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!!!!

For the lack or for the want?

I feel like the hunchback Spartan trader Ephialtes, disloyal to my generation, when I hear people with similar FB timelines as mine, making it big in life by working towards achievement of that one dream which they have harbored and nurtured in their teens.

What was I doing when I was a teenybopper? Preparing for Organic chemistry exams, reading Sidney Sheldon in my leisure hours, spending wee hours fiddling with my first mobile handset (mind you back then it was novelty, especially when your boyfriend bought you one for the marathon night chats under the duvet), watching Blue Lagoon, Shakespeare in Love and the likes on TV when mom and dad were away, thinking of ways of arranging funds for the boyfriend’s birthday, finding a solution to the aforesaid by teaching kids all the way from the 1^st standard to the 10^th standard, chatting with random strangers sharing ‘asl’ in A Small Smoke Filled Café on Rediff. That’s what growing up was like.

My jaws dropped the other day when I discovered that the kids at the gym who work out with me are merely 18-19 and my jaws nearly swept the floor when they added that they were studying medicine or pharma or BDS or one of those intellectually stimulating courses. The stereotype of a geeky, nerdy, sloppy slob of a doctor was smashed for me. They know exactly where they are headed from here- cosmetic surgeon, big bucks, glamour, industrialists, Bollywood, face correction, more money, ageing actresses, sagging skin, lots of money!!!!! And therefore it is so important to look good themselves and hence turbo workouts at the age of 19 along with studies..WOW!!

I pondered over the sagacity of these driven people to be convinced that the most important thing today is to have clarity of thought, vision, knowing what leads you and what pulls you down and a Business Plan. No one likes being in jobs anymore, at least a score from my class (MBA) is making a desperate attempt at initiating their “start-up”; Decades ago MBA used to be esteemed but alas it has been replaced by Entrepreneur today! So I am a B.Tech, MBA, CFA and an Entrepreneur, as good as a degree, diploma or a charter.

And it seems I like a moron am required to think that if this rung breaks apart and re-starts a parallel universe of entrepreneurs, who will serve the old men already in the game. May be we will backtrack to the era of barter and scratch each other’s back for survival…Maybe KFC will provide Zingers for Facebook’s wedding (if Zuckerberg likes Fresh-ly fried Chicken) and Facebook will manufacture fans for KFC.

What kept my dad in his job for 30 years? Why didn’t he ever get frustrated with his boss(es) and broke off like a Leftist to start his mutiny? Had he done that, I would be chilling in a pool, sipping at a cocktail with a manicured, spa-treated expensive dog, beating the Mumbai heat. Maybe he is not a patron and believer of democracy and could clearly survive the politics of work- in its inherent anarchical or monarchial form. What sets us apart? Why is there so much unrest in us? Are the patience levels depleting like Ozone? Are today’s employers the reincarnates of Hitler, Stalin and other tyrants? Are there more opportunities today than ever existed? Or do we have a sharper intuition and sense to judge the opportunities or are we really really smart to make something out of nothing? Is change and mobility of prime importance to us today? Was money and career never this important to our predecessors? Is Loyalty a vice now? Do we have an inflated sense of who we are and what we are capable of? OR is this another attempt at accomplishing oneself as “have arrived”.

Suddenly self-expression has become so vital that everyone seems to have an extended personality. Irrespective of whatever one is at work, he or she must be a socialite, must play golf, attend all the important events in the city, blog (for money), must know photography (for sharing), must be training physically, running marathons, must know all forms of “alternate”- music, cultures, sports; undertaking deep sea diving, trekking courses and certifications etc. While I simply am into reading, watching films and occasionally cooking, I find these interests and extensions extremely stylish and smart. I have immense respect for all those who manage their “lifestyle” so beautifully well. But I wonder if all these manifestations of a certain personality are a function of growing and moving up in life or a certain education type or a metro phenomenon or a residue of exposure to the world or mere perceptiveness or overwhelming love for self or cognition and need to earn more money or need to belong like the rich and the famous or….

Somewhere the entrepreneurial streak and the general interests are intertwined. From knowing what an individual does when free of the golden handcuffs (read job) I can now figure whether he or she stands a chance as an entrepreneur or not.

For me, I am still waiting to know myself beyond work and mundane and of course the wait for the ultimate discovery of my Business Plan continues.

It was not easy!

It was not easy and it never is

Care for the hit and not the miss

Success comes to the one, who yearns for it,

Toils and works hard and smiles bright

Success walks in tip toed and pats on the back

Thence, of excitement and jubilation there is no lack.

Of long days and nights, and journeys and flights, and struggles and ploys

And the sex toys

It was then that brings in the now

The moment of glory and the pinnacle of joy

Treat Thy Self well today

For….It was not easy and it never is!!!

Loosening Up

My Diesel jeans loosened up after a wash! They are loose where I need them to be and well fitted at places that flatter me.

We have come a long way from the time we started together. On Day one, my jeans were restrictive; they deterred me from bending, folding, and moving lithely because it didn’t know my contours neither was I familiar with the rigidity of the fibers. They said “you must buy one that holds you tight and close within it” and I subscribed for it. But then it became clammy, tight and wouldn’t let me breathe. After gasping, fraught as I was, I decided to let it go with utmost disappointment and abhorrence.

And then some Spinning and Tumbling in the tub changed everything for us. It came back in its full glory and hugged me like I had never dreamt. The comfort was such that I could now Sleep in them.

I play, cook, travel, draw, eat, read, write, think, dance, run, lounge, party, shop, drop and a do lot more in them. It earned me a compliment to envy for- “It’s the woman in it who makes the jeans!”

My jeans are distressed and ripped. That’s how I like them. I never liked the slick, impeccable, monochrome, blue finish. I like it acid washed and I like it stone washed. It must have gone through some treatment before I endorse it. The distressed ones make me look different. The ripped ones give me character. The ones that are both distressed and ripped get most of my love. That’s how I like it!

I approve of them till I get jaded and then I shop for a new pair. The start is always so exciting, the tension to fit, the loosening up followed by the flawless fitting, the charm of newness, the commendations, the standing out, the perfect match with everything else, the need to sport. But here’s always more to vie for on the shop floor may be because I get them on a discount.

All of them get stacked up in my Closet. Some come out once in a while when I wish to look like days gone by, some stay there untouched for days and weeks and months and some are just buried under the heap never to be fished out. But I never get rid of them. All of them are always there….

It’s astounding how my jeans are my life's raconteur...they are a metaphor! :)