March 24, 2004


The fragility of life never ceases to amaze me. Pull a string here, another there and the whole fabric falls apart. The entire structure in itself is in many ways an illusion in itself. What means a lot to me might mean nothing to you and vice versa too. My fabric is an elaborate tapestry of delusions; Delusions of independence, isolation, fairness and unconditional reliability. Can we have some goddamn simplicity in the house please?

You know, my worst nightmare is to drown to my death. It is so scary that I often feel like hitting my hairdresser in his face when he washes my hair before he cuts it. Sometimes I feel the same about trusting anyone. I can go to great lengths to do things for people who mean anything or everything to me, but I hardly let anyone in. For a long time I thought it was just a phase, with time it would all change, especially considering the way I have grown up. But of late it has been giving me the 'hairdresser feeling' and it is not funny.

Trust in itself, though, is a funny thing. Some are only too willing to give it away for the least important of things, while others give it away after a lot of careful thought and consideration. What bothers me is that I just cannot seem to give it away, even when I would want to. Have you ever screamed at yourself, "lose the grip on yourself"? I can hear myself screaming that to myself and there is nothing I can do about it. At least it seems to be that way.

What bothers me most is not even that, but that in the process I end up hurting people close to me who mean no harm to me. They want to do something, anything, in return for the 'oh-so-grand-and-unconditional-support' that I provide them and there is seemingly zilch that they can do. It has happened once, twice and time and again when I have had one person or the other failing to touch me in the way they would want and take it as some kind of shortcoming about themselves. How do you explain it to them that it has nothing to do with them, it is all about you, and not sound condescending too?

Sometimes I wish it were all so simple. Simple enough to love people who matter to you without having to care about give and takes and silly measures that quantify the most insignificant of things. However, I do see the unfairness of the whole situation. I do not think I would want to be on the receiving end of what I dole out and find out that there is nothing I can give in return. Regardless, you have to take your pick, nah? Still, so much time is spent on trying to rock the boat, in trying to understand and comprehend. At the end of the day why would you want to understand imperfection anyway?

March 22, 2004


"You have changed a lot", she told me just moments before we went our separate ways. That was how our first meeting in over 18 months ended, with my impromptu hug eliciting that semi-astonished response. If it was a while back in time, I would have still been lost in analysing and dissecting that moment and the previous moments that led to it. I guess I am learning, finally, to stop thinking about living and actually do the living. I know it must sound quite abnormal, but that was precisely what I used to do.

In trying to deal with all the bitterness and the pain of times past, what often gets lost is the grip that we have on the present. Miracles can happen only if you believe in it and want it too. In a lot of ways, life too is a miracle, if you do not believe in it and if you do not want it to happen, it just will not. If you put in an effort to start every day, for whatever reasons, the simple fact is that you did want it. That being the case, the rest of the details are peripheral. What matters more is to make it as good as it is possible.

I know I must be sounding like one of those new-age living experts. But my reasoning is not based on the karmic cycle or the importance of chi, it is based on just one simple question: Do I want to feel the same way when I am 35 someday? It is not as if life is pretty easy otherwise. It is so much of an effort most times and the last thing I want is more self-created and unwanted complications that serve no end at all. Prolonged conversations with sadness tire me now; I can certainly live without more of those.

Which is why I had said earlier that in any case there is only so little we can do anyway. Give things a shot, maybe two, even three more. Beyond that there is no point in trying. Once the moment is past, even the your best thrown at it won't stand a chance of sticking and in spite of your best attempts, you cannot ever win them all. Giving up is never easy, when the time comes for it, it will extract its certain price for sure, so you have to love the best, what you love the most, when you have the chance.

I'm flying because I have stopped fearing the eventual fall. I am letting my heart lead the way even when I know the possible and probable outcomes. But I honestly believe in living not to regret tomorrow that maybe I had left something unsaid, maybe I had left a face untouched, maybe there was something more I could have done and maybe there was an another valley that I could have flown over. And for that I am way much happier than I have been in a long long while. I probably don't say that often enough.

There, of course, is the constant companionship of lack of resolution in many an issue. But what can one do about them? Resolution, eventually, depends on all the people involved wishing precisely that and if all that is doing is to drag you down along with it, it is just not worth it. Life, yours or mine, deserves more than that and it is nothing but hard work that will deliver that. Life should seriously amount to more than feeling guilty about being happy just because of other people's sadness and it was about time I realised that.

At the end of the day, it is a given that the sources of happiness will always be fewer than the ones for sadness. Those numbers alone would dictate that it is not worth living a life, even at age 110, to remember only the sad things. Hindsight being the bitch that she is, there will always be things that could have been done better. Eventually it all boils down to doing the best you can, at a given point in time, the rest is just a mystery, maybe it will work next time, maybe it won't. To try is about all what you can do.

March 17, 2004


It is pretty obvious that one cannot do much in most circumstances. If it was otherwise, we would not have to battle constantly the temptation to run away, as far as possible, from everything. Actually, it is not as if things are looking down, they are not exactly looking up either, but considering the massive chaos that surrounds me, this is the most by means of calm that I have ever had the privilege of having.

During the course of meandering through a thousand faces and the outcomes of another thousand or more indirectly related actions, the wheel of life spins evermore faster, circumventing any attempts by the yarn to break free of the spindle's intentions. I am flying and as long as I do not look down, to see how low or how high I am flying, it should be okay. Ground beware, I might hit you any day.

Don't you feel that we spend a lot of time getting first getting tangled up horribly and then go about trying to disentangle ourselves? Wait, do not answer that, I should know well by now that I suffer from a very unique form of weirdness. Regardless, if that is the case then, what is left is not much, right? Guess I am glad, in a lot of ways, to be way too tired to even think.

March 03, 2004


If you have not tried it yet, you should certainly go vegetable shopping at half past ten in the night. It is a quite a memorable experience to see all that brightly lit up greenery in a setting that gets even more deserted with the passage of time. Yes, it does not assure you quality, mornings are the best time for that, but who in the world ever gets all of what they want in one go? Concentrate on the experience, sir. The experience, I say!

For the unlucky, the act of living is not something to be taken for granted. It takes an overwhelming amount of courage, energy and maturity to persist with it over time, all for the medal of just having lived. And in that very ordinary drama called life passes a season or two, even beyond extraordinary, lighting up the darkness with the delight of a comet tearing through the heart of an otherwise resilient night sky. Leaving you wondering, wandering, looking and forever anticipating the improbable next.

Eventually, it is very hard to change from what you really are. The point being that we might all like/love thugs, doctors, politicians or even bank robbers, but as long as the feeling is unadulterated and beyond self-reproach, the rest hardly matters, as long as your priorities are properly in place. Maybe, I am only telling myself all of this, just another chapter from the 'let's-try-this-again' manual of approaching life. Maybe this one might just work, maybe it won't. There are always more chapters to follow.

As the roles tire playing themselves out on the elevated plateau of life, the out of character actor, in a fleeting moment of nakedness, struggles to find his own face in the mirror. There are stagnant wisps of cigarette smoke, cheap make up and mocking expressions that stand between him and the shiny surface. The only refuge is the camouflage of the scripted line, the delivery of another's emotions and the adulation of the audience. Bow, smile and move on. Thankfully, encores are an unpleasant rarity.