Distance

Stretched. Wide between
The lives
That moved, endlessly
To the beat of the insistent
Drums of ambition and
What was expected.
Soon, the cracks
Became chasms
Into which moments
Fell, unattended
And words tumbled,
Never said, or half said.
It was all calm, like a
Dead sea
On a still, airless day
With no wind or a wave
To ruffle surfaces.

The drums beat on
And the chasm
Widened
Hungrily.

A visit to a home on a Saturday in May

The ‘home’ seems a little run-down from the outside. When you walk in, pushing aside a big iron gate, the first things you see are a lawn that leaves the impression of uncut grass and a fat soft toy of a panda that I first thought was a dog on a bench in front of the house. I find out later that the house belonged to a once-famous actress, Ruby De Mel, who started this place with 10 children with special needs. Later research tells me that this is her home, and that she had a role in the Indiana Jones movie that was filmed in Sri Lanka.

We walk in and are greeted with familiarity and warmth by a young girl who ushers us in – one of us is a regular donor and from the area. We walk into the verandah to the curious stares of three girls – women – on the left, in various poses on the terra-cotta floor. Two are sitting, one is on all fours. All three stare unblinkingly and somewhat unsurely at us.

Inside, the house is spacious, built with the corridors and middle courtyard so familiar in old Sri Lankan houses. The feeling of being run-down prevails, but in a clean, hygienic and slightly familiar way. It’s how you would see any old house that hasn't seen renovations in a long time but is full of people who love it and keep it habitable.

We are ushered in to the eating area. I get the impression of children, adults, in-betweens of varying types. I try to zoom in on their disorder with my psychology-student insight; doesn't appear to have Down’s, but yes, I was told that this is a home for people with Autism. I try to spot the characteristics we learned about – the love of order, the dislike for maintaining eye contact. I do not find it, or I am too afraid to look properly.

We are asked to serve, and this is nice. It feels like you’re really a part of the giving process. Rice, a big aluminium dish of dhal, potatoes with chili, chicken, fish, and salad. A young girl who is a helper serves out the rice, but we dish out the curries onto plates that are plastic or aluminium and have numbers and faded letters on them, written in permanent black marker.

Once done, the helpers call the girls and women in, and they stream in, not unruly but now uncaring of the company. We hover by the door and a stout lady in a Kandyan sari asks us to come closer. She asks what the ‘occasion’ is. It is an anniversary – five years of ups and downs together. We hedge a little; the absence of marriage makes this kind of joint donation a little tricky by societal standards. We stick to just our names. The woman nods understandingly and begins.

It’s very similar to many I’ve heard before. Ayubowan! We are here today because these wonderful people have donated our lunch for us. So, to thank them, we wish and hope for them happiness and health always. She pauses to mangle my name a little and looks over at us. We look somber, I think, to suit the situation. She goes on. We wish them success in everything they do. The girls and women stand with their hands folded, possibly unaware of what is being said, mostly likely only registering hunger.

For the first time, I am just impaled by the irony of the situation. Here they stand, some 20 women of varying age, with mental disorders that will never allow them a full societal life. They will be happy in this home, they are well taken care of, but they will not know real health, ever. They will never know ‘success’, personal fulfillment, the whirlwind romance of youth, doing work you love, being a woman and enjoying what that means in this day. There they are wishing us happiness because we donated Rs. 2,000 each for their lunch. The bronze highlights in my hair cost me more than twice that amount. And they are wishing us – happy, healthy, fit, in love and with the world and our life together stretching in front of us with endless, frightening, glorious possibilities.

The woman mentions our names again, and I look down, feeling depressed. People often talk of feeling “so depressed” after coming to ’homes’. I often get angry at these people for their superficial charity and their fleeting emotions towards people who have a million more reasons to be ‘so depressed’. But, I am depressed at all of this – at me, at them, and at the world and how life works in general. The woman finishes, and the children and women give a rousing “thank you!” (I think that was it, I don’t remember) and immediately turn to their food, quite happy with life.

The happiness space

"You need to be happy with yourself to be happy with other people", a smart and wonderful person said today. This was amid a relatively philosophical discussion, and it stopped me in my ruminative tracks, as it were. Happy with yourself. I have always been happy with myself, at least, for as long as I remember -- those days, when I was asked if I was content, I would immediately say yes, much to everyone else's surprise. Not many people seemed happy with their lot in Life.

To say that has changed seems to signal a shift in the planes of my existence. Perhaps this discontent signifies that we have started challenging ourselves unnecessarily, creating discontent. Or that we have become older, with more responsibilities and more reasons to realise how much life sucks, and how unfair this whole damn thing is to all but a lucky few.

But mostly I think it's because we rob ourselves of our simplicity -- we pack on other things. We strap on expectations of others, societal norms, "personal improvement", work "goals", career "aspirations", and we lose sight of important things, like our inner peace. And the ability to have a quiet moment.

And worse, we make lacklustre decisions that we are verree likely to regret later. They are not bad or foolish decisions, just awfully boring, seemingly "necessary" ones. These often leave us muddling through to "finish up", even if we just want to say screw it, I'm not doing this crap.

But to give our sad selves some credit, it seems that as we grow older, the world around us, the way our attachments change in their own spheres, the awareness of aging and the terrible bloody banality of have-to-do-no social engagements (peppered with inane questions and ridiculous small-talk) slowly attack our IP. Or perhaps it is our lack of IP that causes us to be that affected by this agglomerated melancholy.

I suppose the bottom line is that we have to build our own happiness. I feel lists might help, and organization. Smiling at yourself and telling yourself that no, you are prettier than them, and that no, you started this, now you'll finish it. It means beating down the negative sentiments that dog us about our incompetence, unacceptability, unloveability, undesirability, etc. And I really think it entails a whole lot of not taking yourself too seriously, and not taking all but a very few very seriously.

 It's a bit of an effort, but if we can achieve (or re-achieve) that happiness with who we are, mad flaws and all, we might find that our reactions to those nasty little curve balls Life seems to throw at us are better, more positive, and definitely simpler. We might find that we no longer walk around with bright smile and a slightly cloudy heart (note the clever weather analogy).

If you still can't find that happinness, though, looks like the helpful folk at freaking wikipedia are willing to lend a happy hand:

http://www.wikihow.com/Be-Happy-Being-Yourself

Move over, all existential philosophers who ever wrote tomes on how to be happy with oneself. Wikhow will put all you fellows to shame.

Here’s to them

Of the long talks and the longer walks,

The gut-busting laughs and nasty on-dits,

The jokes that only they understood.

Here’s to love, the sort that surely must

Have engendered envy; the sort that

Sometimes is surprising is even allowed.

Here’s to happiness, sorrow, anger, lust;

Extremes, always, hardly tempered,

Hardly neutral.

Here’s to what was – here’s to what seemed

Eternal.

Here’s to the good times, the bad times, even the worst of times,

But always times,

Always tangible, like live wires, like electricity;

Never dull, never placid

Or painstakingly normal.

They're confused

They want to know why I prefer
To read
And miss the dazzling fleshy
Make-up pretty men and women
In orchestrated beauty
Onscreen
In CGI! With tigers and
Soundtracks and action and
Noise and vivid sex and
Blood-red blood and made-up
Glory.

But in my pages, the browned
Worn, ratty pages, my people
Live.
They breathe -- the dwarves and
leather-clad sex gods. They mimic
The voices inside my head.
The prancing young girl
Grows
In my mind's eye
To dazzling young woman, to mother,
To crone.
The men -- they're mine, they're created
But I give life
like God!
I draw breath from my being and
In my pages
They live.

And nobody else see them
Like me.
They know them, but my people
They're difference from other people's people.
My places are the same, but different.
My moats are bigger
My meadow is a different green and my busy sidewalk
Has different faces, holding coffee cups,
Striding busily.

So my pages, my worn, ratty
Thumbed-through volumes, my dusty
Shelves of Annes and Aidans and
Janes and Darcy and Lalithas and
Ford and the Millenn
ium Falcon, they live.
They live and so I live to live
With them.

And everybody else remains
Confused :)

History

Isn't just mad monarchs and their fallen kingdoms,

Conspiracies, lies, long-lost love and monuments past;

It’s lakes – and people giggling on their banks.

It’s the sea – and fireworks on the beach

On New Year’s eve.

It’s the sunset – and watching, rapt.

It’s the supermarket around the corner – and swapping credit cards

When the balance runs out.

It’s the scraggly mutt on the road – and taking it to the vet together.

It’s the roadside biryani spot – and a hurriedly-grabbed lunch

Before heading back to work.

It’s looking at a pillar, a pillow,

A tree-top or a tee-shirt and

Feeling a rush of memories

Of things past, but not forgotten.

What makes an year

An year is made of

• Change, above and beyond everything else. Seeing it, gritting your teeth against and finally accepting it for the inevitable fact of life it is.
• Decisions, no matter how big. The ones over which you ruminateand spend sleepless nights thinking about, or the ones which happen in the blink of an eye, leaving you with a "holy shit I did it!" kind of feeling. The ones which, no matter what the outcome, are always the right ones. The ones which lead you to now, this moment.
• Love, third but never last on the list. Big love for small children. Affectionate love for the goofy pet. Troubled, oft-tired sibling love. Surprising surges of love for parents, during those moments of realization of how much they do for you. Sweet, constant love for friends. Mad, passionate love for the other half your divided soul. Sweet, comfortable "let's do this for a hell of a long time more" love for the same.
• Friendships, old and new. Surprising discoveries about both.
• Happiness, from simples joys and big achievments.
• Sorrow, from inner realizations or senseless outside violence.
• Anger, at wrongdoings, mostly to others. At helplessness, mostly your own. 
• Family, constant. 
• God, and the untenable link he has over everything we do, unfortunately. Sigh.
• Nature, beautiful, the sea, the beaches, yellow flowers in the garden and blue, blue skies. Sunshine. Waves. Lights over a lake at night.
• Work, hopefull something you like. If you're lucky, something you suddenly discover you like.
• Booze, in high-to-moderate levels.
• Realizations, preferably about yourself, generally not too complimentary, but usually very revealing.
• Art, in any form.
• Books, in every form. From vampires to Jamaican plantation slaves. Never discrimate!
• Food...healthy, unhealthy, the whole lot. 
• People, strange acquaintances, those you never want to see again, hesitant friends, instant dislikes, confusion, struggle, always very interesting.
• And contentment, hopefully, that this year's been OK. 
• And hope, that there will always, always be something to hope for.
• And a quiet sense of achievement, because you've come through 365 days of your life again, unscathed (almost).

Good new year's :)

A little something on Love

I write a lot on Love :) Most of these rants are induced by some form of heart pain/break, and are usually long and melodramatic affairs consisting of how the right person can harm you beyond all repair. They're very complicated. Sometimes though, in quieter moments, I sit and wonder what life would be without the needle pricks of love -- without the sunsets and the laughter and that inexplicable feeling that poets rave about and 80s rockers keep wailing about. Without love, we'd be fine. We'd be happy, self-strong and confident human beings, sure of our place in the world. Without the doubts and fears Love brings, we'd be good. But we would miss out some of the finest feeling humanity has to offer and the soul can experience.

Never forget, poets and 80s rockers are always right :)

The kiss

Ended too soon
Filtered across fevered
Lips,
And landed on
A quivering heart.

People

Contrary to popular belief, there are a few people I don't like! I go through life trying to keep and open mind, but there are a few, treasured human beings who REALLY challenge my attempts to give them a fair chance in life.

However, considering them, I feel bad. Pity may be an overly magnanimous emotion but, you have to feel something for people who don't have people. Because they are out there. They don't have friends, because they can't. Because they can't open up to difference, because they can't embrace the fact that people can be strange, but still good. Because they lack that essential ability to love someone other than yourself.

How much they miss out on.

Because they achieve; great things, even. They "succeed" in life, out-classing, out-running, striving for "perfection" (which to me will always be bloody elusive as hell), improving always, seeking the perfect degree, the perfect job. But they never...bond. Or they bond, with "the agenda", that all-purpose manifesto of requirements that an individual must have to qualify to be part of the circle. '

I have been thinking, on the brink as I am of a Big Step, about people, friends and achievement, the dreaded "What do I do with life?"-type internal monologues.
 Come to a few hazy conclusions, I have; primary among which is that being happy is very, very important. Being positive towards people is important. Not holding grudges helps a lot in life. Looking for the best in people aids in reducing manic anger-related episodes. Hatred should be, well, dropped. And you should do the best for yourself, remembering always that there are people around you for a reason, to live with, to help, to share a joke or a drink or a joint or a kiss or a hug or a smile. It's not about being a peachy, peace-loving hippie, it's about being able to talk to that hippie and be a friend to him.

Because in the end, success is necessary, money is essential and Life is serious, but if you can't find love and friendship among the 7 billion people who share your life-space, you really must question yourself about whether you have lived at all.

Waiting

Single mindedly,
Unerringly
Waiting
Unable to move
Or do anything remotely productive
Vibrating inside like a string on an instrument
When the screws are tightened
And the pick, or the bow
Or whatever
Hasn't been place to make sweet music
Yet!
Single knee
Pumping endlessly
Impatiently
Heartbeat galloping steadily
But surely, skipping here and there
Stuttering when the possibility
Of final consummation of expectation
Arrives.

Waiting.
Impatiently! 

Comfort...and other things :)

I started writing about comfort a while back, but had to stop; because there were things to do, and people who "needed me" and important stuff like work, and money to be minted. I wasn't really comfortable, but I think that at that point, I wanted to explore the concept of what it means to be comfortable, with self and others. Because I had recently had, unsurprisingly, a revelation!

Now, there's been rain outside and it's a Sunday, and the only pressing things in life are the cooking baking in the oven and the 8pm appointment for a hair cut, for my sister. I feel comfortable, at ease with myself. Which has increasingly become a very rare occurrence, in the past few months. Sometime I seek these moments SO MUCH that it in itself becomes a damned discomfort, like trying to "find yourself" or "discover you"(epic fails on both counts) :)

However, as I am comfortable now, I'd like to say for the record that to find even a few people with whom one can be completely at ease, is a real gift. Family, yes, always, thank God. Good friends, if you're lucky. Room-mates, I have found, by sheer necessity...and sometimes they even like you for it! Ha. Yourself, whoopie if you find it, I'm still on that quest.

But others, other. One more person. Who you don't feel like pretending with, trying too hard for, being mature for, that now that, comes only if you're rather blessed, I think.

CowardiceCowardice

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibWYROwadYs


Seems like cowardice in its finest form always comes to light through relationships,  of any variety.

Even the bravest man/woman is afraid to love completely and to let go completely.

 To love completely is dangerous-it opens up pores and dust pours through, leaving you prone to infection of the heart and invasion of germs that may one day go away, leaving you curiously empty and hollow, not even half the person you were before.
It make you asks Million Rupee Questions about if you're good enough for a superior human being and if you have anything that sets you apart from humanity's shop of Choice.
It basically, makes you a dart board, facing a being holding darts you handed over to them with stars in your eyes and hopes swallowing your little romantic heart.

That's creepy on a whole new scale.

To let go now, on the other hand, means you have to relinquish rewards, side-benefits, security, known things, familiarity, companionship.It means you have to actually make an effort with beings again. Oh no. What a lot of effort.

So we try and salvage what we have in a desperate effort to maintain normalcy as we know it, while also trying to save ourselves from the abyss of too-close relations which we are oh so prone to.

I realise that this is a rant, but I believe, firmly, that there are times when such are required and accepted as unavoidable.

Oh sublime!

Thanks to a generous gift from the Love of My Life, encountered first ever full body massage today. And oh, it was sublime!

Pampered in to a willing ball of nothingness at the hands of Olina, a cheerful, very young, Thai masseuse at possibly the swankiest (and ahem, only) spa I have visited, the single thought I had the will power to hold on to was that she could kill me if she wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to budge an inch to prevent it. She pummeled and she pulled, she rubbed and soothed, she pushed and shoved and soothed some more. And all of this mind you, within a dim-lit room of exquisite, simple elegance, soft music and accentuated withe comfortingly hot Sesame oil. Ah...


Stepped out the spa of it with another self-righteous opinion dashed to the ground-I no longer hold in contempt those rich bitches who do this more than occasionally. Of course they do this instead of busting the k on helping orphaned children. If I had the money, I would do this more than occasionally. I would alternate between the 3 choices you get to choose from as the aroma that distills in to your nostrils from under your face. I would choose the Ayurvedic spa one week, the Javanese the next and maybe try the Yoga spa. I would eagerly ask for the post-treatment Tamarind juice and choose Olina as my therapist of choice. I would even shed my clothing with a little less reserve, over time of course!

Of course, I would like to think that I would also spend some time on the orphans. I would be a nice, rich bitch.

But oh, sublime. Simply, sublime :)

The Grateful Alive

I wonder if it's general maturity or hearing others' woes that makes one realize what one should be grateful for.
Maybe it's a combination.

I know I'm grateful that I have love in my life, and I don't mean the platonic or filial variety. I mean the angry, biting, desperate, grieving, ecstatic, dizzying type.

I know I'm grateful for having parents who don't hover. Like space ships or mother hens over their chicks, asking if they're done eating, wondering why they're still not home, touching, stroking, placating. GAAAAAAH!!

I'm grateful for having opportunities. To eat, to learn, to read, to blog when the mood strikes :)

I'm grateful for the time I have in life; the time I create without the pressures of whens and when it's dones and once that's overs.

I'm grateful for whatever friends I have made, and will keep, in any realm of life-school, college, work. I' thankful for my lifelines- FB, Skype, mobile.

I'm grateful, I realize, more that anything else, for being able to be grateful for these things. For being able to rejoice in them instead of seeking out all the negative things in life, circling them in Red and marking them "THIS IS WHY MY LIFE SUCKS."

I'm pretty sure that when the next wave of contentment with life strikes, this post will have an extension. Till then, we must all brace ourselves for the inevitable depression. It's life. It imitates any natural cycle.

The trouble with love

The trouble with it, is that it whether at its best or worst, it tends to overcome you, to the extent that you lose sight of yourself. Your whole vista of thought and perspective fills up with one person, one idea and *bang* you've lost them: ideals, goals, self-motivational-guru-type quotes by Successful People, even, possibly your very carefully preserved mental restraint. Suddenly you're willing to imagine anything, fancy anything, hope for anything that will enhance that sweeping feeling, or just, make it all go away.

At times like this, one of my favourite quotes from possibly my favourite novel springs at me from nowhere, invariably, like a prayer;
" He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for his creature, of whom I had made an idol"
-Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte-

Dangerous at the best of times.

Bus chronicles

Since,
a. I have a driver's license which I don' t use
b. Tuk-tuks drivers are exorbitant
I travel around Colombo during the day by bus, private not so private.
There are the the obvious disadvantages like men who are over-observant when it comes to any exposed female leg and smelly, sweaty armpits which have never know deodorant or hair-remover...but THEN there is also the fascinating cross-section of society which one gets to observe. Mu.ha.ha.
Like that day, I was in a 177 at the back where there was room. Next to me on the left was an enormous guy, asleep and softly snoring, no doubt dreaming of rice and his wife's yummy chicken curry, with his Nokia phone on his gently undulating, well-fed tummy.

On the RIGHT was this other large dude. The first thing that attracted my attention to him was the fact that this joker was in a green and white checked shirt and an orange cap. My fashion-conschious friend Ni would have died a slow. painful death.

Next to him, sort of enveloped by his girth was the Girlfriend, whose face I never got to see!
Checked-Shirt Guy had one of his arms entangled in both of hers and was breathing very heavily. I could swear I tried not to look, but then I'd lie!
The arm on my side was large and hairy and was often engaged in turning the girl's face towards him what was probably a very sloppy kiss, judging by the soubnds emenating from that quarter! These kisses were punctuated by about 5 minute breaks...and several heavy, sternorous breaths. And sweet murmurings of course!!

I just sat there next to them, smirking, knowing I'm a superior bitch but lovin' it anyway!

Phew!

phew! finally on the Blogsphere or whatever the heck it's called. I think I'll dedicate my inaugural post to a number of things. Here goes:

a. new friends.New ideas. New ways to realise what the ef is wrong with you.very supportive.pushes you when required. death threats are delivered and company is offered when you gotta eat lunch alone.

b.love. QUITE complicated BUT life wouldn't be half as fun without it and *heavy corn alert* it does something to you.Quite against your will.

c.Chicken burgers.yummy!

d.Technology. Thank you Thank you GOD for the Internet.

e.Bad jokes. " I'm going to the Loo, coming?".

"No, you go pass Urine, I'll pass". HA HA HA!!

whaa-at?!!!!!!

f. Old friends.They know you and they still wanna hang out with you. AND they're willing to help you drag yourself out of whatever muddle you've landed yourself in.if that isn't a miracle...

g. God. yes I know he's there. I don't know about the eternal kingdom or about the fires of damnation but he's there alright. And right now he's giving me the fish eye.

h.Blueberry Philadelphia Cream Cheesecake. I haven't had thee in along time but Oh! how I miss thee!!