tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55923780106815056032024-02-20T12:30:20.856+05:30me@lifeTannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-57315977359804756742017-10-02T23:27:00.002+05:302017-10-02T23:27:33.207+05:30Its Not Over Till It's Over<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I used to be real proud of the way I write. Still am. Just,I don't write anymore. Haven't read a genuine novel in ages. Don't have the patience to read a complete full length article. Never try to look beyond the front page of the newspaper.<br />
And the best part is,I don't even know why. Every time I ask myself the question,I manage to delude myself with some banal excuse or the other,but none of them are true,and I know that all the way. I guess this is what happens when you get too comfortable in the small cozy distracted space you have created for yourself. Its a special place, from where,like a spectator,you watch the whole show going on from plush luxurious seats-only, the show happens to be your life in all its glory. I can see all that is going wrong, and fathom all the repercussions from a mile away,but even then I feel trapped in this dark abyss of detachment. Wanting to care or make an effort seems like to much of a cost to pay to break away from the comfortable slumber of indifference.<br />
Every single day that I continue to walk deeper into the plethora of excuses, I know somewhere that it just got even more difficult to get back. What I am stuck at right now, is how to get out of this? The obvious way is to consciously break away from the vicious cycle and begin to actually give a damn about what is going on,before it gets too late. But that also means opening up the gates to all that held safe for so long,and letting all those thoughts,feelings,emotions run amok over my consciousness. It would probably be better than this state of instability where every day seems like a new battle to overcome,and the biggest battles are those I fight with myself,to let the deep remain in the deep.<br />
Is that battle really worth fighting? Is the cozy little detached space really so coveted? These are answers I look for everyday. Every now and then, I attempt to,or am forced to come out of this stupor and stare at life in the face. And I don't really like what I see. I don't even recognise the me I see in myself anymore,so far have I come from the age when I really used to stand for something. I do not know how this disillusionment started or where I left behind such huge parts of myself. Neither do I know how I am going to get it all back and put it together as a whole once again,they certainly seem like insurmountable odds right now. But what I am going to do is, gt up from my plush couch, and walk a small step closer to the action every day. It gets overwhelming now and then,when even a small speck of reality incites so much of turmoil,but every day I am going to attempt to take it on and learn to live it a little better than yesterday. I do not want to disown my own life,because that would mean disowning so many memories and so many people I have found,loved,lost and the few I have managed to keep till now. So, today, I solemnly told myself that I cannot be a bystander in my own life anymore. However hard it gets, I am going to walk towards all that drama and derision,one step at a time. And one step at a time, I am going to find myself again.<br />
</div>
Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-8140393351552190172013-09-01T10:59:00.000+05:302013-09-01T11:01:31.574+05:30Of Ambitions And Agressions and Confusions...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You know,when I entered college,I was in a daze...coming to think of it,I think the better part of my plus two was spent in a daze..the details fuzzy,but the results crystal clear. But then,it never really bothered me,I mean,not in the What-is-going-to-happen-to-me kind of way....nothing ever seems to affect me that way,ever. No dream,,no commodity,no current relationship(parents and room-mate are exceptions to all matter mentioned below ;-) )...<br />
That got me to thinking,what really does affect me?I mean there has to be something which explains the sometimes rational,sometimes irrational things which I do. And after a long,really long thinking session,I was enligtened.<br />
Being Right. Thats what matters to me...not being good,or bad,just right. Not right in the I-can-do-no-wrong way,but in a more reflective manner,where doing the right thing may not always be the wise thing.<br />
I dont know why I am writing this..its been ages since I wrote something. Actually its been ages since I spoke my mind. A blog is not always the best way to speak your mind,but then,Im not famous. Yet.<br />
The thing is,I have been doing a lot of wondering lately and the self enlightenment can be scary sometimes. Add to that freaky grandfather predictions(the predictions are freaky!),and I see a perfect recipe for a disaster coming my way.<br />
Oh well,this is just going to be a piece of really disconnected hard-to-find-meaning-of thoughts...I kindof feel that way lately...so many single trains of thought,all coming and merging and showing and hiding at the most inappropriate of times. Its almost irritating,how my brain keeps flitting from one zone to another. Does it happen with everyone?Or I am a real freak?! I definitely dont like to call myself a freak.Its freaky.<br />
A couple days ago I was in despair over the kind of ambition people have,more so about the filthy thinking and agression that comes with the ambition...and that is when I realised that the only thing that separated me from them,was that I had an overriding obsession of being right,as I said earlier. Even in my thoughts,I need to be right. That doesnt mean that I dont have ambitions,only mine are harder to define and almost impossible to achieve till Im a senior citizen,so I have decided to be in peace for the next forty years.<br />
In the fuzzy times,i never had any ambition,apart from getting through the day. Now,maybe I think about getting through the next week without causing a debacle.Surely thats an improvement?<br />
Funnily enough,I have this image of a "good" girl (whatever that means) which makes me famous with all the He-is-just-like-my-grandfather kindof teachers.While in truth,I dont know how much of good I have ever been to my own grandfathers! Worthy to be mentioned,the image really doesnt do much "good" to Me,anyday.<br />
There was a itme when I needed to talk abut everything,every single thing,you can say,when I was actually expressive. Now Im just too lazy to explain myself. And then I wonder,is it really so unthinkable to expect to be understood without expressing?Surely I am not the only one who feels this way? Who knows,maybe I am. I mean,its so much easier to just brood and wonder and sulk on your own than to actually untangle the mess that are your thoughts and lay it out for someone to read.<br />
I dont know if this whole disorganosed brain is a phase or a nature,but the first time in a long time I feel self-dependent,if thats even a word! Is it wrong to be self-suffficient, aggressively so? To feel like you really dont need anything or anyone else other than time to be okay again?<br />
I dont know. There kicks in my mechanism to be right again. Its tiring as a way and easy as a choice. Mostly.<br />
Maybe ten years from now this all will be a daze too. But three pillars of my current existense, I just wish they are added to,not deducted. That feels just about right,forever.<br />
<br /></div>
Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-38955712712324690722013-01-10T18:08:00.002+05:302013-01-10T18:19:43.373+05:30Since Everybody Has Something To Say....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Every once in a while,there comes a wave,where everybody seems to have something to say,about any and every thing,and this is one of those times.So,I thought,why stay behind?Just join in the tirade.<br />
The recurrring issue,currently,seems to be the safety of women in our country,rather,the absence of it.And theres no end to the blame game here.From the Government,to the wide male population in the whole country,to the politicians,to the random "Baba"s coming up with "brotherly" advices,nobody has been spared.Maybe,even rightly so.Recently a friend said,that all this outburst is because the rage had been simmering for a long time and it just needed an outlet.And that seems quite apt.As apt as during the Anna Hazare movement,which needs a few hits on google to be adequately remembered now.And as a lot of people do,even I believe this "rage" will die out soon enough,similar to the other "Rages" to have come and gone.<br />
But after reading hundreds on articles on the issue,the question that I have is that how an we expect others to "respect" women when they themselves dont?We look up to the Males of the society for respect,but dont look into ourselves.In some article I read,the writer had said,quite correctly,that men now want "sexy or slutty" girlfriends and "homely" sister,and "chick" friends..And we are perfectly fine being the "whores" to our partners.<br />
A lot of people would disagree with me,that language is not everything.That just language cannot denote decency.Maybe JUST language doesnt denote decency,but still,it potrays a lot.I study in a college where swearings fly at every other sentences,and even a couple of "item" spottings are also not uncommon.How many times has it happened that some man has tried to stand too close to you and YOU have moved away,rather than asking the man to?Even I have done that.Because,we say,in a few minutes,the journey would be over,so why get into a confrontation?And as soon as we get leave the bus,the man gets another women to stand close to.And many of these will be the typical "bhodrolok" of the society.<br />
I have had songs sung to me at roads,and moved away as fast as I can.Next time,probably these would be the men grabbing a girl passing by,because they know no one will protest.<br />
How many times have we seen women facing the flak of the family while men get away with the same?How many times have we seen mothers of girls telling daughters that there is a difference in being a girl and a boy,even though they spent all their lives savings on her education?How many times have we seen a boy being asked to mop the floor of the house in the maid's absence?The sad part is,women themselves want to perpetuate the inferiority gradient,intentionally or unintentionally.Mothers ask daughters to sacrifice their jobs,go with the husband,not the other way round,citing the responsibility of the child.How is the responsibility of a father any less than that of a mother.<br />
Mother-in-laws take in domestic violence on the daughter-in-law,and maybe even encourage it.Look up the burning cases,dowry cases,and more than often,the accused list includes more women than men.<br />
From what I have seen,women come together as a united front,only after something has already happened,not before that.And theres no guarantee that that united front can prevent any further occurences.<br />
Women still let themselves be treated as objects in our society,an object to be derived pleasured from.Wives are still mere trophies,and if a working wife earning a six figure salary,then a very expensive trophy.And we have such pride in the "working" part!<br />
Theres an imbibed sense of being inferior,or "different" as many would like to put in generations of women.And I think the permanent solution to the "country mindset" as I read somewhere,is only when we can start standing up for ourselves,in even the smallest of spaces.And maybe few generations later there would be an Indian society which would have women finally looking themselves in the eye.<br />
<br /></div>
Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-65175949823375553532011-09-29T12:38:00.001+05:302011-09-29T12:45:24.813+05:30You'll love me again.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"> As time and again</div><div style="text-align: center;">The pain jarrs the heart</div><div style="text-align: center;">I ask myself </div><div style="text-align: center;">Why do I care?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As time and again </div><div style="text-align: center;">The words pierce through</div><div style="text-align: center;">I ask myself</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why did I ever care?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Haven't I seen enough?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Haven't I cried enough?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then why do I still feel?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then why do I still care?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe 'coz my heart still beats...</div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe 'coz I still have hope </div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe 'coz I still believe...</div><div style="text-align: center;">That you'll love me again....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe your eyes will shine again</div><div style="text-align: center;">With the light of love unspoken.....</div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe your fingers will touch again</div><div style="text-align: center;">To ease the pain of wounds unseen.....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe your memories will give me the strength</div><div style="text-align: center;">To wait......</div><div style="text-align: center;">To wait for the day,</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you'll love me again.....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That day you'll love me again....</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll wait.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll wait till forever.....</div><div style="text-align: center;">To make you love me again.....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-27899037823012311902011-04-25T00:06:00.004+05:302011-04-25T22:46:13.692+05:30Unfinished....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> Dry leaves rustled on the sidewalk adorned by the haunting shadows of bare mangled branches...another spring gone by,another winter came by.The little baby in the house round the corner outgrew his little shoes,the old grandma in the second house had to undergo yet another surgery and his son had another promotion.Time seemed to be moving on,or not.<br />
Cause like everday for the last years,the number of which nobody cared to remember,he walked down.Same time,same man,same route,and same destination,if only anybody knew it.Only his posture seemed to be drooping a little more,his steps a tad bit slower,his silhouette more tired....<br />
The little boy who used to wait to see him pass by at morning has a child of his own and long since given up feeling excited to see him turn round the corner.....playing children had followed him more than once but given up when he turned three corners more and stopped at a flower shop....<br />
Today also he was there,trudging along,like he had an unfinished task,only nobody knew or bothered what....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sharp shrieks pierced the air and a crowd gathered around the young boy writhing in pain from the electric current flowing through his body...there was no way he could pull his little hand away from the wire mesh holding it like a magnet...there was no way he could retrieve the ball lying inside that mesh...maybe never.The crowd stood like statues,some apalled,some afraid to risk themselves...until a cane stick lashed out at the little hand...the boy lay flung over on the sidewalk,bleeding,whimpering....the crowd moved,but he was already there...so much faster than his stooped pace..so much possessed than his hypnotised stance.....he turned over the boy,took him up in shaking hands,hailed a taxi and sped off....and the crowd stared.The routine had been broken.<br />
<br />
That evening,he lay,lifeless,on his son's grave,a single rose in his hand..If anybody had bothered ,he would have known that his 16 year old son had died by electrcution from an open wire in the road,35 years ago,two days before his daily visits to to the cemetory had started.Maybe,he finished his unfinished job that day....maybe...<br />
<br />
</div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-35919746312326230082011-03-28T18:50:00.006+05:302011-03-28T19:00:57.179+05:30The Mask and The Muse....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">God has given you one face,and you make yourself another"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;"> -William Shakespeare</span><br />
<br />
Whenever it has so happenned that the worldy situations proclaimed a truth of my life,which I was not particularly happy to conform with,I have been told,"Maybe that is how it was meant to be..." I believe in destiny...I believe we are all meant to be something,to be someone,we were born to be a certain person...yes,a certain person...a person which we are but we never live...its just like another colourful mask languishing in the overflowing cupboard of human emotions....<br />
<a href="http://i01.i.aliimg.com/photo/v0/356161693/beautiful_colorful_Feather_maks_Wedding_masquerade_Masks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://i01.i.aliimg.com/photo/v0/356161693/beautiful_colorful_Feather_maks_Wedding_masquerade_Masks.jpg" width="320" /></a> Simple things...you did much rather have had a pav bhaji but chose a lasagne...you would have taken that sweet teddy but you chose a picture frame for your friend...we say because its more "appropriate"....or is it just more convenient to shut ourselves off behind this pretence and save ourselves the misery the vulnerability that being real comes with....its not about stigma,its not about being taunted....its about keeping yourself safe...safe from whom,the person you call your soulmate?The person whom you call a "chaddi-buddy"?Or the person whom you call "Dad"?Or simply,from yourself?<br />
I think most of us are rather afraid of themselves...somewhere we are too afraid to let ourselves out...<br />
But again,by keeping ourselves shut behind those self-created barriers,we lose the chance to experience the beauty of those moments of being just ourselves....opening our barriers,going beyond the coccoons of propriety...if we just stop judging people with the rusted yardsticks of old,we can just find beautful persons behind those "wrong" masks,true friends behind the "dont mix" tags,a muse behind the "bastard".....<br />
It just depends on how we chose to look at it,whether we look at what the world wants us to see or whether we use our own eyes...its time we stopped acting,and moved the props,because the view beyond is sure to be much more enjoyable...the life beyond much more livable....<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #20124d; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: large;">We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves. ~François Duc de La Rochefoucauld</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Lets be something more than just a disguise.....Lets be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: red;">US.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-67580279088295206652011-03-20T22:42:00.001+05:302011-03-20T22:54:20.035+05:30Of Aspirations and Adulations....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">West Indies-174/7(39 overs)...the air in the TV room is cheery,evident from the intermittent shouts coming up to my room on the first floor...just an hour ago though the story was quite,if not fully different.The faces bore a resigned anger,ranging from irritation to frustration....and while I went out to vent some of my own frustration,my friend put up a point which nags me often enough but never enough to speak it out loud.Or let me say the truth-I am too afraid of the retorts so to say....<br />
Lets say one of us works in a MNC...and has screwed up some project.Sure,he is in the boss's line of fire,the subject of ridicule of his colleagues and maybe some not-so-well-wishers.But do people swear to kill him?Do some hundreds of people run to wreck his home...burn his effigies?I think not.Then why that bunch of 20-odd people?Because they have chosen something as a profession that is the passion for half the population of the country?Or because they have "chosen" to make themselves public property?<br />
Seriously,the people who partake such nonsensical behavior go back home and have a good nights sleep.But then who is there to watch the players slog out from the wee hours of the morning to eerie hours of the night.Why are they criticised when they are found partying?Dont other people with jobs party?<br />
I firmly believe every person has his or her own set of responsibilities,own priorities....you cant thrust your own ambitions on them.That too for the selfish reason that you want your entertaiment.Yes,its just that for most of us.A source of entertainment,something to talk about.Thats it.Who gives a thought about those who get injured and lose their careers?About how much they sacrifice when they come out in the field looking to fulfill the ambitions of some 100 crore hearts?Some fainthearted people,they must be!<br />
Why cant we let it remain a game...why cant we treat the players as we do other people...why cant we accept that they are human,they make their faults.And they have their strenghts.Just as we dont want our neighbours peeking into our bedrooms,we also shouldn't peek into others....what they do on the field should be left just there,on the field,where it belongs.<br />
At the end of the day,they are adults,who know what they want and hopefully what they have to do get what they want.And for them,each match is much more than the final result...they have a lot at stake.A Lot.<br />
So why dont we just leave them to fight their own battles?Because somewhere,we cant fight theirs,and they cant fight ours.<br />
Now India has won the match...all we care about...so nobody now really minds Yuvraj's womanising ways or Dhoni's dares...till times change.Which,for their sake,I hope are for the better.<br />
Amen.</div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-47712029226202819492011-02-18T20:20:00.000+05:302011-02-18T20:20:00.138+05:30Why grow up.....?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">“Too many people grow up.That’s the real trouble with the world,too many people grow up.They forget.They don’t remember what its like to be 12 years old.They patronize,they treat children as inferiors.Well,I won’t do that.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These words were said by the man who made a mouse into a mascot for honest entertainment.Yes,he was Walt Disney.And going back to what he said,we all know that he had almost redefined childhood.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">The last time I was home,I went out with my parents and my little niece,only to fall head over heels in love with a cute and large balloon -it was a moment of sheer weakness and without realising or thinking,I loudly voiced my desire.Only to be met <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with the loudest of guffaws!Now,how crushing is THAT!And believe me,I was both astounded and dismayed to see that my niece had shown no similar signs of adoration for the thing which,reportedly,was more apt of her age.That made matters worse-“You,a college-going grown up girl want a balloon?-they asked.True,all was said and done in good humor,but that made me think.What do you mean by “growing up”?How do you define the term?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The online dictionary defines defines <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it as “to develop and mature gradually”-but I ask is it really as simple as that?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or is it letting go of all things that you once held <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>dear-that mangled car under the bed or the ragged doll with one eye blinded due to over-enthusiastic petting?Is it about outgrowing the yo-yo s?Or is it about frowning over the ink-filled pages which tell the story of your excellent teaching skills,albeit over some helpless,mute lesser life forms…most of them conjured out of thin air?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">I remember,when my father used to say that one day he has to grow old,I would protest with all the voice my lungs could muster.There is a comfort in knowing that he will remain the same,the world will remain the same forever,an amazing security in feeling that his mane would never turn<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gray as his father’s had done before him. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Childhood as I remember was about believing in a universe that was more utopian than real….where “happily ever after” was not a mere “fairytale” ending,but a way of life.It was taking everything face-value,it was falling down,getting up and running again.Fearlessly.The stakes may have been low,but the joy was complete.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Growing up….it came with understanding the nuances in life,the intricacies in relationships,the frailty of the bonds which had promised to be forever.It came with the realisation that you can never take anything for granted….it came with the strive to fight for what you wanted,going that extra mile for someone you love….<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Growing up brought with it heartbreaks galore….the triumphs<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>were exhilarating and the failures life-wrecking.The stakes had increased.Disillusioned,I asked my Mother….why did I grow up?And she said “because childhood was the bud and adulthood is the blossom the bud is destined to become.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">It was then that I realised that we did not really have a choice and we did not necessarily have to let go of what we were to be what we are….because what<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we were is an integral part of what we are…..confusing?Well, I was,and still am!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I will say,why do we have to let go of yesterday to step into tomorrow….they can go hand in hand through time that is today…..why cant we still enjoy the horror-stricken Jurassic Park<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>nights… the scintillating SRK-Kajol chemistry…because its melodramatic?But can you deny <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that packets of chips,bottles of coke and a fight over the best seat that becomes more dramatic than the movie itself was the best thing that could have happened to you?Well,it certainly was,for me!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Growing old is mandatory,growing up is optional”-for me,that’s what its all about .Its about the option we have to enjoy the best of both worlds…. The maturity of adulthood truly makes us realise the value of the innocence the world is bereft of…. the inherent innocence behind the suspense of huddling under a blanket and discussing subjects which had been labelled with the tag of forbiddenness <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with my more knowledgeable cousins….and keeping the ears open for any sign of any unwanted interruption in the form of my mother,mostly!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Till now,I have lived a life behind closed doors and the windows have never been enough to take in the wide horizon….but today,standing in an open field full of plastic blossoms,my heart aches for that natural drifting fragrance….it was not enough then,but it is all I want now…..<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Difficult,considering the world doesn’t go round the way I want it to….but I believe in something I read sometime back-“The trick is in growing up without growing old”-and there lies the fine difference….taking life as it comes,learning to face,fight and win over the obstacles life brings us is a way of growing up….but that cynical mentality which likes to believe in the worst of everyone or everything is growing old…and it is for us to chose what we want….to grow up or grow old…..?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 144.0pt; text-indent: -144.0pt;">I would love to grow up…because there is a satisfaction in looking at the world through a tinted glass….imperfect as the view may be….because,atleast the colours would filter the sceptism of the world around. To be frank,I did much rather be happy in my own way than be correct to the whole world.Because it takes a lot to be correct,but it takes the world to be happy…..<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">I would like to end with a text message I had received on the only day when we can unabashedly celebrate the child in us…..<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">“I want to go back to the time when <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">“innocence” was natural,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When “getting high” meant on a swing,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When “drinking” meant rasna<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When “dad” was the only hero,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When love was mom’s hug’when “dad’s shoulder” was the highest place on earth<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When your worst enemies were your siblings,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When the only thing that hurt were bleeding knees,<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">When the only things broken were toys,and when goodbyes only meant “till tomorrow”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 108.0pt; text-indent: -108.0pt;">Today life has changed a lot….A salute to the days that were.Happy Children’s Day.<o:p></o:p></div></div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-60195135727128687922011-02-04T23:31:00.003+05:302011-02-18T20:12:42.355+05:30through the fingers......like quicksand....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">A toddler struggling in the walker....in fathers lap wearing a towel.....oggling at the knife on the first birthday....enjoying a bucket chase....a part of a big,happy family....smiling cousins,adoring aunts ....doting grandparents.....picture perfect...isn't it?<br />
Yes,these are are snapshots I come across when I try to go back in time....try to know where it all started...where the journey,MY journey started....and no,really I have not got any satisfying answers....and in this decade long of search I have lost track of a hundred more of beginnings...beginnings which now elude me with their mystery....<br />
When did I make the two oldest friends of my life...and when did I outgrow their company,or they outgrew mine?When did I start questioning my parent's decisions and arguing them on it....when did I start having a mind of my own....having ideas of my own...when did I break of my shell and become this adamant individual who does not think twice before dealing a retort...?<br />
I think when I became tired of being trodden on...being bogged down...of being the "sweeet little girl" who doesnt mind,or rather say a thing...<br />
But being what I was was fun too....the uncomplicated feelings,the unmingled joys...they were reason enough to live for....and still are....<br />
I live in the past....a lot of it...I still live the dressing up games I played with my cousin...I loved dressing him up in my "jewelleries" and make him look like a girl....I hope HE doesnt remember those days(entirely for my own safety!)...I live the long holidays at my grandparent's place.....jumping up and down to get to the box of prized bourbon biscuits kept on top....making a hot foam bath and using up a whole bottle of shampoo in the process....the horror-stricken nights of Jurassic Park....the mesmerising SRK-Kajol chemistry in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai...the dosa eating competitions(which I invariably lost,everytime)....the fights over who loves Dida more....the honest jealousy,the untainted companionship,the undemocratic criticism.....<br />
I still live the pujas...the whole house humming with the festive spirit....the dressing up...the waiting at the gate for someone who is putting finishing touches on her make-up....for chasing down Baba because he walks too fast...the counting of heads so that nobody gets lost....the oral test of address and phone number in case we do...the intentional forgetting of water bottles so that we could get a Coke...the long nights with my sister exploring many naughty,and some not so naughty topics(she enlightened me on a lot of "ahem ahem" things)...the sharing of all that mattered....staying up till dawn cooking up fascinating stories....the taste of the phuchkas....the chicken kosha...the diligently following of "adult" serials,much to the annoyance of Ma-Baba...!!<br />
The spirit when my whole family decided to play the ghost game after midnight in a deserted road after we had watched Dil toh Pagal Hai and I was dreaming of my own Rahul....the laughter in those family get-togethers....the humor in dropping a bucket full of coloured water from the 3rd floor terrace on somebody's head on Holi....the gojas and nimkis,the narkoler(coconut) mishti...the tea in a bowl with a dozen biscuits...the football matches in bed with my footballer brother....the nostalgia grips me,big time....<br />
And then,we grew up,or so to say...we had operation aussies....we had guys wooing girls by intimidating some other poor soul....we had "politics" between friends....we had "conspiracies" and counter-conspiracies....we had doses of Marxism and intellectualism....we had arguments,about physics and much more....about rotation of benches,for instance....we had suddenly foung new significance in geography notes...new fun in certain bylanes...new enjoyment in weird hallucinations....<br />
Yes....I can just go on and describe all those snippets flashing before my eyes....I can describe every single incident as vividly as ever...only that,they are not relevant....not now...not anymore.<br />
Or so I thought....till I realised,without the roots the plant is non-existent,without a name the place is faceless...without Me,I am soulless....<br />
And this was me....without the beginning...without the milestones....without the turns....it was Me...Me,the quicksand which I have now learnt to hold back....never to let go....because its just not worth it.<br />
<br />
</div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-49802110352399224742011-01-19T19:35:00.002+05:302011-01-28T21:48:41.119+05:30Today,Tomorrow,Forever.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> I remember,in all slam books I have filled till date,there,at the very last,is a line,reading"Dated......" and invariably,I,like many others would fill the gaps with the coveted word, "Forever....".<br />
FOREVER.It happened to be a very secure refuge of the insecurity-ridden hearts that were ours.....the word forever.It was as if that one word would in itself hold together all of us who were,it would never let the chains loose.....but,it seems,what we failed to notice was powders of rust making their way up and up.....<br />
And then.Then started the metamorphosis of forever to TOMORROW....our tomorrow,my tomorrow and your tomorrow,it was no longer about forever;no longer about what we had but we wanted to have;no longer about what we loved but about what we had to love.....the tomorrow was here.And how.<br />
We missed the rust that claimed forever,and we failed to foresee the storm that was tomorrow.And there it was....hitting us full in the face,destroying our cocoons...leaving us to fight the battle,unseen,unprepared.Like every storm that hits a coast,the storm of tomorrow took with it all the sand-dunes of hopes and promises....all the castles of dreams and dosti.....the house of cards was down.Never to go up.<br />
But now,at this moment,I realise,I can neither blame Tomorrow,nor Forever.They did what they had to do,its just that we did not.We built the sand-dunes too near the sea,the castles too frail and the house of cards much in the way of the wind.They,but,could never have been for Forever.....<br />
So Today,what I am going to do is look into what I have now,and will build up all that has been lost in the quest for something beyond.......and I will make this TODAY last FOREVER......all through the upcoming TOMORROW.I Will.</div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5592378010681505603.post-11102502830946339152011-01-18T22:06:00.002+05:302011-01-28T21:50:46.253+05:30I Belong......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Manipal....the world I belong to...now.Time and again when I talk to people from the world I used to belong to.....they will be asking the same question.....do you like it there?Are you happy there?And I say,"Yes.Of course!The food is great,the hostels are good,teachers are fine....what more would I want?"<br />
Even sometimes when I think,this seems a very logical answer to give...I have everything I want,so why would I not be happy?But at the end of the day,if I want to do justice to myself....I ask do I really want to be here?And then,I cannot fool myself anymore.<br />
I belong to a world that has more bimbettes than girls,a world which has more shallowness than depth,a world which is more pretty than it is beautiful.All this time,throughout my modest upbringing,I have come to respect,to love people for what they are,to stand by some values,some virtues,"behenji" as I may be called.But isnt "behenji" better than a cupboard full of brands and an empty conscience?Is it not better than judging people by their monthly exenditure rather than their concern for you....but again,concern is "nagging"!<br />
Till now I have lived a life behind closed doors...and the windows have never been enough to experience the wide horizon....now,standing in an open field full of plastic blossoms...my heart aches for that natural drifting fragrance....it was not enough then,but it is all I want now.<br />
Difficult,considering,that the world doesnt go round the way I want it to!But I will keep trying.....trying my best to be the person I believe I should be....till the day those same people get a new person to emulate....ME.</div>Tannista RChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13697208746490013737noreply@blogger.com3