Grumbled garbled gobbledegook

It has been a long time since I have had a chat with myself. I keep thinking about using this space to write about things that matter to me. Things that make me happy. things that make me mad. Things that keep me up and bright and things that suck the life out of me and leave me disappointed and limp.

Sometimes I am so defeated that in spite of my anger and outrage at something I do not feel up to carrying on a conversation about it. Those are the times I think about this outlet and this one way street where I can pour my heart out and let it rest. So here is my attempt at starting out with a cleaner slate for the next year and leave all the grudges behind. If only these things were sporadic enough to be shrugged off.

When NPR calls the San Bernardino shooting terrorism but every other shooting (North Carolina, Charleston, Planned Parenthood and what have you) anything but. Because the color of your skin and religion is more fearful than your actions. I was mad and felt betrayed, because I felt that NPR was this one beacon, this one voice of reason and rationale in this hyper polarized and highly divided world. This time I felt angry and let down.

When India celebrates the spirit of Chennai and people without standing up to lapses in judgement and making sure that if this situation arises we would be better prepared and the so called spirit will not be tested as throughly as it was this time.

When hindus in India who form the majority feel marginalized and want me to understand the reason behind why a lynch mob feels righteous about killing another human being. As to how people who have been suppressed for so long have finally found a voice. I no longer know what people we are talking about. I hope that they do not form the majority. But then why do the fringe elements get so much attention and voice that they are able to mobilize these many into such actions.

When Salman Khan gets a clean chit by the courts and I see people celebrating that decision. Calling him a wise man and applauding him for BEING HUMAN. Why was he not subjected to the same fate as Shiney Ahuja? Why was he not wiped clean from our collective conscience?  
Not worthy of being on a prime time slot pontificating.

When Trump is the leading GOP candidate...
When Carson is top three leading candidates and is a man of science supposedly...

When in the face of overwhelming numbers and data, a society fails to take action towards better gun control. But uses that as an excuse to limit the number of refugees it can accept.

When a developed leading world leader refuses to value child bearing and maternity leave even in the face of declining growth percentages. To not facilitate some kind of paid maternity leave on a federal level.

When we collectively refuse to look at a given evidence and hold on to our preconceived notions and prejudices. When thinking and rational beings refuse to use their grey matter then what can be expected from vitriolic rhetoric.

This is pretty much a laundry list of things that continued to bug me into writing a very disjointed and disgruntled post about it. This by no means exhaustive and complete.

Grief

Grief .... its such an absorbing, all consuming and almost too selfish an emotion. It numbs you from the outside world and its context completely, absolutely almost as nothing else can. No wonder sometimes the best or the worst comes out of a person at the moment of their grief.

At some point of time you have tolet it wash over you, overcome you before you can get hold of yourself. It is tough and it can be very demanding almost as demanding as a child. It takes up all of the avialable space just like any gas, expands and fills up all the nooks and cranies of your consciousness and else. Just as air you can almost not feel its presence.

I read somewhere that grief comes in waves. One that washes over you and then lets you be for a while soaking up the sun being dry and warm and feeling that the wet and cold feeling has passed until ... the next big wave and the cold wet splash. Wetting you through, chilling you all the very more to the bone. The goosebumps back on. The vulnerability, the shiver and the cold.

Ofcourse you can walk away from the shore and you do want to but then you also do want to see the sea and sand castles and the beach and all that it means for you and meant for you or could have or should have meant for you.

It may be something the only thing sometimes that makes you feel alive. The fact that you feel chilled and cold to the bone. The warmth that follows. The feeling that all is not a monotone, even if what you hear is not music atleast it is expression.

It is also safe to be sitting by the shore. You are at the receiving end of it, inactive in the way that leaves you open to feeling, just pure feeling. Something that day to day life does not let you be. You are just busy navigating one thing and another. Thinking through the alleys and the turns and the puddles.

Looking for Dumbledore

Is it possible to look for purpose? TO feel lost without it? TO expect great things from yourself even in the face of evidence to the contrary? Sometimes it becomes imperative to have that one person who believes in you so strongly that you begin to believe in yourself and can take on the world.
Why are most people in this world only here to cut you to size? Whatever size that may be. Isn't it the most dreadful thing? How are you supposed to take a leap when all you are trying for is get a toe in to stand on?
it is sad and unfortunate when we can not value nurture and help all the talent that we have around us. All this myth about survival of the fittest is always thrown in the face every time you bring up these things. But isnt it equally important for us as society to get ahead? Not just one fittest person at a time but as more than one each doing his or her thing and saving all that energy that we waste on being mean and cutting people to size on our own creative pursuits.

I have been lucky to have mummy and papa then didi and didya then jeejaji and ashu and ishan and bhumi and last but not the least Mehr. Each and every one of them have given me wings. Have shown me the way held me when I have needed that, nurtured me. I am what i am because of all their love and all the wonderful people who have been a part of my life. I know there are so many people who do not have what I do. But I also know how easy it is for things to get better. As I said it is just unfortunate that we have to make do with how things are because we are all scared to be helpful and nice. We are insecure about other people reaching ahead of us, going far, going places in the fear that they are taking our rightful place.

Just a little bit of love, a little bit of push in the right direction. Some one who cares. A mentor. Each one of us is a little harry potter looking for a Dumbledore in our lives. It only ends up being a life long quest for many.

Objective

Objective is the lens piece which is close to the object under study. Objective is also the aim or point of living a life objective above all is also a very wrong and boring word to get or chose especially if you are trying to get out of writer's block and trying out free writing. it is an even worse choice if you are at a point in life where there seems to be a lack of it in real life. It is as if you do exist and carry on being employed and and do things to carry on being that but there is no passion and no interest and there is also a lack of dive to do what you are currently doing. what makes the situation even less palpable is that you do not know what else you want and if there is anything that can help you find what you are missing in life. or for that matter may be this is you life and you are not missing anything. this is all the passion and reason and satisfaction you will even have in your life. now that is one sure rock bottom if ever there was one.

Introduction ...Part 1

This story begins when a collage starts. Collage being a time when there is relatively more freedom in life. Freedom starts with and is not limited to lack of uniformity of clothes and or of background. Different backgrounds and different schools of thoughts bring different people together to suddenly come together as equals under one roof and compete with each other to disprove or dispel the illusion of equality. It is one of the funniest dichotomies of student life.

This story starts with Kira, as she gets ready to hop on a bus to go to collage, the very first day. She is me. Or to be more truthful, she is who I wanted to be when I was her age. If you are not as confused as you should be then there is hope of not loosing you in the narrative. Anyway so she gets on to the bus she is one of the people who was on the waiting list to the hostel accommodation. She had the least priority as her family lived with in the city limits as described by some administrative buffoon as he seemed fit. Drawing a random shape on the map without any logic to the connectivity. So thanks to that unknown face, Kira had to get up early and leave 3 hours before classes began. She still had all the misgivings about commuting six hours in a day and still go on like this without turning into a zombie. Sooner or later she had to get a room in the dorm. She was so bent on the woes of traveling that she had not considered what all a hostel life entailed. All the things that were going to come her way if or rather when she did get her 20 sq.Ft of space that she would have to share with her room mate. Life she thought was best dealt with one day at a time. And sometimes even that seemed too big a deal.

Life had buzzed at such high a speed that she had not gotten any chance to enjoy or rejoice the feeling of getting admitted into the collage of her choice. Imperial collage or the mad cage as it was lovingly rechristened as by its “inmates”. She was soon going to discover how true to its name it was. And while she was at it she was going to realize that how freedom was nothing but an over rated illusion. That is what or how it is more often than not.

Just at the beginning of orientation, the dean said that anyone who feels that they can not go without sleep and can not do without food and water and need at least 7 hours of sleep everyday, do not have place in this batch of 2001, feel free to leave the the class right now. Ya like that was a real choice! So much for the freedom that collage life is supposed to bring for you. All her life she had heard new and updated versions of the line “just get through this one exam and then you will be set in life.” How life and destiny will just smile on you blah blah blah…Now finally it seemed to her that this was the proverbial carrot that her parents and her teachers held in front of her to lure her into the ratty race. Now sitting in the big tiered class room being bombarded with information in the name of orientation, she felt that she was already way in too deep to see a way out. Right now she did not even want a way out. But it will not be like this all the time.

She was never a dumb child but she was not very big on perseverance. Things had come easy to her in school. But this was a different ball game altogether.This story was not all about Kira, she did not know it yet but her path was going to be crossed with some of the most interesting people she was ever going to get an opportunity to get to know. The first of those was Kiran. Kiran was someone she instantly felt a kindred spirit with and seemed to instinctively share few of the slangs with! After the ominous warning by the dean as if on cue Kira and Kiran both exhaled all the air in their system with a very fearful and anxious “boy-oh-boy”! and with that pin drop of a silence, they both were instantly aware of each other's existence in the universe. Kiran as it turned out had his own crosses to bear. Yes you got me right Kiran was a "he" and that was one of the biggest and the heaviest if not the only one to bear. When he caught “Khosla ka Ghosla” years later he all too identified with the plight of chirounji lal. Life apparently could get worse, he was after all not called something as inane and depressing as that or for that matter Kunj Bihari, who was going to be his room mate. Of course he so far did not know that or for that matter any of the things that lay in his future.

From here to long lines of the different forms of plugging themselves in the system the first day pretty much kept them all pre-occupied and busy and away from the prying eyes of the predatory senior batches. None of them had any idea how bad or insane can the familiarization process get. Starting from finding out which class is where? What out of those can be bunked? Where to hide your hide while u are bunking and where to get food at 4.00 am in the night or day as you choose to look at it.

Right in front of the ticketing line kira spotted a familiar face Vani. Someone she knew peripherally in school. About whom she knew nothing more than the fact that if there was anything that happened around vani the first person to come to know had to be her mom. Vani was just the kind of person Kira was convinced that she could not survive around. She seemed to be someone who had not yet cut her chord from her mother’s womb yet. In the times of today that had to be just better off than being an axe murderer in hiding with bad breath to boot. Basically something that you would never in you life own up to in collage let alone flaunt; as she seemed to be doing in the full view of the entire batch!

“yes mom, we are almost done with the registration and I-cards...

Only the Library cards. Umm hmmmm and yes I know….

Alright, I will call and let you know later. Talk to you later Ma. Bye.”

This exchange to Kira and her code of life was nothing less than blasphemous. Kira rarely called home, when she was out and to reinstate her illusion of freedom she refused to carry a cell phone. According to her it was the way the grown ups pretended to give you mobility only so that they could trace your every move. Go through your contacts, read your messages and keep track of everything they have no business being a part of. She had however agreed to let herself be gifted one when and if she moved to the hostel, but before that it was just not negotiable. So for Kira it was a supreme effort to not snort and turn around in a huff in front of Vani. Vani as it seemed was completely unaware of this code of life and was equally obtuse to Kira’s intent to ignore and not acknowledge her and their prior association. Luck after all was not on Kira’s side as Vani, spotted her right then and gave her a cheery “hey”!

This was going to be a long day after all. She and Kiran were already making plans to go out after this long list of to dos ran out. Now she had this woman who seemed to pretend that they grew up together. Actually it was not such a bad thing to cross paths with her. But why did she have to give telephonic updates at all times to her mother. Anyway now was probably not a time to pose the question and may be not everyone was as tuned to such forms of parental control as her and had barely heard them. Before she realized what was happening she was a party to their plan to go catch a movie or a bite after this harrowing day was over.

Sisters

When I think of sister there is this movie that i think about „my brother nikhil“ I think it is a very realistic take on a brother-sister bond and the movie explores the relationship beautifully . I think I thought of this mostly because I have always felt that the relationship between a brother and a sister can never be as close as it is between two sisters. Of course that’s not necessarily true but I guess I am yet to see it in first person to be completely convinced of it. I can not imagine that the way I turn to my sisters at absolutely random moments in life that a brother would too.

Calling them at some ungodly hour in the night to ask about a song that I can not completely remember but can really not leave alone either; like a speck of food stuck in your gums! Calling them for just a regular rant about life, about work about love life, husband and yes the most favourite topic lately our mom-in-laws. There is something liberating about having sisters, you do not need to be anyone that you are not, you can be as bad as you want and almost get away with it. The place where this relationship scores over a lot of parent kid relationship is that, they are not as responsible for you as parents hence you can tell them more worrisome things and feel less guilty about the whole thing.

Also they will be the first ones to tell you what is good bad or ugly about you. Weather you like it or not. Infact weather you want it to not, the opinion is going to be shared with you pat... like that. Needless to say anyone can do with that kind of brutally honest feedback. Infact often when I see people dressed up inappropriately or garishly or doing something completely stupid, I wonder if they have any sisters who will promptly and tactlessly show them the mirror.

And that shall I say lack of consideration and tact and love and warmth and all overbearing things possible all rolled into one is how I feel when I think of the word sisters! And brothers although loving and all, somehow loose it in the consideration and tact department. What I mean to say is somehow they are not able to be as crisp as sisters. But then I am not completely qualified to make this statement this is just a strong suspicion at best on my part.

Life-a full circle...

Everyone has a story to tell and every story starts with the time they become an entity different from that of their mother. Weather that is through the tunnel and vagina or escape through an incision. For that matter few stories begin even before that like mine. May be more stories have their beginnings earlier than the people realize. I got to know this when I was 17 years old. In a freaky comment that I overheard my mother make to our hosts of that evening. Without remorse or malice, she was talking about woes and trials of the time around a pregnancy and how difficult the whole decision is. She very matter of factly told the lady that when I was conceived she was afraid of what had happened. She wanted to get rid of me cos I was not part of the plan. She already had two daughters and did not or was not looking for another child. I don’t know what what the context of the conversation was and what was exchanged after this statement. I was more or less stunned to hear it , it hit me like a ton of bricks, and in my melodramatic and thespian tendencies honed by all the emotional upheaval of adolescence it was not less than any calamity, it was like my parents had suddenly disowned me or rather refused to own me. The ground was snatched below my feet, to paraphrase a Hindi idiom.

In time I got over it, I realized how my mom and my dad absolutely adored me and weather the news of me was received well or not I certainly was! Mind you this wisdom dawned on me a good few years later. Till then it was a cross that I bore on my head or chest whichever is more painful.Anyway so the point that I was trying to make was that some stories start earlier, and everything that happens in one life comes on to be a part of the person.

Every story is intertwined with another and there is no beginning and really no end. Its all a matter of perspective and the window of our observation. Everything out of context is only a reflection of our turmoils and emotions hidden with in. What  you see and what you hear may not be the absolute truth. Trust your instincts more as they do not always depend on what can be seen and heard.

My daddy strongest!

Well not necessarily and in most cases not at all, but talk to any daughter and her father dad, papa, appa, baba, holds a special place in her heart. It is one of the most wonderful things in life, this father daughter bond. I love my father; there is no other word for it.

Things have changed a great deal in all the years that we have shared together. I am going to be 30soon and in all of those three decades, life has been full. Full of love, laughter, tears, anger, desires, dreams, disappointments, achievements, disillusionments, affirmations.... basically "FULL" pretty much covers it brimming wouldn't be an over statement either.

Of my earliest memories, my father was a saviour of kinds, my knight in shining armour, someone who could make things right, make it happen, someone who was big and warm to cuddle up in a cold night.

And his hands could envelop my entire fist keeping it safe from anything and everything. That was my safe haven. In fact it was that for a very long time; much longer than for a lot of my friends.

I remember feeling safe being able to sleep when there was an imaginary monster behind the curtain or a very scary test or a difficult exam the next day or just about any anxiety that I could understand and also the ones that I couldn’t understand. His hand could smooth away anything that could remotely affect me worry me or harm me. It did not matter that he was not directly involved in any of those issues but the very fact that he was there and I was with him made it all seem not too bad and nothing that wasn’t work “outable”.

Even during my teens I fought more with my mother, all the rebellion was mostly aimed at her and not so much at him. He always got the best of me and I think vice versa as well.

Our moment of truth happened much later much much later when I was in my twenties; early twenties, when I moved out into the big bad world. For some reason that I do not remember, I felt alone and scared and overwhelmed with things around me. That was also the time when I was taking some of the most important decisions career wise. I could not see him or find him at the same page as me. It disconcerted me. For the first time I felt that we had to actively communicate, in order to be understood. He didn’t seem perfect. The chinks in the shiny armour were getting prominent. My eyes were waking up to a new knight- who was no longer someone who could make the world go around for me. My knight had very limited powers. My world had expanded beyond his influence. I had left the nest. I had flown and his cover was no longer effective and the safety net was no longer relevant at those heights. I found him wanting I found him limited in his knowledge, his resources, his solutions. He could no longer guide my battles. He was still there but not the way I used to see him. My daddy was human after all. It was a very tough thing to wake up to. I remember writing to him about how I didn’t love him the way I used to. How I had these unresolved feelings in my self that I just didn’t know how to deal with. And I also remember reading what he wrote back. He wrote back as to how I would get over this phase as well. How it was all about growing up and how it was basically about a change in perspective after all. When I was small he seemed big huge even and someone who had an answer or a solution for everything. But as I grew up things started looking different from where I stood. He didn’t seem as tall and big. My questions were getting more and more specific about the world my world was expanding and growing at an alarming speed too; the definitions of it; the boundaries of which were changing day to day.

I remember feeling relieved, that was one of the most liberating things that I think I learned about life then. Love was something that is usually not deserved. Love is something that is given inspite of not because of what you or someone is. My father did not have to be perfect for me to love him. He just needed to be my papa as he was with his own set of quirks and eccentricities and love and limitations and everything. He didn’t have to be perfect to be the best. And so does everything else in life. Since then I have had my share of disagreements about what he does, or believes in, or says but my love for him through it has been strong and unwavering and I think I can say the same for him too.

This freed me to love people and accept them as they were. I no longer had to get them to be another kind. In fact I did not even need to like them a lot all the time. It was perfectly normal and acceptable to dislike them at times and still love them. I think that is why love is such a freeing emotion. It is not dependent on the actions or the worth or the qualities of the loved but of that of the one who loves. Now I know as what I am today, that my dad is not perfect he has his imperfections which are lesser than most mere mortals but not completely absent but he is and will always be the best dad ever.

Crying

Why do we do it?

Why do we succumb to it.

Why is it such a good release?

Is that also escapism?

Is that damage control?

Is it contrived?

Is it real?

Is it easy?

Is it easier?

Is it defeating?

Is it confusing?

Is it frustrating? Especially to see someone else do it?

History and Statistics

In my life there is no subject that has given me more grief than these two subjects. And I don't mean the sleepless nights mugging up before an exam. I mean real day to day life in which you bump into people who justify all their pre-conceived notions and prejudices in the cloak of quoting statistical figures about things in the past. Weather it is about a match between IND vs AUS or it is about making sweeping generalisations about minorities such as African americans, and American Indians and for that matter indians.

And I wonder when are you going to meet or interact with any given population as a population. Don't you always interact with people one at a time or two or at the most a few who even if the stats are correct are nothing but a fraction of the said population and can spread over anywhere in the given Gaussian distribution of most things. How does a particular statistic equip me better in my encounter with a person of any origin? Aren't these historical statistics nothing but an excuse to justify our prejudices or lack of really usable information and unwillingness to admit to it.

Nothing infuriates me as much as sweeping typifying of diversity and quirks and everything that makes life charming and worth living and not just reading about!

Spitting Image

Technically the word means a perfect double or counterpart but visually this word reminds me of India, the roads, the transport, the public places. It reminds me of all spit stained walls and corners and all the things that we litter our immediate environment with. It reminds me of the male of the human species using the whole wide world as a giant urinal! The stench that all but suffocates you as you somehow navigate your way through such dinghy corners, pretty much in the middle of the busiest of streets. It reminds me of dhaula kuan- the shady and busy dhaula kuan.

It reminds of the place which is hotbed of eve teasing and worse, In spite of it being such a busy place in the world; in the capital city of the second most populous country in the world. It is a glaring reminder of the apathy that we the living have towards more of our very own kind. A woman (may be even men) can not feel any safety in numbers cos there is no guarantee about anyone else seeing you as one of them, worthy of notice, of consideration, of help….

Its almost as if you do not exist.

Especially if you happen to be in trouble or seem like someone who might need help. And here I am not talking about someone coming brandishing a sword riding a black horse in a shining armour. It is only about being aware of your surroundings, being vocal, being there.

It is simply as simple as that. It does not take a lot. At all.

Why is it that all we do care about it the next bus to hop on and the next seat that we can get and the next place to go to. Why do we not enjoy or experience and just exist in the present. That’s a common psyche… why why why??

This level of apathy I think also stems from this rat race, this feeling of always being behind and catching up to the future. The future will always be in future the moment you catch up with it it becomes your present. So what you are not doing is essentially your present so why run away from it?

Why not soak in it, experience it? Why not be here in the present? Instead of running ahead at such a pace that you miss the view. No matter how dismal, dirty or filthy it is.

Cos only when we stop to notice, will it ever matter to us to keep it clean or to be enraged or outraged about things and injustices around us?! Weather being done to fellow humans or environment or sentiments….

May be just may be it will make the present worth being in, almost as attractive as the future that is always eluding- by the very virtue of its being what it is.

INternet

I love the internet. This is the place where I meet all the people I will not otherwise. This is my window where I chat with my girls, gossip.... share... crib... catch up... bitch.. anything and everything that I did in person when I was younger and then on phone and now through the internet as the distances have grown.

This is what I go to when I have to look up anything and my dad is no longer in a position to answer all my question due to differences of time and space!! This is where I look up when I have to look up recipes, baking times, translations, rituals just about anything. It in one word is my back up and is my back up for all the people that I can no longer surround myself with in reality.

With it I create my virtual world where I talk to and read from and write to all the people with as much detail that I want.

It is also a window from where I surreptitiously observe all those I kind of know and check out just like I would have had we lived in a same neighborhood.

I wonder if it is something that helps me open up more or something that keeps me from opening up to newer things in life. Since I have my comfort zone and the press of a button, I no longer see people and much less talk to the ones who are right next to me in the room. I am so busy typing away my grievances to a friend in london that I dont notice that there might be a potential friend right behind me if I just turn my chair and tap on another desk.

In the same room we are in conversation with people all over the world but with each other. So does it bring people together or keeps them insulated in a world that they are more comfortable with?

New Year New Thoughts

Why is loss more meaningful or poetic than otherwise? Its a new year and it should come with new hopeful possibilities. Why? New year is just another number on the calendar, just another day. Why is there so much of hoopla around it? Why inspite of your better judgement you get carried away in its promise of renewed possibilities and potential that never really does come through?

Its just another day when you lost or gained. Just another hour. Just like any other regular day.

I wish there was less glamour and enthusiasm attached to it.

Its safe to be pessimistic. Is safety over rated? Is pessimism underrated? Does it not over lap with reality? Isnt reality more depressing than pessimism because of its huge overlap with the latter?

Why Do we need to move on? why can;t we just call it a day and put up our boots. Whats the point of moving on when you dont know where you are going? and more importantly why you want to go there...

Movement is just another distraction from what you need to figure out. Just another way from keeping yourself from thinking. Being busy is the perfect form of escaping from everything around you.

Change

“Hey Mr. do you have some change? You see my car just broke down and I would like to call for a towing service only my mobile is out of battery and …. You know it’s kind of late.”

“I know what it must seem like to you and believe me this is a huge change for me coming to this new place and looking for a place all by myself. I am not one of the junkies who are forever walking the streets with one sob story or another. I really am in a fix and even though you may think that I am just one of them I am not; at least no longer…”

All of that was whizzing past her head as she grappled with my current situation. Just when she had thought that she had enough of this begging or asking for “help” on the streets. It was like she was being sucked into it for no fault of hers. The thing was that if she didn’t get off that road in the next 5 minutes, all that she had worked for these past few months was going to go down the drain. All the meticulous planning…. All those sleepless nights…. All the sweat and hours and savings that she finally had the courage to put at stake was literally going to wash out in front of her very eyes and the last thing she wanted to do was to stand there wool gathering indulging in a fit of self pity at the most inconvenient of times if there was any.

Gathering her remaining wits, she decided to stick to the truth and ask for help, this was not about the next dinner. This was after all about the rest of her life. If she did not make a dash for it now, she would never be able to break free of her life here and seek other pastures green or not but at the very least different.

She peeked into the car with a lone fatherly-looking-fellow and asked for a ride to the next town. She cooked up some cock and bull story about being left behind on some field trip and not having enough money to take the tube.

The man seemed receptive enough, didn’t seem to mind and seemed to understand her plight and was willing to help. In fact he went on to say how he had been tired to driving alone and wouldn’t mind some company on the way.

After the initial chit chat and pleasantries, they fell into a comfortable silence. The guy bought some bags of chips on the next gas station and was nice enough to get some cola for her too.

She had had a very long day and now that she was finally going to be free of a life of drudgery and she was finally going to earn her living… this new found sense of freedom was exhilarating but in spite of all the excitement of the past hour, she felt her eyes closing…

“May be if I sit up straight and put on my shades, the guy wouldn’t even notice that I have taken a nap. After all it’s not nice to be sleeping next to the driver; was her last conscious thought, before she lost the fight to keep herself up.

When she got up the first conscious thought in her head was that she felt sore, like she had done a lot of work and the muscles were aching, the thigh and arms and she also felt a dull thud of an ache in her abdomen… thinking she must be due any day now, she got out of bed. Only then did she realize that this room was not her bed room and she barely had any clothes on. She looked frantically around her feeling confused and trying to piece together what had happened, she recollected the car ride and the coke and noticed a few bills on the dresser.

“Things after all had changed a lot in the course of the night” she thought; and then she heard the unmistakable click of the door lock…

Passage

The cells have already undergone their 21^st passage, which means that they have been sub-cultured 21 times, and they are no longer what they were in their first passage or for that matter in their 5^th passage, they have evolved into something different, the environment around them has influenced them to be what they are now. For one thing it makes them unfit for my set of experiments as for comparing them I need to have them at the same passage.

I wonder why it took science to understand and prove and accept this so very obvious a thing. You see looking at this whole thing not biochemically but philosophically, man what he is today is not really what he was yesterday and ideally should not be what he will be tomorrow. All of us are supposed to evolve and if not that then ….. change. There is of course such a thing as retrogressive evolution; so I guess evolve is pretty much the word- for good or for bad. So essentially life as long as it is living will evolve weather for better or worse. So the corollary of this man and environment thing can be that if you evolve to be better than yourself, can you also influence the environment around you? This is of course assuming that man and his environment is one open system and there is a continuous exchange of energy between them. Hmmm interesting is this what is supposed to be making a contribution to society? Is this what the whole endeavor of living is supposed to be about? IS this how contribution is supposed to be, as a by product of change that is with in you? Or is it supposed to be more o f an active process than that. Hmmm what a tangent!

Spin

As she got up her whole world was spinning out of focus, she was not sure if she was standing up or lying down or hanging upside down for that matter. All she cared about at that point was that she had still somehow managed to grip the thing tight and still had a death grip on it. She was hurtling thru at the speed of god knows what. Let it all work out dear lord she thought. All she cared about then was that if she could if only she could land on her two feet safe and sound she will never ask anything ever, from god ever again. She will not ask for any other divine manipulation or intervention for as long as she lived. This meant a lot to her and come to think of it for the whole of mankind. This is something that the world better be thankful for. But all that only when they knew about it; All that only when she could land on her two feet. She checked for the straps and she checked for her grip, she still had it in her hand. Good . She was surprisingly also able to think, which was also a good thing; Considering she did not have a whole lot of time it was now or never. With the last leap of faith as she had seen in the movies for as long as she remembered and also in the flying school where she was an apprentice for a few summers. She yanked on the rope that would tell her if her parachute was going to save her or not and ….

A letter to You

You are the one i want to be with. you are the one i want to call when i see something funny. when i read something beautiful. you are the one whose hand i want to squeeze when i need reassurance. you are my strength.

You are the one that i have found, when i didn't even know i was looking for. it was an idea that i fell in love with. you are the reality that is even more wonderful that the idea that it was.

You make me feel loved like no one else. You literally take the pain away from my heart and my back.

"I must have had a wicked childhood.

I must have had a miserable youth...

But somewhere in that wicked miserable past,

There must have been a moment of truth.

For there you are standing there loving me

Weather or not you should.

so somewhere in my youth or childhood

I must have done something good."

I say better than good.

You make my life, being who you are. May god bless you cos as long as you are there I am.

ps: I love you