Wednesday, February 29, 2012

After all, I gave in..

All these years have never seen me exercising. An odd skipping for a while, maybe some stretching and weights at home but never “going” to a place and working out. Gyms scare me, I feel as if there is a fashion marathon going on against which I just cannot compete. Everybody looks too fit and beautifully dressed as if they’ve not come to sweat it out but socialize and party and I am too lazy to bother. Once one of my friend took me to his gym, negotiated prices, even arranged me a trial session but I never went back again, that place made me nervous.

In fact until lately, any place that had a lot of people exercising together seemed like a nightmare to me. I think I get very self-conscious and it looks like everybody is just focusing and staring at me. However, lately I had been feeling very lethargic and emotionally drained and for once instead of being an escapist I decided that I just had to do something.

My neighbor had mentioned some yoga classes happening near my place and I looked out for it and went to speak to them. The teacher/ gentleman told me that I could join in and since there was a beginner’s class that very day, he asked me to come in another 15 minutes time. I rushed back home, changed and attended the class that I surprisingly enjoyed very much. And then I went in for the second class too and again it was super. The environment is so simple and there is certain amount of decorum that you tend you get serious about it. Also, because you see people actually working hard to get the asanas right, you are automatically motivated to give it your best, push yourself a little more and endure that nice pain that comes when you realize that there are muscles that you have never noticed before. And the best part is I feel physically tired after ages.

Maybe had I not immediately joined the programme, I would have changed my mind and perhaps it’s important to be spontaneous at times, you never know how pleasantly surprised you can be. Too early to say probably, but this one looks promising..

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

As it was to be..

He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. One of the few who’ve lasted this long as clearly I am not an easy person to be with and definitely not good at keeping friends. I always mess up somehow and have nobody to blame but me.

I’ve been going to him with my problems/ joys and sorrows and he’s always known a solution. When there isn’t one, he says the exact words that I’ve wanted to hear at that point of time. I cannot say that what he’s told me is always in my favour but it is so factual that it makes perfect sense to me. There have been harsh words but the tone so straightforward and concern always genuine.

Lately our circumstances have changed. There are things and people that have tied him down and swayed the direction of our friendship. Now with certain issues he is less upfront and honestly, it hurts. He’s kept me grounded for the longest of time and lately I’ve felt my momentum quivering.

I know it is no fault of his, I realize he couldn’t have helped it and this situation is not what he too might be finding ideal but that’s a choice he’s had to make to get on with life. Knowing how he is, he will never crib or complain but just get on with it. And no matter how close we are, I will never go and speak to him about it beacuse even if he may want to, he cannot do much about it.

This is how it will remain and that’s how I will lose one of the most precious person in my life..

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

A time to make changes..

I have often wondered what peace means and something that Ani wrote triggered it off. I guess peace is a relative term and while you might still be at peace after a big fight at work but a small personal issue may make you restless.

Let’s get more personal here, like always. When I question myself when I am at peace, there is just one answer that pops into my head, when I am happy in my personal life, when I am loved and cared for by the people I care about and then everything sets a patterns and things flow smoothly. It’s like a cycle: I am happy, I behave nice, get my work done nicely, don’t lose my temper and get more efficiency out of people.

And while writing above I realize how the central theme has been all about affection and being cared for. Though I don’t owe any explanation, I am not in love but I have realized that it’s all that matters. The thought was pretty surface level and now it seems to be seeping in, slowly and steadily and hopefully to stay..

Monday, February 13, 2012

Mind games..

I have been wondering for a while now what it takes for two people to fall in love with each other.. Like truly fall in love, the movie types, the one which is not unconditional (maybe so) but real, the one that stands the test of time, the one with a happily ever after, the one where you are crazy about each other and it shows in your eyes.. What is that special element that binds two people together and I fail to get an answer.

When I reflect at my yester self, of the things that I wanted then, it was so different. I wanted an educated guy, well settled who respected my parents and me and lets me work. Earlier I thought that I wasn’t capable of anything too concrete, it made me nervous but now I am sure that I am and that I wouldn’t want to settle for anything else. So much has changed in the way I perceive things now. I feel if I actually like somebody, I would be more giving (contrary to my nature), I would be a lot more tolerant and willing to adjust more.. Now I don’t know what is simpler, I mean aren’t you supposed to get more realistic and practical instead of aiming for the moon and here I am doing precisely that, going backwards.

At the present all I need is love, tenderness and concern plus a person who makes me go crazy with laughter wouldn’t hurt either. If only..

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

About being home..

I go home ever so often now. By home I imply my place (in my head I am thinking my parents place but dismiss the idea instinctively) in Lucknow that I’ve been raised in. I was born, bred and brought up in that house and resided there for 17 years before I left for another city, never again to be a permanent resident. I am supposed to know the place like the back of my hand, be familiar with what goes where and be the most comfortable there. I shouldn’t get bored with no one around or keep looking for my mother and following her like a pup all over the place. But I don’t. I do crave home but want to get back to my space after a while.

My mother has painstakingly made sure that nothing changes for me when I go home. My toothbrush still occupies the space in that ceramic basket in my parent’s bathroom (I’ve never used the one attached to my room till date), my towel is hung on the third hook behind the door like always and a closet full of clothes that I left behind when I moved out to study. She knows how these little things matter to me and give me that sense of warmth and familiarity and she has never let them change.

That day after staying home for a long time and flying back in the evening, I happened to comment how I was looking forward to going back “home” and relaxing. My mother who was helping me pack suddenly went quiet and the smile vanished. When she couldn’t refrain herself, she asked me in that hurt but trying to fix it up voice, “isn’t this home anymore?” and could have died then for that awful mistake I had made.

I think having lived alone has done this to me that I am never perfectly at ease apart from when I am not on my own. I hate it for a few days when I come back from home or being around a lot of people but with it there is also a relief as if something that had gone dormant is breathing again. At times I even miss my parents so much that I just fly home on a whim but I cannot see a perfect solution to my situation. I cannot figure out how I can I be with my parents and still get the solace that I find in my current surroundings.

Guess there is nothing like having your cake and eating it too..

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

A story..

I love beautiful pictures. And I just don't love anything but usually the ones connected to everyday lives, laughter, smiles, close ups.. His is the kind of photography I relate to, it is so everyday and relatable and obviously beautiful. So one day while going through his pictures, I got so inspired that I decided to write my first ever story, based on one of his pictures.

Now, while I do read a lot of fiction, I am extremely poor in attempting to pen one but nonetheless, I will give it a shot. So here it goes:

One early morning while wandering through the by lanes of a popular ghaat (riverbank), I came across this colourful astrologer sitting majestically beneath his thatched umbrella on a raised platform. He was in his full ensemble with a white dhoti kurta and a forehead covered with freshly applied sandal wood paste. He exuded certain grandeur and gave the impression of a man with knowledge and skills. The way he sat with one arm on the back rail and the other on his knee stirred confidence within the observer.

Unable to resist my urge to know of my future and taken in with the whole fa├žade and his demeanor, I decided to pay him a visit. Outside the board read, “50 rupaye mein apna bhavishya jaane” (know your future in rupees 50) and so I promptly went in. He ran his gaze from my head to toe, probably not used to seeing girls in denims/ tees with a big bag that I think he suspected with a lot of money.

I did my Namaste, sat down before him and gave him my best possible smile which obviously failed to hit its mark. He asked me what I wanted to know and I replied very lamely, “my future.” The look I next got was that of a moron being asked, “what in future, marriage, children, money, health…”, to which my reply was work. He gave me a sneer and said, “so you need to know about money na!!” and I argued back, “NO!! I want to know if I will be able to achieve what I want in my life and that money will follow.” I think I lost him in translation but understandably he did not want to give up and lose his 50 bucks so he tells me “you will get married this year.”

This time “I” gave him a sneer, groped for the money I owed him and walked away handing it to him. How stupid I was..

Good, bad, whatever, this is it.

P.S: It is fiction and nothing else. The picture is the property of Prashant Bhardwaj and must NOT be used anywhere without his permission, I took one..