The most underrated aspects of life . . .

The most underrated aspects of life that we almost always take for granted are:

* Getting up without any effort in the morning

* Turning on to the side without pain

* Eating whatever you fancy without restrictions

* Making a plan on a whim

* Breathing without any effort

* Bathing whenever you feel like

* Having a drink of anything without much thought

* Planning an outing in the weekend

* Knowing exactly how you will feel the next day based on today

* Peacefully sitting by the window

Dear reader, what will you add to the list? 

A poem for troubled times

 

Today, as I reflect on the past days and more to come, there is a slight perturbation which stirs my thoughts. But I keep myself going and try motivating myself so that I don't despair. There are some days when my words are sufficient but on other days, there is always poetry.

Here is a poem that I have been going to when thoughts of fear assail:

Everything Is Going To Be Alright, by Derek Mahon

How should I not be glad to contemplate

the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window

and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?

There will be dying, there will be dying,

but there is no need to go into that.

The poems flow from the hand unbidden

and the hidden source is the watchful heart.

The sun rises in spite of everything

and the far cities are beautiful and bright.

I lie here in a riot of sunlight

watching the day break and the clouds flying.

Everything Is Going To Be Alright

Hope this poem lightens your day and brings cheer to you in these grim times.

Take care and stafe (stay safe)

2020 Meanderings

2020 began with thoughts of decades, achievements and general goodwill. Social media was ablaze with the Citizenship Amendment Act and its implications - sometimes it felt as if Apocalypse was at the doorstep so much so that it did not feel like one was heralding a brand new year. It is a new decade and year nevertheless. A new year, no matter what, engages one in introspection and a sense of beginnings. If you are of the reflective kind, then the old giving way to new holds the tugs of your heart's strings and coerces you to look back and forward.

I was thankful for 2019 on a personal level while I was in trepidation about the general happenings around me and my country. While my heart was overflowing with the turn of events in my life, I was unable to savour them because my country was reeling under protests of CAA and related issues. The economy of my country worries me in spite of me not being an economist. Can one be happy about something when the country is at a loss for common sense?

But hope is a good thing and I have it flowing in abundance out of the depths of my being and as long as it is present, I could gladly look forward to 2020.

How was it for you?

May we face the coming year, 2020, with the steady serenity of a tree — that supreme lover of light, always reaching both higher and deeper, rooted in a network of kinship and ringed by a more patient view of time.

(Via Brain Pickings)

Picture Courtesy: Blogger's archive

You will always be the one I'm thinking about when somebody asks me who I'm thinking about . . .

You will always be the one I'm thinking about when somebody asks me who I'm thinking about . . .

Merrit Malloy

Imperfections

(from The People Who Didn't Say Goodbye)

Why is it that you wanted me more on

the night I was leaving

than you ever wanted me

before?

Does pain bring people

closer together than

pleasure?

Are we more afraid of

living together than of

dying alone

Does distance unite people more deeply

than familiarity?

It is as though our hunger

is to be hungry and our real need is

to be missed

It's no accident that the songs

that sell the most

are sad 

One Of The First Things We Have To Learn

No matter how long she held on

to those people she lost

No matter how hard she tried

to get them back

Not one of them ever

returned to her

We must be careful

not to relinquish our future

to people who won't

be there

One of the first things

we have to let go of

is not being able to

let go of

anybody

I Won't Call Him

Knowing what you need

Is more than knowing what you want.

It's a kind of clear-eyed wisdom

To see what is worthless

Its touching on someone

Who you know won't turn away.

It's reaching for something

That's really worth the climb.

And it's learning to let go

When it isn't.

Knowing what you need

Is more than knowing what makes you feel good right now.

It's knowing that the same thing

Will make you feel good again.

I won't call him.

Something You Can Count On

I want to tell you

in a few words

what I could not tell you

in too many

I want you to know

that it will be hard

to live without you

again

You will always be the one

I'm thinking about

when somebody asks me

who I'm thinking

about

Melancholia

The word melancholy is a better word than sad, don't you think so? Sad seems to convey the state of mind but melancholia conveys the state of the being when sadness accosts the soul. The word could be used in different contexts - when one sees an airplane flying reminding of departures and people who have left, the association of deeper sadness which chokes the inner self but does not affect the visage. Today, when I behold certain photographs tagged with captions that threaten to stir your core, you experience melancholia.

Melancholy.

Melancholia.

Melancholic.

Smouldering cold of the monsoon.

The bitterness of lost moments.

The tugging of heart strings.

You hear melancholy beckoning with open arms except that you want to embrace her without crushing your heart - Alas! impossible.

Are you melancholic tonight? Who or what is your companion or are you lost within yourself?

Love, Sex and Growing Up

Today while watching the 1961film, Splendor in the Grass, directed by Elia Kazan ( Yes, he directed the hot Brando in The Streetcar Named Desire), I was wondering how the film holds relevance today, much like what it used to in the 20th century. The film largely deals with sexual repression, mental illness, Christian values, and other related aspects of growing up. Bud and Deanie are high-school sweethearts who enjoy a cosy relationship. While Bud would like to have sex with his girlfriend, Deanie resists, in spite of feeling the same for Bud. She owes this largely to the value system and the concept of being 'pure,' which is drilled into her psyche by her mother and the society in general.

I could closely relate to the film because when I was growing up, things were quite similar to the that of 1961. Every teen fellowship that I attended in Church emphasised of being 'pure' which is being a virgin and keeping the wedding bed undefiled. EVERY. SINGLE. CHURCH. MEETING. My aunts, as soon as I attained puberty would regale how every girl should be like 'fire' and not allow any guy to touch her. Somehow the idea that every boy was evil was drilled into my head. It was okay to fall in love but make sure that the boy in question does not touch you, was the common sentiment. I guess it is no much different today. In school, the couples in love who sat with an arm's distance from each other were always held up high on a pedestal. And if by chance, anyone tried talking about how the kiss of last evening, she would be labelled as a 'forward' girl - whatever that meant.

Teacher, priests, aunts, parents, even peers were always advising on how boys were mean creatures who have been sent by the devil to seduce and corrupt the girl. In the entire picture, it was conveniently forgotten that girls had the same feelings as well. Both the sexes were battling a thousand diverse feelings of passion and desire. In the film, Bud is quite exasperated and frustrated when Deaney does not allow him to go beyond kissing; He slowly withdraws from her in spite of loving her immensely. His father also advises him that he should have two kinds of girls - one the good kind like Deaney and the other - the one who would sleep with him without any qualms. Bud does that precisely but cannot two time Deaney and so breaks up with her, driving her to an institution for the mentally challenged.

The film in passing mentions Freud whose experiments on the connection between human psychology and sex made great breakthrough in the 20th c.  The film knits together various aspects of love and sex in a beautifully written story. Watching the film, I was led on a rueful journey through my teenage years and the various incidents colouring those times. While no one spoke of practising kindness, compassion and the virtues of knowledge, sex without being named was the preoccupation of every adult and of course, every teenager.

I hope the times are gradually changing now and parents strive to have healthy conversation with their children about various topics that affect them as they step into the turbulent teens.

I quote lines from the film, from the poem Splendour in the Grass (also the name of the film) by William Wordsworth:

What though the radiance

 which was once so bright

 Be now for ever taken from my sight,

 Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,

 We will grieve not, rather find
of glory in the flower,

 Strength in what remains behind;

 . . .

Image 1: Internet

Image 2: Internet

When time and priorities come between passion and love

Many a time in our lives, we find something that we absolutely love doing and engage in the new-found love most arduously. It keeps us going for a while but after a point, the love is sustained but the efforts aren't. This post is about one such blogger who loved what he was doing but abandoned his love as other life dependent loves kept him 'busy.' The blogger is Sankar Narayanan, who works as a consultant. In his own words, "I started off as a food blogger, but stopped that due to health reasons. So I am diversifying to generic topics." Isn't it strange and worthwhile to wonder about something that was (still is) loved by us, is now being neglected by us. It happens all the time - in relationships, with books, with writing and sometimes we tend to neglect our own selves and in turn start flings with less interesting but other time-consuming affairs. Take my blog for example - There was a time when I used to check my blog notifications for comments and posts from other like-minded bloggers. I cannot say that my time is filled with less interesting affairs. I teach and it is my profession which takes up my time, energy and attention. Perhaps, even Mr. Narayanan has fallen into the same pressure trap - the trap of the overpowering of the routine and career.

We both (Narayanan and I) strive to work towards writing more regularly and meaningfully. He is thinking of diversifying his posts instead of niche food blogging, which he has been doing thus far and that too quite well. You could view his blog here: <www.greengastronomyst.com>. I find myself in awe of food bloggers. Ask me why? They get the opportunity to visit different eateries, sample the food and write about the same in the warmth of their rooms. I don't know how one becomes a food reviewer because I tend to believe that those who write about food should have some background experience on the authenticity and taste of food. If one is reviewing a dish from Kerala, I suppose that the food blogger should have had a prior experience of either living in Kerala, tasting their dishes made locally or should have done a course in food history. Well, I guess that is stretching the whole business of a food blogger too far. Let me stop my pedantic rigmarole and turn towards the existing scenario of showing my blog some love and also cajoling Mr. Narayanan's blog to be showed some love by him.

As years role by, we take everything for granted - relationships, health and even our blogs. In the initial years of courtship/marriage and blogging, we try our best to charm the significant other/blogger by spending time and energy but as the years go by, we are good at giving paltry excuses - Oh! we have been married for so long, Ah! My old posts are there without realising that some gas has already escaped and the whole affair is falling miserably due to neglect. I think that there is no better time to revive anything we have taken for granted by showing some care and promising that in the future we will try nurturing what we once found fascinating and engaging.

Cheers to care! Cheers to love!

P. S.: This post is written for the 'Love Theme' contest by The Chennai Bloggers Club (CBC), in association with Woodoz (http://www.woodooz.com/) and Indian Superheroes (http://indiansuperheroes.com/).

I wish I had known - A tribute to Steveroni (1933-2015)

One reason why I haven't shut my blog is that I have my treasure trove of memories in the posts, comments and pictures. That I have not been frequenting here is another story by itself but today, I wish to record the absence of one such peep whose sad demise was unknown to me until two days ago.

My beloved Steveroni.

From the time, I began blogging, he has been a regular peep who popped lovely, funny, insightful and genuine comments every now and then. We then connected beyond blogs and started communicating through emails and then Facebook. He used to blog in The Fourth Dimension and now and then I visited his blog as well. But those memories belonged to my active years of blogging, which were between 2008 and 2012. The posts were intermittent but we always managed to keep in touch. He last commented on my blog on 07/02/2015. How I wish I had blogged regularly so that I would have somehow known that the silence from Steve meant that he had transitioned.

This irks me about the online world, that some things are never known. Perhaps people might miss the posts and wonder but some would never know. How strange it is to realise that the happy and vibrant Steve would never ever comment on my Facebook posts or my blog posts!

Perusing his Facebook profile and comments, I got to know that Steve has passed on to the other world in September 2015 and a year later, I start wondering and get the news. I also think what I would have done if I had known earlier?

I would've not awaited his comments on my posts on Facebook.
I would've not checked my mailbox for a reply for the mail that I had written to him.
I would've not awaited his posts on my posts.

This is the second peep that I have lost from my blogging circle. And, to think that I have not even met him makes me melancholic. I wonder how many friends are still in the dark about Steve awaiting his comments and words of wisdom.

I will miss you dear Fiddleman - Hope we meet somewhere there. Until then, be well and spread cheer - which you have taught us to do.

An excerpt from one of his mails to me:

Do you know? I had a strong feeling that your life was changing for a month or two. You 'writings' had changed. Finally, that "JOY" you wish us all seemed to have found its place in YOUR soul. You can see I wish you the best--even writing TWO replies. (I always over-do emails and posts--grin!)
PEACE
S

The Last Waltz - A love letter to an imaginary person

Dear Melody (I always associate you with music!):

You might wonder why I haven't used the epithet 'dearest,' but then I wonder whether we ever gave importance to epithets! December and music always reminds me of you and the songs that you crooned over the phone. Well, it is a surprise to me that we haven't ever met but that does not make any difference, right? What we shared was something special - let us not strive to name it otherwise we might end up being slotted in the labels! We chatted, spoke, were angry over unspoken truths, discussed music and life in the wee hours of the night. Time was at our side. Both of us were lonely in our own ways - our loneliness entwined us into a state of feigned togetherness. We knew it right from the beginning but still we carried on reveling in the present and acting that tomorrow will never come. I enjoyed that NOW which is now in a corner of my memory still unlabeled. The Now was all that we had then - How many nows did we forge our togetherness without having met physically. That green light on G-chat against your name would send ripples through my being and you the rascal that you were, knew it perfectly well. I would like to imagine that the same sensation was yours as well when my name was lit by the green dot! I remember the day you called me for the first time - I think it was on my birthday. As the clock chimed 12, the phone chimed in as well. You sang to me - not the corny Happy Birthday song but another song which I don't remember now. I just remember that I was overwhelmed with happiness and joy. I couldn't sleep after that or did I sleep with a smile - I don't remember but I do remember that I was ecstatic. Why after all these years, I choose you to write a letter. Well, the reasons are obvious, it is you that I remember amongst my many loves. Many have caressed me with words and noble thoughts but none have lent music to my being.

I hope you are well and happy (though I would like to imagine that you pine for me in the deepest of your heart without a visible sigh unbeknownst to the world but I also know that it is a figment of my grand imagination).

So darling, save the last dance for me!

This post was written for "Write a love letter campaign by Chennai Bloggers Club'' 

Is the positive body image message creating lazy individuals

The avalanche of posts and essays on positive body image is astounding. The body and the individual relationship is the subject of many self-love promotion articles and is a relief to read when compared to the many articles on promoting a slim body. BUT what is alarming is that the signals sent by the positive body image posts, along with enabling people to love their body is also creating a steady group of lazy people. People have started loving their body a bit too much that they fail to understand that they are abusing it when they deprive it of exercise and a balanced diet.

Let me cite an example from my own neighbourhood.

X is a beautiful and successful young woman who earns an amount that is quite obscene. But it also happens that X is obese and is quite happy being so. Her success and pay package give her a confidence that many women don't have. She is independent but refuses to acknowledge that she has to be fit and healthy. I often see her consuming junk food like nobody's business and inspite of me gently coercing her to exercise, she winks at me and says, "I love my body. It is me." Agreed. But if you love your body, why not take care of it! Last week, X fainted while rushing to work and was diagnosed with low blood pressure and was advised to exercise in order to reduce her weight and keep other related lifestyle diseases at bay. Thankfully, she has started walking and also seems happier (at least her body must be for the walks!).

I admire X's audacity and openness to admit that she's on the heavier side and that she embraces her body but isn't her self-love also preventing her from exercising. If not laziness, then what?

Many individuals think quite falsely that exercising and eating sensibly is for people who are on the heavier side. When I discuss walking and exercising to many of my friends who are naturally skinny, they scoff at me saying, "Only people like you need to walk, not me." Really? Who are you kidding? Just try to bend and touch your toes with your hands. I bet your brittle bones will crack! Admit that you are either ignorant or lazy.

Eating sensibly and exercising is for everyone and especially if you actually admit to 'loving' your body, you should be able to understand its needs. Eating whatever comes your way along with working insane hours without adequate sleep and rushing through breakfast does not show your proclaimed love for your body.

I know that we all have certain body types and that they should be accepted and loved but being lazy and depriving the body of what it requires is definitely part of the 'positive body image package.' Period.

Disclaimer: If being lazy and sexy without exercise and sensible eating is what you believe in, then who am I to burst your neon bubble!

Before sunrise, Before sunset and everything in between

Just imagine, two strangers in a train decide to spend time together walking the streets in Vienna and getting to know each other! The very idea sends a tingle down my spine and fills my mind with a sense of being overwhelmed. And, the same strangers, of course not strangers any more decide to meet in the Vienna train station after six months, and in the interim not exchanging any phone calls, letters or visits. Well, they don't meet but connect after nine years in France. Well, more than the films, what really interested me was the conversation that transpired between the strangers during their first walk around Vienna which lasts until the wee hours of the morning - before sunrise, to be precise. To me the film is an ode to conversation - A conversation which is genuine, frank, occasionally punctuated by the gurgle of a stream, song of a street singer and by the different sights and sounds of the city. A conversation without mobiles, facebook and other usual suspects.

The strangers, okay the actors, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy converse on an assortment of topics ranging from feminism to climate change to love, sex, popular culture, media, animals and so on. Their discourse is peppered with anecdotes and in the process of sharing thoughts and ideas, they get to know the other quite well and also by the end of the meeting are attracted to one another. The film consists of only walking and talking and there aren't any more characters in the film than the two actors. Reading up on the film, I found that most of the dialogues are written by the actors themselves and that does not come as a surprise!

I wondered at the possibilities of me doing something similar - chatting up with a stranger on a long distance train and impulsively deciding to walk the town with that stranger. The thought did seem quite thrilling to me and I guess I would have done it, perhaps some years ago when I was in my turbulent twenties! Real conversations are definitely a turn on and as the talks go on, layers of our selves start peeling off and unwittingly we reveal our personalities in the intoxication of words. The same transpires between the two on that walk. I find that I miss that sort of real conversation sometimes. Books allow oneself to travel to unknown lands, mingle with exotic cultures and imagine surreal situations but it is a process that is done alone unlike conversation, and here I mean 'real' conversation where I can see into the eyes of the listener, catch the faint smirk, observe the change in the tone of the voice and take in the gestures of the speaker. You get the drift, don't you? And, if the person on the other end has an equally arresting face, body that fits the conversation then it is imperative that sparks will fly but don't get me wrong here. Conversations don't always have to lead to physical and emotional attraction in the form of love/lust. But I don't deny that there is a higher possibility of falling for someone who can hold an exciting and meaningful conversation for hours (This trait is fast dying because of the various gadgets that vye for one's attention throughout the day/night).

If this post on 'conversation' has made you curious, you must watch the films - there are three of them -- Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight

So, are you turned on by a heady conversation sans any distraction?

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

A kiss is just a kiss

This post has been itching to escape into the blog ever since it has been stifling in the crevices of my mindscape and I wonder why I have imprisoned it for so long. So, today, I've given a solace to the itch by applying a potion in the form of writing the post! I have always longed to devote a post to THE KISS and not the kiss that every one gives everyone but the special passionate ones that are employed to many forms of expressing love and extreme fondness in the name of lust. Well, a kiss definitely gets it started and suspends time and place. And for people like me growing up in the 90s, a kiss was as scandalous as sex itself and it was one of those forbidden pleasures that made us yearn for them on TV shows.

 

 

I remember awaiting those 'kisses' in the 'foreign' (read English) films when first Metro channel came about in the 90s. And, of course, the after kiss 'scenes' would also be eagerly anticipated but alas! they were denied to keen watchers by the censor boards who chose to not corrupt the young and fiery minds of productive youngsters like me. Well, we waited patiently for those passionate kisses and were rewarded by many during our growing up years. So much so that I even thought that a kiss is fatal enough to make one pregnant! I cannot digest my naiveté and today I wonder whether innocence of that sort was actually possibly imaginable!

 

 

I remember the famous TV program of those years, Guinness Book of World Records ended with a kiss and I would wait with bated breath to just watch that brief kiss. Ah, what thrill it gave me to imagine a kiss. I even shared the vital piece of information with a friend who also waited for that 'kissey' ending.

 

 

And it is for all the above mentioned reasons and more that the film, Cinema Paradiso is a film that is very close to my heart. For those who have seen the film, you will understand the connection between kisses and the film. For those who haven't seen it yet, here you go: The small boy Toto is fascinated by films and spends a lot of time at the cinema house  with Alfredo, the projectionist. But the films have many missing scenes - kissing and embracing scenes which are cut, following the instructions of the local priest. Many years pass by and  Toto is a successful director and comes to his village after a long time to attend the funeral of Alfredo. Alfredo's wife gives Toto something that Alfredo had left behind for him and it is a reel that is a montage made of all the deleted 'kiss' scenes and as Toto watches that he cannot stop thinking of his growing up years and Alfredo. That scene from the film is something that will never ever leave my mind. It is a wonderful mash of memories, desire and nostalgia. And every time I see Cinema Paradiso, I can't stop thinking about my tryst with kisses.

 

 

 

 

P. S. I still love kisses the same way as I used to then but no longer await those passionate kiss scenes like yore!

Images 1 & 2: Shutterstock
Image 3: Internet

Love in the light of the lamp

Last night when we came back to our campus after seeing off some relatives at Madgaon railway station, it was about 00: 00 am. At that time, the various stone benches dotting the campus were filled with love-struck  pairs who were quite occupied with their respective beaus. The sight was lovely! The thought that these love-birds could have their private moments at mid-night was a liberating one. In most campuses, the security pounces on these young ones and orders them to their hostels at about 8 or 9 pm but here, there were no such restrictions. Theirs were the stone benches and the lovely young night. The scene brought to my mind the whole thought of love-stories. Most of us love listening to love stories. It gives a voyeuristic peep into another individual's life and also gives us fodder for future situations, in some cases, imaginations.

I remember as teen-aged girls we loved pestering our senior friends for their love-stories. And as always, the seniors blushed, blinked, became thoughtful or rather lost in thought and began by saying, "Our story is not like those films you see. It is a very simple and straight-forward one."  We nodded and forgot ourselves while we listened with rapt attention the account of the first meeting not even swallowing our saliva and travelled with them as they travelled in their minds. When the senior remarked about the first touch, our skins tingled and we blushed and wondered about the many films we saw replaying the scenes over and over in our heads until we grew sick with love for a non-existent guy and then when we heard the senior say, "He finally told me those three words," we would demand, "How, how did he say it?" Another blink, another blush and then the story ended. We sighed, "So many years, you've been going around?" and finally the stories lost appeal. Reality beckons and we masticate those words that so completely thrilled and fascinated us.

As we grew up, the realisation that the love in films is different from the love in real life hit us hard but still we liked to listen to love-stories. Then we fell in and out of love and were proud individuals who now had our own love-stories to narrate to eager teens and students. Many parts were modified and censored but the story never lost its charm.

I am now married and have heard many many love-stories but still when I saw those young students sitting on the stone benches with bodies closely touching the other's and hands clasped, I wanted to go and ask them their love-stories.

Do you like listening to love-stories by the moonlight?

Leaving you with a lovely song by Andy Williams who recently passed on.

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

Love -- The Great Leveller

This post is a sort of reply to the crass comments, pictures and posts that flooded the social networking sites before and after the wedding of the famous Saif Ali Khan and Kareena Kapoor. Well, I don't care much about celebrities marrying or giving birth to children but the various posts, comments and pictures before and after their wedding prompted me to write this post.

For the ones who are in the dark, this is Mr. Khan's second wedding and there is an age-gap of about ten years between the couple. Many enlightened souls post pictures where Kareena is congratulating Saif on his  first wedding and he responding with a "Thank-you Beta" (beta is child in Hindi). This was quite insensitive as  it pokes fun on the wide age gap between the two. I ask, "So what?" When people can accept that Harrison Ford has married someone who is at least twenty-seven years younger than him, it is difficult to accept that Saif has married someone who is just ten years younger than him. Perhaps, Ford being a Western actor escapes the crude comments and remarks unlike Saif and Kareena who dwell on home turf! Well, don't people know that love is completely oblivious of age and other such meaningless things?

I happened to read a post two days ago, which is supposed to be a humourous take on the couple's wedding but to me it came across as very insensitive and unrefined. I am refraining to provide a link to the post as I don't think it's worthwhile to do so. The writer will not mind me providing a link to that post, but I do mind.

I can quote a dozen celebrities who have wide age gaps between them. I also came across comments on Facebook which admonished Saif for leaving his first wife. But what is your problem, I ask? I know that divorce is still a taboo in India but that does not make all divorcees 'bad.' The personal lives of celebrities have become knitted along with the non-celebrities' lives and hence as a community we become the moral police of their lives. Who are we to comment on them? Okay, I agree that gossip is a juicy fruit and not many can avoid it but to the extent of posting distasteful pictures and comments. No.

In fact, Saif has done something what our parents' generation has done -- marrying someone who is much younger. My mom and dad have a thirteen year age gap! I find that strange to think as I wonder how they related to one another. My friend says that her parents have an age gap of fifteen years. They got along well and my friend's father did not call his young wife 'child' or anything like that. If men were much older than the women they married, then it belongs to a custom which is commonplace in India (and also outside India), then why such hue and cry about Saif and Kareena!

All said and done, I wish them all the best with years of joy, togetherness and contentment.

So, do you think that age and love are connected?

Image: Internet

Breaking-up in the time of social networking*

Long ago, not so long ago, when I was a teenager and going through my share of heart-breaks and tears, it was rather easy to gather the reins and spring up. Why? I never had the hassle of ever seeing the guy who caused the pain and tears. Even till date, I haven't seen those guys who broke my heart. Well, I guess things are not as easy today.

First, there is the glaring 'relationship status' followed by the unfriending process. If that is not enough, there are mutual friends, tags and the like. There are different categories of friends and each of them only knows a 'certain' aspect of you and it so happens that the guy is known to many of the many friends. I cannot imagine the queries that rise after the relationship status is changed! Okay, deactivating Facebook for a short duration seems like a plausible idea but feminist-induced thoughts like, 'Why should I leave Facebook for a guy?' starts playing repeatedly in the mindscape. If you are a blogger then you face double jeopardy.

Blogging was a suggestion that the ex-beau would have given and you took to it as fish to water and now whenever you open blogger, memories start surfacing like the boiling milk when you are not around. The first comment would have been from him and boy! the comment was so touching. One cannot delete all the comments because egged on by his encouragement, hundreds of posts have been written. Sigh!

One cannot open Facebook, Blogger and Twitter without the messages being seen. Ah, how did I forget Google+. Well, he would have shared so many feeds with you that he thought were interesting and informative and it was almost a ritual to like all the things that he shared. Ah, now doesn't that make things a bit complicated.

Then there are the ubiquitous BBM (Blackberry messenger), Androids, blah blah to unfriend and block. Gosh! I'd rather not fall in love at all!

After the unfriending and blocking rituals, there is this nagging feeling to stalk the person by trying to sneak and read his/her blogs and checking out the Facebook profile through a common friend's profile. A permanent closure is sought but the lurking temptation of keeping tab is slightly overpowering.

I guess there is one solution to this scenario: Don't include your beloved in any of your social networking sites. Keep a distance in the virtual world, after all you talk to her/him over the phone and see him/her quite often.

Well, what do you have to say on this, dear reader?

* The title is inspired by Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 1988 novel, Love in the Time of Cholera

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Is compassion a natural trait of humans?

Increasingly I have been wondering whether compassion comes naturally to humans. I say this because I observe in myself and many others that compassion does not come quite easily. But we are led to believe that one ought to be a fountain of love and compassion. Though it is ideal that one should feel compassionate, most of the times it has to be coaxed. Taking an instance from my own life: If I have some free time, I would like to use it to do what I want rather than helping out someone with their studies or babysit. I would like to spend the time without doing anything but since being compassionate is the most ideal thing to do, I would force a smile and accept the given task. Notice how I say "task" and not 'favour.' I am aware that since I am free, I have time on my hands BUT I am unwilling to give up that time. Isn't that being selfish?

When I do see some people always ready to do something for others, I wonder whether it comes naturally to them or are they feigning compassion and forcing themselves to behave in a certain way because it raises their self-esteem. When I see an avalanche of quotes, sayings and messages on giving, caring and losing oneself for the cause of others, it is affirmed that these sayings are reiterating something that is becoming sparse.

Compassion, I reckon, has to be cultivated over time until finally it ceases to become forced and comes naturally. Aristotle rightly commends, "We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit." Perhaps Aristotle's wisdom holds good for any trait be it excellence or compassion. Now I guess what I should be doing -- Cultivate compassion which is not a natural trait in me.

Well, readers, what do you think of this topic.

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P. S: Since I don't have internet at home, I am forced to forgo the pleasure of reading and commenting on your blogs. I hope this condition alters and I can resume joyfully commenting on your delightful posts. Hope you don't much mind my absence and continue to think of me when you write posts you know that I would have loved to read. You are always on my mind.

Writing a love letter to me

Many times I find myself saying to myself things such as, "Come on don't feel low, things are going to be alright." Talking to myself has somehow become the usual for me. And, come to think of it, many of us find succor and comfort with ourselves. Extending that idea, I thought I would write a love letter to myself. So, here it goes:

My Dearest Susan:

It feels quite strange to be writing a letter to you. What will I say to you? You know almost everything about me. You know my patterns, routines, likes and dislikes but still I find there are some minute things that you miss in the hurried pace of reflections. Isn't it strange that reflections have become hurried these days? Well, sometimes I think you should slow down. You romanticise slowing down but I find that you hurry through everything. So much so, you even think about slowing down while you are actually hurrying. But why are you hurrying? Why so much impatience? You cannot try to fast forward everything. Please do tarry awhile.

I know that there are many thoughts that are niggling your mind but you still try to be optimistic. You are worried about many things. I'm glad that your optimism always keeps you going. Susan, never let that tiny hope die. Yesterday you were quite perturbed and I could sense that. You wouldn't tell anyone about your thoughts and you were mechanically going through the various chores of the house. This brings me to another point: work. Sometimes work enables the sorrow of the heart to be forgotten, so keep working. Have you noticed that when you sit in the same place and keep wallowing in your pain, the pain grows manifold? So, keep going.

Susan, I thought I was writing a love letter but what is this I'm writing. You know about all these things I'm talking, then why am I writing all these to you. Well, it's the flow of thoughts, I guess. When someone is in love with someone, feelings of care, nurture and thoughtfulness are bound to make an appearance.

Sometimes I see you jealous - mild forms of jealousy creep up to your bosom especially when it comes to your profession. You wonder about substandard people who have got the jobs of their dreams. You loathe them. You can't help but sneer at them. Don't do that. Just leave them alone. Your time will come. Again, let me say, don't hurry. Let life take its pace.

Among the many things that cloud your mind, blogging is also one. You are wondering about the 1st of March and how things will turn out to be. Well, you shouldn't be worrying about all that. Everything will go on. Sometimes you question the passive process of letting be. Remember that it is not a passive process. Just because you are not active (read fretting and fuming), you cannot think you are passive. Just as white cannot be the opposite of black, not hurrying does not mean that one is passive.

Susan, never stop smiling and loving. These two will always sustain and refresh you. Remember, no matter what, I will always love you.

Sealed with love and kisses,
Susan

P. S: If you liked this idea, you could attempt one in your blog as well.

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Wishes for the season

Dear Readers:

It has been wonderful to interact with you in the past eleven months. I will be away for about ten days now and shall see you just before the year comes to an end. But before I leave, I leave you with best wishes for this lovely season. 

 

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Selective sharing of information

It so happens that I cannot discuss everything with everyone. I don't know why but I have this peculiar trait in me. Perhaps it is not quite peculiar as I think it is. I have few close friends but that does not mean that everyone knows everything about me. I choose to be selective. Now, why do I do this? I cannot fathom why. It is not about trust or any such thing. I am made like that, I think.Now this trait is not limited to friends alone. I choose to be like this in any relationship. I safeguard some bits and pieces about myself within me. There is this feeling that I should have something which should be savoured by me. Only me.

But there are some downsides to this trait. Many a times, people feel that I am not quite open with them which in turn leads to issues of trust. It is difficult to tell people that I want certain things to be in my private chest and not open to scrutiny by any one. Usually people say that love is something where there is nothing hidden from the other person. Somehow, I can't buy that. Inspite of keeping my wee stories with me, I can love endlessly. Is love only measured by transparency? No.

Well, I am sure every individual has certain things that form a vital part of their personality, which are meant to be only within them and not shared with anyone, however close. I could never be one who divulges every single detail from potty habits to bedroom antics. I choose what to say and what to treasure within me. The non-sharing comes from the fact that if I let it go, it will be not be something that is exclusively mine.

We all possess some traits as these and that is what makes us who we are. So, dear reader, what is your take on this topic?

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The like/love debate

For a long time now, I have heard different people of varied age groups utter: 'I love him but I don't like him' or 'Loving is easier than liking.' Well, I do understand the semantic difference between these two words but what puzzles me is the line: 'I love her but liking her is not quite my forte.' I had always assumed that the next step in liking has to be loving.

Coming to the usage, many times people associate inanimate objects with 'love.' For example, one says, 'I looove cheese' or 'I looove butterflies.' But can one actually attribute love with cheese and butterflies. Isn't 'like' the word to be used? While in personal relationships, one graduates from 'like' to 'love,' how can it be that one can 'love' somebody without liking him/her?

In that way, I'm glad that Facebook chose the word "like" instead of 'love' to show appreciation for a comment or picture. Well, this must be one of the few things that is worth praising in Facebook. Coming back to the like/love debate, I guess for many it doesn't matter whether it is 'like' or 'love.' As long as it suits the hearer, it is fine, is the attitude. But for certain contexts, using the appropriate word is quite commendable. Take for example this sentence: 'Joe, I love your wife, she is a fun person.' If a woman utters this, then Joe will be happy but if a man utters this, Joe will definitely squirm, unless he is one happy and jolly person (not many are so). So, I guess language has to be properly used.

Inspite of meandering through the terrains of 'love and 'like,' I still cannot comprehend how someone can love an individual without liking him/her. Care to explain?

I wish you happiness and love, always :)

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