Nomad

I left my hometown about 16 years ago. Have called multiple places 'home' since then. 

Only after leaving home, I believe I truly started adulting.

Because that's when I started making decisions, making mistakes, being responsible for someone else, being really alone and learning to live without a guardrail. 

 These are the experiences that mold you. And where you experience them - your surroundings, play a tremendous role in molding the kind of adult that you become. 

 Maybe that is why, whenever I visit my hometown, I revert to the naïve child that I was. I'm lucky to have my childhood home still, and every visit there effortlessly takes me back to those times. Within a day of my visit, all 16 years' worth of life take a backseat. Example: while there, I couldn't even recall the name of a street that I pass by every day to work!

 In my mind, I was smoothly back into the groove that I left 16 years ago - a puzzle piece fitting back in. 

 Floating in this fancy. I accompanied my mother to a store. Towards the end of our time there, as we were ready to leave, the sweet lady helping us asked me, 'Where are you from?'. 

 I looked at her, surprised, and gave her the usual answer I give to that question: 'Well, here… Chennai'. 

 'Oh, you don't look like you're from here'.

 THUD. 

Yea, well, that was me - no longer floating. Apparently it was not as smooth a fit that I thought I had! 

 And there, in my hometown, I had the immigrant experience - now everyone thinks you're 'not from here'! 

Let me choose to take this as having become a citizen of the world instead - யாதும் ஊரே யாவரும் கேளிர் 😊

First time

"The first time?"

He scrunches up his face in an effort to remember. He turns and looks at the waves. I can see him starting to blush as the memory comes to him.                                                       

It hits me then that I've always loved to see him blush. 

"You remember Sadhana, right? One day after class, I drove her home in my bike", he continues, "she got down and without any warning, quickly leaned in and kissed me and then ran inside her house. That was the first time. It was very sweet and completely unexpected." 

"I wouldn't say unexpected. You are very kissable", I don't realize I had said that out loud until his head snaps around at me.

With mischief and mirth in his eyes he asks, "oh yeah? Then how come, all these years, you never kissed me?" 

"Because I was an idiot", I say, ready to throw caution to the wind.

He smirks and looks back at waves again.

"You know what?" I continue, " I'm much smarter now."

And that is the first time I kiss him. 

Are you cold?

I was reading Emily Henry's 'Happy Place' . Harriet there, doesn't want to show her sadness to her friends and family since she's worried that her sadness will sadden them and she definitely doesn't want to be the cause for their sadness. 

So she hides it and deals with it on her own. 

Which results in them considering her as closed-off and not sharing with them. So instead of making them sad, she's made them mad! 

Then I happen upon these lines from 'Dark Dark Wood' by Ruth Ware 

"I never know what to say in these situations. I hate people prying into my business, so I assume others will feel the same way. But sometimes they want to spill, it seems, and then you look cold and odd, backing away from their confidences. I try to be completely nonjudgmental - not pushing for secrets, not repelling confessions." 

Well ... stories of my life! Still haven't found the sweet spot between being inviting and gently repelling prying. Between sharing confidences and fear overwhelming. Between being warmly open and being a dumpster. 

Collateral damage of being considerate and independent is being perceived as standoffish and rude!

Note that these characters are the narrative voices in both these books and also here in this blog. Meaning... Our perception of self vastly differs from how we're being perceived! And we end up writing about it ourselves because how else can we explain!?

What heartens me is that if more then one author is writing of our cold standoffish characters, there's company for us! Art imitates life! And remember, these are protagonists. So my fellow narrators, do not fear of not being understood - keep bringing that main character energy!! 

We don't talk anymore

Don't wanna text you

Then I won't want to stop

Don't wanna call you

Then I won't want to hang up 

Don't wanna see you

Then I won't want to leave 

Don't wanna think about you 

Then I'll remember 

how much I miss you 

Friends in waves

 

I walk along the shore

    kissed by the waves I adore

some stay on longer

    some flit away a stranger

all recede one day or another

    whether they flash by or linger

but each without fail

    bring me a precious pearl

those I gather in a strand

    and hold tightly in my hand

though waves may have gone afar

    the pearls stay close to heart

Castle

Brick by brick

Dream by dream

This palace of mine

Lives on a moonbeam

So vast a manor

Stands a mile high

Why is it that 

There's just you and I 

Every nook and corner

Filled with echoes 

Of our lived and loved 

Momentous joys

If I take you by hand

And walk you around

This dear castle mine

Where dreams abound

Will you be so shook

And think me delusional 

Or hearten my soul with 

'Mine is the same, my girl'

Obsession

my hook sways; slow like death
searching for a prey constantly
you land on it and latch on firmly
oh.. why did you end up being my prey

the prey doesn't know it's caught
but for the hook it's all it has
whole of it's being consumed by
torturous thoughts of its prey

the prey still swims free
unaware that the hook shudders;
twist and turn I may
letting go, moving on is the hardest

my hook lives only here
the farthest deepest trench
that i'm fated to call the mind
so far from the reality it shall never see

in that reality our worlds collide
when you are you and I am me
but those moments are so far and few
they fade so quickly as dusk to night

a different world comes to light
i know it to be unreal; imaginary but
there we've lived a thousand lives
light years removed from what is true

as reality recedes, then comes the hook
impaling the prey in its metal claws
the agony and anguish are not for the prey
but for the mind that possesses the hook

Ms. Uhnnda Stoude

Long long ago, so long ago, no one knows how long ago, there lived a girl.... I think. Well I'm pretty sure she did because our heroine most certainly descended from her. The girl is of the kind who do not learn from their elders and betters - especially when the E's & B's tell her specifically not to [insert any action under the sun]. Her immediate response would be to try that and tell them
"Ohhhh, this is why you told me not to do that. Sure thing, I won't do it anymore" while rubbing her broken leg / burnt finger / singed hair etc. It is a wonder that she escaped near deaths long enough to live and bear descendants.

Well, she did and our heroine is one of them. How do I introduce her to you? I know! Visual Exercise! I want you to imagine you're at the gym - well, specifically at the trash cans behind the gym. Do you see that old tattered punching bag - at the end of its life after receiving blows from many, many boxing gloves over many, many years? MEET OUR HEROINE!

Well, not really but you get the idea.

Our heroine has always been a social creature and a constant twitterer. No, I don't mean that she is in that social network! Get your head out of that cloud! And NO I don't mean the iCloud! FINE. She likes to talk, ok?  And since she likes an audience, she tries to gather as many people around her as she can. And that's where the trouble starts! Did you know that not all people like being gathered?

Here's how it'll typically roll.... Our heroine will come across one person (call them A) whom she instantly connects with and then another (call them B). So naturally she'll bring A & B together because, you know, more the merrier and all...
At this time, one of three things will happen
1. A hates B and will exit, punching our heroine in the gut
2. A loves B and will exit taking B, punching our heroine in the gut
3. A & B both like our heroine and stay on until they each realize their own gangs are more important and will exit, punching our heroine in the gut

Do you notice a common theme in these scenarios?

---❦---

Our heroine loves archery. Slinging arrows at targets is her favorite pastime. And that's how her words flow out of her. Sharp, decisive and flying towards the target. Maybe her love for archery is to blame for the words zinging right out of her mouth. Unfortunately not all of her word arrows reach their target. Well, hey, I said she loves archery, I didn't say that she was an expert!
This is to be said of our heroine: even though the arrows miss their targets, they're always well-intentioned. But, what's the use of well intentioned arrows completely missing their target or worse, hitting the wrong target?
Some times, our heroine takes too long to aim an arrow because she wants the arrow to be so perfect that the target tires of her and walks away, completely missing their intended arrow. And other times, the targets appear so intimidating that she loses her nerve and bungles her arrows.

In any case - all these targets do the same exact thing: they turn right around, pick those missed arrows and throw them right back at our heroine. With a vengeance. I mean, can you blame them?

No wonder she begins to resemble a pin cushion more and more.

                                                                            ---❦---

So, in conclusion, she is a pincushiony, battered, punching bag. This PBPB just doesn't seem to learn though - I mean all she has to do is stop putting herself there, but noooo. True to her ancestry, she will keep doing the same thing over and over because... she is persistent? she won't rest until she gets her 'gang'? she is adamant? she is resilient? Nah. She just has a short term memory and can't help getting punched over and over. 

Next time you see the PBPB wandering around looking for more punches, say hi (from a safe distance). Did I tell you her name yet? Look up, I named this article after her. It's pronounced "under stood".

தூக்கம் ?

(Product of a sleepless night)

நித்திரை தேடி நித்தமும் அலைய
அந்தியின் மடியில் கண்களும் சரிய
குறும்பு நெஞ்சம் குழப்பி தாக்க
தடுமாறும் எண்ணம் தட்டி எழுப்ப
குமுறும் ஆசைகள் கூச்சல் போட
பதைக்கும் மனம் பனிக்கால இரவில்
நித்திரை தேடி நித்தமும் அலைய

Yearning

It comes at you suddenly. A bolt of lightning out of the blue that shatters your foundation. A hook that flies out of the pages of your memory - pierces your thoughts so deeply that you are frozen by the pain of it. These hooks are hanging always just outside your consciousness, like a curtain of snakes floating and drifting.
A song, a photo, a picture, a name, an utterance, an action, a gesture, a new smile that reminds you of an old - one of these will call a snake to life. You'd feel its fang sinking into your mind.
Immediately, a tornado of yearning engulfs you. Completely. A yearning for something that is a nanometer out of your reach. A yearning so powerful that you're left gasping for life.
That yearning is for the most bittersweet of them all....'what might have been'. For that friend lost in time. For that love that slipped away. For that question never asked. For that answer never given. For that voice never raised. For that pain never soothed...
This yearning shall twist you, toss you and turn you. But it won't take you unless you ask it to. It shall be a brief storm that shall pass. Enjoy the torment while it lasts but ground  yourself firmly when it ends.
This yearning proves that you've lived. It keeps you awake. It keeps you alive.

Crushed crush

You know how back in school you used to have crushes on older girls (or boys if you were a boy)? A hero-worshippy, non-homosexual sort of crush? Does it ever stop at school level you think? For me, it persists. There are two girls at my workplace whom I secretly adore, from a distance. First one is a smart looking girl with close cropped hair and a pleasant and open face. For her I have only adoration. The other is a graceful girl with a long willowy form, beautifully shaped long hair and pleasant voice. For her, though, my adoration is slightly tinged with jealousy. And precisely because of that slight tinge that I'm glad of the thing that happened.

Why are these american bathroom stalls devoid of any privacy? No I'm not digressing. You'll see the connection in a tiny little while. Back to my question. Why again? There's enough space between the divider and the floor that you can even crawl from one to another. A bathroom is the most private place a person could be. Tell it to these people and they scoff and say 'Privacy Schmivacy'!

So one day, I'm taking my break (you do understand euphemisms, don't you?), when I hear noises from the adjacent stall. You know, the usual noises which accompany a person who is answering nature's call - all of them. The entire concert was played for my benefit. You can't help but hear them in the dead silence of an office restroom. If given an option, I would've stopped my ears but that was just not to be. So I quickly make my exit and was shocked to see my crush number two (number two ha ha ha) egress from the adjacent stall. I could hear a tiny 'poof' - the rosy glow of my crush vanishing against the harsh sounds that were still fresh in my mind.

Now I have only one wish for the future - that my smart cookie and I do not decide to answer nature's call at the same time.

Silent Tears

without intent to harm
the mischief was done

ideas of much right
have come so wrong

all acts of duty but
clouding the emotions

shattered dreams are
all that but remain

the sane mind kindles
a feeble spark of hope

but the prick of thorn
was deep inside gone

thorn has off fallen
but the wound does pain

tears of anger, hatred
come again and again

Keeping it short

'Why don't you write about short temper?' the SMS from Nivi blinked at me.
'What? Short temper? Why?' I asked her.
'Just like that' came the reply.
What does one write about short temper? I was wondering. Then it stuck me! I can actually write lots about it. I interact daily with extremely short tempered people. I also have my own fair share of it. So I was well qualified to write something about it!
Well here goes.

So a person is short tempered. Let's forget the why of it. You are talking to that person and their temper begins to act up. How do you react?

Firstly, don't lose yours. Next bring to your mind the adage on dogs barking at the sun. But be clear on the role definition - you do the shining and they do the barking. This basically boosts up your ego and elevates your self worth. It'll make you think that it is unnecessary to lower yourself and bark back. It also helps you to view them in a detached cynical manner and pity them for hiking up their blood pressure. The hotter they become, the cooler you will be. At no point of the conversation let yourself get involved. Maintain a purely observatory position. The barking will run its course and then die a natural death.
If you have any replies to give them, do it when they have no more energy to bark.

Right! But what if it is you who is doing the yelling? If you are a person with a chronic case of short temper-itis, never fear, cure is near! Whenever you feel like yelling, tell yourself those two admirable words - Shut up! If you're not the kind of person who listens to your own advice, well then leave the place. Just walk out. If that ain't possible, then drink something. Anything to seal your lips.

Practice clamping your mouth shut tight whenever you feel the symptoms of this illness. Do something that takes your mind off the situation at hand. Music is a good choice. Going out for a drive or a walk is another fine option. Come back after your pressure levels are low and then you're ready to tackle the sitation in a calm and collected manner.

The advantage of short temper is that it is...well.. short! The foul mood doesn't last long. But the effects of letting it out will. So be sure not to react when you feel all heated up.
Use these prescriptions well, you'll be cured soon!

Hide and Seek!

Chitra's post on crying triggered my long-thought-about ideas on hiding your feelings of unhappiness from others' eyes.
Most of us wish to present to the world a strong outer crust. We are hard, our armor is impenetrable. We express our happiness oh-so-joyously to the world. Fear of appearing weak makes us hide our sadness deep inside. Crying is generally attributed to a weak nature. All that's fine. But how many people actually carry this through? I would say one in a million.
Most of the tough ones feel at one time or the other, like Rose of Titanic, that they are 'in a room, surrounded by people and that they are screaming at the top of their voice and nobody even hears them'. The breaking point is, then, very near. Soon the floodgates will be opened, with a mighty flood to follow.
And the disappointment at finding out that you are not as strong willed as you assumed yourself to be, adds to the pain.
So is it really for the best - this practice of hiding our mournful feelings? I would say no. All the misery inside us needs an outlet. Coming to terms with the misery primarily needs a deep introspection. Calm objective reflection helps us to understand the misery and its cause. And most of the times, even a way out. If our own mind cannot be counted upon to help us, that's when a 'shoulder to cry on' comes as a godsend.
Generally people who appear strong and bottle up their feelings inside tend to be good listeners. So, in turn, they make good shoulders. But we need to understand that that shoulder is connected to a mind too and it will also have its own share of burden to carry.
Not all of us are lucky enough to find that shoulder. But once we find it, we need to be very careful that we do not use that shoulder only to cry on. Sometimes that shoulder will need an another.
But it does not pay to be too open about your feelings either. Others perceive you as a complaining miserable crybaby. But lets not even talk about the people who go about flaunting their misery. Their sadness doesn't even measure up to the word.
So is it really for the best - this practice of hiding our mournful feelings? I would say yes, it is good to hide your feelings from the eyes of all others if you are willing to show them to yourself. If you are strong enough to handle the tremendous pressure on your own.
Happiness shared is multiplied and sadness shared is divided. The catch lies in finding the right people to share them with!