Who am I ?

Man is a social animal. So I’ve heard… 

“I” am social… Oh! Yes I am…Know the number of friends I have and bet you’ll agree…. And ah! Yes, try messing with me and you’ll know the truth about the animal part too….So well I guess its true… “I” am a social animal….

If you know me closely at all, you will also know that I have a head that is exploding with thoughts and opinions… I don’t care if you didn’t ask me what I thought…. The point is I thought! So you need to hear it… Oh! I love to talk about myself… but today… I stopped for a moment and asked myself a question… Who am I?

This might strike you as bizarre! You might think I’m a lunatic… Its ok… I’m open to interpretation…..What the hell do I mean? Be patient….

When we’re  brought into this world… we’re all the same… Crying little monsters , someone’s bundle of joy… we’re  not born with opinions, or habits … we’re all  the same…”You” and “Me” …. Yet as we grow up, we develop perceptions and point of views……. And it would be totally ok… if these perceptions were forever, but we move forward in life , meet  people, see the world and these too are subject to change......

As kids when I or my friends were mischievous at school… our teachers would often say “Is this what your parents teach you?”  When a little child speaks foul language it is assumed that he picked it up from his parents. We would often feel bad and wonder why the teacher would go to the extent of ridiculing our parents .

So who am I? Do “I” even exist?…. The ideas that I am proud of aren’t even mine… they’re just something I picked up along the way…. Grew up hearing…. From  elders , teachers, friends  and the media…. I feel nothing but shallowness today… Ordinarily I am  extremely proud of myself… but today I realise that I haven’t done anything to be proud of! If I was born in a different city, in a different atmosphere I would have been different! There would have been a different set of people who would have influenced me and today I would have been writing about something else…. Maybe I wouldn’t  even be writing in the first place!...

Often when we are in a conversation with people, they suddenly turn to us and say ,”So what do you think?” Every time you start to open your mouth remember, you’re probably just summarising the opinions of everyone around you…. And then reproducing them…

I know it’s a crazy thought to have… but it is true….

Yet, if my totally awesome theory was indeed true, each pair of twins would be identical in the way they thought and the things they did… this of course isn’t the case… So there has to be something that makes me “Me” and you “You”…. Something that isn’t just about the societies we live in… but is truly only about us…

That something is called a “choice” …. We are but the choices that we make… Its true that everything that I know I have essentially picked up from my surroundings- people, books, etc…. yet I had a choice… I had to decide on the things that I wanted to be a part of myself… the opinions I wished to support…. The road called life is not straight…. It never was….  And the turns here and there do not bear signs saying “Right” or “Wrong”…. I decide where I want to go…I decide who I want to be walking with….. I decide where I want to be…. So yes, I am somebody…. I am “me”….

Sweet Remembrances

As a kid I had rather weird ideas, self developed concepts, wisdom that I had realized in the few years of my earthly existence…… the faint line between  reality and my imagination was almost non-existent. I had my own notions about things, and felt strangely confident about them, in fact sometimes I was so proud of myself, thinking I was the only one who was able to crack these mysteries! There was no ambiguity or obscurity; I was the detective in the thriller written by God called ‘Life’!

     My earliest memories are of Santa-Claus and the deep affection I held for him. Oh! That vision of the plump old man with his “HO HO HO! “  that I had in my mind never failed to bring a smile to my face!  My belief in Santa knew no bounds, though I had a couple of friends who did not get regular visits from him, when it came to me I was always a good girl and my dear old Santa never forgot my presents! I was extremely excited to see what he would get me each time…I jumped out of bed each Christmas morning to find the most beautifully wrapped present waiting to be torn open.

     Not once in all those years did I get something that I did not like or that deep within my heart I did not want! Hmmm… something was fishy here..How did Santa know exactly what I wanted? I thought hard about this, I talked to some of my friends, not all of them got what they wanted, but why me? I thought and thought… All throughout school if one thing was consistent it was the word “chatterbox” in the Remarks section of  my report card.. and it struck me… Santa had only one job, he had to find out what each kid wanted… for that he disguised himself as a normal looking human being, he could be the ice cream man who came to my house  sometimes, with his cart, or the aunty who owned the grocery store nearby, the new driver or just about anybody! And because I was so expressive about what I wanted it was always easy for him, wherever he was, whoever he was, to listen to me, my friends of course were fools, they barely spoke, if they didn’t let Santa know what they wanted how would he ever know?

I was so proud of myself to have cracked the mystery, I remember speaking sweetly to every random person I met, smiling at strangers, trying to be the most adorable kid around, cause I was so scared one of the many people I bump into would actually be my dear santa claus in disguise!

An incident I particularly remember related to my “santa claus memories” is related to this totally delicious candy called Heartbeat that was around when I was 5. They were heart shaped , in every possible colour and  flavor and I use to totally love them! One day my stock was over and I desperately wanted more, so I waited for daddy to come back from office and as soon as he did I demanded to be taken to the store to buy some of those candies. On the scooter, dad and me, smiling away, the wind blowing past my face as I narrated a saga of the many incidents that had taken place in school that day , the princess that I was, my wish was fulfilled…. But as we were riding back I suddenly realized that had santa been observing me, he would think I wanted the candy for Christmas too… I was crazy about them no doubt! But Christmas gifts were supposed to be special…. And so I said…. “Daddy, these are yummy, but I’m sure what santa gets me is going to be much more exquisite!”

           Oh! Those days! The innocence, the bliss, the happiness that I received believing in things that I now know never existed..As I grew I came to know how everything I believed in was fake, how there was  never a tooth fairy, and there was never going to be a fairy god mother…. How I had no one looking out for me! How life isn’t all smiles , frilly frocks, and Barbie dolls… From 5 to 20, you might say I have grown wiser, more mature, braver and what not… but have I?... Today I have no beliefs, leave alone the confidence to stand up to them… Today I know that when I step out into the world there is never going to be anyone to catch me if my step falters…does that make me brave? No it just makes me weak….Sigh! Sometimes I wish I could trade the wisdom that I have accumulated over the years for the bliss of not having to know…not having to understand….not having to deal with the multitude mysteries I can now never even attempt to solve......

When i was a little girl....

When I was a little girl….

When In my little frilly frock I’d twirl and twirl

When I’d run about in two little piggy tails….

When I knew nothing about painted nails….

When the  day  revolved around balloons and crayons….

 When I’d never heard of neutrons and neurons

When tying my laces was the biggest trouble in the world

When I didn’t care if my hair was straight or curled….

When all I needed to do was flash my toothed smile…

When I didn’t need a cool “facebook profile”

When cursive writing  would be the hardest thing on earth…

When id never heard of the existence of Wordsworth…

When caramel was a revolution in the world of chocolate…

When pink was all you’d see in my closet….

When candyfloss was the best thing ever….

When fairy tales were “forever”…

When I was a little girl….

When in my little frilly frock I’d twirl and twirl

GOOD MORNING SIR

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday…the clock would point towards the dreaded “8”

As a bunch of frustrated students prepared to greet their depressing fate…

In he would walk,…that constant expression…that crumpled white shirt…

The weird accent and the monotonous tone coupled with what he thought was mirth…

Physics was never anywhere close to my “list of favourite subjects”

All the effects and defects…troubled me like little insects…

The more I tried to go into the fundamentals of electricity…

The more I failed…awfully and miserably….

Not one word that left his mouth ever entered into my ears…

For a whole semester his face was the only reason for my fears…

I would sit quietly on the last bench never quite marking my presence…

And as the class would end ,would shout “SIR…Attendance…”

Every single class, I spent imagining the day the course would end…

No torture to endure and finally no classes to attend…

Out of the blue sometimes…id smile giving an evil look…

As I imagined the sight of me burning my text book….

I was so eager to rush to the last class…

Glad that at last  my troubles were going to pass…

I could finally turn my back to him and give him a cold face

Instead of having to be polite..you know just incase… :P

As the final class ended...my joys knew no bound…

But he looked at the class and constantly frowned…

“It had been a great experience teaching you

I hope you all learnt something new…

“ I shall not be taking any more courses for you…

   But even as we bid adieu…

  I hope that atleast you will greet me when we pass…

 And not just say~

“oh that guy he taught some frigging class”

For the first time I heard something that he said…

Still not sure what went on inside my head…

But what if I never knew the correct answer…

Today  every time I cross him.. I smile and say “good moring sir”….

WOULD HE?

A pair of tiny hands folded into tight fists….

Petite trinklets adorn the little wrists…

Miniscule  feet so pink and curled…

As the sparkling eyes sneak a peek at the world…

A faint yawn escapes from those sweet lil’ lips…

“awwww”~ an aunt spontaneously quips...

The parents look down and gleam with joy…

At their little miracle…their beautiful boy!

Every insignificant move that he makes…

And the way his entire body suddenly quakes..

Everything gets an instant reaction…

Nobody wants to miss any of the action…

His parents stand gazing and smiling…

On the table  the gifts keep piling…

Even as he peacefully sleeps…

Tears of happiness his exhausted mother weeps…

I STAND THERE LOOKING AT THE MARVEL OF LIFE AND WONDER….

Would he remember all this after another 15 years?...

Would he still be the reason for his mother’s tears?..

What when those tiny hands start banging doors??

What when he argues about going biking despite downpours??

Will he then remember the smiles that greeted him into this world?

Or will he be lost in his own dream-world?

Will he remember the looks on their faces as they watched …

Or will the times just make him debauched…

Will he listen to them?

Or will he create utter mayhem??

EVEN AS  I STAND WONDERING….

The baby jolts as a series of hiccups start…

His mommy lifts him up into her arms…pats him and says…

“Its ok…my sweetheart”…..

THE APOLOGY....

The skies bid farewell to the insignia of twilight as Dusk starts to set in…..

The brilliant white moon is soon draped in a mysterious veil that changes its hues from blue to an inexplicable black….

Amidst the grandeur of nature….surrounded by the snow-clad pines and the occasional sounds of insects…they stand….

They stand looking in opposite directions…they stand with their foreheads thrown  into a million folds….

Noses in the air…..eyes not focussing…waiting….waiting for the other to take the lead…

A waft of cold wind blows against her face...leaving her shivering and quivering…

Though she overdoes the “aah” that escapes from her small pink lips..in the hope that the rascal would hear her…

He does not stir….

Shouldn’t he  realise how much she craved the warmth of his arms? why was he being such an idiot? Couldn’t he simply admit he’d made a mistake and apologise?

The wind carries to him her scent…the fragrance he identifies with her…

He desperately wants her to rest her head on his shoulder…that way he can have as much of that lovely aroma as he wanted…hold her delicate hands and keep looking at them….

But for her….

Why did she have to be a jerk? How difficult was it to say those three little words…

              “I Am Sorry”

Well fine,if she wanted to be so obstinate, two could play that game….

Thinking so,he turned to give her another of those disgusting looks he had by now gained expertise over….

When he caught her looking back at him, with a face even more disgusted…

Of course it was meant to offend him…but the way her little nose moved up in that crooked way…and her eyes focussed in on him… it was comical….

She could see he was trying to hide a smile…she hardly found anything funny….yet the sight of him...with that expression. Well it was something…

She tried… tried hard to hold on to her anger…and not get carried away…

But….she’d made that mistake… fell into the trap she always did… she had looked into those eyes…

One look at her, and he knew he couldn’t resist her anymore…this invisible force was pulling him towards her…and for some unfathomable reason…she was moving towards him too…..

….Soon arms locked….the frowns changed to blushing smiles…and like all their fights this one was settled too….

A mild whisper that said…..”I Love You”

                                                               

THE FUSS ON THE BUS!

Having always been accustomed to the comfort and luxury of owning a car,  the idea of using public transport had never really crossed my mind…I mean of course I don’t have my own car when in college,and public transport there is no big deal,but then again dude!!! There has to be some difference in life @ the hostel and life @ home….and ofcourse @Goa and @UP!!!

   However my bubble of placation recently burst when I started using local buses to commute to my PS (practice school/training centre),everday… (The car seemed like an excellent option until the government thought the same about hiking oil prices! :P )

So well. After the initial issues of finding out which bus I had to take,learning to jump out of buses that would refuse to come to a standstill etc... I got used to the usual everyday  humdrum.

   So well this one fine day, glad to have finished a work day I was heading home in one bus no 33…making plans for the many things I had to do when I got home, when a guy in his mid thirties climbed onto the bus…I was too engrossed in my thoughts to notice that it wasn’t a bus stop but just the middle of the road!...however I realised it soon when the driver shouted, “Who the hell do you think you are…stopping the bus in the middle o the road!... and what did u say “Abey bus rok?” (srry but it wouldn’t have the same effect If I put that in English :P )…I have a respectable job and I do not deserve to be spoken to like that! To this the gentleman (if he deserves to be called so) said, “Oh don’t you shout on me, I had been asking for a lift for a considerable amount of time… what else am I to say if you refuse to stop!”…The driver goes “  ………” (abusive words that I cannot write :P )… Soon we had the passengers parting ways into three categories the ones For the driver, the ones For the thirties guy(lets call him that) and the diplomatic ones.... (mainly the bored aunties and old uncles and me ….who just wanted the two insane men to shut up!)… As soon as one party zipped up, the other would throw a mini verbal bomb, the kinds that you know the massive ego of all Indian men cannot let pass away without reciprocating in their own sweet little way…(read : more abuse)…

    So well our bus driver here was so infuriated that he almost ran into a tempo! And on top of that instead of apologising started abusing the tempo driver… Do I need to say what happened next?? Like I mentioned before the events that followed were another result of male ego… and the musical sounds of the typical UP  hindi abuses greeted my delicate ears…Soon random people on the road joined in on the fight.Wonder why it is necessary for people here in India to take sides on every matter! Meanwhile my worried mother started calling my cellphone… (And I realised that even under such circumstances guys will never stop raising their eyebrows to strawberry shortcake or any other particularly girly tone!)…The matter was somehow settled and the bus started. Soon a large group of women came aboard… for lack of space to sit they were all standing (on top of my head) and talking (in the loud monotonous aunty tone). This continues for 15 minutes after which one of them attained enlightenment and moved over to this man sitting across me to tell him he to vacate the “ladies seat”… he did so immediately, and looked at Auntyji for a thank-you, but Auntyji  snapped back saying… “You know it was the ladies seat, I shouldn’t have had to ask you to vacate it!”…The Man shouted back saying , “Did I not get up when you told me to!...what do you mean if a seat is going vacant don’t I have the right to sit on it!” By this time I had started to enjoy this! And was pretty sure it would turn into an article.!! :D

   But Alas my thoughts were broken when the conductor said “Madam your stop!”

     And I jumped off the bus…disappointed that I couldn’t see more of the fight and glad coz the conductor had called me “Madam” (owing to denims and a tshirt) as opposed to “Behen-ji”(the word that he had used for another girl my age who had just gotten off in a salwar kameez) :D :D :D

       My day was made!