The Break-up

Dear Writer’s Block,

It’s not you, it’s me…I know that I had vowed to write regularly at the blog. I had promised myself to post at least three entries on the blog every week (3!!!!). And I know that 5 weeks are over and I have done just 2 posts till now (2!!!!). So when my good friend messages me everyday reminding to write something, I tell him that I am not “feeling it” or “I have no time” or “I don’t know what to write”. I talk about you, tell him that it is you, who doesn’t let me fill pages with my words, who doesn’t let me complete the last part of my story series, For the love of Food.

But I know it is not you. I know it is me. I am too jarred by all the things happening around me. I am too distracted, too volatile in temperament these days. From past couple of years, the first few weeks of a new year almost always bring with them a lot of uncertainty for me. This one seems to be taking the cake from all the past ones though. There is not one thing today in my life, where I can call myself “sorted”. Who knew adulting was this hard?

10 years ago, at this point of time, my worries were about getting a good grade in boards and getting admission into a decent college. And I used to tell myself,”I just need this, and I will be done forever.” I wish someone had told me that there would always be something-and that apprehension and anxiety about future, is the way of life.

So forgive me for putting the onus of my irregular writing on you. I have realized that life is like that, and that if I need to do something, I must take out time for it. And with my time invested in more fruitful pursuits, I am afraid I no longer have the luxury to spend it with you.

It’s over, Writer’s Block. A break-up 10 days before Valentine’s Day can be heartbreaking, but it is usually a good idea to quit things/people who are no good for us, isn’t it? It’s my time to shine through the darkness of uncertainities, and this is my journey, alone.

Sorry for all the pain,

A struggling writer

Featured Image: 3rd Perspective

 

 

 

 

Invitation

ConfRm-BLR-1st Floor – Tanjore

It is 8.30 pm in the night. You are at office, working on that issue customer reported two hours ago. It was a small change in configuration, and you have emailed the customer, keeping all the required people in CC. It is Thursday, and you really want to head home now. The cook didn’t turn up today, and so tonight’s dinner is going to be Barbecue Chicken Pizza, your flat-mate has messaged.

You are about to shut down your laptop when you see a meeting reminder from Outlook. The meeting doesn’t have a subject, but it says “ConfRm-BLR-1st Floor – Tanjore”, starting now. You are surprised, you don’t remember accepting any meeting invite for this late in the evening. You check for the email Invitation , but you can’t find it. You are annoyed, but you might as well go and check once, isn’t it? So you head to the 1st floor from your cubicle at 6th Floor, taking stairs of course, to compensate for the beer you would be having later with your pizza, and reach the conference room.

The room is dark, and there is no one on 1st floor. You switch on the lights and decide to wait. You fool around with your laptop, look for the email again. And this time you find it, it is from project@company-name.com . But that is an alias for automated emails, how could an invitation come from it?

15 minutes pass. The meeting is officially over. You decide to leave, you need to ask the IT guy about this tomorrow. You go to your cubicle, taking the lift, pack your laptop and leave for the parking lot. Once you reach the ground floor, you hear some commotion. A lot of people seem to have gathered outside the office. There is a tempo standing outside the parking lot, but you don’t know what is that for. You come out of the office gate, and ask the security guard who is standing at the outer edge of the crowd, “Kya hua Bhaiya?”

“Arey Sir, that tempo was over speeding and came from opposite direction in the one-way street, ramming into the tree. Fortunately no one is hurt, because had someone been leaving from our parking lot 15 minutes back, they would have died on the spot.”

You freeze. You think about that invitation. Or was that an intervention?

Image courtsey : Outlook

 

Romance Retreat

We Indians love our elaborate traditions and gaiety. We have many festivals all through out the year, and each is celebrated with joyous splendor and magnificence. But there is one festival that we love more than others, even more than Diwali – Weddings. The union of two souls is memorialized in grand ceremonies and extravagant show, and the Indian wedding only seems to get bigger and fatter with every passing year.

Since November-December is supposedly very auspicious for weddings, every year my Facebook news feed is religiously occupied during the marriage season with lovely pictures and picturesque check-ins of weddings and honeymoons and everything that precedes and follows it. And a very amusing trend in the matrimony “industry” (and I use the word “industry” because a lot of people mint good amount of money during this period) is the pre-wedding photo shoot. I saw it the first time couple of years ago, and it was absolutely adorable!!!! It has been long since then, and looks like this one is here to stay, except now, it has become kind of, cringe-worthy.

I don’t get it. What’s with these mock-up, larger-than-life pictures that look so unreal, like the romance has retreated from the life of the couple before it even started?  I saw a photo-shoot recently that left me astound – one picture of the couple was overlooking the ocean, the other on a mountain top with the obligatory Titanic pose, and yet another was in a forest! I mean, is it a photo-shoot or a 4th standard Geography-text book?

At the risk of getting unfriended by truckload of married friends, who have wasted precious money on those mushy and pretentious pictures,me – your oh-so-single friend is telling you that you that those photo-shoots are actually, very silly.

Tell me something, is the romance really about exotic locations or filmy postures? Ask yourself if this is how you fell in love with your partner, while getting photo-shopped on the top of Himalayas, or when he/she reminded you to go easy one that ice-cream because you are still recovering from a cold? Why is romance, or love, supposed to be so mythical and beyond the realms of a normal world? Isn’t it about practical wisdom, dealing with each day as it comes, and stealing moments here and there to express how mad you are about each other?

My parents didn’t have a fancy wedding photo-shoot, and neither did yours. And they still turned out pretty well. Look around you, don’t you squirm uncomfortably when you hear of young married couples struggling to make it work, irrespective of their marriages being love/arranged, because they are incompatible? Why can’t love be more, honest and straight-forward, instead of fake? Why not have a photo-shoot that shows the two of you living life like you normally do – enjoying that occasional glass of wine or goofing around each other?

As I sip my coffee and go through some really crazy photo-shoots, I have no clue whom I am getting married and when. But I sure as hell know what I am not planning to do –  A down-on-one- knee proposal picture with relatives in tow. Eww, no! Doing headstand together though, now that sounds interesting!

ASANA_C
                                       What a beautiful inversion!

Featured Image : The most realistic honeymoon picture ever

Image source: Yoga Journal

via Retreat

The Conundrum

If you had a choice, what would you pick?

He moved through the tunnel gingerly;  a flaming torch in one hand, and the other numb from rubbing across the cold walls, looking for some support for his tired hands. The water was knee-deep, he had no choice but to do this. He continued his cautious walk, startled once or twice by strange noises that were probably rats scurrying around, or so he hoped. There was no time or place to rest for a while, the water made sure he had to keep moving.

There was a flicker of light, in distance. He blinked hard and fast, to check if the flicker was his imagination – but it stayed. Hope started to grow in his heart, the end was near. He quickened his pace, and began to move faster , oblivious of the splashing water and darting bats.

As he moved faster, the source of light grew brighter. He had a spring in his step now, his exhausting journey was drawing to a close. The dark walls had finally began to get illuminated, the water level receding. He ran, to touch the warmth that proliferated the confines of the tunnel.

He had finally reached, he could see the sunlight coming inside. But he realized he was behind a gate, of glass, that allowed him to see outside. Suddenly, a melodious voice spoke.

“Hello! You are about to enter your land. Please do the last task and you will be free to go.”

Pumped with adrenaline, willing to give his best to the last challenge, he asked ,”What is the task?”

“Please watch one of the movies from the list below. The gate shall open after the closing credits roll off:

1) Mohenjo Daro

2) Ghayal Once Again

3) Housefull 3 ”

via Conundrum

Featured Image: Pixabay

A Letter to Bangalore

It has been long, let’s talk.

Dear Bangalore,

Remember the first time we met? In 2003, when I visited the first “mall” of my life at Kids Kemp? It was the month of October, and when we reached, it was drizzling. Someone told my dad, “There is some scientific experiment happening in Chennai, which is causing this artificial rain here.” I was awed, this was the city of engineers and scientists, and anything was possible I thought!!! I remember roaming in the Kids Kemp, amazed by so many toys available under one roof. I remember our friendly taxi driver who took us to Mysore and Ooty and then back to you, who treated me and my brother with so much affection, that it became one of our most memorable trips ever.

And then, almost 10 years later, in 2012, I came back to you, in the guise of a geeky engineer, trying to find a foothold in the IT city of India. I remember my first office where I was an intern, a huge building in the sea of construction around and for some reason, I was excited – after all, you are the Mecca for an IT engineer. The weather was cloudy and pleasant – a refreshing change from the blistering heat of plains and Manipal, even in the month of June.

Finding an accommodation was a challenge, I didn’t know Kannada, and I struggled. But then, I got used to it. I picked up few words as I haggled with auto-wallahs, who are as unpredictable as your weather. But we all managed, didn’t we?

2003-2016, it took me 13 years to learn that any turbulence in Chennai weather results in winter-like temperature drop and incessant rains with you. I learnt that you are quite different from the places I have known – it definitely rains in June and November beginning, especially around Diwali; Gobi Manchurian is the real deal; there is no holiday for Holi/Diwali; the rents are high but the security deposits are even higher and travelling 5 kms during rush hour at Silk Board can take an hour at least once a week. But that really didn’t stop me from getting used to you.

It was not all smooth though. I learnt, much to my dismay, that I would almost always be a “Northie” and that you are not as safe for women as people make out you to be. But I also re-discovered myself – I learnt to cook, I learnt yoga, I performed, I watched movies alone, I watched plays alone, and I even shopped alone. I read, I wrote (and not just code), I attended Instagram-meets and networked and I made friends for life.

As I sit at the cafeteria today, watching the clouds gather over the traffic snarling across Bannerghatta Road, I realized that you are that one place I have stayed the longest at, and that too all by myself. You have seen me grow as a person – with my opinions, ideas and interests and together, we have shared a lot. As much as I get mad at you and childishly term you a “village”, whenever there is a power cut, or no sun, or when I can’t find something that is readily available in a Delhi neighborhood, I know that you, with your plate of steaming hot idlis and filter coffee, made me the person I am today. I am a fan of your Sambhar, so much so that I don’t like Sambhar anywhere else anymore.

Stay as you are please, I know they say that the pollution and the water woes will make you unlivable in 5 years, but I also know that you would prove them wrong. There are always going to be people claiming you are “theirs”, but between you and me, we know you don’t need anyone to own you – you stand by yourself – vast and forgiving.

Love,

A “Northie” who has not been to Nandi Hills since 2003

P.S: They are going to tell me to change it to “Bengaluru”, but I know you like “Bangalore” more 😉

Featured Image : Yours truly.