The Funny Bone

 This is/was the title of one of her blog posts that I vividly remember reading. She was such a nice writer. I never knew her personally. She never knew me at all. We were just blogging our own stuff on the internet around the same time. She had her style, I had mine. However, it was always fresh and fun for me to read her stuff. On rough days, I knew that I would feel better reading her stuff. There are many of her posts that I have read more than once.  

She chose the style of being funny in her blog. She now blogs on serious topics. She does it well. I like reading the stuff she writes today. I happened to come across one post where she wrote about why she got off social media and why she stopped writing in her blog, and came out with some really painful secrets about herself. It pained me to read the things she was accused of. She just wanted to be funny. She said stories that sounded funny in her old blog. And I am sure that a wide range of audience might have found her stuff interesting and funny. She had a good language, good wit and good humor. But the way social media took her to task by raking her own life was miserable to read, leave alone live the things she went through. If an individual or a group of individuals did not like reading what she wrote, they could have simply ignored. Why damage a person simply because it is possible?

"Why is it so hard to be funny?" I remember she had written in that article that all she needed to do was to fall down and break her nose for people to laugh; but it takes a lot more these days to make someone laugh. I remember reading it with amusement of some slapstick comedy and nothing else. She did not try to change the world's opinion, she did not preach anything, she did not shame anyone, she did not even hurt anyone else. She just jotted down figments of her imagination in a thread to appear funny. The stand she took was nothing short of an entertainer- a comedian who was trying hard to laugh at the ironies of her life. Yes, she was mocking her own self and inviting people to simply laugh. If this entertained others and at the same time gave her courage to laugh off her difficult times, it is not a crime nor a sin. 

Like TM Krishna once said that an author is dead if he must take back his words., it pained me that she had to kill that entertainer. When the internet allows total arseholes and encourages an abundant array of bullshit, why did she have to stop being funny? Why did she have to stop writing? Why did people pry into her personal life and dig into the deep sorrows that haunted her? What was the cheap thrill that was achieved? Why and how do these insecure bunch of individuals not notice larger damaging things? Simply because attacking a small person is *easy*. 

I really wish free writers are allowed the rights by google and the internet to have personal lives untouched. I really wish that my words reach that comedian writer that she was damn good and did not deserve to go through the kind of pain that she went through. 

The Spectacle of Drama

It is quite common to see people, men in particular who say "I hate drama". I have heard this also from elderly women. Before I plunge in, let me tell you this, these are the very people who actually love or even crave drama regardless of how dramatic they are.

It has taken me quite a while to understand this to a considerable depth. Now, my understanding need not necessarily correlate with the facts of the psychology textbook, but I find my analysis to work pretty well. But let me start with the positives.

For a very long time, I have been a dramatic person. So much that my paediatrician called me the heir of Shakespeare (no kidding!). I eventually grew up, and I guess I have also grown old. In these years, I have been up to things that involved a lot of monologues with a varied audience. Recently, I realized that I am not bad at public speaking when I was giving suggestions to a friend. But all this did not come in a miraculous moment of stepping on the stage, nor any formal or informal education. My stage was everywhere. I'd be animated and dramatic whether I am talking to my mom or to an audience over 300 people or even while giving a presentation, and worse, even while I am thinking. Well, thinking is a kind of rehearsal, and it needs seriousness in my defence! Especially if you are a teacher. Sit back and recollect the teachers you remember the most with a sense of fondness. Although they can be categorized for your interest in them for their looks, their partiality towards you, and whatever paramets you might set. But the ones who have taught you lessons from and out of the book tend to hold a mighty position in your memory. These teachers are usually the ones who make good use of the stage, the board, emote effectively, have a powerful voice and a striking body language. You just cannot take your eyes off them, and they have your undivided attention! They actually make an impact in your life. The same holds good with people in the cinema/theatre industries. Such people are in a state of constant rehearsal when not in their stage. Many introverts are splendid performers. I, somehow fall in the ambivert category, implying that I get the best and worst of both worlds.

Now, there are people who hate drama. These are people who call themselves too mature for all this. Compare these folks with people who are actually mature. I have been called immature for my sense of drama. I have also made impact in people's lives. Now, people don't like you if you are in a perennial state of performance. Well, some who choose to not like you, won't like you like this. Whereas, I also do remember the random strangers who eventually became good friends thanks to my uninhibited performances in public places.

I actually went in pursuit of understanding this. At one point, I felt that people with no taste for drama are the ones who have a bland life, and no taste in life. I still believe this, and I strongly recommend people reading this to throw back this line at people who say they don't like you being dramatic. They have synonyms for you, drama queen, melodrama queen, dramebaaz and what not. I have heard quite a lot! As a dramebaz, I have also been offended deeply by the detailed hatred thrown at me for what I was.

I asked a friend who happens to hold a degree in child psychology. I was going through quite a turmoil at that phase in my life. I asked him what it meant to be mature, because the so called mature people didn't like me feeling anything at all. He gave me an explanation that put me at ease and actually helped me heal myself. I eventually noticed that really mature don't call themselves mature. Because, d'uh they are, and the language of maturity is action.

Now let me get closer to what causes this phenomenon. It is weakness. Yes, simple plain weakness. If you are weak or find someone who is weak, come to terms with it.

In this state of weakness, one is easily provoked, easily hurt, easily pleased, easily elated. Now, it takes time for these people come to a balance.

Coming to terms with it is a major step in healing and recovery. Although it sounds great that you can be easily pleased and kept happy, you can also fall down and get hurt very bad very easily. If you understand you cannot lift a bag that weighs 1000 kgs, you won't bother picking it up. Similarly if you come to terms with your weakness, you won't bother putting yourself in situations that will damage you. I am not recommending you to be a pessimist and not do anything at all because of this weakness. Remember, I call it weakness and not disability. I have also been called mature in quite a few aspects of life. I have had the good fortune of witnessing mature people. They do go through ups and downs, they do enjoy life, they do get happy. But they don't need someone else to make them happy. They allow all the good and bad of life to pass through them with same ease. It is their ability to handle the ups and downs and not get overwhelmed as much as a weak person would.

If I have found the cause, have I found the solution? Being a weak person myself, I cannot give a solution, but only make assumptions. I do believe that you will find ways to overcome this weakness by taking help of stronger people. If you don't have access to stronger people, you could meditate. Or, you could challenge your weakness bit by bit to become stronger by the day and eventually a strong person. There are also several self help books. But don't just stick to books. Go out and put yourself there, because your weakness is also your strength. You can impact several lives! 

The Bride on Wheels

Sipping on some ginger tea, I find myself recollecting the last time I had ginger tea. It suddenly dawned on me that I have not told this story, and it is worth being told and heard. 

I had quite a depressing start to the year 2018, and I was desperately searching for some hope.

Somewhere in the meantime, I received the wedding invitation of Supriya, my friend from college. The wedding was supposed to happen in Gurvayur.

I jumped at the idea of going to Gurvayur to attend her wedding. The idea of travelling, Gurvayur, meeting her, and attending her wedding equally played parts in bringing up my enthusiasm. 

So I booked flight tickets to and from Coimbatore and planned on continuing the journey by bus. Just before I left Hyderabad, I had managed to put my vocal cords to task by using them over-time. As a result, I had a bad throat and was not able to talk. On the day I left Hyderabad, I noticed my nose bleeding due to the heat and rupture of the blood vessels as a result of constant sneezing and coughing. 

Anyways, I was all set to go, and I went! I landed well in Coimbatore and found my way to the connecting bus to Kerala. By the time I reached Kerala, I was completely sick. On my arrival in Gurvayur, I looked awful. So much that Supriya was feeling quite upset seeing me. When I told her that all I want is some water, she looked at me with a helpless expression on her face and said "But you will get only hot water here" She was quickly trying to figure out a way to get me water or a beverage that was not hot. 

Now here is a little background... When I was in college, I consumed several gallons of fizzy drinks straight from the fridge. It has never been my style to appreciate hot or warm beverages of any sort. And I have always liked cold edible things, and cold environments(strictly physical and not metaphoric by any means) to be in.  

Much to her surprise, I thanked her profusely. She had not known that I started realizing the benefits of hot water regardless of my general dislike. I asked her if she could get me some hot water with local herbs. She made me feel like I was asking someone in Alaska if they would be willing to sell me some snow. 

Anyways, as I reached the hotel, I drank a decent quantity of hot water that she brought. I took some medicines because I really knew how bad I was and everyone around me was feeling sick just by the virtue of seeing me. She took me to the temple because I asked her to. We got ready in a jiffy, but she took me to the temple on a casual walk. I did not go for the standard rush that we are usually put on while on pilgrimage. She helped me get some exclusive temple visit because I am her friend. There was a time, I actually rested on her shoulders. We then went to have dinner, where I was a party pooper by only having curd rice and lots of local herb hot water. By the time dinner was over, I was already feeling better. 

We went back to the hotel, and she had given me a room. I was fast asleep. The next day was a very relaxed wedding ceremony. It was a very beautiful wedding. Her cousins were taking care of me the previous day and on the wedding day. Many more people had joined in on the D-day, and it was lovely being in the company of such positive and kind people. I tried to not get too close to her around the wedding time worrying about the bridezilla mode that every girl is usually on. But it so happened that she was cool with others being around, and she was being on her own. She did not expect anything from anyone, and on the contrary was very helpful to her guests. I was greatly surprised by this. I was literally speechless, had my jaws dropping and did not blink for several seconds. She casually called herself "Bride on Wheels" when she was gliding through the room to fetch something that she needed to get ready.

It is very rare that we find a bride who doesn't make a fuss about everything. And exceptionally rare if she doesn't lose her wits. Oh, by the way, there was a major strike that day with no transportation facility that disrupted the travel plans of some of the guests. Like any event, there were a lot of times that tested her patience. She passed all those tests very well with poise and grace. 

If I ever get to be a bride, I would like to be a Bride on Wheels instead of a bridezilla. 

And, most important, I returned home in perfectly good health. 

I am now having the same tea that she got me to treat my condition as I write this post reminiscing the quality vacation I had in a short duration on her wedding. 

I wish Supriya a very long and happy married life. 

Love, Hate

I don't know if I have spoken about it here, or anywhere. I don't know if words can do justice to love. Is that what always stopped me or, what was it? Was I afraid to think of it, feel it? Was I afraid to live, was I afraid to love? Was I plainly confused with so many opinions from the several discourses and articles and stories I had read? I honestly don't know!

How far can one go to love? These days my idea of distance seems obsolete. How far is really far? Is there any standard protocol? or is everything just measured with relativity? Simple relativity?

I like to believe everything is relative and most are subjective. In which case, does it also apply to love? Does it make one eloquent, or does it put one into profound silence? Is it the change you never anticipated? Where is love? What is love? Who loves? How does it come along?

What is hate? Is it as extreme as it is said? Is it just said or is it believed? Is it the action or the reaction?

Love and hate: what is the cause, what is the consequence?

Do I really need answers? Do you really need answers?

At one point, do you even continue to have questions?

Have you felt the relief in hatred and pain of love? Do you want it?

Do I want it? In all hell, heaven, and earth, yes! I want it. Is it just "it"? Aren't love and hate two sides of the same coin? You cannot have one without the other. There is no clear distinction between the two.
Is there pleasure? Is there pain? Is it both? Can you handle it? Do you want it?

I cannot answer that for myself, I won't try to give you answers.

Then why am I writing about it?

I want love, and I want everyone to love.

Love, love, love.

Fashion and Style

Yet again I am here posting a random thought.

To be able to explore more on this topic, I picked up an online course on fashion, which I eventually did not finish. Hence my take on this subject is more personal than professional.

I have always been intrigued by the subject of style, fashion, and the types, and yet have had my own fair share (or more) of wardrobe malfunctions that I will never be proud of. But this is not about those bad times, it is about the rest.

After a few malfunctions, a couple friends who also happen to be colleagues gave me their valuable contribution of time to avoid another malfunction. When they thought everything was fine, one of them told me that the main aspect of all this is to be comfortable. I am compelled to believe in him given my experiences.

However, there are a lot of people who would walk that extra mile in pain wearing a smile to try hard to cover the agony they compel themselves to carry. In fact, a close friend always tells me "Beauty is pain" and she does things painful to her to seem beautiful. However, I have recently in the past been rebellious to please people to be accepted. It is a never ending saga to go about pleasing people by putting yourself in pain or betraying your own ideas in life.

There is another close friend in my circle, who actually does care for people. She probably cares for them a lot more than she does for herself. But the topic I am here to discuss is about her sense of dressing. I like her in any outfit she is in. I was pondering why, and realized that it is her confidence that makes her carry herself comfortably. She is unapologetic in saying no to a way of wearing whatever is uncomfortable to her. She only chooses what she feels comfortable to her. Surprisingly, I don't know if it co-incidence or not, she looks fabulous even in the most senseless colour combinations, and patterns of stitches that make the very outfit(I somehow overuse the word dress. I am trying hard not to abuse it by not using it at all)

The former friend I mentioned tends to wear clothes that don't look bad, and are not bad by themselves. But I don't find her appealing always. It is very rare that I take a moment to spare her my attention. On the contrary, I take time to keep my mind off her presentation or try to un-see what I saw. I always get reprimands from her, with her comments that I dress like an old woman. Sometimes the latter also worries I am turning into an old and grumpy woman.

At one point, I absolutely had to snap. When she(former) wanted me to alter a dress of mine to make it appealing to the "current trend" I just could not stand it. Because it was one that I got stitched to my interest. I was unapologetic to say "I don't believe I should wear what the self-proclaimed fashion gods believe I should be wearing. What I wear is pretty comfortable and fashionable to me" In spite of this agitated response, I still get unsolicited advises on how I should be fashionable by following a current trend.

Fashion, in my opinion is whatever one wears, and not always following a current trend or a person. I was a 15 year old when an old man in a bangle store told me that fashion is whatever one wears, and one must wear what one likes to wear. I still find that empowering. For fashion to be stylish, one must be confident, and to be confident, one must feel comfortable in one's own skin. Because it is not just what we wear, it is also what we don't do to our clothes, our skin, our hair or our very structure.

It is easier said that done for me to tell that you should like yourself however you are, when I beat myself up on not being slim. But there are times you must tell yourself that nobody is perfect.
Perfection is your own perception of how you want to be. If you want to be fashionable and stylish, be that! Not being that, is what self proclaimed fashion gods en-cash on. There is nothing to be ashamed of in getting your clothes stitched by a tailor, when you pick your own fabric, colour, and pattern, and he goes by how you want it done. You are your own stylist!

Beauty is not pain. Neither does it lie in you (inside nor out).
When someone says you are beautiful, it is the beauty in their eyes that gives you a compliment. 

Comparing a day to the gym

Its been a long time since I wrote anything here or anywhere for that matter, I decided yesterday to write down something I thought was worth entering the blog

I do not own this image, I am merely using it to support my article, and to do a bit of marketing to the guy who actually took it. Just compare it to a random share on facebook-that is where I found it anyways

I am inspired to write by the event that happened at home and the above picture. Translating it from French, it means "Are you telling me that people go to the gym by car to run on a rolling carpet?"

I was reminded of this picture that I first saw long back, when I saw Gordon Ramsay beat the eggs by hand, and said "Why use an electric beater to save time here and then fret out in the gym. Works well on the biceps eventually by the way" Now these are not exactly the words he used, but largely, this is what he said. I was not a fan of this guy, and am still not. Just that I don't hate him as much as I used to.

This guy compared an egg beater to a workout in the gym, just like the kid comparing a car and the treadmill.

I am now comparing the gym to a washing machine. The events are as follows:

Sadly, the locality I live in is infested with rodents. Although I think squirrels are cute, I don't share the same thoughts on other species of that class.

One of them entered my household, and happily enjoyed destroying my washing machine. The wires, the very frame(!) and plumbing pipes satiated its palate, and gave its teeth a pleasure of whatever nonsensical sort, at my expense.

Two loads of clothes have not been washed. The electrician, being a rare species is difficult to find, and if found, the probability of him actually doing the work is almost nil. And with my past experience, I will safely say "zero".

With no clothes left to wear, and an option of either washing the clothes or not bathing, I decided to sit down and wash the clothes.

By now, I was also in a state of despair for the extremely challenging things I was doing and not losing even a gram of weight. Washing clothes seemed like another thing that might kindle some promising results. I took one load of clothes, which consisted most of my clothes, and very few of my mother's. Since I had never washed clothes before, I had to get an instruction on how to execute this task. After mom explained how it is to be done, I decided to take the challenge. The very posture that I had to maintain to sit seemed like an endurance sport. Well, blame the kind of toilets we use nowadays!

By the time I began washing clothes, I was reminded of Gordon Ramsay and that kid in the above poster. I thought it was about time to forget doing any exercise, but just do my own work to keep me fit.

Like anyone's first day at the gym, my first day on the floor was....typical! I was exhausted pretty soon, by when I knew what an exercise it was and started falling short of breath because my legs were hurting. By now, I had successfully washed ONE t-shirt.

After finishing one load of clothes, I did the one thing everybody loves in a yoga session- sleep asana. I finished one session of intense workout and had my much deserved bath.
As of today, it took me a while to understand why my thighs have been hurting so bad whenever I try to walk.


A pun intended rant, on a parallel universe:
When you are driving on road, there is a reason you should keep an eye on the rear view mirror- so that you know what the bastards are up to behind your back!

Travel 2014

I just realized that I have not written anything on the travel in the year 2014. I strongly believe that traveling this year is going to be terribly limited, a polite way of saying that it can be probably nil.
All the more important to recollect travel 2014.

1. Solitude is a wonderful gift for therapy: I initially planned this trip as a destination I ve always wanted to go, and time was just right. It slowly turned out that I absolutely had to take the trip to reconcile from the several odds that I went through.

2. Don't build dreams based on Bollywood movies you saw as a kid: Enough said.

3. Breakfast is good: Those times when I was a kid, my dad used to tell my mom "she can as well stay home than go to school if she refuses to have breakfast". Not that skipping school was allowed, skipping breakfast is not allowed either. Trust me, it is a good idea.

4. You don't have to be rich to dream: Nor to live dreams. There is always a way if there is a way. Just go with the flow.

5. Have a map: I remember reading in the article "everyone is free to use sunscreen" that you should carry a map whether or not you use it. Don't always rely on the internet connectivity on your phone. Carry a map. The best thing that happened to me for having carried the map was that it gave me a freedom to go wherever I wanted to, and still find my way back, or my way wherever I wanted to go.

6. It is not bad to get lost: Come to think of it, getting lost was the best part of the trip. I went cycling to places I otherwise would not have bothered going to. I still found my way back. But those few hours of being lost were nice. If you are lost. You don't have to panic. Enjoy the new place, When you want to get back, just pull out your map. If you don't have your map, ensure you know how to find the trails to your place. It is not as tough as you might imagine.

7. The best part of an art museum is when you can get inside the head of the artist: I like Vincent Van Gogh. But having the option of knowing his life, his thoughts, his ideas and ideals in life could not make me like him more than what I now do.

8. Time management : It is a thing, kinda. However I hate this concept, and not a strict follower of it, it is something important to keep up with.

9. Life is calling: There is so much to see, so much to do, giving up is not a worthy option.