Life

I live

Breath by breath

Hour by hour

Trying to know why I am here

Trying to figure out life’s different shades

Trying to figure out the different pieces

I live

Person by person

Relation  by relation

Trying to find what everyone means to me

Trying to feel what everyone needs from me

I live

Job by job

Duty by duty

Trying to know what’s needed of me

I live

Moment by moment

Day by day

Trying to make sense of my being

Trying to bring out the colours of my life

Trying to bring together the colours of my life

I feel it’s all in my hands

The colours, the illusions, the mirage

The shimmering glass called life

I believe I have it figured

And just when I am happy

It turns its back on me

And shatters into a million sparkling pieces

The mosaic called Life

Because I liveMagic

This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

The Tale of the Friendliest Strangers and a Little Bit More

So I am not one of those people who makes friends easily. I take my own time. To get to know people. To become comfortable being who I am. So if you come meet me tomorrow, you’ll find this awkward, self-conscious girl who doesn’t know what kind of a face to make while looking at you.

So about a month ago, when I found myself in this strange country called Germany when I didn’t even know the language spoken there, I was intimidated. Okay, intimidated is a bit of an understatement to what I was actually feeling. Shit scared. I was alone. I didn’t really know anyone there. This was my first time outside India. So, yeah, I was bound to be scared.

To top it all off, I had NEVER, EVER taken a flight. So when I got into the flight to Dubai, I was a little lost. Yes, my friends had described to me how it is like inside the airplane. But I was still jittery. All I could do was observe what people did around me and do the same. But, to my rescue came this lady who sat besides me. She asked me if I was scared. I told her I was flying for the first time. She was this kind woman who talked to me. About nothing in particular. But talking to her made me feel calmer. I do not know her name. But I know I’m probably never forgetting her all my life.

I think I should now give you a little bit of a background on my situation. I had an economy class ticket all the way to Frankfurt. When I get to the Mumbai Airport, they tell me they don’t have my boarding pass for the flight from Dubai to Frankfurt. That there’s some problem with the system. I get to Dubai and I get a Business Class boarding pass as they are out of seats on the economy. I am happy. But as I enter the plane I find myself ever so more uncomfortable about Business Class. Because it’s all new again. The TV Screen, the remote control, everything.. Ahhhh!!! I was literally just about to pull at my hair in frustration.

And then comes this lady. All tall, long, blonde hair, nicely dressed, pink pumps, pink jeans, a nice silver top, a huge silver bag, face fully made up. Everything about her was either pink or silver. I looked down at my oversized yellow Jim Morrison t-shirt, worn out jeans, black and purple Pumas, hair in a knot. I had never felt so much out of place! But then she flashed me this huge smile and sat besides me and we talked. A lot. She was a Polish model who has been to tons of different places. She told me how it was at her shoots and at the fashion shows and how she hated all of it. And believe it or not, she was really fascinated at the fact that I was an engineer who did a job and most of all, the fact that I was an Indian. She had told me her name I think. I don’t remember it.

Then I get to Germany. A couple of days pass in a haze. And one day, at breakfast in my hotel I meet this Indian guy. I’m sitting alone, he’s sitting alone, so he just walks up to my table and we get to talking. He’s an Indian who’s lived in the US for more than 8 years and we talk about all the random things under the sun. After that day we met at breakfast everyday. He cooked dinner for me twice and I spoke to his wife and his kids and it was fun! He even introduced me to this friend of his. She’s an American and even we hit it off instantly. I’m friends with both of them on facebook today. And I know I’ve made two friends for life.

Then one day I go shopping. I really wanted to shop for boots and I found this place that had an awesome sale running on boots. So I look through the numerous racks filled with boots and finally come down to the two pairs of boots I like the most. I try the first one, go and check in the mirror. I like it. I try the second one, go to the mirror. I like this one too. I repeat this entire routine thrice and still I’m nowhere closer to a decision. This woman comes up behind me and says, “I think you should go for the pink one”. I turn around, thank her, buy the pink pair of boots and leave the shop. I don’t know her name but I have her to thank for  my kickass pair of pink boots. If it hadn’t been for her, I probably wouldn’t have bought anything because of my confusion.

I had a free weekend when I was in Germany and so I decided to visit Paris over the weekend. I get down the bus in Paris and I’m just looking around trying to decide what to do next. I hear these two voices talking in English. I see they belong to these two females, one young and one quite old. The younger one looks at me and says, “I saw you sitting alone at the cafe. If you want you can join us for breakfast”. And I spent the next two days with them! It was such fun!! I have about a hundred pictures with the two of them. And when we got to Germany we promised each other that we would become friends on facebook. I know her first name which is a pretty common American name. I do not remember her last name. And as for her Grandma, that’s what I called her the entire trip.

So here I am at the end of my trip having made a handful of good friends, but I get to keep only two of them. I’m probably never meeting any of them again. But it was fun meeting so many different people. And I’m glad that I was alone on that trip. If I had company, I would never have made these friends.

PS: Another friendly stranger that I’ve met here in the blogging world has offered me this award. Thank you Sheikh. Amna Rafiq. This means a lot to me.

Who Am I?

I am proud

Of stupid things under the sun

Of how my nails look or how many shoes I have or just the fact that I have grown up

Yes, of course I have my lows when I don’t know if I’m worth anything

But, I am proud

I am emo

No, I don’t have black nails or hair that cover up three quarters of my face

But little things move me

Stupid, little things

Doesn’t mean anyone can fool me by putting up an act

But, I am emo

I am pretty

There are days when I look at myself and smile at what I see

Doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days

There are so many things I wish I could change about me

But, I am pretty

I am strong

Nope, not physically

But I have the strength to face whatever shit life offers

Of course I have my share of helpless days when I pray the world ends right there

But, I am strong

I am confident

I can face a crowd with a smile on my face, look them dead in the eye and say what I have to say

Stages draw me towards them

I feel vibrant under those yellow lights facing numerous strangers

Still, I am absolutely jittery right before I step onto a stage

I freak out

But, I am confident

I am lonely

There are times when I am surrounded by people but don’t even know if any one of them knows me

I don’t think anyone can ever know me, or anyone, for that matter

But I do have a lot of friends

And I have so many people who love me and I love them

But, I am lonely

I am alive

The music that is playing in the background right at this moment

The breeze that is trying so hard to dry my wet hair

The baby crying across the street

All these things make me feel alive

Of course I have those moments when everything seems surreal

When I don’t know if I exist

But, I am alive

I am all these things

And a little more

But I’m still not absolutely sure

Who am I?

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

The Urge To Wander

I love my Mom. She’s beautiful and funny and understanding and amazing. She knows so much about so many things. She travels a lot, you know. A lot. She buys me stuff from all those places that she visits. All those far-off mysterious lands. But she has a lot of friends that she travels with. And I live with my Grandmom when she is gone. But even when she’s here we live with Grandma.

I wished my Mom would live with me. I wish she would be here when I get back from school everyday. I wish we could just walk to the market on Saturdays like so many of my friends. But she is different. She doesn’t like living at one place, she tells me. She loves moving around. “The urge to wander is too big than the urge to live a life”, she says. I don’t get that. All my friends have their mothers living with them. They don’t give a shit about the “urge to wander”, whatever that means.

She’s been back for the past 10 days now. I love it! I love hugging her and sleeping. I love the smell of her hair. I just love my Mom. Especially when she’s around. Me and her are about to take a walk now. I love walking with her on the bridge. It feels like I have her all to myself. I love that.

Today we are talking about the time she was my age. 10 is the perfect age to be, she tells me. I am happy. She has these long, dark hair that I wish I had. I love looking at her talk to me. The weather is nice today. I like foggy days. They just have this mystery to them. Makes me feel like a detective. The curtains of fog are the secret I have to unveil.

“What are you smiling about”, my Mom says. Oops, I forgot she was here.

“I think I have to leave today, sweetheart”, she says.

“When will you be back?”, I’m shocked.

“In another couple of months.”

“You always say that and you’re gone for almost a year all the time. I don’t want you to go away”, I scream.

“Do not scream at your mother!”

“You are the one who’s always leaving and I’m the one who’s stuck living here with Grandma. Take me with you.”

“Sweety, you can’t come to the places I visit. You’re too young.”

“But I don’t want to be too young. I wanna come with you. I wanna be with you all the time”, I cry.

“Let’s just sit on the parapet like we always do and we’ll decide later if you can come.”

I know she’s lying. She always lies. About taking me with her the next time. About coming back in the next couple of months. About not knowing who my father is. She is always lying.

I climb on the parapet with her. And we sit side by side swinging our legs like all the other times that she has left. She is pretending as if nothing has happened. I’m sick of her going away. I don’t want her to go away. I want her to myself. She’s my Mother. I deserve that she’s around all the time. I look at her. She’s beautiful and I love her. More than I can ever tell her. But I want her for myself.

She’s saying something. I smile. Her eyes are beautiful. So is her smile. Her dimple. Her teeth are perfect. I wish I could just keep her with me forever. And then I know. I look at her swinging her legs and I give her a shove. She screams. I think she’s trying to hold on to me. She fails. I see her falling towards the curtain of fog. She is staring at me and screaming.

“Don’t worry Mom. I’m going to be with you. Always”, I smile to myself.

My Mom is not going anywhere. I’m happy. I really love her, you know.

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

This Is How We Do It!

We humans, by nature, are competitive. When we are kids we fight for the toffees, when we are teenagers we fight over girls/boys, when we grow a little older we fight for grades and colleges and jobs and the rat race never ends. Is the race good or is it bad? I am no one to judge because that is how it has been for ages now and that is how it will be for ages to come. And one of the most significant competitions in human history have been the Olympics that started somewhere around 776 BC and have stood the test of times and continue even today, in 2012 AD.

Winning at Olympics is tough, prestigious and one of the most highest accolades that a sportsperson can ever achieve. There have been people who give away their entire lives in the pursuit of a single gold medal. And one such country that has performed stupendously and brilliantly in the modern Olympics is China. The People’s Republic of China first participated in the Olympics in the year 1952. China’s performance can be summarized easily in the table below:

Games Gold Silver Bronze Total Rank
1952 Helsinki 0 0 0 0
1984 Los Angeles 15 8 9 32 4
1988 Seoul 5 11 12 28 11
1992 Barcelona 16 22 16 54 4
1996 Atlanta 16 22 12 50 4
2000 Sydney 28 16 14 58 3
2004 Athens 32 17 14 63 2
2008 Beijing (host) 51 21 28 100 1
2012 London 38 27 23 88 2
Total 201 144 128 473

Their performance has been phenomenal, hasn’t it? But then the Chinese have always been famous for their competitive spirit and hard work.

Today, when I was at work, I received a mail from one of my colleagues about how China actually wins its medals. Those pictures are shocking and I don’t even know how to describe them.

These pictures just make you wonder how important winning is. Is it worth denying these kids their childhood? Is it worth putting them through so much physical and mental torture to get a handful of Golds at Olympics? I don’t know. But this is not how kids are supposed to be. They are supposed to enjoy their childhood, play innocent games, get dirty in the mud. But definitely not this.

As Winston Churchill had rightly said,

“When you are winning a war almost everything that happens can be claimed to be right and wise.”

But the question remains, is it worth it?

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

Information and image courtesy: Google and Wikipedia.

What Best Times are Made of..

We were friends at one time

And then we were more than friends

You loved me and I loved you

You promised me a million things and I kissed you and promised you a little more

We did a lot of things together

Watched movies, held hands, talked for hours

I was happy

You were happy

I was happy that you were happy

You made me feel good about me

I hope I made you feel the same

And then I did something stupid

Something I shouldn’t have said

And everything shattered

“WE” changed to YOU and ME

I am lost today without you

I feel a void that never seems to shrink

I feel lost without you,

And more, without your friendship

Today, as I sat here going through some of our old chats

I remembered what you meant to me

What I meant to you

And I remembered

What Best Times are Made of

You were the best thing that happened to me

I treasure that

But I do not regret “WE” didn’t work

Because you taught me a lot

And more than anything else

What you truly taught me was

What Best Times are Made of

And I will be eternally grateful to you for that

And I will love you

Until my dying day

DISCLAIMER: This is my first attempt at something that’s different than plain prose. And for the sake of not insulting all the great poets we have around here, I’m not going to term it “poetry”. So that’s about it!

Little Mistakes

Alicia knew she wasn’t the best of people around. Everyone is allowed to be stupid once in a while, right? At least they are supposed to be when they are fifteen. And so was she. Stupid and careless and a little off the track. But at that point of time, she never really thought of the consequencesd. Of how they would affect her. Of how they would alter her life forever. Of how she would never go back to being a kid again. Ever.

It was a school party, she remembered. And she was smothered by teenage love. She had been waiting for it to happen and just when she was starting to lose hope, Cupid’s arrow had sliced her heart. She knew they were made for each other. They were meant to be together. What she did not know was that their drunken fervor and blind passion would leave her pregnant and shattered.

His parents sent him away for high school immediately and nothing ever was mentioned about being “made for each other”. She was left alone, fifteen and pregnant. All she could do about her kid was give her away for adoption. That was her best option out. They found a nice little family for her, she was told. She did not even have the heart to look at her daughter before they took her away.

All of this flashed through her mind on that September morning, when she was taking a shower. She had thought taking a bath would help calm her nerves. If anything, it had managed to make her even more jittery. She was going to meet her daughter today, seventeen years after giving her away to the nice little family. They called her Megan. She would never have liked that name for her daughter. But then she was not her daughter anymore, Alicia reminded herself.

She took her time getting dressed. She had regretted giving Megan away 5 minutes after they took her. She had thought having a baby would never let her make a life for herself. Alicia knew she had been wrong. Not having her baby had stopped her from making a life for herself.

She was scared. Scared that Megan wouldn’t like her. Scared that Megan would be so different, she wouldn’t have anything to say to her. But she had to take her chance. She had waited seventeen years for this and finally she had the courage to face her daughter. As she took her car keys she knew everyone made little mistakes. She’d just made her share of them. But today, she was going to try to amend one of those little mistakes. She was finally going to see her daughter.

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

Births (Los Nacimientos)

Births (Los Nacimientos)

We will never remember dying.

We are so patient
about being,
noting down
the numbers, the days,
the years and the months,
the hair, the mouths we kissed,
but that moment of dying:
we surrender it without a note,
we give it to others as remembrance
or we give it simply to water,
to water, to air, to time.
Nor do we keep
the memory of our birth,
though being born was important and fresh:
and now you don’t even remember one detail,
you haven’t kept even a sliver
of the first light.

It’s well known that we are born.

 It’s well known that in the room

or in the woods
or in the hut in the fishermen’s district
or in the crackiling cane fields
there is a very unusual silence,
a moment as solemn as wood,
and a woman gets ready to give birth.

It’s well known that we were born.

But of the profound jolt
from not being to existing, to having hands,
to seeing, to having eyes,
to eating and crying and overflowing
and loving and loving and suffering and suffering,
of that transition or shudder
of the electric essence that takes on
one more body like a living cup,
and of that disinhabited woman,
the mother who is left there with her blood
and her torn fullness
and her end and beginning, and the disorder
that troubles the pulse, the floor, the blankets,
until everything gathers and adds
one more knot to the thread of life:
nothing, there is nothing left in your memory
of the fierce sea that lifted a wave
and knocked down a dark apple from the tree.

The only thing you remember is your life.

– Pablo Neruda 

 

 

 

Of Goodbyes and Funny Images and a Little Happy Somethings


Okay, so was the first thought that came to your mind when you came here, “Why is the title of this post a little weird?”. I know it is, so I’m going to get to it by parts. Oh yes, I love dissecting everything systematically. Except when it comes to my wardrobe. I find clothes only when they’re dumped in a heap and every time I have to shut the door, I have to hold them with my left hand and bang the door with the right one, all the time hoping no sleeve or sock is jutting out. If it is, I have to go through the entire regime of banging the door and holding the clothes and blah blah. Okay, so I am drifting big time. But as you can see, I am very systematic, even in the case of my wardrobe, I think.

So getting back to the original point, when I started writing this post it was going to be called only “Of Goodbyes” period. I was going to talk about goodbyes. About how difficult they are. And about how uncertain everything seems after them. I am going through a series of really tough goodbyes right now. Three of my best friends from college are moving to another country for higher studies and suddenly they are leaving. And what is so baffling about this right now for me is the uncertainty about our relationships from this moment on. I mean I don’t even know what part of the world we are going to be in a couple of years. I don’t even know when I’m seeing them next. So, yeah, it’s pretty messed up. And I know goodbyes and new beginnings are a part of life, but knowing that fact doesn’t make anything easier.

So one of them is leaving today and all of us went to meet him for dinner last night. I thought I should get him something and so I bought a bunch of red and yellow roses (I should have known that it was a guy leaving and not a girl). The moment I give him the bunch he just returns it to me and says,”Oh, I’m leaving tomorrow early morning and I don’t want any trash at home. Won’t have the time to throw it on my way out” and I just don’t know what to say. I am completely blank and staring at the alien that he is. I mean who would refuse a bunch of flowers from a girl who is half in tears because you are leaving! And then it struck me: MEN!!

Can we ever understand one another???

Okay, so maybe I should stop here, this whole men-women issue, deserves one full comprehensive post dedicated to it! But however they are, whatever they are, I love them and I’m going to miss them big time! I hope they know that (And I hope they don’t read this! I can already picture them rolling their eyes and saying,”Cheesy” with that judgmental look in their eyes).

Now, moving on to the next part of the title, “Of Funny images”. So when I was thinking of working on this post about goodbyes, I decided to first look for appropriate images to go with the post. What I ended up doing was collecting a bunch of totally hilarious, if not  unrelated, images and I thought to myself, “These have to go somewhere in the post”. So, here they are:

Okay, so how cute is that? I mean if you discount the filthy toilet seat.

I love his expression!! And “Business Cat?” Dude, that’s a killer!

Oh, I love this one the most!! Especially the “Stupid” part. I’m sorry Kristen Stewart, I hate you with all my guts and those shi**y movies you star in. I don’t even know why I know your name! Sh*t! Now I hate myself for knowing that. (I’m beating my head with both my fists at the moment). Damn!

This one doesn’t even have the word “Goodbye” in it! But don’t you just love him? And his goatee? My dear friend Goat, the world needs understanding and peace-loving citizens like you in this screwed up 21st century. Yours sincerely, a peace-loving human.

I know, I know! You just love my sense of humor, don’t you? Okay, so maybe the woman at the bottom is a little creepy. But, what the hell, the picture is oddly funny. Rings any bells, Ladies?

So maybe I should stop with the funny pictures now. There is no dearth of funny pictures on google images and I’m just trying really hard to control my urge to keep on adding more of those!

Moving on to the “Of Little Happy Somethings” part. My blog has had quite some things to cheer about in the past couple of days and I’ve been procrastinating writing about them for quite sometime now. So, here goes:

1. My sweet friend Carolyn Page from ABC of Spirit Talk was kind enough to award me Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award.

 Thank you so much, sweetheart. It means a lot to me. And you are a wonderful blogger. I hope we remain sisters till the end of time. Hugs 🙂

I would urge all of you to please visit her blog and go through her wonderful posts. Thank you again, Carolyn.

2. My blog crossed a 100 followers. Okay, so right now the count is a 104 and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your support. I love you all.

3. My blog has reached about 5000 views. (So maybe a little less. Its 4988 at this moment to be precise. But I’m hoping it’ll reach 5000 by the time I’m done re-reading this post a million times).

4. I’m completing 3 months on WordPress in about 5 days. And I’m so happy being here.

So yeah, here it is. The systematic dissection of the title. I hope it made sense to you at least now.(If it didn’t, maybe my sense of humor is a little more screwed up than I actually thought).

Okay so I can’t help but put up one last picture that should really go here. (Mind you: It is completely unrelated)

Image courtesy: Google images, my friend for life!

The Chase

The moment he entered the bar, the first thing he saw was her. She sat at the bar with her lazy drink. Long legs crossed on the tall bar stool. One hand holding her drink, the other folded on her chest. Blood red backless dress with tiny intertwined knots just below the nape of her neck. Hair tied up in a chignon that accentuated her tall neck. Oh! The neck and the back and the long legs! He knew he had to talk to her.

He was wondering what his approach should be. There was something oddly tantalizing about her. And yet he knew that she was the no-nonsense-type. Chic, reserved and sophisticated. And she was new around here, that he was sure of. Otherwise he would have known who she was. He was just about to make a move on her, when she suddenly turned her head towards him and looked him directly in the eye as if somehow she sensed his gaze. Her expression turned to one of  amusement as if she could hear him think.

He noted the big doe eyes. Coffee brown in color. Huge lashes. Pretty brows. Long, thin nose. And lips matching her dress. She still had that amused expression on her face and he thought, he needn’t have worried so much. She already seemed pretty interested. Otherwise  why would their eyes be still locked on to each other’s? This was gonna be easy. He was going to grab the stool next to her. And just at that moment, in one fluid motion she was on her feet. And before he could make a move, she crossed the whole length of the bar to walk to the smoking zone. As she put her hand to open the door, he noted the long, slender fingers with red nails. And she disappeared beneath the cloud of smoke.

He followed her inside. It didn’t take him long to spot her. She was sitting on the couch at the end of the room with a cigarette in her hand. As he watched her he realized there was something oddly sensual about the way she smoked. The red finger tips, the cigarette and the flirting smoke that arose through the red lips. And the look in her eyes. Provoking, challenging as if she was daring him to make a move.

He was so entwined in the image of her, so lost in absorbing the beauty of her that it came as a mild shock to him when she turned towards the person she was sitting next to. He hadn’t noticed anyone except her in the room. She gave him one last look  through the corner of her eye as she locked her lips with the man besides her. He felt as if someone punched him in the stomach when he saw the wedding band on her hand with the red nails as she dug them in her husband’s hair.

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

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