Magic Happens. Yes it does.

Darkness all around. Nothing in sight. 

And then suddenly there is a spray of glitter, glitter oh-so bright.

A little pixie flies around, whizzing, making beautiful patterns crazy

That’s when I open my eyes, wake up from a Disney dream, a dream so hazy.

There is something about Disney, I know there is

Its magic, it’s wonderland, its fantasy that makes hearts go fizz.

I'm amazed by the dreamy eyes of every child wrapped in awe and glory

The drool as coaches become pumpkins and mirrors can tell a story.

Wide eyed, hopeful, enamored, as the story unfolds

There will be a happy ending for sure I'm told.

The beautiful princess will meet her prince charming

And if Good doesn’t reign over the Bad, that would be very alarming.

What is it about fantasy that glues children to it

Is it just their innocence that makes them see light even through the mist?

I suppose not, there must be more, more to unravel

Explore far-away lands and journeys to travel.

My theory is simple, for all those that will want to understand,

No one likes reality, really, with its hands dipped in sand.

Our only chance at fairytales are these stories at large ,

We all flock to these like moths to light in the dark.

I have always amazed at the magic of story-telling,

That can transport the rich and the poor, the old and young, into the same dwelling

It’s a great leveler, you see, stories really is

Then be it mindless Bollywood or a Hollywood flick.

I have often wondered what it is about movies that I love

When the theatre goes all dark, and the music builds up.

My heart races with excitement each time I plan a day at the movies

I'm pretty sure its same as the kids when on Disney they go groovy.

Losing oneself in the grandeur of the other world,

Where a lifetime goes by in a tizzy and a swirl.

Of course it’s a better world than our slow moving one

In just 3 hours, the story is ready to be re-run.

People say Hollywood is great but Bollywood sucks

Just as Disney stories are magic but who cares about Chacha Choudhary or Champak.

Its not a competition and it was never meant to be

These are just stories that take us to the mountains and to the sea.

No matter how old I am and how childlike it seems

Stories will always be my real fascination and in my dreams.

I am crazy about movies because its everything a dreamer wants

I can’t even begin to imagine the imaginations that it haunts.

Why should I not be a child each time I watch a story

Why should I not rejoice in all its glory?

The action, the drama, the romance, the ending

I want to be that little girl watching in rapt awe without pretending.

Dude. Where's my Kar(ma)!

I love Karma. And I love the sadhus that coined the concept of Karma. Its such an easy escape button for us Hindus. For anything even slightly bad or wrong that happens to us we immediately point our fingers at the poor innocent Karma tucked away in the corner of our conscience only to emerge whenever blame needs an owner. Didn’t find the right life partner, karma. Born too thin or too fat. Bechara Karma. Didn’t end up becoming as successful as he had wanted to. Come on, its karma duh! Its true, by the way, we get what we deserve thanks to our Karma.

It’s a great carrot and stick mechanism designed to keep us in check. You want something good to happen, make sure you do your good karma. You fucked up big time or small, it’s because of your karma. The only problem is there is a bit of grey around karma payback time period – does it happen in the same lifetime or as “they the learned” say, it’s an account continuing from all our past lifetimes. Which of course brings us to the issue of Life after death because Karma apparently keeps getting carried forward, debiting and crediting and depleting and replenishing every hour, every day, every year and every lifetime. I think it’s a great concept, and helps with looking at the glass half empty or half full – only that it also leads to a convenient escape I think.

I remember the first time I read Many Lives Many Masters by Brian Weiss, it kind of spooked me a bit. I remember that weekend when I was hooked on to the book, lying on the floor in my SNS apartment, unable to put the book down for 2 days at a stretch, and yet at the same time, freaking out by the concept of our soul transiting from one life of fatality to the next (fatality because we live our long lives doing a hundred million things only to know that eventually we will all wither away the same way). It’s scary to imagine what next life has in store considering this one hasn’t really been a bed of roses and won’t be too. And to add to that, imagine the pressure of knowing that the next life is entirely dependent on (1) your karma from your previous lives - which now you have no control over so whatever results will come out of that, you have to live with it literally and (2) of course your karma from this lifetime, which is like walking a thin line in today’s day and age.

Now I don’t know in today’s world, what is good karma vs not. Every time I refuse a beggar on the streets, my heart sinks a little as I think I’ve added some bad karma points to my account. At the same time, in India it is impossible to know when to give and when not to give to beggars as you don’t know if you’re supporting the mafia in doing so or are you genuinely helping a poor. Take the example of drinking – my parents would say it’s bad karma to indulge in hedonistic activities. But hey, it’s my way of unwinding and having a great evening with my friends every now and then. And come on the Gods and the kings and queens have been drinking through history. But if I do so, it becomes bad karma? Not fair. But then its karma.

Lets say a good filter might be bad karma is when you consciously do things to hurt others. Everything else can pass off as no karma or good karma. So then extra marital affairs must be really bad karma. And yet it’s so common now a days (or through history for that matter, especially in our most sacred book of Mahabharata). One school of thought says that in our fast moving, ever changing lives, finding ways of keeping oneself happy and energized is important and understandable and hence when affairs happen, they happen not on the premise of cheating on the other but more from the perspective of finding ways to fulfill one-self (refer Rethinking Infidelity – a (Ted) talk for anyone who has ever loved by Esther Perel). I don't know. I am not judging. I never judge. Who am I to judge at all. But damn, karma is judging us all the time.

Trying to pre-empt karma is like going in for an exam with a cheat sheet only to realize that all questions are from a different syllabus than what you prepared for. And so all you can really do is live your life with whatever you know best and whatever works best for you. The result will be what it has to be. We really have no control over it. Its our karma after all.

Amidst all the grey around Karma, however, one thing I know exists is Karmic relationships. Hasn’t it happened sometimes that you meet someone and there is an instant connect, with no context at all and then sometimes you meet people that you just cannot connect with, even after many times. That’s karmic relationships. It’s just that these karmic relationships can drive you up the wall at times esp since you don’t really know why you like someone so much all of a sudden and why you just cannot bring yourself to like some others. Needless to say, these karmic relationships must be connected to your karma from previous lifetimes but you have no clue of it in this lifetime.

There have been times when I have met someone and felt an instant, deep connection with that person. If it’s a girl I feel an instant connection with, I deal with it fairly easily. But if it’s a man I feel that connection with, it gets all complicated. Whenever I have felt a karmic connection with anyone, I have had this deep urge to get to know that person better. Most times I feel I can pre-empt what that person is thinking, what that person is made of, what ticks the person and what doesn’t, and just knowing this makes me want to know that person up-close-and-personal. I often find myself having conversations with that person in my head (no, Im not mad. Maybe slightly but then these are times when one must remember Alice in Wonderland and its most beautiful dialogue around madness there ever is).

It’s not always possible however to convert your karmic connection into a real connection even if both feel it because this connection can happen at any stage of your life. if it happens at a time when you can do something about it, hey its great karma. If it happens at a time when your life path cannot converge with your karmic partner's, too bad, its your karma. And that makes karmic connections a real pain. I read an article that talked about not confusing karmic relationships with soul mates or life partners. Each of these roles could be unique and need not be fulfilled by one person. And that’s the beauty or the bloody pain of Karma! Depends what you chose to do with it but remember your choice can add or deplete your karma points. But its also true that whatever you choose will be dependent on your karma, on your destiny (which is a topic for a whole different blog - do we really have the freedom of choice or are we fooled into believing we choose while actually all our choices have already been pre-determined owing to our destiny).

Confusion. Confusion. Karma can be a crutch. Karma can be a bitch. Karma can be a carrot and karma can be a stick. What it chooses to be with you is, after all, is your karma!

Salman or Chandan - the real hero of Bajrangi Bhaijan. Decide for yourself with this ode to both.

In the last couple of months, Salman Khan has become a regular occurrence in my life. It started with me wanting to see him just for Roopa’s sake (she has been his all time fan from childhood while I had always stuck to my loyalties for Shahrukh Khan), so when she came to Mumbai to visit me, we both stood outside Galaxy at the very strategic time of 2:00am (Of course we went to Mannat too but just as an interesting statistical point, there were 3 people outside  my hero’s house and 20 outside Sallu Bhai’s). I then caught myself supporting him openly on FB for his accident/ homicide case and got major flak from all my friends. And 2 days ago, my Uber driver turned out to be a really talkative fellow who told me all about Sallu Bhai’s Robin-hood-ness and I must confess, I was impressed. Raman, the driver said to me “Bhai se accha aadmi nahin hai Bollywood main. Mujhe woh log (muslims) acche nahin lagte par salman bhai alag hai. Woh sabke liye itna karte hain, junta unko kabhi jail jaane nahin degi” – quite an admirable ode to Robin Hood!!! Given my intrinsic belief in synchronicity, I am quite convinced that Salman Khan is occurring so often in my life because I am destined to meet him. As always, Shahrukh’s loss will be Salman’s gain ;)

With this belief and the release of Bajrangi Bhaijaan, came about the plan of watching the movie 1^st Day 1^st show (actually 2^nd show technically). And that’s how I revisited Chandan after 12 long years to be reminded of the joy of watching a Bollywood film on a single screen.

It just occurred to me – I belong to the single screen generation and boy, am I lucky!

Think about it; earlier it would be a grand plan to go to the movies – plan way ahead in time, stand in the single file long queues waiting for that small window to dole out your ticket to paradise, pick out your favorite dress even though you knew its going to be pitch dark inside and no one will notice you, the excitement of buying freshly baked popcorn and puff and the anticipation of a rat running over your feet if you were lucky enough to have got the last row seats.

Today you plan last minute coz honestly more often than not you know you will get tickets thanks to the multiplex concept, going in pyjamas is cool, Popcorn is just one of the many things you can dig into – all a different experience. Actually for a movie buff like me, watching any movie on the big screen is a thrill but I just got reminded that the charm of a single screen is so unique.

And I owe this reminder to Bhaijaan. Thank you Salman Bhai, for being you and making me go back to being me, after a long long time.

At 6:30pm on Friday, the entrance of Chandan was overflowing with frenzied crowd. Clearly they all must have felt the same synchronicity as I did and stood outside the theatre waiting for Bhai to turn up instead of going inside to watch him on the big screen. The excitement was electric. Kabir Khan, the director turned up to cheer the crowd but according to the watchman, Bhai would come only a day or two later and for a second I caught myself actually contemplating if I should watch the movie again over the weekend. Of course as soon I started watching the film, I realized there is no way I can watch this twice, even though it would mean I won’t fulfill my destiny of meeting Salman Khan for the time being.

The movie is average. Salman was not his typical dabangg self but was being very human – the whole film revolved around him reuniting an adorable little Pakistani girl with her parents. No body-shody, not too many fight sequences, not too many break-record dialogues and no dance steps that will rule youngistan for the next few months. And yet I would rate the movie as top notch. Why? Because I was sensible enough to watch it in Chandan.

The first time I got real goose bumps was when Salman got into his first fight. The camera did a great job of the build-up (though in reality there was very little of the real fight). The camera panned from one villain to the other in slow-mo, the music kept rising with every move and the crowd – oh my god, the crowd was screaming like we were all on a roller coaster as it goes up, readying itself for the real ride. As soon as the camera zoomed in on Salman, his eyes swelled, became watery, formed into a tear drop that slowly meandered its way to his eye lashes to plan its drop down his rock solid cheeks – the crowd held tight to their seats, throats almost parched, readying themselves for the roller coaster to do that thrilling drop. The music crescendo-ed and as Salman kicked, the theatre went berserk with screams and after that all one felt was the twists and turns of a really fast moving roller coaster and hoots through the entire sequence. What an experience!

And this was the recurring feeling throughout the film as it reminded you what a star Salman Khan is. Quick review of the film – it was a really simple random plot, Kareena was non existent (actually I don’t know why she signed up for the film or maybe she did it for Salman), music was very average and obviously common sense had to take a back seat. Salman Khan looked quite massive, in a not very nice way but then he will always look drop dead gorgeous because he is Salman Khan. Nawazuddin was brilliant, as he always is and the big rockstar was the latest entrant to the Bollywood fraternity, the little Harshaali Malhotra. I liked the first half as much as I liked the second half, contrary to popular sentiment but I missed the real Salman through the entire movie. What the story did not do for him was made up for through his screen presence. I thought his screen presence was very well captured and presented throughout the film. Power screamed out of Salman’s every facial expression, his body language. The screen really sizzled up each time he said or did anything or maybe my feedback is colored by the fact that the crowd’s excitement in Chandan made you imagine more than there really was. After all there was not a moment when the crowd did not go crazy as Salman talked, as Salman walked, as he smiled or as he frowned. I loved it!

This 2 star movie becomes 4 stars depending on whether you watch it in a multiplex or a single screen. In fact I asked this friend in Delhi how she liked the movie and she was ho-hum about it and said meekly It was Ok. Of course no prizes for guessing that she watched the film in PVR. Would I watch it again? No. But would I watch all Salman Khan movies in Chandan going forward. Hell Yeah!! A star is what people make of him and last evening was my true Mumbai experience of frenzied stardom.

To be or not to be. Married

“I think this world is made for couples”, said Alice, as we were sipping our drinks at a swank bar. And I wondered if her wonderland might actually be a good lens to look through at our reality.

For some time now I have been questioning the basis of marriage - should I chose marriage because its time and because Im scared of growing old alone and because I have no one to take care of me right now or should my choice for marriage be the ultimate commitment I make to the one I love, for which, falling in love is the first step.

If I had a boyfriend I wouldn’t have been so skeptical - I have always been a believer of ‘Love happens’ and we can blame movies till kingdoms come home for that but now the damage has been done. In my books, if Love has to happen and marriage is a commitment of that love, as indeed having kids is a commitment of that commitment, it becomes a matter of the heart. My problem is with this new age power that has been bestowed upon me called Shaadi.com which has converted the matter of heart into a matter of the head. It scares me. To make love happen through a laundry list of profiles and going through the pain of talking/ chatting/ meeting a million minions till one day the highway man comes riding riding riding or better still, you run out of patience and time.

I cannot for the life of me get around to choosing a husband online – now with these trendy apps, my future husband lies in my finger moving right instead of left and that decision of the finger is left to how he looks in pictures and a few words he’s managed to blurt out about himself which will always anyway be corny.

My parents are worried about me – as a single 35 year old baniya girl, my time is running out. Soon I wont look young anymore, my biological clock will stop ticking, men will only grow more bald and more bellies and what seems a compromise today will be an even bigger compromise tomorrow. True. All true. And truth be told, I am worried too. Especially because the pool of single eligible men is shrinking faster than the intellect of our politicians today.

And yet the thought of getting into a wrong marriage is intimidating to levels I cannot express.

A very dear friend who has been separated from his wife and also subsequent girlfriend and  who now lives by himself tells me that he is the happiest most in his life right now. He says he has found himself.

Another friend happens to bump into me in a fairly inebriated state and says to me “Never get married, trust me its best this way”. It’s a different matter that his Facebook pictures imply he is leading a great life traveling the world with his beautiful wife.

Yet another friend recently talked to me about a few common married friends who are all unhappy in their respective marriages. Trapped is what he called their state.

When I listen to these stories or look at the world around me where rate of divorce has matched the rate of marriages, where infidelity is a common occurrence, where distractions are galore and where people are always on a treadmill, so much so that not having sex inside a marriage is an accepted state of happily married, I really wonder what all the fuss is about.

For whatever its worth, today I have a sense of peace with myself for being single – I go to work, I come back, watch my choice of TV, listen to my choice of music, have the cook make my choice of food, sleep when I want to, wear what I like, go out wherever I want  – you get the drift.

This completely selfish, not having to take responsibility view of my life has been giving me a bizarre sense of freedom. And I must confess I like it.

I wonder what it would be like to have someone in your space all the time and your life revolving around that someone special. Waking up to the same person every single day and having discussions around bank balances, grocery shopping and relatives. What would it be like to know that you can never look at another man or lie in bed all day on a lazy Sunday because the work week had been so hectic. What would it be like to feel guilty for wanting your own space at times or define your sense of worth through the eyes of your better half (?).  What would it be like to make career choices based on the circumstances of your partner and to constantly have your mind occupied with duties towards the mother in law, second cousin, father in law, bawling nephews, distant uncles, grannnys, brother, brother’s wife….. phew, exhausting. Like your own set of family wasn’t enough to occupy a lot of your time and mind space.

I really don’t understand why marriage is such an alluring concept to the world at large. The longest commitment I have been able to keep in my life yet is towards my job which has lasted me not more than 3 and a half years in any one specific role. A lifetime commitment with all the humdrums of regular life do not sound exciting or inviting.

And yet, if I were to meet someone and fall in love with him, none of the above would matter. I would gladly do all of the above and more. I think.

 

 

 

 

Mono-Gamy sat on a wall. Mono-Gamy had a great fall

 

 

What an inspiring message. Exactly the kind that we would forward to our friends on Whatsapp, make this our DP, send it out as a New Year Wish, and for a short while believe that this is exactly how life must be lived.

 

But can we dare to live this way? And love this way?

 

Are we ready to break the rules in love? And once we do, are we ready to forgive? When we cheat on our partners, can we stop regretting esp since the adultery made us more than just smile?

 

The answer is no. But the question is why not?

 

Monogamy has been that elevated phenomena in our society which is as sacred as it is fearful - and for good reasons. It is after all the proof of holy matrimony, of the marriage vows that a couple makes to each other. Monogamy is that invisible thread that keeps each marriage a happily-ever-after affair. It is the recurring deposit that reminds a couple that each is loved by their spouse.

 

Except that, its not.

 

Breaking the code of monogamy is as old as the conduct of marriage. Monogamy was never a choice.

 

Think about it. History is filled with pages of adultery. Every geography, every race, every era has shunned from the mention of infidelity and yet indulged in it abundantly, unabashedly, joyfully.

 

I have often wondered why is the rule of monogamy the most coveted one and yet the most broken one? And my own sense is this - human beings are driven by excitement. Excitement is that only potion that can keep us going on and on and on all the time. Some people find this excitement in music, some in art, some in bungee jumping and some in  mountaineering. But most find it in attraction to the opposite sex - after all its the most basic of the ways of nature.

 

To be able to feel that rush of blood again, to want to dress up for someone again, to flirt again, to feel the tingly feeling again, to have electricity go down your spine again and to gush again and again - how can this not be the most exciting experience ever?

 

Earlier, some people allowed themselves to be swept away by this sense of excitement and pay for the repercussions of it too - good or bad depended on their karma I suppose. What is really mind boggling about today's day and age is that this phenomena has not only become wide spread but also fairly open. Infidelity is not a privilege of a few anymore, and certainly not just of men for sure. Its almost amazing. How men today proposition women to a "good time" while ensuring the woman understands that this is only physical; emotions are securely locked up for the wives. Likewise its interesting how women are willing to play second fiddles most times for a few moments of adventure. No judgment here by the way. 

 

I only wonder why then cant infidelity just become an accepted open part of our society? I mean not like there should be an open license to f*** but is it possible for couples to know that there will be one-night-stands but the vows taken of emotional security, togetherness et all would solely and always be theirs and theirs alone? Can such a world exist, and exist happily? I don't know. I will never know I suppose. This is just a fallacy, exactly like how Happily Ever After is.

Love. Lust. Desire. Boredom. And then there was a straw too.

Friday night - the beginning of a reunion weekend with my childhood friend. Post a long day at work, crazy traffic on my way back, a work call with boss as soon as I got home, and a few glasses of red wine at home, the options were rather obvious - delicious cocktails at a close by bar or an enticing cocktail at Juhu PVR. We opted for the latter one, the one with a straw.

For all those that know Roopa and me, will know us for our love for Bollywood and the high we get from films is never really the same from any other concoction. Sex on the beach. Screw driver. Tequila sunrise. Cocktails are almost always welcome but this time, we opted for the heady mix of Margharita with a Straw.

The film started in a fairly promising manner. Kalki and Revathi's sheer screen presence in the first scene set the expectation for the film. Kalki's acting in this film has put her on a pedestal that I doubt anyone else can even hope to achieve. Through the entire film, I really almost forgot that Kalki is a normal human being in real life and not the specially abled person from her reel life. Unbelievably brilliant performance - words might not do justice. Every movement, every moment, one can submerge into Kalki's world. Relate with her, sympathize with her, even empathize with her despite not being a disabled person, because after all, all her emotions/ desires/ wishes were exactly the same as all of us, at that age, at any age actually.

All Kalki wanted was to be in love, feel loved, to be able to love - without a judgment. Her desire to be seen as desirous, her wish of being wished for by her muse, to look good, to appear smart and be with it - any teenager's regular life (for that matter even a 30+'s regular life - sigh). And I thought that was the point of the film - and I said to myself, what a lovely theme. And what a unique way to portray a teenager's journey through a specially abled person's lens.

But soon it started to dissolve - into ONE BIG amalgamation of disability. And slow slow slow transition into point-less-ness. For me, movies are either for entertainment (our good ol' Bollywood masala movies) or for conveying a point of view or for both. I wasn't sure what the point was in this movie because really, it wasn't a masala film made for entertainment. It must have been made to convey a point, some point but like the Indian cricket team playing a test match, it started off well but soon started losing wicket after wicket and oh so S-L-O-W-L-Y!

First things first, does a disabled person's life HAVE to be surrounded with more disabled people? The boy she flirted with, the lover, even the mother - why did there have to be so much suffering - to what avail? Her own disability and her way of coping with it would have been a wonderful story but in this film, it was like disability begets disability!

If the movie was about a young girl's journey of desire and self discovery, and if the point of the film was that love/ lust/ whatever has no boundaries, why did we need a blind girl to prove that? And even if a blind girl was needed to sizzle up the screen with Kalki, what happened to trying to create that magical chemistry between the two to make it look believable, even fantastical beyond all conventional mindsets? Fire comes to mind here and boy, was there fire on the screen each time shabana and nandita das came together! Missing here unfortunately.

Talking of chemistry, was the turning point of sorts about a completely abled man being able to "see" her and want her as he put on her panties for exactly one round of orgasm? Or maybe the crux was that cheating in this case is understandable because the protagonist was confused about her orientation. Like all other forms of cheating with abled heterosexual people happen as a result of real clear heads and hence not justified. Am I missing something here? Because the preen with which the film ended was almost like an order to the audience to better LIKE Kalki and all her choices.

Of course we as audience loved Kalki. If anything, the movie is about Kalki. All performances of course are extremely noteworthy, great screen play, fantastic direction. But still, its an over complicated milieu of emotions, notions, nuances and situations.

The girl friend's disclosure to her parents about her sexual orientation at the age of 14 and the after effects that followed, Kalki being rejected by her boy-'friend' because, come on, who wants a girlfriend with Cerebral Palsy, the mother quietly suffering with cancer and the father crying alone in bed, the cute boy getting attracted to Kalki despite her disability (honestly men can get turned on by anyone, anytime and we don't need such a complex plot to remind us of that) - SO many things happening in the movie was literally like a whirlwind of shocking disclosures, seeped in extreme moroseness of wheelchairs, white canes for the blind, hair wigs and more, which to my mind, took away from the simplicity this film could have had.

Especially the part where the daughter is giving her mother a bath - what was that? Someone with cerebral palsy gives bath to other adults? That's the only time I got up from my seat and rubbed my eyes to make sense of all that was happening. Maybe that was the idea. Like the ploy of comic relief during Shakespeare's time, maybe the movie reached a point where it needed mindless-ness relief after all the dragging.

I know I am being harsh. The movie did have its memorable moments - a lot of them. Some fun humor, some very real portrayal of a typical Indian middle class family, some real moments of discovery, treatment of a sensitive issue of lust and sexual desire - all these made Margharita with a Straw almost a likeable movie. And it actually can be, except that I wish the story writer and the director had let it remain simple. Simplicity is really underrated in our times. And I wish the makers hadn't gotten so bored of the film themselves to end it so abruptly, though if I were in their shoes, I too would have lost the plot and not known what the right ending could possibly have been.

Crushing Times

So, in the recent past, 'state of mental being' has caught the fancy of all of us. And why not. When someone as fanci-full as Miss Padukone brings such a topic to fore, it is bound to get everyone's attention. Suddenly, across all quarters, one hears of Depression being the taboo phenomena that people are now beginning to come out of their closets of. Strange though, that the homosexual closet opened much earlier than this one. I guess matters of the head are far more complex than the matters of the heart.

Talking of which, yet another matter of the heart taken somewhat lightly is the state of having a crush on someone. Especially when its someone unattainable. Your boss, a married woman, your watchman, that dog, or just someone who is simply not interested in you. But a crush is a crush is a crush; so what does one do when this (literally) mental state hits and claims an innocent victim?

We just gush and say "awww its just a crush". But is it really that simple? At 34, I must confess I still often fall victim to this horrendous phenomena, yes horrendous it is, just like it used to be even when I was 16. And that's the thing about a crush - it really lives up to 'Age No Bar, object-of-affection no bar'. WTF! It's sometimes almost ridiculous when you look back and think of the various people you have crushed on (if that's even a word). And yet, when its the crush phase, its a really crushing phase.

As I was going through my recent innocent c-rush-hour, it got me thinking though - isn't having a crush same as going through mental illness? I mean beyond the romanticism and cuteness of it, in a very real sense, its yet another state of being that can consume you, shake you up, completely own you, even destroy you. Albeit for that short while only, which is the saving grace because its a crush only if its like a limited period offer. The thin line can easily transform itself into obsession whichis then a clearance sale and not everyone enjoys a wear-and-tear clearance sale.

In fact the more I think about it, I realize actually just how dangerous it can be. Not only is it an animal with no leash, its also like that virus that can keep relapsing. Damn.

The causes may vary but the symptoms are always the same.
- You worry about how you are looking all the time. You try to be at your best every morning, excited about what you and the day will turn out to be. And yet, the morning turns into the afternoon into the evening and you return back dejected because your object of crush didn't even spend that cursory glance at you. Alas!

- You find silly reasons to meet THE ONE. Any excuse and you find yourself in the Chakravyuh that you yourself decided to get into but once there, you are stuck. Stuck with awkwardness, with hitting yourself  on  the head about the embarrassment of having been so enthu for nothing.

- You gush, you blush, you rush - all of it, all at once. And can you imagine what a fool you must appear to be. Each time. Time after time. Oh dear lord!

- You usually start with trying to appear calm and composed about your crush. You usually begin with roses looking redder, winds blowing sweeter and the universe being your best bud. Im sure this state is what led to the adage "Calm before the storm". Soon you start losing balance, in your head. Conversations with self, desperate desire to be wanted as much as you want him/ her, restless hours - Bah!

As I write this, I realize that while I have crushed on various people and gone through the above symptoms, few have crushed on me too and their state must be exactly the same as mine and yet while being on the other end, I too have ruthlessly ignored the crusher while being the crushee.

Either way, having crushes is great - it makes you love LOVE for sometime but beyond that, I think it needs a serious cure. For all the medical advancement, the few things that still have no cure really is Cancer, AIDs and Crushes. How very morbid of me to allude to an innocent crush in the same bracket as these deadly diseases but ask someone who is going through it - the sweet little crush feels almost fatal!

Of course Im no Deepika Padukone to get this highly sensitive issue into the collective conscience of the nation but if anyone finds a cure for this, do remember to share it with.




 

Random musings. Coz there's no muse.

3 years and I return
To this blog. To do a re-run
Of sharing my thoughts, pouring my mind
To make something of it this time.

The mind however pleads guilty of being empty
So to come up with a topic, I count from 1 to 20
Zero, Zilch, Nada is where Im stuck
The blog,  my life, this road with no truck

Reminds me of Cape Town,  the beautiful little city
Mountains, dolphins, clouds and people oh so pretty.
One would want to live a lifetime there
And yet be out of the skin in every sphere

Getting back to the topic of topic
Everything begins with something microscopic
A context to everything is what I need
Whether its a power point presentation or my life at any speed

I ask out again to the 'Topic Gods' at large
With the concept of reel life, is my real life a farce?
How is it that I always come up with things at work
But never hit the real G spot, not even as a quirk!

Colors. Fonts. Template. Of a presentation
Fascinate me to ensure I reach the destination
But Love. Lust. Purpose. Of life
Escape me in a strife

Decisions. Precisions. I need to own up
Get a hold of things around me, bring to brim my cup
Knowledge of this is the first step they say
And yet despite having it all, all the time I sway

But I laugh, throw my head back with a twinkle in my eye
Why so serious. This too shall pass, pass around like the pie