Pinku-Enchanted Life

I want to write and put in order the terribly confusing thoughts in my mind. But I am afraid to put them down in black and white. That would mean confronting them, accepting them as mine, born from me. How can I let that happen? How can I irrefutably allow them that distinction? I must hide my thoughts; glance at them only furtively making sure that no one knows what I am thinking. Thoughts can be very dangerous, one must think a hundred times before indulging in them and a thousand before revealing them to anyone else. Why you ask I feel this way? You feel I am paranoid? Let me tell you then, I had thought of, created in my dreams a life filled with love and laughter. Honesty, benevolence, goodwill, a broad approach to life and the living all had a place under the sun in that world. It was all very nice, very beautiful. But then I destroyed it. Know how? I shared it with people I thought were companions. Those people listened, nodded their heads and smiled as if convinced with all of

Tramp on dream on that’s what its all about Gloat over small successes weep over frustrations and going nowhere days Envision a better future find a bleary one staring at you instead bite your tongue bow your head and make that one last effort yet again who knows flighty luck may alight on you this once

If you are reading this, you probably have some time to kill, are mildly interested in knowing what new worm has wriggled out of my mind or have hit on my blog while idling through some others. No, don't squirm, there is really no need to? The reason and subject of this particular post is not you at all, its me. I have hit on this medium of communication (largely self communication may I add) lately and am totally obsessed with it like all true converts. Its in the past couple of days when this blog was taken off the Indian ether (don't know if its true for the world yet) that I realised the extent of this habit I had formed in just over two months. And that set me thinking, I tried to understand why I write. Is it the need to write down what I feel, think or imagine? I could just as easily write a diary in the comfort of my home, why then do I wait for these little snatches of time in office and get online to scribble a few lines at a time? Look around furtively to see if th

The Rain Cloud The dark cloud has covered the sky and the world in gloom. It will either fall like copious drops or the winds of fair weather would blow it away. Which shall it be? The cloud looks full. About to burst. The drops almost straining against their own gravity that keeps them together. Why does not the cloud then just burst out in torrents? Why this need to hold itself in control even at the brink of letting go? What stops it from coming down in torrents and washing away all that has been? Enrich the field for new things to come? The wind hovers in the periphery, willing, capable of blowing away, dispersing as it were and yet, it too hesitates, as if mesmerized by the turmoil. It too wants to see the outcome of the struggle within the cloud breast between self-preservation and annihilation? Oh! Which shall it be!

Musings... What shall it be today then? Which of the myraid thoughts shall I layout for you? Thoughts bombinate around and yet slip away before I can hold them for long enough to scrutinize and reach a rational conclusion. Let me then put up all the questions that crop up unasked, in my mind for you to ponder over and answer where I have failed. 1.Right, wrong, good, bad, logical, illogical...who is to judge? All that I do, say, think makes perfect sense to me. Why does it seem so different then to others who witness them aghast? 2.Whose judgement should prevail? Family - they gave birth to you, raised you, provided, food, shelter and security, gave you your very name? Friends - they share your elation and your disappointment. Make you feel wanted, important in the world-crowd? Spouse/Lover - has promised to be there through thick and thin. Shares your very bed, home and at times thoughts? Yourself - wasn't this about your life? But do you really still have a say in it? 3. Is it wr

Voyage of Discovery Have you noticed how when you are sitting in a moving train and the lush green paddy or the golden yellow wheat fields run alongside undulatingly you tend to not notice them after a while. The outside landscape merges into the far bigger landscape of the mind. Thoughts gallop and race each other almost as fast as the train. Past, present and future merge into a delicious haze, you smile and frown by turns as the sad and naughty thoughts race each other. On my last train journey as I was travelling alone, occupying a side berth of a sleeper compartment these jaunts were that much the more easier to indulge in. The train's rhythmic movement lulled me into a state where fact and fiction made for a sometimes terrifying, sometimes fascinating concoction. There came a time when I completely lost sense of time and place and had travelled to those moments in my past when I had been happy or atleast thought had been. Some of the things which had really touched me at the

Love = Expectation You are a girl and you are expected to ......... You are a student and you are expected to...... You are a mother, wife, sister, friend and you are forever expected to follow and live up to some preconceived notions that others have about you. As long as you follow you are good, the day you even shrug at the weight you are given quizzical looks. How can it even bother you? This stifling, expecting, dictating thing which threatens to suffocate you is after all LOVE. Love that everyone feels for you. A love which allows them to nonchalantly expect nay demand the greatest sacrifice from you for don't they LOVE you in return for that? I dont understand this Octopus love which feels satiated only after it has wrenched out every ounce of my independent spirit, of my capacity to love. Infact I suspect it doesnt want my love in return. It just wants my obedience, my obeisance, my unquestioned loyalty. I am sick of this kind of love. I beg your pardon but I would rather b

Enchanted Life A conscious effort to think, write and live that’s what this is all about. A conscious effort and enchanted life, the two don’t really seem to gel, do they? Let me explain, I have decided to make my life as magical as possible. It’s a conscious decision to not be bogged down with the mundane worries, the petty thoughts, and the toxic comments of the world and to let myself be. Not sit on judgment on each and every action of my own. Just do what feels right and be happy doing it. Maybe even selfishly so. But so what ? it's my life I have a right to live it the way I think fit. As long as I don't cheat someone or hurt someone they don't have any right to sit on judgement over me and even if they do, I am not bothered by it. All these 28 years I have been trying to confirm to an image of myself that others have created for me. The good, kind, sincere, responsible girl of everyone's aspiration. One you could point out as an ideal to be emulated. I have finall