Metamorphosis

He wanted to die. Yes, Die. How could he just let go? Forget her that easily? The reason he was alive all these days. The reason he opened his eyes every morning. The reason he felt safe.

He looked around at his surroundings, the world was moving along at its usual steady pace. He felt small, almost invisible and he knew; his pain was his alone. People could pity him, try sympathising and maybe make him feel better temporarily but, no one could truly say or do anything to make him find this sudden transition acceptable or normal. No, he did not want to grow up and deal with it. No, he did not want to do what was right. He just wanted his old life back where this was where he was meant to be. This was what he was best at. She was where he; his heart and his soul belonged.

Standing by a strawberry bush in that beautiful garden where his love for her had initially blossomed, he watched her. She stood at a distance quivering in the cold; looking at him in the same sensuous way she always did, moving gracefully beckoning him to her with dewy eyes.

He didn’t move, he didn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t; but at the same time he could not get himself to go to her either. He felt like a sinner. He had done her wrong. The promises, the soft whispers in her ears, those intimate moments, the conversations, growing up together, the long endless days spent in each other’s arms watching the rain. Those days of laying in the sun and the endless nights spent counting stars. And here he was today, wanting to say good bye. No, it wasn’t disregard nor was it the lack of admiration or respect. He didn’t know why or how; but, it had somehow reached a point where he had nothing to contribute or offer anymore.

He watched her all morning, those inviting eyes making him weak in the knees. He realised that he had an overdose of her; an overdose that was making him nauseous. He found himself reaching for support and holding on tight to a branch. He knew then, that he had to get away, knew it was time he stopped watching her. He knew that the only way to let go was to stop searching for an answer in those lustrous eyes.

Ignoring the tears he couldn’t control anymore he started to spin. Round and round, making sure he kept his eyes shut because one look at her and he would have lost the will to continue. Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Finally the little caterpillar stopped spinning and opened his eyes to observe his handiwork. He sat down in his cosy little cocoon and smiled, proud of what he had accomplished. He thought of the little green leaf he had left behind and he knew he had done the right thing. Because this was the circle called life and letting go was part of it.

Because only after finding the courage to let go of a leaf, can a caterpillar morph into a butterfly and chase flowers!

A spinning tale

I watch her every day, so I reckon I know her quite well. But who’s to say what’s running in her mind. Not like she ever cares to share the circus of thoughts running in her head.

She just walked in, stormed in rather; her demeanour being very different from usual. On a normal day she usually bounces into the room excited or glides in absorbed in one of her books; too pre occupied to bother about the mess her brother has left behind.

Today she is doing neither. Today, she is staring at herself in the mirror like she is trying to size herself up for what she is about to do. She opens her cupboard; and is busy searching for something amongst its contents. Bang, push, clatter……………. I watch with baited regard as a box of pencils spills out, she curses; picks them up, throws them back inside, for the first time not bothering to arrange them in neatly or stare at them and smile for a while. She gets back to her noisy search and finally pulls out a file. An ordinary looking grey file. I wonder what its contents are, maybe a few papers, maybe some assignments. I noisily turn around to get a closer look. She lets out a weak sigh, flips it open and stares at her marks card. She runs her finger down her marks and halts her progress in between and smiles. But, this smile does not seem effortless; it doesn’t even reach her eyes; like there is a grimace hidden behind it somewhere in the layers of her face.

She slaps the files shut and sits on the floor. I watch her close her eyes in an almost meditative attempt, take a few deep breaths and her body seems to loosen up a little, the strain vanishes from her anxiety stricken face and she starts to relax.
I take another lazy turn without taking my eyes off her. My curiosity tinkered with by the unusual behaviour.

She clumsily rises and looks around, shaking her head on noticing the mess. She slips the file into her handbag and looks around the room again, in an almost melancholic; farewell bidding fashion. She lets out another sigh, an expression of confusion crosses her face, she shakes it off, straightens her shoulders, takes in a deep breath and leaves. I continue staring at the spot where she stood a few seconds ago, wondering if I should have enquired after her.

I wish I knew what was running in her mind. If only she would share that part of her with me.

The day goes by, as lazy as ever and the evening rolls in with the pitter-patter of the raindrops against the window. She should be back soon I remind myself, and as if on cue; she walks in. A bright wide smile on her face, she goes about with her usual tasks and then walks out humming a familiar tune.

I am left to ponder about how fascinating people can be and how true it was, that no matter how hard you try, you can never understand a woman.

I watch her comb her hair; and climb into bed. She isn’t reading today, my curiosity picks up again. I watch her cast aside her phone. Very very unusual. No calls? No texting?

I raise my eyes to the heavens, wondering how one person could go through and entire eternity worth of emotions in such a random flourish and not explode. I take another lazy turn and I suddenly realise that I am being watched. I look around and our eyes meet, for the first time in days. She looks at me like I might have the solution to whatever it is; that is bothering her.

Her phone rings; ruining our moment. She answers, suddenly chirpy again; the smile suggests she is enjoying the conversation, she laughs, I hear her wish the caller a good night. I find it hard to look away, instead I continue to pry. She returns the phone to the corner she had set it in, I continue watching her. She lifts her hand and stares down at her fingers; then her palm and I continue to observe, even in the dark. She looks at me again, wipes away a tear. Another one rolls down; she doesn’t bother with it this time. I wonder what’s behind the roller coaster of emotions she seems to be going through. Maybe, I should say something or maybe I should continue to not bother her.

I know; she knows I can witness her pain, but what can I possibly do? What do I know about people and their pain? I’m just a ceiling fan.

Congratulations, It's a girl...........

Flipping through the pages of a famous fashion and lifestyle magazine I came across this article on ‘female infanticide’ and how this NGO saved a pretty angel like four day old sweetheart with the most darling smile [her photos were there of course], from the mouth of death and forced her parents to accept her and admit that they were wrong.

Ahem…… you are about to kill a four day old baby, and you get caught along with a lot of media being involved.
WHO WILL NOT ACCCEPT BEING WRONG AND PROMISE EVERLASTING LOVE FOR THEIR BABY?
I doubt if it was realisation or true penance that brought about that change!

For the little angels sake I hope those NGO warriors check in on her every week and when she is old enough make her pinky swear that she’ll yell her lungs out the moment her parents come within one feet distance from her. Because, they might have prevented infanticide here; but created the perfect scenario for domestic violence if you ask me.

Today, the law and human rights associations protect girls and women from a lot of ill intended harm and they are probably the reason why a lot of people are scared into not doing anything drastic or crazy to get into trouble; but, it doesn’t change who they are or what they think or even whatever twisted and insane version of right and wrong that they have in their heads.

Education helps create awareness and increase sensibility? Then, why did my fully educated, ultra-sonologist, father of two daughters apparently, with a clinic wallpapered with ‘sex detection of the foetus is illegal’ posters; get busted in a recent sting operation for not only detecting the gender of the baby but for also suggesting no questions asked abortion clinics to his patients?
Why did a friend’s highly qualified software engineer husband use her face as his personal punching bag for the last three years and make her life so unbearable that she had to take her five year old son and run?
And, why did this teary eyed girl sitting next to me in the bus one day; stare at her phone at this open text that I shamelessly eavesdropped and read; and why did she not just delete it or go slap the boy but instead sat there considering a message that read, “I dont care.Hav sex wid me again or I break up wid u”?

I rather go through the sick; depressed feeling of knowing that an infant at her prettiest, most pure and innocent hour of her life was brutally killed than live with the knowledge that she was saved, forced to live with parents who did not want her in the first place and probably grew up to be the eight year old slapped because she wanted to study, the twelve year old forced into child labour, the eighteen year old forced into prostitution by a drunk; un employed father, the 23 year old[normal educated grew up in a good family got married to a great guy type girl] mother of two kids; and pregnant again made to give up her career, her sensibilities and everything beautifully wonderful about her to pursue her mother in laws quest for a grandson.

Every person reading this, including myself can argue about my highly prejudiced one point perspective way of looking at this situation and yes, I am turning a deaf year and blindsiding the world where women empowerment etc. is happening at an amazingly wonderful and satisfying rate; simply because; the rest of the world aside, no parent who can get even the slightest urge to kill their own child would qualify as someone who can nurture and love that little angel to grow up to be the modern woman we all read endless lifestyle columns about.

There might be a lot of things one deserves or does not. But no girl deserves to think she doesn’t deserve her parents love or that she is unlucky, unwanted or not beautiful enough to be truly happy.

Let her go rendezvous in heaven than live through hell.

A puppy named "Puppy"

She had no idea what “Happy Birthday” meant, nor did the fact that she was one year old make any sense to her. But all the attention she was getting made her like the idea of being the ‘birthday girl’ [everyone kept calling her that]. So, sitting on her favourite uncles’ lap she watched him unwrap the present he had bought her. He tore away the shiny paper that she found very pretty and while she played with it he opened the box inside; and out came a golden and white stuffed puppy.

Of all her toys this soon became her favourite. The fact that it was probably the smallest and the only one she could carry around; might have lead to the favouritism. She would take him everywhere, to the bathroom and give him baths, to the kitchen and try to persuade him to eat the apple she did not want, to the park and push him to and fro on the swing and even to the hospital where she was going to show him her little baby brother.

Somewhere down the line she christened him “Puppy”, and from then on everyone was introduced to her puppy stuffed toy named ‘Puppy'.

It was a bright sunny day; she woke up early to the sounds of the television and wandered upstairs to the balcony where her grandmother had kept the parrots’ cage. While feeding the already overfed bird with little green chilies she saw a man take his dog for a walk. She stood there for a while and watched the dog run from tree to tree and wag its tail and chase a squirrel down the street.
The next morning her mom found her dragging Puppy across the street. The little girl had found a skipping rope and fastened it around her toy who she was convinced was a real dog, and was now taking him for a walk with a proud smile and the innocent air of a child; who was absolutely convinced that she was doing the right thing.

“So, is puppy a boy or a girl?” she sat there thinking for a while then looked up at her fathers smiling face and declared, “Pa, he is a boy; and he is very strong! He will bite anyone who troubles me.” And then she carried him with her to the kitchen to ask her mother to make Complan for him too and not just her.

She got him when she was one year old and was told then that he was as old as she was. She fell in love with that golden and white stuffed toy and the whole childish delusion of assuming him to be a real puppy probably continued for a few years.

She is 20 years old today, and yes, he is really frayed and torn and his nose is missing. The golden fur now looks a dirty yellow but; she still sleeps with him right beside her, she hugs him every time she feels lonely; she cries to him every time she has a fight with her parents she doesn’t want to tell her friends about. She picks him up and dances around her room when she is really happy and excited about something and she wishes him “happy birthday” every year on hers.

To her uncle it was a sweet gift he gave to his little niece. To her parents he was their daughters favourite stuffed toy. To her brothers he was the best way to trouble her by hiding him and threatening to chop off his tail.

But to me, he will always be my “Puppy”.

I love me, I love me not.........

I’m pretty certain that everyone goes through the ‘self love’, ‘self pity’, ‘self hate’ phases on a daily basis. I wonder though, if anyone bothers to actually sit down and think it over and realize that there are times when we let ourselves go on this roller coaster ride of hidden emotions for no apparent reason at all.

We all have a tendency to edit our perspective to fit the one that, the world around us labels veracious. And, in this race to prove ourselves as righteous as the next person, we tend to judge the world not on the basis of what probably would be the sensible and open minded way to accept the different shades of the spectrum in front of us, but, instead, on the basis of what would be the safest way to appear and come across as the ethically sound and the most easily justified virtuous person that we would love to be labeled as.

In this mental mess of trying to look like the better person; we tend to not only blindside the chance to maybe accept reality and the variety that all our existence together has to offer and also the fact that each one of us deserves to feel good and special and, that; it probably is not worth questioning things about us that we can not change but also, it is unfair that we let it put us in a situation where we tend to question ourselves and find normal everyday details of our lives highly flawed and unacceptable.

To simplify it down, we let something as normal as not owning the latest fashion trends in our wardrobes enough to hate our situation. You see someone thinner, more fair, more gorgeous than yourself and you declare yourself the ugly beast in your head. You have friends who can sing, dance, paint, do wheelies with their pimped up sports bikes, etc. and you decide to tell yourself to sit in a corner and cheer for them just because you assume your talents aren’t worth it.
Be it something as basic as someone else getting a higher academic score than you, or; something as complex as, the person you are fantasizing about in your day dreams deciding to shower all their attention on someone who according to you is more of a looker than you’ll ever be. We let the world and its perfection decide our imperfections.
And, it is at times like these that we forget; that only yesterday, did someone compliment that cute smile of yours or that, someone voiced out how you make the best tea in the entire house or maybe even how that once this random stranger at the shopping mall; gave you this flirty smile with that; I think you are eye candy “look” simply because getting randomly cheesy with you was irresistible for this certain individual, who did not know you and wasn’t behaving that way just to make you feel better.

But, I guess that is what truly makes us human. The fickle nature of our minds and the insecurity of not being the best we could be or whoever we would wish to be. The Oscar winning part we all play to the dot with complete perfection. The one where, a lone man sits on a park bench and picks up a fallen flower and decides; to bestow on it the task of making the majestic decision, and start pulling off its petals one by one while simultaneously chanting,
“ I LOVE ME, I LOVE ME NOT”.

No mans land

Back in the days when I was getting a full time education and also going through the whole ‘I’m fifteen and fabulous’ stage, I managed to decide to settle down for a while at no-mans land [literally NO MAN].

And as would have been expected from someone who grew up climbing trees and choosing to play cricket with her neighbours brothers over playing doll house and watching wrestling and finding it cool, I managed to not only hate the place but absolutely despise it and all those hormonally challenged, PMS-ing ,extra giggly, 5 tons of make up applying, self obsessed dames. It was like stepping into a parallel universe where everyone had perfect hair cuts and shiny nails and pretty outfits and somehow no matter what day of the year it was; they all managed to look gorgeous “all the time”!

I started to feel emotionally connected and sympathetic towards the ugly duckling from the fairytale. All of a sudden I was being judged not just on how my academic scores were but also on how I dressed [“Neha you always wear that silly top. It’s not in fashion even!”], how I walked [“god girl! You drag your feet so noisily, you have never worn heels have you? ] etc.etc. And the fact that I couldn’t sing or dance [the two things apparently all girls can do!] didn’t help much either. So, I spent a good part of the first half of my stay there feeling out of place and missing the world that I had left behind, I also managed to break the record in moving from one set of people to another in search of the right clique` .

And then, it happened! My prejudiced opinions dropped and I started to see this bizarre world in a very different light………….

No mans land wasn’t a place full of superficial people. Rather I realized that girls had a tendency to be, well you know, ”girly” and that I had never paid any attention to that part of me so I found the rest of the worlds efforts pointless. No mans land was in fact this divine place full of people who were probably normal with ambitions and this very weird way of thinking exactly like I did! And then, the process of self realisation and personal discoveries started.

It’s surprising how different the world becomes if you just choose to change your perspective. So, the rest of my stay was probably one of the best experiences of my life. The pleasure and knowledge that no mans land had to offer were endless. Wear whatever you want [not like anyone you need to impress is around], do not think before you speak! Talk about all your girl problems as loudly as your heart desires without having to find a secluded corner, bitch to no end about the boy who dumped you and have at least a hundred people sympathize and join in on the abusing, don’t ever worry about certain parts of your wardrobe playing peek-a-boo with you, and then there was my favourite one- eat all you want and like a pig if your heart fancies it cause everyone does the same!

I found things I was good at, managed to shine in a few. Learned things I never would have bothered to do normally. This new perspective not only made me a better individual, and helped me realise this very girly side of me but also let me grow to this new level of profound intellect that I so proudly wear on my sleeve today!

It was like a vacation with benefits, of a higher education; of making friends I’ll know forever; of meeting people who have changed my life in the most bizarre yet wonderful ways; of learning, the true meaning of sister-hood. And also, of realising, that a ‘Y chromosome’ carrying individual is someone a girl doesn’t necessarily need to make a part of every sphere in her life. It was a journey that I’ll carry in my heart forever, probably more exotic and worth narrating than any vacation to Greece or Paris would be.
My stay, at No mans land…………

It's Voodoo!! It's Magic!! and you'll probably need magical powers, or the third eye etc. to understand this one :P

On a boring Saturday afternoon, I came across this article that got me smiling :) :) :)

Now, it was all about mystical stones and cryptic messages and in other words sort of like ‘voodoo magic!’

And then, the usual followed, I went in a frantic search for my cell phone, tried calling; realized it was on silent, cursed loudly, made my brother drop his home work and help me search for it instead, blamed him for losing it, and then…….”FOUND IT!!!”, on my study table where I always keep it :|

I called my best friend while obviously ignoring my brothers loud complaints and irritating banter, and also forgiving him for calling me “a blind mental freak”.
So, like I mentioned…….. I called my best friend. I got into narration mode and immediately got an “OMG! hahahaha”; in reaction and after a few minutes of girly giggling and silly story spinning we both fell silent, and I’m guessing she too was probably visiting the same far away wonderland that I was; where this sort of magical craziness would work!

We both as usual broke the silence together with a “So?”

“Should we do it?”, “Yes! Let us do it!”, “But, err, Will it work?”, “Who cares? It would still be fun!”, “Yeah, but how on earth are you okay with it?”, “Huh?”, “Well, you never believe in such things. The typical Aquarian that you are”, “Yeah, I know. But I also did not want to turn 20 and even then last week I did. So let’s just say that I’m open to silly things now”, “Yeah, but you don’t need this to get on with it! hehe”, “Yes I do. Cause, jerks aren’t my type!”, “Really? Are you sure?”, “Oh, Shut up!”, “Alright! Let’s do it!”, “Tomorrow?”, “Done!”…………………

So, we got down to business and wrote our messages and Configuration requirements [our cryptic way of referring to it ;)] and flushed it into the world……….

And, from the looks of it after certain unmistakable; super obvious; situational circumstances in the last few days, her message has not only reached its destination in all its glory but is also being replied to by the dozen. What about me? Well, my enquiry of the existence of a certain species is apparently still submerged in the worlds shit. ’Literally’