let's never light a matchstick in our bedroom, shall we? Our Final Destination might just be an explosion.

Thanks for the prodding, momofrs! ;-)

Dear Richard Bach

I've thought about writing to you countless times, but I never really could string my words together. As I woke up in the middle of the night, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I had a sudden urge to read Jonathan Livingston Seagull all over again. I frantically searched through my cupboard, and was disappointed to not find it there.

And then I saw the Messiah's Handbook. I'm always at a loss for good questions at such times. I think I asked "Do I still have any love left inside me?" I think I meant "Am I capable of being in love again?" This was my answer: "What if all these levels inside you are your friends, and they know a lot more than you know? What if your teachers are here, right now? Instead of always talking, what if for a change you listen?"--I want to! But at the moment I have so many thoughts buzzing inside my head that I need to get them out to feel calm again.

[Incidentally, I also found some verses I wrote a couple of months ago and this answer also addresses the same!]

Every time I wake up like this, thinking of you, or with an urge to read your words, I am a bit spooked. I wonder why this happens, and I imagine having a direct connection with you, and I worry, is everything OK with you? I have goosebumps every time I think that some day you will pass on from this world. Although we've never met/spoken, there's this strong bond I feel, which makes me sad at the thought of no longer having you around.

So, before the possibility of you reading this is forever lost, here's what I needed to say:
Thank you! Thanks for being what you are and sharing your thoughts with us. As innumerable people must have said before: your words have had a huge impact on my life. They've helped me through many rough times, and have given me profound joy and peace whenever I felt I was losing faith in my self.

[My mind went blank for a while here.]

I've been wanting to meet you, knowing fully well that there is nothing I could contribute to your life. I only wanted to express my gratitude, but I know I would have been at a loss of words in your presence. So here it is: thanks a million for existing during my time on earth :)

Love and regards,
Pallavi

PS: After I wrote it all out, I asked "Will this ever reach Richard?" To which, I got "Know that ever about you stands the reality of love, and each moment you have the power to transform the world by what you have learned." You did really hear my first question, didn't you?

Personal quotes

"It is very difficult to work with the imagination of things whose reality the brain has ascertained through the sense organs. We accept our imaginations very easily until we ascertain their existence in reality. It takes an effort to convince the brain that we can, or we already have, magnetized our imaginations."

This is something I wrote about 4 years back. When I found it in one of the many lost treasures a cupboard in my home, and read it again after so many years, I was like... huh?! What was that all about?! Now my poor brain has to go fetch its meaning from the many repressed memories. :(

I overdid it

I have a habit of underplaying issues--mostly at work, I'd like to think. The past two weeks have been crazy: I'm supposed to document changes made to a product in its first patch, and I have to collect information from a lot of people. The trap? Nobody seems to be quite sure of what they're doing or saying! I have been chasing people, literally (shuttling between 3 floors of the office building) and virtually (over emails), but there isn't much coming out of it. It's a sorry situation and in some cases totally unacceptable--developers and QA not verifying the material I have written, and giving me a sign-off. I keep wondering what is wrong with people? Why can't they want to do the right thing? How can they agree to deliver half-hearted, shoddy work? Why can't people put more time and efforts into planning, and set aside a buffer for things that go wrong?
Anyway, I think about these issues, put them aside and try to do the best I can with what I have. I've been pushing so many things to the back of my mind that it all comes out in the wrong ways. Last night I cried myself to sleep. I hit the bed but was just not able to transport myself to slumberland. There was a little quarrel I had with hubby in the evening too. So he wasn't trying to cuddle me into sleeping. When he finally held my hand I just couldn't bear it and shed all those tears and snot. I think I slept dreamlessly, but still did not feel rested in the morning.

Serendipity

...was aired this evening
...four years after first hearing about the film, yearning to watch it, and not being able to
...this very evening!!

This is either the best example of mixed signals that the universe throws at us, or probably the most clear signal I've ever received.

'Nuff said!

It's that simple (or not)

The answer to the many questions that have caused me many a swollen eye over the past 3 days:

"The problem of the mind is that we have one"

"... and that it has a natural tendency to spend a lot of its time thinking a steady stream of distressing thoughts that make us feel bad about ourselves and our lives. When there's something inside us that spends a lot of its time making us feel bad about ourselves and our lives--and it's out of control, to boot-- that's a problem."

- How Long Till My Soul Gets It Right (Robert and Jane Alter)

Venting and other such crap

Something I wrote about 6 months back, I think. I don't even remember how many times I have brooded thus, and just stopped at it.

I've got to write. What, I do not know. But, there's something waiting to burst out of me since some months now. I've shoved a lot of stuff under the carpet. And it's showing now. Smelling too. The past six months seem like a blur. Six years, actually. All through the day, there are zillions of thoughts zooming in and out of my mind, taking me through highs and lows. There are moments when all I want in the world is to talk about them, or pen them down. And all I will be doing is staring at my computer screen. Working, chatting, playing games, trying to convince myself that I will find time to be all by myself, conjure up an idea, toy with it, see if I can stretch it, manipulate it, develop a generalized principle from it. Everything but doing it. I push back so many thoughts, ideas, emotions into dark corners of my mind, imagining that I will find time to draw them out again and do what I was supposed to do with them; but that never happens. What happens is that I lie wide awake at night, and none of those dark corners are accessible any more. I lie lost. I lie helpless. I lie depressed. I lie frustrated. Because I didn't act when I had the opportunity. It's not as if I have great ideas that could change the world. But some of them could, at least, change my world. And as I have said to myself countless times, I think too much and act too little--in fact, I don't act at all. All I do is think, then I think about something else, lose track of what I should be thinking, I talk, and in the process, lose track of what I should be doing. Exactly in that order. I'm good at making plans. And that's all I'm good at. There's probably only one thing I planned out well, and acted accordingly. That got me where I am today, professionally. But the rest is just a blur. A blur of events. A blur of people. A blur of thoughts. A blur of inertial moments. Till, one day, I get shaken by an event, or a person. Something happens that makes me sit down and write some crap, like this one, about how hopeless I am, inspite of all the intellect I have, the abilities I acquire, and the opportunities that come my way. And that's about it. This must be the third or fourth time in the past two years that I have chided myself. But, I never seem to go beyond this chiding and actually do something, with determination, regularly. I lack consistency. I lack perseverance. And, I hate to say this, but I lack passion. I wasn't like this. I get tears in my 

eyes every time I think of this, but it's true. I was a very passionate person. Over the last two or three years, however, that emotion has been smothered inside my mind. I don't know how I did it, or why I did it. Now, all I do is sit and cry (or worse, feel nothing) when I remember who I am, what I am capable of, and what I am (not) doing.

In the midst of all external changes and enhancements in my life, my spirit lies neglected. The flame is slowly dying away. I may not be of any use to anyone, or the universe in general, but I would not like it if I'm a hindrance. I do not like the feeling of being just another rock on the face of this earth. I am a human being and have been given this gift of life for a reason. It may not be contributing to anything, but there's a reason I live. I've tried to find the reason, at times, by following 

the path others have trodden, at times, by developing my own theories. But, what went wrong, I know for sure, is that I have given up before I reached the destination. Like I said before, I lack perseverance. 

I don't know what more to write. I'm gonna leave this half-way too. But, for a change, am not just giving up. I'm turning to something that will give me inspiration. A book. What book? Doesn't matter. I know I'll find inspiration there. There's plenty of it anywhere I want to find it. What I am actually giving myself is another opportunity. To start reviving myself. It's like CPR. 

Pray that I never give up this time.

I found this after I wrote into my Nokia notes last night, as I sat on a park bench after a walk to destress from 12 hours of being at the computer.

Time for new lessons

Over the past few months I was going through a stage where I had almost lost faith in all the good things.

About four years back, I went through a totally opposite stage, where I had a euphoric belief in God, and could see miracles everywhere around me. Then, I reached a point where I was in the best mindset ever in this lifetime. I had the right attitude towards life, the right people around me, and the opportunity to plan and buy all the materialistic things I'd want. From that point onwards, however, everything went downhill. Whenever I thought back about it, I could see the exact events when I went wrong. But that did not give me the inspiration to go set it right. All I've been doing, so far, is brooding about it.

But since the past few months, I've been noticing a series of events that are leading me in a certain direction. Well, I've noticed it only lately. At the onset of this series of events, however, I was totally clueless about what was happening to me and why. Everything was so foggy--I should have realized it was the dawn of a new day full of lessons for me.

Four years ago, I had just finished a previous, very long day of lessons. It was clearly an emotional rebirth of sorts for me. The next angel taught me a lot in a really short time, and it was fun. Then came the long period of stumbling down the hill. I doubt whether I could have steadied myself even if I wanted to. Maybe this was necessary to break my ego, which had built itself up while I was reaching my mental / emotional high-point.

In the past few months, I had to sort of unlearn all that I had learned before. All my myths about love and life came shattering down to the point that I was becoming bitter and rotten from within. Then, slowly, without me noticing, the regeneration process began. This time, my angels appeared not in the form of people, but as books. Oh, wait a minute! What am I saying? Of course, there was a person. You know who you are. Thank you.

Then there were my darling books: Curious Lives (Richard Bach) and Many Lives, Many Masters (Dr. Brian Weiss). I had bought these books months ago: just around the end of my four-year-long-day-of-lessons. But, as I truly believe, books come to me (read: I happen to read them) at a time when I need them the most.

Curious Lives was the first to intervene: like I said, I was losing faith in all the good things in life. I felt like rebelling against every custom / tradition set by people around me. When I began with the book, I wondered to myself: how could people be good to others and themselves all the time? That would make the world so boring! This was contradictory to what I wanted, what everyone else seems to want, but can't care enough to work at: world peace, or peace in general--the absence of strife--especially in human relationships. The book cleared any doubts I had about the possibility of a fun life inspite of all the goody-goody behavior. Richard Bach is surely one of my most important teachers in this lifetime. A silent thanks to you my reluctant messiah!

Many Lives, Many Masters revived my belief in the existence of the soul and the concept of reincarnations--to learn the lessons we need to reach the all-knowing and wise, God-like stage of tranquility. A friend had recommended it long back, but I knew it would come to me when I was ready.

To top it off, Evan Almighty was aired on TV this evening--a movie I would've put off watching as just another sequel that rides on the success of its ancestor. The hubs somehow kept it on instead of flipping channels as he usually does, and it got me interested minute-by-minute. Now, it's not a great movie by itself. It just came at a special time to me. Thanks for all the hints, my angels.

Besides these, the other significant pointer for me was a sort of reconciliation with a friend, whom I had almost lost, along with my previous unlearning. He was an angel during those lessons--now he is probably a classmate. Another thing that fell into place was my plan to reestablish myself as the morning-person that I always was. I asked for my late evening conference calls at work to be rescheduled to the mornings, and it was accepted in a jiffy. At the same time, my one-month freeze on the gym membership got over, and I started swimming already! Also, for some reason, the hubs and I did not pay our regular visit to the cinemas this weekend. Instead, we did some housecleaning, fixed the bicycles and had a couple of nice rides together. As a bonus point: we haven't had a major squabble in the past two weeks (then again, maybe it's just me consciously avoiding them). If that isn't an indication of the positive changes in my life, I don't know what is!

During this lesson, the changes in me are subtle, and hopefully longer lasting. I have also been noticing every single, small little help that the angels give to push me closer to what I want to be, and what I want to do with my time. I will become more efficient and consistent as time goes by, and hopefully not take things for granted any more. Never let me lose faith again, my guardians.

Nov 19, 2008, 0008 hrs :)

A midnight encounter

It was TV time like every night (after office)
He lay on the sofa, flipping channels, unblinking
She sprawled across the bean bags
Thinking, as always, in stand-by mode
About the day gone by, the resolution they made yesterday
And how it might go outta the window tomorrow

He kept hopping between frequencies
Pausing at whatever got lucky enough to hold his attention
She watched some with him
And disapprovingly clicked her tongue at others
Some shows made them laugh
Others left them gaping in astonishment

Gradually they settled onto Great Expectations
Just because it intrigued them
For him it was a story whose conclusion evaded his logic
She saw it as a dream she wanted to lose herself in, without purpose
To participate in the story, to accept the author's conclusion
And build a proof in her mind of how it was the only logical outcome

Along came a commercial break and broke the spell
He got up to have a sip of water
And moved around, relaxing his stiffened limbs
Her laid-back, comfortable position caught his attention
She was a tad surprised to see him eyeing her
But happily let it happen as he came closer and stood by

Then he lay over her in one swift movement
And kissed her forehead (or so she thought)
In her eagerness for what-lay-next, she usually lost the present
But today she was alert enough to not let the moment slip by
And so she savored the experience, as they kissed and embraced

What she did a little different today
Was not expect some more
That took away the disappointment she usually felt with him
And what she gained in those few moments made a lovely memory
So she prompty put it in her journal, to revisit on another dull day

PS: I simply couldn't pass this off as poetry, and hence it's here instead of there.

Random weekend plan - III

Again, this is an update, not a plan. But I like to reuse the title.

'Twas a leisurely day. Me and hubs woke up just before noon. While I washed the kitchen platform (yes, I do that often... obsessed with cleanliness that I am), the hubs began his daily dose of lounging on the sofa and watching TV. Then, while I bathed, the darling picked up the broom and swept the house!! I almost fainted in the bathroom. I will keep wondering whether it was (a) the guilt of doing less than his share of work, or (b) the fear of my sarcastic remarks about the affinity between the couch and his pretty ass, or (c) the genuine recognition that the floor was dirty and needed to be cleaned up. It's these random and rare acts of concern that still keep me bound to him. Other than the fact that he is completely loyal to me. Bugger. Tedha hai, par mera hai! Sorry, couldn't help quoting the Kurkure ad ;-)

We had corn flakes for breakfast and watched absolutely random crap on TV. My friend Gudiya, who's living with us for a month, woke up at 3:00 or so. Hubs then turned his attention to his favorite task these days. Fixing the display on her laptop. Meanwhile, I backed up the data on my laptop, so that we could clean it up and reinstall the OS. Been more than a year since we did that. When we had enough of the gizmos and the stomach began calling for attention again, we out for a really late lunch. Smokin' Joe's pizza @ 5:00pm. We tried the Schezwan and called for our usual Woodcutters. The mistake we did was to finish the Schezwan before the Woodcutters. It was like having curd-rice after a tear-inducing pani-puri. Anyone reading this, please make a note not to try this.

The hubs craved for his rounds Age of Mythology, so Gudiya and I went for a long drive through drizzle and scenic beauty. We halted for bhutta at a spot where we could turn back homewards. As we sat in the car boot munching on the perfect monsoon snack, we noticed that we were directly facing a lovely sight: water gushing out through a dam, with the lighting on! I wish I had taken the camera along :( It was good drive home through the (absent) night lights.

By the time we reached, we both had made up our minds about some piping hot chai. The hubs, a direct descendant of Murphy (yes, the Murphy's law-maker), had finished all the milk in the household. I keep barking at him that he was a cat in one of his previous incarnations. Yes, you got the hint. I might have been an ungrateful dog back then. But he did pay for his misbehavior by fetching milk and some potato chips for us. The chai freshened me up so well that I dropped all pretences of not wanting to go to office (something I kept postponing since morning) and begin something I had planned to complete almost a quarter (of a year) ago!

Oh, and happy independence day, y'all. I don't actually believe we are independent (there's so much mental slavery yet). But, as a small tribute, the least microbit I can do, to pay regards to those amazing freedom fighters who made it possible for us to live in a democratic country, I sit in silence for a minute, and bow my head to their valor and sacrifice. Vande maataram!

Rambling again

08/08/08

I've got exactly one month left before I begin my second trip to California. It'll be over even before I know it, but this time I plan to do all that I didn't do during my last trip. At least, I keep saying that to myself. And yes, this includes losing weight to become more fit and also to fit into my old jeans. It's not related to traveling to a foreign country at all. Any event on the horizon is a target for improving my fitness. The first was my first California visit in Feb 2006, the next was my wedding in Dec 2006, the next was Diwali of 2007 when we were supposed to visit the hubs' hometown, after that it was the beginning of 2008, now it is the second visit to California. And I've NEVER met any of these deadlines. Gah!

But that's not what why I'm here tonight. I'm here simply because I want to make a fresh start. I want to reboot my current mental OS session and have a fresh RAM to work with. I never thought that I'd carry so much baggage ever again once I took back my life in control, after my first long and strong relationship broke down. For a couple of years after that I was slowly moving towards an improved, confident, and stronger me. Then along came my next boyfriend and now husband, and everything went downhill from there.

The wonderful control I had started getting over my mind, slowly slipped away from my hands. The tables were turned. Often, I experienced sparks of realization that something was going wrong, but I thought I could put it right any time I wanted to. How foolish of me!

Anyway, without dwelling too much on the past, I'm just making a mental note of where exactly I went wrong. I need to avoid making the same mistakes. What's worse is that I can clearly see the events when I'm about to go wrong, but I don't do much to not step into the turd again.

This moment, here, I want to conspire with myself to keep my eyes open, and my conscience aware, so that when I go down that wrong path again, it pinches me hard and drags me back to do what's right. So, dear self, after a lot many days of being a believer, a non-believer, and sometimes a fence-sitter, I bow down and pray: "Please help me each moment hereon to remain alert of my surroundings and perform my actions consciously. Help me to keep my sense of purpose intact, and not let me lose it in some forgotten corner of the mind. Otherwise, there's no reason I'd feel like waking up to face each day. I want to be a bird who flies with the wind, not a stray leaf that blows around aimlessly."

PS: Yes, hubs, I wrote this while you were snoring away to glory that night. I planned to wake up at 5:00 the next day and set a schedule for work and looking after our home. But, I ended up snoozing the alarm endlessly to finally get out of bed at 9:30, and fall right back into my lethargy-driven excuse of a life.

So much for plans and fleeting inspirations

This is something I wrote long back. I don't even remember when. But I guess it was within this past year. Anyway, just putting it here for the record. To remind myself what a loser I've been.

I've got to write. What, I do not know. But, there's something waiting to burst out of me since some months now. I've shoved a lot of stuff under the carpet. And it's showing now. Smelling too. The past six months seem like a blur. Six years, actually. All through the day, there are zillions of thoughts zooming in and out of my mind, taking me through highs and lows. There are moments when all I want in the world is to talk about them, or pen them down. And all I will be doing is staring at my computer screen. Working, chatting, playing games, trying to convince myself that I will find time to be all by myself, conjure up an idea, toy with it, see if I can stretch it, manipulate it, develop a generalized principle from it. Everything but doing it. I push back so many thoughts, ideas, emotions into dark corners of my mind, imagining that I will find time to draw them out again and do what I was supposed to do with them; but that never happens. What happens is that I lie wide awake at night, and none of those dark corners are accessible any more. I lie lost. I lie helpless. I lie depressed. I lie frustrated. Because I didn't act when I had the opportunity. It's not as if I have great ideas that could change the world. But some of them could, at least, change my world. And as I have said to myself countless times, I think too much and act too little--in fact, I don't act at all. All I do is think, then I think about something else, lose track of what I should be thinking, I talk, and in the process, lose track of what I should be doing. Exactly in that order. I'm good at making plans. And that's all I'm good at. There's probably only one thing I planned out well, and acted accordingly. That got me where I am today, professionally. But the rest is just a blur. A blur of events. A blur of people. A blur of thoughts. A blur of inertial moments. Till, one day, I get shaken by an event, or a person. Something happens that makes me sit down and write some crap, like this one, about how hopeless I am, inspite of all the intellect I have, the abilities I acquire, and the opportunities that come my way. And that's about it. This must be the third or fourth time in the past two years that I have chided myself. But, I never seem to go beyond this chiding and actually do something, with determination, regularly. I lack consistency. I lack perseverance. And, I hate to say this, but I lack passion. I wasn't like this. I get tears in my eyes every time I think of this, but it's true. I was a very passionate person. Over the last two or three years, however, that emotion has been smothered inside my mind. I don't know how I did it, or why I did it. Now, all I do is sit and cry (or worse, feel nothing) when I remember who I am, what I am capable of, and what I am (not) doing.

In the midst of all external changes and enhancements in my life, my spirit lies neglected. The flame is slowly dying away. I may not be of any use to anyone, or the universe in general, but I would not like it if I'm a hindrance. I do not like the feeling of being just another rock on the face of this earth. I am a human being and have been given this gift of life for a reason. It may not be contributing to anything, but there's a reason I live. I've tried to find the reason, at times, by following the path others have trodden, at times, by developing my own theories. But, what went wrong, I know for sure, is that I have given up before I reached the destination. Like I said before, I lack perseverance.

I don't know what more to write. I'm gonna leave this half-way too. But, for a change, am not just giving up. I'm turning to something that will give me inspiration. A book. What book? Doesn't matter. I know I'll find inspiration there. There's plenty of it anywhere I want to find it. What I am actually giving myself is another opportunity. To start reviving myself. It's like CPR.

Pray that I never give up this time.

A bedtime story

A couple of nights ago, the hubs sweetly put me to sleep. Yeah, I'm sad like that. For most of the day you could catch me yawning, but when it's time to hit the bed, I'm stubbornly wide awake. So, when my darling is not too busy sleeping himself, he nuzzles me to sleep.

It was past midnight, and in a few hours, I was awakened by a silly, scary dream. I looked around the room and I could see all the adjoining doors and windows open, the curtains flowing wildly in the breeze. It was spooky and I needed to hide into the hubs' warm, soft-skinned chest and go back to sleep. Expect that he was so sound asleep that I didn't want to wake him. Not simply because that would disturb him, but because one of the many things he absolutely hates is being woken up from his always-peaceful-slumber. He breathes fire on anyone who dares to get him out of that heaven of his.

So, I lay there, close beside him for 3 hours, tossing and turning, hoping that he would wake on his own and cuddle me. The only thing that broke his spell was the milkman who rang the doorbell at 6:00 am. Of course, he got a verbal thrashing! Now, we've told the milkman right from day 1 that he is not to ring the doorbell at any cost (unless it's time to collect the bill, of course). We tie the plastic bag, where he can drop the milk packets, to the door and leave a note mentioning the amount we need that day. Convenient, right? So, when we did not tie the bag in place for 2 consecutive days, he probably was worried ;-)

Anyway, so once my darling hubs got back to bed, I told him that I had been waiting for him to hold me since the past 3 hours. He took me in his arms at once and we dozed off again, only to wake up when the whole non-PST world was already in the office. He found it rather funny that I didn't dare to wake him up and suffered 3 sleepless hours alone. He laughed and joked about it with me the whole day. And I kept reminding him what a monster he is to anyone who even accidentally wakes him up. Bugger.