The eye of the storm

It’s amidst the turmoil, calm doesn’t prevail for miles and miles the eyes can behold

Stirring vigorously the entrails, the soul, the reality of being

Lashing and thrashing out the truth, the beautiful truth never to be seen

The vehemence, the myriad of emotions, the consciousness all churning fast

What an irony this, it is the safest haven, around the most violent form

Waves beating high, the whirlpool in motion and here it is- 

The eye of the storm….

The blues and the greens of the sea are visible but it covers the eye

What could be the color of the eye, questions the sky-

Maybe it is the red of the cheeks of the lover so shy.

The choppy sea has its pits its depth the fathomable sea bed

What holdeth the eye?

Maybe it feels like the softness of caress or the shiny wild tresses on the head.

The wrath of the sea goes wild with wind, blows helter skelter the waters none can halt

What is the sensation near the eye?

Maybe it is like the tingling of buds when the tongue sweeps the lip and tastes the salt.

The encore of the sea, the loud musings of thunder, the flash of lightening bright

This brutal orchestra but what is the sound of the eye?

Maybe it is the soft whispers of love poetry and passionate couplets of fantasies on flight.

The eye of the storm draws you to it, holds you, covers you, protects you and checks you

It affects but saves its effect

In or out of it- life wouldn’t be perfect

Yet you seek it you need it you wish for it

Coz in the wild wild storm, its arms are the only place you safely fit.

The tightrope walker- blithe yet balanced
Takes the fall, dusts her pants and starts again
This endless cycle is life- balancing, falling, absorbing the pain and moving on....what does one attain?

A pair of eyes watch this through big window panes; It’s one of the pleasant distractions in the usual humdrum
Sometimes the eyes watch this through the glass sometimes look through her

The tightrope walker and the pair of eyes connect
The eyes seem admiring, fanning the ambitious, fanning the fire, showering adulation and showing belief
Walker ups the stakes; Takes the rope higher, makes the rope thinner
Blithe but balanced takes the fall, dusts her pants and starts again with relief

The magnitude of pain will shoot up, balancing will get harder but the stakes have been upped
The eyes so seasoned keep watching this through the glass and sometimes look through her unlearned

The tightrope walker and the eyes stay connected
Knowing the encouraging gaze brings the strength and confidence, makes stepping on the rope seems easier
Should the walker up the stakes further and make it riskier?

The choice would be to walk it or wait for it to snap for the lethal fall
The eyes that see this through the glass and sometimes look through her can calculate it all

The only connection is what the eyes see and show
The only interpretation is what the tightrope walker wants to know
The tightrope walker has the fall in her tow
The eyes will leave once over is this show

The discerning pair of eyes move on find interesting sights in the usual humdrum
The tightrope walker- blithe yet balanced
Takes the fall, dusts her pants and starts again
This endless cycle is life- balancing, falling, absorbing the pain and moving on....what does one attain?

The Politics of Living

Humans are composite creatures made up of virtues and vices. Stripped off all vices a human becomes his own angel. But to get there is a treacherous journey.

What does it take to slay a thousand demons- fear, inhibition, immorality and consciousness of the surrounding; unlearn the learnt, step over the professed perfect, terminate the obvious in order to be liberated?

What does it take to drift away, to let you lose, and to go with the flow; to unshackle self from routine, to become the person you are not but you want to be; to become the purest form of you; to become the spirit that resides within?

Oft times, the romantic in me wants to be this person, the rebel, the outlier, the perfect 10, the epitome of the ideal flawless living. But the harder I try, the farther I get away from the 10. Because I realize I endeavor not for me in the real sense, but it is to become someone that someone else would want to be. I ask myself “There are loads and scores of people who I want to be. But are there people out there who are what THEY want to be?”

Are there any real 10/10 lives or the ones that seem to be 10/10 on the outside are also struggling within to get there?

Do the ones who inspire also aspire?

A forgotten dream

A night of most beautiful dream

Chocolate valley and mountain of ice-cream

Floating in memory river is a boat of corn

Coming from where our love was born

Garden of most beautiful flower

A house of noodles near musical shower

A litchi cream well and a coffee lake

You, me and our wedding cake

What it's not?

I clearly am not the first one to document this. This has been attempted in the past. Yet I can’t really say why I got drawn to the idea of penning this in spite of a no-Eureka moment. Perhaps the urge emerged due to being on THAT side of the fence at some point or marginally still being there. But with evolution I have developed the ability to mock my own actions. While slowly transcending the boundaries, hauling myself to move to the other side, I must admit when I look back it seems fairly exasperating, ghastly and ridiculous there. The yard in question is the FB play field. Every movement here has a meaning. Wish I was born a psychologist or at least studied psychology while the time was right. I would have dissected some like those newspaper agony aunts (you know who I am talking about) ;)

Some of the FB behaviours are decoded below. These are ToM because they are reasonably recent in occurrence or have had ME involved and somehow I had the clairvoyance and sagacity to read between the lines (demon laughter).

Posting pictures with long lost friends- We generally don’t give a fuck about calling or meeting each other regularly but when we meet once in a year or two (by force or chance) we try putting malice behind and hug each other with luuurrvvveeee. Freakshow! we are so enterprising and full of love. The post/picture validates the feeling.

Food pictures- The piece of chicken in the picture tastes like shit. I can’t have it so while it looks half decent let me at least take a picture. Instagram can do the rest for making it look edible. The picture will let the world know what a culinary expert I am and I never settle for anything less that gourmet!

Pictures of babies and kids- I sincerely, really, honestly love my child but while all my single or childless friends are living it up I am going nuts cleaning soiled nappies and child puke. And this retarded kid just doesn’t sleep. Let me take a picture and make a post for some distraction and sanity. At least the picture conveys the joys and sanctity of motherhood. Awwww I am complete now (fuck shit give me alcohol! And take this lump of flesh away to his father who must be in some gutter pissed drunk with his man friends at 3 am!)

Check-in at the airport- International: So what if my company is sending me to China for some donkey/bitch work which entails racking brains with incomprehensible Chinese and swallowing raw, uncooked animals, at least the picture tells the world that I have another stamp on my passport and I have arrived in life. Domestic: I live in a pigeon hole because that is all I can afford. It is always a happy occasion to spend a night or two in a nice hotel at the company’s expense, away from my very own shit hole. A good meal is sometimes all I want/need/crave. And who knows that my girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse is on the verge of dumping me because I am never there and we have endless fights on phone while I am away so much so that I bawl my eyes out in that nice hotel room night after night? Who cares the check-in screams “Jet-setter! Yay! And I have a dream job- middle finger to you MFs ”

Selfie- I am living in denial of the fact that I am self-obsessed. Some time ago I blatantly and unabashedly accepted the truth; “I am a narcissist, main apni favourite hun”, on public forums and now I post one selfie a day. Even my profile picture is a selfie. However who knows of the gruelling grind behind that one right angle- I spend endless hours staring into the mirror cursing the Lord for sculpting that face. Bathroom is my haven where no one bothers me. I strike innumerable poses, make sure the light is right, the nose doesn’t look crooked, the pout is right, hair obviously right, face- pretty, fresh and young, to get that one out of one million photo right which can then be improved through Instagram amounting to “HOT!!!”. The target this time around is 50 likes. That would validate that I look hot and pretty and also improves my self confidence which I otherwise awfully lack L

Game of Thrones updates- I heard about this fad some time back. They kept saying GoT GoT, winter is coming etc. Sounded cool and hep so I Googled and finally got that GoT stands for Game of Thrones and it is in its fourth season now. So what if I know jack about last three or GRRM and the books he wrote, I can always catch up later. But for now let us post about Ep 8 Season 4. Hey I am thrilled because I am intellectual for following a period drama and being informed because I am a part of a global phenomenon!!

RIP messages- Who did you say passed away today? Yeah! I heard that in the passing on FM, let me see is there is more of it on FB. There is. It must have been someone famous, with a cult following. What was the name again? Let me Google- “Which famous author died today?”- Yes Mary Angelou!!! She was much more than an author. Excellent! Let me pick her singer, dancer attribute because I can totally relate and write a post around it. Done. 6 like minded people who were ardent followers of Mary Angelou liked my post. Happy shiny day!

Strong is the new skinny! Really?

I am choosing autonomy for claiming a notorious statement to my eminence- “All who workout is narcissistic but all narcissistic don’t work out”. There is a possible argument there that people exercise to stay fit or they do it for the unadulterated and neat love of fitness, longevity and health but I would say the overarching truth and underlying reality in all such declarations is the love for self. Yes? Makes sense? May be? It is self explanatory and so (vain and self absorbed) people who put in enormous amount of exertion and time and money to look good and prolong their youthfulness, would treat all of the above like an investment and every investment demands and promises a return, preferably tangible. Coffee table flat tummy is a viable, tangible and visible return and so is carved out calves. It therefore legitimizes the outcome which entails being in shape and toned like a model because fat and obese can truthfully not be pleasing to a narcissistic eye or otherwise. Hence it is established that (narcissistic) women in order to look pretty or alluring need to be slender if not skinny because that is what gets noticed first followed by intellect and blah blah blah. And being plus size results in self loathing.

I have been a Cross Fitter for a month shy of two years now and I keep faltering upon the phrase “Strong is the new skinny” which invariably is aimed at persuading women NOT to vie for an anorexic-size-zero-mannequin inspired-super model-body BUT focus on other integral elements of core strength development implying "UK 10 is also good while you are strong and toned". Yes! I can repeat the aforesaid 6 Gazilliion times every day to myself but my brain sieves out the latter and zooms in on the former every time I enter the Box. And so does 90% women's brains who train with me. The conversations are always about or around “I need some serious wash board abs”, “My calves are so fat, I think the only remedy is lipo”, “Look at my bye bye arms, I can barely keep them bare”, “Jesus Christ I am losing my boobs”, “I can call my butt Mini-me coz it’s as big as me”.....phew!!!!!

So where and how is being strong imperative and significant for us women when we can’t get over our bodily woes and inches here and there. I mean what the heck would I do with all the strength when I spend sheaves of cash and earn no abs to flaunt specially when there are stick figures dancing all around me? Skinny is all that matters and appreciated at the end of the day. Strength et al is still gibberish in this context unless one is a lady Mariner or a Security personnel or a black-vest-and-cargo-clad-super-cop straight out of a Hollywood film. But we are a Bollywood inspired race fed on "pretty is always petite".

And that is how I got into the business of decoding the so called paradigm changing assertion “Strong is the new skinny”. It took me a year and the track Sunscreen to understand the slogan and start appreciating it. Thereafter I could rationalize that we have created more (role) models to follow on the bony slender side and fewer on the strong chiseled, muscled super cop side and we obviously sway towards the weighted side. We need more of self loving stronger women and fewer self loathing skinny variety to inspire us. We need more super-cops, pilots, politicians, Mariners and fewer anorexic calendar girls and actors qualifying as role models. Narcissism, self love and conceit shouldn't be the evaluation metrics of skinny alone. The horse blinders that block the beauty outside of skinny should be compromised. The beauty in strong/big/plump/maybe fat too needs to be acknowledged as well. It is a process of transformation not for the women alone, but one that their entire ecosystem needs to undergo.

The truth however persists that while the wild goose chase for followers of strong continues, skinny will rule. It is a while before strong replaces skinny. The start would be when we choose to not embrace passing out due to starvation, deprivation and drugs to look pretty but lift 70 kilograms, dress up in UK 8, keep our heads high and wear our best smiles to party. In a nutshell happily reporting from the place we are at.

Relationship Hindsight

 

Sometimes walking out of a relationship leaves you like you were walking on a busy road with a slow slug crawling in front of you with excess baggage, curved under his own weight not willing to budge, not willing to let you ahead, not willing to make way, not close to tiring out. You just have to tread heavily behind him with all his baggage and yours for as long as you find a clearing. Finding a way out is a struggle.....

 

Some relationships feel like borrowing a runway designer gown from a dry cleaner for a red carpet event. Somewhere within, the voice in you, intimidated and shy, tells you that it is a different and difficult league but you can’t resist the temptation of seeing yourself enshrouded by the shallow and banal, the sham of pleasantries, the gown with a train and the charm of stepping on red carpet in Cinderella heels till you trip. Once you have been there done that you know you have to return home from this farce; that neither the gown was yours nor did you belong to the red carpet vanity in entirety….ever.

 

What happens when your eyes grow bigger than your stomach? You become greedy, you want more, you want to capacitate but you can’t and eventually you consume and then regurgitate. The system refuses to accept it for it defies nature....then comes the punishment for the avarice...starvation!

When you get into it telling IT “This is it and I am planning a fairy tale ending here”, the dude (soul) gets so ecstatic and hysterical that it almost dies when you end it abruptly. IT sulks and sulks and mops and bawls ITS eyes out that IT becomes too hard to rehabilitate IT back. You almost become schizophrenic living in parallel worlds feeling one and living one…neither of the two gets you anywhere….The soul wrenching ones are these…

It’s like when you have had white smoke with your soul on getting in and getting out, IT knows that there’s no staying back…You have given IT a heads up and the suicidal soul won’t kill itself when you actually walk out, may be IT will just punch ITS face hard. You recoil and recover….

Some feel like being at the crossroad signal where one encounters an urchin selling flowers, pushing them hard onto the car window. Give him a nod and a smile and he is encouraged beyond comprehension. You can’t bring him back to reality, you can’t convince him that you don’t need the flowers; you can’t decline the offer. He is tenacious. The signal changes and you move on and the little urchin with flowers withers away in gloom.

Some are like knowing if there is life on Mars. “What if it was for real?”, “what if we could share?”, “What if we could live in communion?”..the “what ifs..?” they hound like the dark shadows which appear every time there is light around…and from there on the shadows become you so much so that you become oblivious to their presence when things lighten up around you, you know it rises with you, it follows and stays never leaving you alone…you know it’s you!!!!