I must say, I did turn heads at work today. But seriously, who comes to work wearing an emerald and fuchsia low-necked dress that sticks to your body, accentuating curves one never thought existed? Okay, many of the girls around here do. But with me it’s different. I have a petite frame and a decent figure but I’m not tall and that’s where I find it hard to be sexy. I was always known as the cute girl in school, never model material, pretty but not beautiful.
‘Damn Lila, if I was a man, I would take you home right now!’ said Tammy as I sat at my desk that adjoined hers. She dramatically threw her head to the right and pouted her candy pink lips with one hand on the hips.
‘It’s 9 in the morning and I haven’t even had my second cup of tea yet.’ I said smiling to no end. Oh, how I was loving all the complements and ogling eyes. Just then I saw Collin walk into the department, concentrating on some papers, still walking. He could have tripped on anything at anytime but by now I figured out he managed just fine given he did it all the time. In fact, anyone would think he had eyes through whatever he held in his hand while walking.
‘Oh my gosh, he’s walking towards our desks!’ Tammy exclaimed, all too loudly, I was hoping it was out of Collin’s ear-shot. ‘I’m sure he will flip when he sees you, pout girl, wear a pout!’
Staring ahead, I smiled and kicked Tammy from the side of the desk. My heart started beating wildly; I thought I would go deaf from the sound of my drumming heartbeat. What will he say to me, how will I respond? Will he complement me or will his jaw drop with amazement?
He finally got to my desk and my heart must have skipped a beat. He looked up from his papers, handed them to me along with a CD, to put together the first draft of the big upcoming event presentation. He thanked me for my assistance with the Delver Bank’s column I had worked on the other day and, ‘big day for you is it?’ With that he was off to take care of more important things, take for example, his business.
So what if I was unable to turn his head. I had the whole day ahead of me and I was sure he would pay me all his complements once I finally told him of my feelings.
After lunch hour, and I hadn’t eaten anything due to jitters, I walked over to Collin Fisher’s office to finally disclose my two year secret. I straightened imaginary creases on the dress and asked Sheila, Collin’s boring secretary, if I could meet with Collin.
‘Hello Lila, how is the presentation coming along?’ Collin asked as soon as the door was shut behind us. He ushered me to take a seat.
‘Sweet, I mean good,’ I fumbled, lodging myself gawkily into the massive red leather sofa in front of the office window.
There was an awkward silence between us which was abruptly broken by Collin, ‘How can I help you?’ He had an issue with people who wasted his time; that and a lot of other things about him made him out to be a stuck-up individual. But I liked his astute ways and his perfectionism; it’s what set him apart.
‘I wanted to have a word with you, if you have some time to spare.’ Oops wrong words, no time to spare obviously! I quickly went on, ‘Collin, do you think we can ever be friends?’
‘Thought we were,’ he added a fake laugh towards the end, trying to understand what I was on about.
‘Okay, it’s a little more complicated than that,’ I tried to buy time with words, I don’t know why I couldn’t get straight to the point and my knees were doing the Elvis. ‘It’s been two years now and…’ oh shit, my mobile started ringing a loud tone of ‘it’s raining men’. I distractedly looked at my phone, I was aware Collin was getting impatient, guess he wasn’t used to handling employees’ personal issues, guess that’s why a human resource department was essential. What was I expecting anyway? We never spoke of anything else but work so I could hardly expect him to empathize with anything personal I had to say.
‘It’s my mother.’ I voiced out unintentionally. I don’t know why I didn’t press the silent button and move on to why I was present in Collin’s office dressed like a bimbo. Don’t get me wrong, I looked good and maybe even sexy but at work? I answered Mama Joyti’s phone, ‘Hello ma…no maa...I was busy all day, I wanted to call…ma I’m in the midst of something, will call you later…who is coming to London?’
I continued to listen to Mama Joyti and she on the other end continued to chat on about Sneha Devi’s second daughter making a trip to London and that I must be the one to show her around. That she has been in Bombay all her life and the poor girl needs to get away from it all. In honesty, I wanted to go on with the conversation just so I could have some more time before I told Collin of my feelings for him. I think, deep down, I was afraid of being rejected by him. I would have probably kept speaking to Mama Joyti if it wasn’t for tall and sexy Seville Pierre who walked in to the office and stole all of Collin’s attention. I cut the phone on Mama Joyti.
There are times of embarrassment but there are others of worse embarrassment. Having to answer Mama Joyti’s call in the midst of a conversation with my boss, in my boss’s office, driving him incredibly impatient is embarrassing and I felt it. Having to tell the boss that I fancied him and then finding out that he and Seville were engaged to be married is worse embarrassing. Thank God I was saved from feeling.
Seville and Collin to marry? Watch this space to find out what happens next...
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tales of Lila Goldsmith - Page 1
I cannot tell you how relieved I am. Well, very much so. I was about to make a ridiculous fool of myself but by God’s grace; and it could only be by that; I escaped what would have been an absolute cracker. I got back to my chair, chest heaving from the thought of near blunder, beads of sweat now cooling under the air-con. The tiny hairs on my dark skin stood shocked at what I had just heard and then I decided to breathe.
I’m Lila Goldsmith and I work as an assistant editor at a magazine house, Dune that is famous in all of South London for its Desi monthly issue ‘Hot India’. What is this magazine’s content? What do you think? There are so many Indians in London, I feel right at home.
Will tell you more about myself in a bit. As of now, back to my current situation, palpitation and all. It all started with a little bit of a spark and then a tingle and then my heart exploded. It had been a while since I had felt that way; it’s what happens to women who go too long without a man. I fell for my stuck-up boss, Collin Fisher.
By now my fancy for a gora boss had reached an uncontrollable height but what does one do when the feeling is not mutual? Wait till it is and in the meantime watch sexier women endlessly flirt with the oh-so-sexy boss or move one’s ass and make one’s own moves.
For two years I chose to wait till Collin Fisher saw in me an angel, a woman he could love, wine and dine. I ask myself today, why I couldn’t have been like other women who were a lot more outspoken and on the ball. I am especially referring to Seville Pierre in the Marketing and PR Department. French, tall and a sweet-talker, flirts with the boss all the time. All she has to do is breathe and the boss is on her side, giving her his undivided attention.
‘Two years and here is where it ends!’ I said out loud last evening. I felt confident as I sat in my overly soft corduroy sofa with a cup of tea in hand. No one to threaten me with their tip-top figures, no one to shove their wealth in my face, no one to stage-whisper seductive invitations to the man I had my eyes on. Only a motivating and selfless girlfriend, Tammy by my side.
‘Finally! It’s been two years since you joined Dune and all along I have been hearing you go crazy over a prick of boss that we have. Finally, I see this prick of a boss standing by your side at the altar.’ Tammy said frantically. ‘You telling Collin is a great idea! It was probably my idea for two years straight but it doesn’t matter. What matters now is a sexy dress and 6-inch heels!’ Tammy Bloom is the eccentric sweetheart everyone would want as a friend. I was new at Dune but in a day’s time I felt as though I had been working there for eons.
Jumping off the sofa and barging into my over-flowing closet, Tammy was so very sad to discover that I hadn’t a single sexy outfit that would turn heads. ‘We’re going shopping.’ she said disgusted with the fact that a woman who had no reason to buy sexy clothes had none in her closet.
‘But it’s late and don’t be silly, I’ll figure something out,’ I insisted. I detested having to get out of the house once I had landed on my sofa in pajamas.
‘We have one hour till the shops close!’ and there I was being yanked off my comfort, away into a cab, dragged into Miss Selfridge’s to own an oh-so-sexy dress for my oh-so-sexy boss.
Watch this space for more on Lila Goldsmith
I’m Lila Goldsmith and I work as an assistant editor at a magazine house, Dune that is famous in all of South London for its Desi monthly issue ‘Hot India’. What is this magazine’s content? What do you think? There are so many Indians in London, I feel right at home.
Will tell you more about myself in a bit. As of now, back to my current situation, palpitation and all. It all started with a little bit of a spark and then a tingle and then my heart exploded. It had been a while since I had felt that way; it’s what happens to women who go too long without a man. I fell for my stuck-up boss, Collin Fisher.
By now my fancy for a gora boss had reached an uncontrollable height but what does one do when the feeling is not mutual? Wait till it is and in the meantime watch sexier women endlessly flirt with the oh-so-sexy boss or move one’s ass and make one’s own moves.
For two years I chose to wait till Collin Fisher saw in me an angel, a woman he could love, wine and dine. I ask myself today, why I couldn’t have been like other women who were a lot more outspoken and on the ball. I am especially referring to Seville Pierre in the Marketing and PR Department. French, tall and a sweet-talker, flirts with the boss all the time. All she has to do is breathe and the boss is on her side, giving her his undivided attention.
‘Two years and here is where it ends!’ I said out loud last evening. I felt confident as I sat in my overly soft corduroy sofa with a cup of tea in hand. No one to threaten me with their tip-top figures, no one to shove their wealth in my face, no one to stage-whisper seductive invitations to the man I had my eyes on. Only a motivating and selfless girlfriend, Tammy by my side.
‘Finally! It’s been two years since you joined Dune and all along I have been hearing you go crazy over a prick of boss that we have. Finally, I see this prick of a boss standing by your side at the altar.’ Tammy said frantically. ‘You telling Collin is a great idea! It was probably my idea for two years straight but it doesn’t matter. What matters now is a sexy dress and 6-inch heels!’ Tammy Bloom is the eccentric sweetheart everyone would want as a friend. I was new at Dune but in a day’s time I felt as though I had been working there for eons.
Jumping off the sofa and barging into my over-flowing closet, Tammy was so very sad to discover that I hadn’t a single sexy outfit that would turn heads. ‘We’re going shopping.’ she said disgusted with the fact that a woman who had no reason to buy sexy clothes had none in her closet.
‘But it’s late and don’t be silly, I’ll figure something out,’ I insisted. I detested having to get out of the house once I had landed on my sofa in pajamas.
‘We have one hour till the shops close!’ and there I was being yanked off my comfort, away into a cab, dragged into Miss Selfridge’s to own an oh-so-sexy dress for my oh-so-sexy boss.
Watch this space for more on Lila Goldsmith
With all my love and care - Page 3
Maintain the essence of love for it is a feeling that can never be lost, however much we may unconsciously suppress it over time. Isn’t that what we do? Somehow, the first few months of courtship are ones that will always linger on the minds of many. As time goes on, it is either a matter of getting too relaxed into the relationship regime or a matter of getting bored and wanting fresh answers. Ultimately, the essence of love fades away, taking with it all the beauty that is shared between two people. Busy people in this now busy world, pay less attention and start taking for granted a way of life.
Surely, love is not temporary and could not have flown away over time. It is a matter of rekindling the feeling that once was; a hard task with someone you now feel too accustomed to. Excuses of being too old for romance and such bollocks fill the air and one’s mind. And if you step back to take a good look at how you played your cards at that moment, you will realize that you just accepted like a silly fool that after a point in time, it is natural for all the initial fancies in love to die down. It is only your accepting nature that after years, love is no longer a honeymoon.
Why make amends when all one has to do is maintain the essence of love? Why stop sending flowers with little love notes to the pretty girl who now stands beside you as your wife? Why hire a cook after marrying the man who you used to impress with your certainly impressive dishes? Why, over the years, did you stop complimenting your wife on cooking up a hearty meal? Why stop snuggling over hot cocoa now that the kids are watching?
These are the little embellishments that could last a lifetime if one lets them. Instead of letting new responsibilities push out from your lives the reason’s you fell in love, fight back and make time to garnish each day with a little bit of heartiness.
At the end of the day it is for each one of us to realize that we did not love someone for the time-being. We held a person’s hand, not to eventually let go of it and allow the person to fall. And it is for each one of us to realize that loving someone means entering into a world where ‘you’ aren’t the most important person. The person you love is.
Surely, love is not temporary and could not have flown away over time. It is a matter of rekindling the feeling that once was; a hard task with someone you now feel too accustomed to. Excuses of being too old for romance and such bollocks fill the air and one’s mind. And if you step back to take a good look at how you played your cards at that moment, you will realize that you just accepted like a silly fool that after a point in time, it is natural for all the initial fancies in love to die down. It is only your accepting nature that after years, love is no longer a honeymoon.
Why make amends when all one has to do is maintain the essence of love? Why stop sending flowers with little love notes to the pretty girl who now stands beside you as your wife? Why hire a cook after marrying the man who you used to impress with your certainly impressive dishes? Why, over the years, did you stop complimenting your wife on cooking up a hearty meal? Why stop snuggling over hot cocoa now that the kids are watching?
These are the little embellishments that could last a lifetime if one lets them. Instead of letting new responsibilities push out from your lives the reason’s you fell in love, fight back and make time to garnish each day with a little bit of heartiness.
At the end of the day it is for each one of us to realize that we did not love someone for the time-being. We held a person’s hand, not to eventually let go of it and allow the person to fall. And it is for each one of us to realize that loving someone means entering into a world where ‘you’ aren’t the most important person. The person you love is.
With all my love and care - Page 2
The last time I checked, love between two people was that heart-warming sensation that had no boundaries. Though, as we further into the twenty-first century, with people becoming more and more busy striving for life, the romance and celebration that not too long ago had a great standing, now seems to be getting all the more occasional.
Let’s take for example the 14th of February. It sure gives me a chilly feeling of marketeers ramming at our hearts for a share of our February salaries. It’s when the posters go up on walls and full pagers in the newspapers display pretty pictures of gifts and gems and couples by candle-light dinners. It’s when the radio stations pull out their golden oldies with grave intentions of spreading the love with all the mush and blush they have to offer.
And here we are falling for this baloney - we buy the heart shaped pendants for we feel that may display our measure of affection. Have we forgotten how to love? Whatever happened to the fluttering eyes of adoration and hearts that skipped a beat? Nowadays, it is an occasion that brings out the best in people; an occasion to dance, an occasion to laugh and off late, an occasion to love.
To all those campaigners who are selling a meal for twice the price it is normally, just so you know, you are not responsible for bringing together matches made in heaven. Toying with the bulky wallet that sits in a poor man’s back-pocket - wonder how you make love to ‘your’ wife!
St. Valentine, while in prison, sent the first Valentine greeting to his beloved - a letter on which he signed ‘From Your Valentine’. Keeping to his heroic and romantic ways, it seems that people have benefited well over the years. According to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated one billion Valentine cards are sent each year, making Valentine's Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year, the first being Christmas.
The problem is; a card isn’t where it ends. It has almost become as if love is ‘a couple of hours’ dressed and blessed with champagne, gift wrapped on one day of the year and kept in a casing for the rest of it.
I commemorate those who walk through the 14th of February with a kiss and a hug; just as they would on any other day. For, as Frank Sinatra aptly worded, ‘A simple I love you means more than money…’
Let’s take for example the 14th of February. It sure gives me a chilly feeling of marketeers ramming at our hearts for a share of our February salaries. It’s when the posters go up on walls and full pagers in the newspapers display pretty pictures of gifts and gems and couples by candle-light dinners. It’s when the radio stations pull out their golden oldies with grave intentions of spreading the love with all the mush and blush they have to offer.
And here we are falling for this baloney - we buy the heart shaped pendants for we feel that may display our measure of affection. Have we forgotten how to love? Whatever happened to the fluttering eyes of adoration and hearts that skipped a beat? Nowadays, it is an occasion that brings out the best in people; an occasion to dance, an occasion to laugh and off late, an occasion to love.
To all those campaigners who are selling a meal for twice the price it is normally, just so you know, you are not responsible for bringing together matches made in heaven. Toying with the bulky wallet that sits in a poor man’s back-pocket - wonder how you make love to ‘your’ wife!
St. Valentine, while in prison, sent the first Valentine greeting to his beloved - a letter on which he signed ‘From Your Valentine’. Keeping to his heroic and romantic ways, it seems that people have benefited well over the years. According to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated one billion Valentine cards are sent each year, making Valentine's Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year, the first being Christmas.
The problem is; a card isn’t where it ends. It has almost become as if love is ‘a couple of hours’ dressed and blessed with champagne, gift wrapped on one day of the year and kept in a casing for the rest of it.
I commemorate those who walk through the 14th of February with a kiss and a hug; just as they would on any other day. For, as Frank Sinatra aptly worded, ‘A simple I love you means more than money…’
With all my love and care - Page 1
It all started with the new light born to the face of the world. The twinkle in its eyes is as innocent as if it were a pure presentation of an angel. It truly is a bundle of joy and fills each and every life with smiles and grace. How pleasant to see the infant cry tears of crystal enchantment; its voice is melody and music furnishes the spaces in our hearts. A baby is born.
It is such that a newly born baby is the meaning of innocence. And just as everything in this world is well-planned and well thought of, the baby was granted the peak of innocence with the determination that the infant’s soul would start afresh. Though an innocent infant, stationed within its soul is the quality of love for the very reason that one may be able to learn love in its purest form. Lord gifted the baby the idea of love from the beginning itself.
A baby would never forget its mother’s touch and even in its growing years would crave for her warmth. In fact, it flourishes on her lap and in turn teaches her how to love. Sweet bond, holy bond. The Lord made such beauty as that of a child and gave it yet another beauty, its mother.
She is the new flower with petals so pink, her cheeks like raspberry buds and the rosy hue to her baby lips chuckle charmingly to her old man’s jokes.
There are stars in her eyes as they glisten with tears; baby tears tasting sweet. She is brilliantly soft with a pussy-cat nose and pussy-cat hands and feet. Her voice is like little trinkets that’d make happy the room and her spongy, pink bottom will always be too much to fathom!
For her parents, she will always be that blossoming flower even to the day her cheeks wear the curves of a woman and the rosy hue to her radiant lips would tell her old man his jokes still seemed most fanciful and exciting.
It is such that a newly born baby is the meaning of innocence. And just as everything in this world is well-planned and well thought of, the baby was granted the peak of innocence with the determination that the infant’s soul would start afresh. Though an innocent infant, stationed within its soul is the quality of love for the very reason that one may be able to learn love in its purest form. Lord gifted the baby the idea of love from the beginning itself.
A baby would never forget its mother’s touch and even in its growing years would crave for her warmth. In fact, it flourishes on her lap and in turn teaches her how to love. Sweet bond, holy bond. The Lord made such beauty as that of a child and gave it yet another beauty, its mother.
She is the new flower with petals so pink, her cheeks like raspberry buds and the rosy hue to her baby lips chuckle charmingly to her old man’s jokes.
There are stars in her eyes as they glisten with tears; baby tears tasting sweet. She is brilliantly soft with a pussy-cat nose and pussy-cat hands and feet. Her voice is like little trinkets that’d make happy the room and her spongy, pink bottom will always be too much to fathom!
For her parents, she will always be that blossoming flower even to the day her cheeks wear the curves of a woman and the rosy hue to her radiant lips would tell her old man his jokes still seemed most fanciful and exciting.
Public Toilets
Today, I would like to take up with you all the subject that many a times displeases me, and I’m sure displeases many others: filthy public toilets. Being a beautiful world that we live in, it is hard to believe that some don’t have the knack of keeping their surroundings clean. When such people are let lose into public areas, they tend to carry their filth with them.
Habits don’t die. That is the reason why, from the very start, parents try to instill good manners in their sons and daughters. Stubborn ones turn out to be the rebellious farts who, when all put together, set to fight against the environment. Do they not understand the consequences of spitting beetle nut juice all over the pavements? Likewise, they do not understand the disgust in littering the streets or failing to flush the toilet after their job is done.
Either it is sheer laziness that grows into a person’s veins causing negative actions to follow suit or it is determined vengeance against Mother Nature. Whatever said and done, it is up to those few who care; to carry cans of Dettol spray every time they anticipate sour conditions, walking into their office toilets.
What is to be done and who may be the culprit? The problem is that no one owns up to their dirty behavior. The culprits surely make their mark but would die of embarrassment if they were to be found. Then why do it in the first place? After all the pleasure faced in emptying one’s bowels, is it so hard to pull the toilet flush? Such are inconsiderate human beings, selfish in nature and horribly thick in their minds - they couldn’t have walked out thinking their shit didn’t stink.
Let us have a moment of silence. Let us try to focus on why we were put here on this planet. Let us begin to act like civilized human beings before we start calling ourselves the same. Truly, it is the cleanliness of the heart and mind that will ultimately show in substance.
Habits don’t die. That is the reason why, from the very start, parents try to instill good manners in their sons and daughters. Stubborn ones turn out to be the rebellious farts who, when all put together, set to fight against the environment. Do they not understand the consequences of spitting beetle nut juice all over the pavements? Likewise, they do not understand the disgust in littering the streets or failing to flush the toilet after their job is done.
Either it is sheer laziness that grows into a person’s veins causing negative actions to follow suit or it is determined vengeance against Mother Nature. Whatever said and done, it is up to those few who care; to carry cans of Dettol spray every time they anticipate sour conditions, walking into their office toilets.
What is to be done and who may be the culprit? The problem is that no one owns up to their dirty behavior. The culprits surely make their mark but would die of embarrassment if they were to be found. Then why do it in the first place? After all the pleasure faced in emptying one’s bowels, is it so hard to pull the toilet flush? Such are inconsiderate human beings, selfish in nature and horribly thick in their minds - they couldn’t have walked out thinking their shit didn’t stink.
Let us have a moment of silence. Let us try to focus on why we were put here on this planet. Let us begin to act like civilized human beings before we start calling ourselves the same. Truly, it is the cleanliness of the heart and mind that will ultimately show in substance.
Goodbye Michael
Michael, you are not alone. There are so many who stand by your star at the Walk of Fame to commemorate your era. There are so many who hear your voice still, they will so for years to come. Legend, they say.
I got thinking. If I were to pick a single artist from the thousands that swarm the music industry today, I would be lost. Just like everything else, this day and age brings to you way too many genres in music. Just like everything else in this world, music has evolved. May I just ask one question? Have we really evolved or have we lost an era, those days when music was good?
We remember those who made music history. And in them stand Sinatra for old-jazz, Elvis - the King of Rock, The Beatles - welcome revolutionaries. They defined new genres of music and left behind a legacy to other artists that perhaps did or didn’t make the most of it. At least there was consolation in the fact that, at that time, music evolution was extraordinary and artists around the world were discovering new heights.
What do we do now that the last living music genius has left us? King of Pop, you have left behind a legacy that I fear artists do not understand. They have failed to be anything like you. They want to be remembered but aren’t genius the way you were.
I fear, with you, an era of good music comes to a close.
I got thinking. If I were to pick a single artist from the thousands that swarm the music industry today, I would be lost. Just like everything else, this day and age brings to you way too many genres in music. Just like everything else in this world, music has evolved. May I just ask one question? Have we really evolved or have we lost an era, those days when music was good?
We remember those who made music history. And in them stand Sinatra for old-jazz, Elvis - the King of Rock, The Beatles - welcome revolutionaries. They defined new genres of music and left behind a legacy to other artists that perhaps did or didn’t make the most of it. At least there was consolation in the fact that, at that time, music evolution was extraordinary and artists around the world were discovering new heights.
What do we do now that the last living music genius has left us? King of Pop, you have left behind a legacy that I fear artists do not understand. They have failed to be anything like you. They want to be remembered but aren’t genius the way you were.
I fear, with you, an era of good music comes to a close.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Oh, oppressive walls
There is the silence that envelopes the walls around. Why did that deathly feeling rest upon shoulders that had been urgently teased with pressures galore? Why had the sun seemed so oppressive to the skin and humid to the mind that its gold melted blends with the silent brutality? White walls, go apart and lay distance between you and me for I see that you are trying to cave me into your solitude. I am but one little being and you do stand vast above me. But do grant me tenure of a vacant sort for I feel uneasy in your locked nature. Your silence is horrendous and the outer sun fiercely scolds, so go apart walls.
Shall you feel I am reprimanding you, feel not so for I am of a silent nature. But do know as much that my silence is louder than yours. I have voice when you don’t and I do not use silence to aggravate solitude. I speak to you walls, who understand all but are so stern in your reply. You loom high with an attitude so brisk that coldness feels cold even with the sun biting through you. Why do you behave so conceited that I have not the chance to weep my sorrows and share my complaints with you? How high you are that your very monstrosity bellows indication for me to let you alone.
How fine you like your aloneness. Do break upon your silence as to inform me of the culprit. Do let that tear be so that your coldness finds minimal warmth to your vastness. My shoulders ache for I have none other to cry on. The sun is too far fetched and its glare is ghastly enough for me to stay a clear from it. Which leaves me to the tranquillity of this austere room.
You are but walls! And your silence causes me to hear needles pricking into my skull. I can hear the sound of my breath and chest wanting to loom as high and mighty as you. I am not keen on such behaviour. I am not keen on having you so proudly fixed in your ways and me having to rave madness upon myself. Show yourself in any other manner for you are the most boring companion I have had to pass my seclusion with. You are but walls!
Shall you feel I am reprimanding you, feel not so for I am of a silent nature. But do know as much that my silence is louder than yours. I have voice when you don’t and I do not use silence to aggravate solitude. I speak to you walls, who understand all but are so stern in your reply. You loom high with an attitude so brisk that coldness feels cold even with the sun biting through you. Why do you behave so conceited that I have not the chance to weep my sorrows and share my complaints with you? How high you are that your very monstrosity bellows indication for me to let you alone.
How fine you like your aloneness. Do break upon your silence as to inform me of the culprit. Do let that tear be so that your coldness finds minimal warmth to your vastness. My shoulders ache for I have none other to cry on. The sun is too far fetched and its glare is ghastly enough for me to stay a clear from it. Which leaves me to the tranquillity of this austere room.
You are but walls! And your silence causes me to hear needles pricking into my skull. I can hear the sound of my breath and chest wanting to loom as high and mighty as you. I am not keen on such behaviour. I am not keen on having you so proudly fixed in your ways and me having to rave madness upon myself. Show yourself in any other manner for you are the most boring companion I have had to pass my seclusion with. You are but walls!
Life lines - Page 5
Through all the negatives we face in our daily lives, a positive perspective is hard to come by. Yet, with some realization that optimism is the difficult cure to an unhealthy life, one may try it as a diet.
You see, it is a cold world we face, each time we slip into our fashionable automobiles and head to this place called ‘work’. We do not know what awaits us; truly it could be Mr. Right or a slippery road to one’s tragic kismet. Whatever be the case, we all know how temporary everything has become. It is the cosmic universe at its PS3 joysticking the whole damn world - good verses evil.
We have the bad guys who are world-class at being deceitful; they charm and flirt with the minds of others when in time of need and all it would take is a realization that ‘oops! There are now too many people in my country; how to get rid of a few to balance it out?’ It is them who make the roads and take them away; it is them who invite us in only to let us know our boundaries, them who ask our names only to screw us over.
They are the politicians of the continents, the sovereigns of the corporate world, the owners of money; sometimes beyond their understanding. They are those who held your tears when their secret words had you fired, those who took your place as they saw you out the door.
And then, there is the love story. It is the tricky, sometimes sticky substance of love and oh, how to handle that? That is where happiness unfolds and the world starts to get cozier until ‘I would give my life for you but I will not do this, this and that so will you marry me?’ A chill begins to settle on something that could have been a state of nirvana - the ultimate sanctity, able to conquer all wickedness in the world. Ultimately, ones in love stop treating it as heavenly; they fall back to earth and decide to respect love to be the essential to peace of mind.
And so, life as they call it goes on. How vast we feel this universe to be and how logical we try to make everything seem. There are those numerous questions that people try to unravel which gives the plot the twist and turn required. Not knowing is the architect of suspense. Where does the Lord keep His Book of Books? There, it is written the winding decisions of our lives. There it is written a script of our lives. Our aspirations, our wants, our love, our thoughts, our search, our death.
You see, it is a cold world we face, each time we slip into our fashionable automobiles and head to this place called ‘work’. We do not know what awaits us; truly it could be Mr. Right or a slippery road to one’s tragic kismet. Whatever be the case, we all know how temporary everything has become. It is the cosmic universe at its PS3 joysticking the whole damn world - good verses evil.
We have the bad guys who are world-class at being deceitful; they charm and flirt with the minds of others when in time of need and all it would take is a realization that ‘oops! There are now too many people in my country; how to get rid of a few to balance it out?’ It is them who make the roads and take them away; it is them who invite us in only to let us know our boundaries, them who ask our names only to screw us over.
They are the politicians of the continents, the sovereigns of the corporate world, the owners of money; sometimes beyond their understanding. They are those who held your tears when their secret words had you fired, those who took your place as they saw you out the door.
And then, there is the love story. It is the tricky, sometimes sticky substance of love and oh, how to handle that? That is where happiness unfolds and the world starts to get cozier until ‘I would give my life for you but I will not do this, this and that so will you marry me?’ A chill begins to settle on something that could have been a state of nirvana - the ultimate sanctity, able to conquer all wickedness in the world. Ultimately, ones in love stop treating it as heavenly; they fall back to earth and decide to respect love to be the essential to peace of mind.
And so, life as they call it goes on. How vast we feel this universe to be and how logical we try to make everything seem. There are those numerous questions that people try to unravel which gives the plot the twist and turn required. Not knowing is the architect of suspense. Where does the Lord keep His Book of Books? There, it is written the winding decisions of our lives. There it is written a script of our lives. Our aspirations, our wants, our love, our thoughts, our search, our death.
Life lines - Page 4
Surely, it is much later in life that we start questioning our existence. It is usually at a point one is nervously wrecked and in the midst of disparity and constant battles with each minute that passes. Perhaps too caught up in daily fiascos, one does tend to harden up, forgetting what it would be like to simply talk of the weather or enjoy sipping a cold soda while waiting for nothing. The issues in life take precedence and ultimately we land up complaining of always being too busy - not getting time for one’s own self.
Slowly and steadily we start becoming people we do not know. We fail to rectify our miseries, running too quickly, too far ahead to be able to look back. The skin getting thicker, the soul becoming more impatient; we resort to regular dejection. In search for anything that may be different, we start wanting to ‘find’ ourselves. Beginning to regret not doing what our parents once advised us to, we start blaming our mistakes on poor old providence.
Whilst waiting for some sort of divine intervention, we become the most intolerable psychopaths to roam the earth. Many that surround us may have felt pity at some point during our collapse - they no longer touch our shoulder the way they did once upon a time. They now turn a disgruntled look upon our invariable grievances.
For all the smart guru type people trying to instill patience into our systems, we do not understand their words of wisdom when stuck in a rut so hard to get away from. This is clearly a state of depression well known to those who undergo restlessness so profound. This is the downfall of many.
The moment we start questioning our existence should be an indication that spells an expected state of despair. There is much depth in life however, when in an active search for the deeper meaning, we tend to overlook reality.
Time to clean up - when listening to one’s mind becomes more important than listening to the heart.
Slowly and steadily we start becoming people we do not know. We fail to rectify our miseries, running too quickly, too far ahead to be able to look back. The skin getting thicker, the soul becoming more impatient; we resort to regular dejection. In search for anything that may be different, we start wanting to ‘find’ ourselves. Beginning to regret not doing what our parents once advised us to, we start blaming our mistakes on poor old providence.
Whilst waiting for some sort of divine intervention, we become the most intolerable psychopaths to roam the earth. Many that surround us may have felt pity at some point during our collapse - they no longer touch our shoulder the way they did once upon a time. They now turn a disgruntled look upon our invariable grievances.
For all the smart guru type people trying to instill patience into our systems, we do not understand their words of wisdom when stuck in a rut so hard to get away from. This is clearly a state of depression well known to those who undergo restlessness so profound. This is the downfall of many.
The moment we start questioning our existence should be an indication that spells an expected state of despair. There is much depth in life however, when in an active search for the deeper meaning, we tend to overlook reality.
Time to clean up - when listening to one’s mind becomes more important than listening to the heart.
Life lines - Page 3
What are we today?
Don’t know about you but I am in the advertising field. Advertising; where we make each brand in each market seem important; where every click of our finger is able to control the minds of far too many; where we live in the fascinating idea of being able to sell ‘anything’.
Advertising; that sensational way of life, the fun and frolic in everyone simply pouring out with absolute passion, dynamism and perhaps even a tad bit of aggression. The manner in which we bombard people’s brains with irritating messages and how we rejoice over champagne and caviar for having fooled yet some more unfortunate people. And then, they spend on toothpaste that was mintier than the other; on furniture that was hand-picked from around the world (yeah right); on fashion brands that tried saving themselves the cost of too much cloth - the list goes on.
And so, many of us observed advertising for a few days and decided that it was the best possible job to have. We take it upon ourselves to be a hot-shot advertiser one day, owning a highly creative agency with all the glitz and glamour accompanying our venture. Ready for all the model agencies and boozing nights buttering our clientele, we set foot into one of the most stressful fields of work.
Soon, we are neck deep into paperwork and deadlines, being cursed by people who love to curse. It is advertising - we somehow land up cursing our rockets off! Months pass and then, years - one’s own self esteem begins to wear a funny face. We begin to underestimate our true worth and begin thinking of obstacles as hardships, looking at tasks to be strenuous and far-fetched. Giving up on the matter; throwing a fit and succumbing to a nervous breakdown follow suit - bringing to life panic and blunder.
The million dollar question would then stand as: What was the reason for this state of despair? Am I incapable of handling pressure? Have I lost that enthusiastic presence I nurtured well and the calm composition that I was? Is it that I feel threatened by anything or is it sheer paranoia that eats away on what’s remaining of my dear sane mind?
Whatever it is that irks our psyche, we somehow decide it is too hard for us to surmount. We realize we have become the sorry expressions of depressed beings, running around as headless chickens would.
Don’t know about you but I am in the advertising field. Advertising; where we make each brand in each market seem important; where every click of our finger is able to control the minds of far too many; where we live in the fascinating idea of being able to sell ‘anything’.
Advertising; that sensational way of life, the fun and frolic in everyone simply pouring out with absolute passion, dynamism and perhaps even a tad bit of aggression. The manner in which we bombard people’s brains with irritating messages and how we rejoice over champagne and caviar for having fooled yet some more unfortunate people. And then, they spend on toothpaste that was mintier than the other; on furniture that was hand-picked from around the world (yeah right); on fashion brands that tried saving themselves the cost of too much cloth - the list goes on.
And so, many of us observed advertising for a few days and decided that it was the best possible job to have. We take it upon ourselves to be a hot-shot advertiser one day, owning a highly creative agency with all the glitz and glamour accompanying our venture. Ready for all the model agencies and boozing nights buttering our clientele, we set foot into one of the most stressful fields of work.
Soon, we are neck deep into paperwork and deadlines, being cursed by people who love to curse. It is advertising - we somehow land up cursing our rockets off! Months pass and then, years - one’s own self esteem begins to wear a funny face. We begin to underestimate our true worth and begin thinking of obstacles as hardships, looking at tasks to be strenuous and far-fetched. Giving up on the matter; throwing a fit and succumbing to a nervous breakdown follow suit - bringing to life panic and blunder.
The million dollar question would then stand as: What was the reason for this state of despair? Am I incapable of handling pressure? Have I lost that enthusiastic presence I nurtured well and the calm composition that I was? Is it that I feel threatened by anything or is it sheer paranoia that eats away on what’s remaining of my dear sane mind?
Whatever it is that irks our psyche, we somehow decide it is too hard for us to surmount. We realize we have become the sorry expressions of depressed beings, running around as headless chickens would.
Life lines - Page 2
We may think of life as confusing and wretched at times. But I still remember the time we used to run around the play ground, making every patch of grass or mud or gravel our tiny little world of adventure. We saw each other fall and graze the back of our arms; we even pushed and shoved those we thought were bullies. We kneeled outside our classrooms for passing notes under the tables - the teachers drilled us with their disciplinary ways - we shed a tear or two.
Somehow, those years seem very far behind - when our bags hung heavy on our backs and the smell of sharpened pencil never seemed to leave our skin. The fear of exams and the heartache of having to prepare for them; the brilliance of making a new friend and the sorrow of having to watch one go.
We are all grown up now. Some working, some about to get married and others with two to three babies to raise. Many get together at high school reunions; others keep to their busy lives and try not to think of how easy life used to be. Many are curious as to what has become of the kids who used to sit behind them in class; others feel they have arrived in life as opposed to what might have happened to the back-benchers.
Somewhere along the line, we leave behind the child within us. We walk to becoming ‘aspiring’ adults with great levels of maturity and diligence. We regard high school students as juvenile little ones who still have years to figure life out. Surely, dreams of sitting in front of a test paper with blank expressions and the dread of handing over an empty sheet are not welcome. We are adults and it is strange for childlike fears to surface at that point in life when we believe we have absolute control of our feelings and measures.
Somewhere along the line we forget to have fun. Gone are the days when ice-cream vans were of amusement to us during break hours; we are now too old to be running behind those. We now have responsibilities that may or may not give us the time to muse over our school days -
The days that made us what we are today.
Somehow, those years seem very far behind - when our bags hung heavy on our backs and the smell of sharpened pencil never seemed to leave our skin. The fear of exams and the heartache of having to prepare for them; the brilliance of making a new friend and the sorrow of having to watch one go.
We are all grown up now. Some working, some about to get married and others with two to three babies to raise. Many get together at high school reunions; others keep to their busy lives and try not to think of how easy life used to be. Many are curious as to what has become of the kids who used to sit behind them in class; others feel they have arrived in life as opposed to what might have happened to the back-benchers.
Somewhere along the line, we leave behind the child within us. We walk to becoming ‘aspiring’ adults with great levels of maturity and diligence. We regard high school students as juvenile little ones who still have years to figure life out. Surely, dreams of sitting in front of a test paper with blank expressions and the dread of handing over an empty sheet are not welcome. We are adults and it is strange for childlike fears to surface at that point in life when we believe we have absolute control of our feelings and measures.
Somewhere along the line we forget to have fun. Gone are the days when ice-cream vans were of amusement to us during break hours; we are now too old to be running behind those. We now have responsibilities that may or may not give us the time to muse over our school days -
The days that made us what we are today.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Sindh Train
They were molested by the raving heat of the Sindh and crawled into trailer beds for a nights crawling sleep. Their children dewed their cheeks for the journey had been long and they bellowed to their fathers for mercy. The minds of the folk of far away had been merely concentrating on the end of the sticky fever of a trip. The tarred curtains and greasy ducts were musty with the evidence of the few rupees to go across. Shall there be a jerk and a sickly bend towards the left or the right, it was only a bend or only a jerk. How so if there was a deafening echo that travelled through the aisles and split the rows in half to simply splatter the bloody gore of guts to the crown of the rails?
They were brought forward to the darkness of the morning and thrown off their seatings to find themselves amidst the screaming cries of the hurt inflicted souls, some of which were nearing their final destinations. Their eyeballs rolled to the heavens as the blood made lines upon their sweaty foreheads. They saw white lights ahead and forgot how painful the few seconds of bursting flesh were.
The rest felt the heat in their wounds and heard the collisions well enough to unhear ever again. There was ripping silence that leaked with the burning steal from the high of the corroded rail. The coughs of death added impurity to the sufferings of those innocent to the harsh awakening. Torn flesh, fuming smoke and the stale morning heat seamed rude to a good morning. Shall they be waiting at the next stop to find a lost leg of their sister or a disposable body organ of one they could not identify? Shall they be hoping to see smiles of ten years lost but grieve for lost lives? Shall they return home now to avoid the sights of their very own’s eyes rolled up to welcome death as an end to suffering?
How cruel for fatality to bank on a long ride to home’s way. The grasses of sindh lay disturbed for now as they watched the rails die. How frantic for the land to find such colour in its centre core, for the redness made departures, surging rivers on the dusty parchment.
They were brought forward to the darkness of the morning and thrown off their seatings to find themselves amidst the screaming cries of the hurt inflicted souls, some of which were nearing their final destinations. Their eyeballs rolled to the heavens as the blood made lines upon their sweaty foreheads. They saw white lights ahead and forgot how painful the few seconds of bursting flesh were.
The rest felt the heat in their wounds and heard the collisions well enough to unhear ever again. There was ripping silence that leaked with the burning steal from the high of the corroded rail. The coughs of death added impurity to the sufferings of those innocent to the harsh awakening. Torn flesh, fuming smoke and the stale morning heat seamed rude to a good morning. Shall they be waiting at the next stop to find a lost leg of their sister or a disposable body organ of one they could not identify? Shall they be hoping to see smiles of ten years lost but grieve for lost lives? Shall they return home now to avoid the sights of their very own’s eyes rolled up to welcome death as an end to suffering?
How cruel for fatality to bank on a long ride to home’s way. The grasses of sindh lay disturbed for now as they watched the rails die. How frantic for the land to find such colour in its centre core, for the redness made departures, surging rivers on the dusty parchment.
Her 26 Years – Smrithi Thind
Sweet words, sweet heart, sweet twenty-six years. Smiles and love, springs and summers. Beauty galore and miss extraordinary. Soft spoken, bone of the party. Sweet moments spent, sweet contention; bitter contention. Heart broken, lost twenty-six years. Tears that fall into her palms; life? Is life that which impulsively permits cancerous treason into the bone of the party? Lord, how restless you now make that soul who is the simple creature of Your creation.
Bloody blood that flows the disease multiplying fractions of itself into that which laughed and played. Lord, a prayer: ‘Give courage to that who is a mere being, not a butcher, not a dire sinner, not a war-maker; a peaceful flower. Wrap Your hands around her face that covers now in twinkle starry tears. Whisper words of clear solace into her aching ears.’
Lord took those at night while they slept, drowning His waters over their covers. No time for repentance and no time to plead. Lord, a prayer: ‘Show the flower that you grew that You are the One to turn to. Forgive her, Lord, for her twenty-six years and make peace her mind that does ache with distress and disease. Hoped You could have made her well and kept her fond and let this be only a phase of bitter contention. Alas, we say goodbye.’
There is life ahead and much to see past the struggle of biting symphonies. She will be whole again, singing songs and jingles on merry nights and closing her eyes to the prayers she prays to You, Lord. Her heart will be opened and cleansed and she will touch new joys in her new world. You will sit beside her to cure her state and You will build in her hope again.
She had mental ridicule and she had remedy. She cried, Lord. She cried for life. Bless her as she now finds salvation with You.
Bloody blood that flows the disease multiplying fractions of itself into that which laughed and played. Lord, a prayer: ‘Give courage to that who is a mere being, not a butcher, not a dire sinner, not a war-maker; a peaceful flower. Wrap Your hands around her face that covers now in twinkle starry tears. Whisper words of clear solace into her aching ears.’
Lord took those at night while they slept, drowning His waters over their covers. No time for repentance and no time to plead. Lord, a prayer: ‘Show the flower that you grew that You are the One to turn to. Forgive her, Lord, for her twenty-six years and make peace her mind that does ache with distress and disease. Hoped You could have made her well and kept her fond and let this be only a phase of bitter contention. Alas, we say goodbye.’
There is life ahead and much to see past the struggle of biting symphonies. She will be whole again, singing songs and jingles on merry nights and closing her eyes to the prayers she prays to You, Lord. Her heart will be opened and cleansed and she will touch new joys in her new world. You will sit beside her to cure her state and You will build in her hope again.
She had mental ridicule and she had remedy. She cried, Lord. She cried for life. Bless her as she now finds salvation with You.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Tainted Love
And so, we walk into work thinking ‘Well, today is the weekend’. Our ears become hard of hearing and we do not want to see things that remind us of the week approaching. Our tongues are wrapped in tunes that will keep us busy over the weekend and feet tapping lightly under our desks to the endless humming. It is Thursday and ‘The Ramones’ couldn’t have been more appropriate.
Just then our Big Boss walks by and he hears us taking off on words from ‘Tainted Love’. He does not ask why we are in such a jolly state of mind or why we are not cursing around like we normally do. He does not ask us to sit for a meeting or does not even take stock of our day. He hears ‘The Ramones’ and joins in with a shake of his own left leg, head nodding agreeably to the smell of the weekend.
Just then, the Client calls and I answer the phone at the precise third ring with a delightful ‘good morning’ and say to her ‘Did I tell you that your voice is music to my ears!’ She feels flattered and thanks me endlessly for my refreshing praise; I made her feel ten years younger. On to work in her next sentence; press ad layout revisions for the nth time, doesn’t point of sale look better in yellow and red as opposed to yellow and maroon? My logo looks too tiny, darling; you must make it ‘twice’ the size!
Dear Miss Client,
Sometimes I feel I've got to
Run away
I've got to
Get away
From the pain you drive in the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
I've lost my light
For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night
Tainted love
(Ooh) Tainted love
(Ooh) Tainted love
(Ooh) Tainted love
The work day is coming to a close and we tap our feet harder, no longer under our desks. We hum no longer and our voices have risen to a profoundly audible level; we are not tired today like we normally are on the weekdays. The ground beneath us seems to shake, the replica of the colorful vibrations at a disco and our Big Boss is over the moon to see his employees so merrily engaged.
Dear Weekend,
Touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
But now I'm gonna pack my things and go
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love…
Just then our Big Boss walks by and he hears us taking off on words from ‘Tainted Love’. He does not ask why we are in such a jolly state of mind or why we are not cursing around like we normally do. He does not ask us to sit for a meeting or does not even take stock of our day. He hears ‘The Ramones’ and joins in with a shake of his own left leg, head nodding agreeably to the smell of the weekend.
Just then, the Client calls and I answer the phone at the precise third ring with a delightful ‘good morning’ and say to her ‘Did I tell you that your voice is music to my ears!’ She feels flattered and thanks me endlessly for my refreshing praise; I made her feel ten years younger. On to work in her next sentence; press ad layout revisions for the nth time, doesn’t point of sale look better in yellow and red as opposed to yellow and maroon? My logo looks too tiny, darling; you must make it ‘twice’ the size!
Dear Miss Client,
Sometimes I feel I've got to
Run away
I've got to
Get away
From the pain you drive in the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
I've lost my light
For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night
Tainted love
(Ooh) Tainted love
(Ooh) Tainted love
(Ooh) Tainted love
The work day is coming to a close and we tap our feet harder, no longer under our desks. We hum no longer and our voices have risen to a profoundly audible level; we are not tired today like we normally are on the weekdays. The ground beneath us seems to shake, the replica of the colorful vibrations at a disco and our Big Boss is over the moon to see his employees so merrily engaged.
Dear Weekend,
Touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
But now I'm gonna pack my things and go
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love…
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Life lines - Page 1
Let’s start with something that we all can relate to. Life. Speaking of which, we will have wondered many a times how ironical and twisted life really is.
For instance, we may mourn the death of a loved one - on the other side of the world a mother cradles her new born baby, promising long life and happiness. We may hear silence with the cheerful loved one no longer there to break it - perhaps just blocks away, the chuckling little one clutches his dad’s finger to take his first step into life. There is hollowness in the hearts of few when there are those who are content with their new found joys.
And if we thought otherwise, correction - this is life. It has been carefully crafted so that its events may eventually balance. Where do you think the notion of laughing too much in a day and crying equally as much the next came from? And if it is a matter of a series of unfortunate events, the good in it all is just over the horizon.
There are many who tumble through testing occasions. It is the nature of man to willingly accept when given but fearfully recoil at something being taken away from them. That is when the two invisible yet strongest companions in life intervene. Hope and faith. The glimmer of light and the embodiment of life that may only fade away for a brief moment; only to return again into the strong hearts of men.
Hopefully time will heal bringing our sorrow its daily balm. Hopefully our sons will grow up to be revolutionaries and heroes in the eyes of the world. Hopefully our lives will become pretty or stay pretty which ever may fit each one.
In each unfortunate event lies the thread of hoping and praying we make it through. And this is how, in time, we are able to lift our heads up to our neighbors, once again, welcoming them into our houses for dinner and a cup of tea.
For instance, we may mourn the death of a loved one - on the other side of the world a mother cradles her new born baby, promising long life and happiness. We may hear silence with the cheerful loved one no longer there to break it - perhaps just blocks away, the chuckling little one clutches his dad’s finger to take his first step into life. There is hollowness in the hearts of few when there are those who are content with their new found joys.
And if we thought otherwise, correction - this is life. It has been carefully crafted so that its events may eventually balance. Where do you think the notion of laughing too much in a day and crying equally as much the next came from? And if it is a matter of a series of unfortunate events, the good in it all is just over the horizon.
There are many who tumble through testing occasions. It is the nature of man to willingly accept when given but fearfully recoil at something being taken away from them. That is when the two invisible yet strongest companions in life intervene. Hope and faith. The glimmer of light and the embodiment of life that may only fade away for a brief moment; only to return again into the strong hearts of men.
Hopefully time will heal bringing our sorrow its daily balm. Hopefully our sons will grow up to be revolutionaries and heroes in the eyes of the world. Hopefully our lives will become pretty or stay pretty which ever may fit each one.
In each unfortunate event lies the thread of hoping and praying we make it through. And this is how, in time, we are able to lift our heads up to our neighbors, once again, welcoming them into our houses for dinner and a cup of tea.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Those lying eyes
Sad eyes. Eyes filled with tears. Eyes that are happy and at the same time sad. Then,there are those eyes that don't look you in the eye out of shame. Those eyes hide behind the glass doors but then again,those are glass doors and our eyes can see those eyes. Those eyes lie.
So when we hugged our friends and bid them farewell, and when we looked them in the eye and smiled a sad smile, there were those eyes that stared dead-straight and smiled a wicked smile. Where went that look of humanity? That which appears when the heart is aching? But that heart didn't ache did it?
Our friends walked with their heads held high, their eyes saw beautiful beginnings and we wished them all the best. We then sat back, all our eyes saying one thing only. I too will one day walk from here,and my eyes will only smile.
So when we hugged our friends and bid them farewell, and when we looked them in the eye and smiled a sad smile, there were those eyes that stared dead-straight and smiled a wicked smile. Where went that look of humanity? That which appears when the heart is aching? But that heart didn't ache did it?
Our friends walked with their heads held high, their eyes saw beautiful beginnings and we wished them all the best. We then sat back, all our eyes saying one thing only. I too will one day walk from here,and my eyes will only smile.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Change for better
My life is very ordinary. So is yours and so is yours. We were never celebrities, we perhaps will never be. We have in no way made a difference to the world and will perhaps have nothing to do with improving the political issues that envelope us. We are ordinary citizens who know not what it would be like to run a country or stand in an election against a ruthless party of comedians. Neither of us have the support of a 106 year old lady who invested her time and energy voting for Barack who she believed would make a difference to the world.
Yet, we are human. And every morning that I wake I feel the sweetness in my heart to make a difference. Not being able to make a difference does not mean we don’t want to. And who said we can’t? By difference, I do not mean finding a cure to a big bad disease or being associated to the likes of Prince Harry. Making a difference to one’s own self could feel equally special. And if each one of us improves one thing or another in each of our lives, we are all collectively headed to change the world for better.
I suggest putting aside the magazines and tabloids for a while - following the lives of Britney Spears or Madonna will not make us live our lives any better. In fact, it only prevents us from regarding ourselves as individuals with importance of any sort.
The truth is that each individual who actively aims to better himself is indeed at a high ranking level of importance. Realizing your need for change is the first step to personal growth. Until then, you will lead your life the same way you did the day before that. Your life before change could be comfortably simple and you may not feel the need to tamper with a smooth sailing ship. Yet, we all understand that no one is perfect and by improving little by little in the course of our lives, we are at least nearing towards perfection.
Yet, we are human. And every morning that I wake I feel the sweetness in my heart to make a difference. Not being able to make a difference does not mean we don’t want to. And who said we can’t? By difference, I do not mean finding a cure to a big bad disease or being associated to the likes of Prince Harry. Making a difference to one’s own self could feel equally special. And if each one of us improves one thing or another in each of our lives, we are all collectively headed to change the world for better.
I suggest putting aside the magazines and tabloids for a while - following the lives of Britney Spears or Madonna will not make us live our lives any better. In fact, it only prevents us from regarding ourselves as individuals with importance of any sort.
The truth is that each individual who actively aims to better himself is indeed at a high ranking level of importance. Realizing your need for change is the first step to personal growth. Until then, you will lead your life the same way you did the day before that. Your life before change could be comfortably simple and you may not feel the need to tamper with a smooth sailing ship. Yet, we all understand that no one is perfect and by improving little by little in the course of our lives, we are at least nearing towards perfection.
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