Calling My Skeletons to Attendance

So, Silvara tagged me to reveal my 'deep and dark secrets' as she termed them. Ten of them anyway... here we go:

1. I'm really really finicky about books. I hate lending them to begin with, but if I do at all, then heaven save the soul who borrows one and returns it in less than acceptable condition. Because all my books are always in the same condition as I got them. To quote my friend K, people have to read my borrowed books while wearing a gas mask and gloves, turning the pages with a pair of tongs. I guess it's somehow fitting that I starred in a play called 'Justice for Books' when I was in school. :P
2. I have recurring dreams of being stalked and then having something horrible done to.
3. That results in me sleeping in a very awkward position, usually curled up tight. If not, on my tummy with my hands tucked tightly under me, fists clutched tight.
4. I constantly feel like am from a different planet because it's very normal for me to not get the nuances of conversation when among people. I'm very confused as to how to interpret phrases and glances which other people seem to get in an instant and this always leaves me feeling like a loner in any crowd... it also makes me squirm in discomfort because I must always make an extra effort to get along or blend in.
5. I don't like revealing things about myself.
6. I'm inordinately proud of my handwriting.
7. I'm also inordinately proud of my ability to pick up complicated words almost instantly and believe I have inbuilt word intuition... I can almost always figure what any word means, given its context.
8. I have unnaturally high, exacting standards but only when it comes to my own performance. It leads to things like wanting better grades than I know I can achieve, trying to finish projects in lesser time than they actually require... and also never posting anything that I feel is not contributing to read-worthy literature.
9. Being scrutinised or looked at irks me... even apparaising looks irritate me if they last too long.
10. I adore ice-skating and cycling.

Right... am done. I'm going to tag:

Zephyr
Impulsively Me
Arunima
Romi
Divinity
Winger
Medha
Aditya
Mahima

D-me(a)nted

My best pal D here has awesome comic timing.

Me: What do you do with people who forget your existence for one whole year and then come complaining that they're not being kept informed ??!!!

D: :P say you've a baby.

My boss, who has a wonderful sense of humour himself, just asked me if I was actually planning to follow through with this, when told of this conversation. How am I not funny when I'm surrounded by such quirky people??!!

A Few Thousand Words...

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star...

Remember that part of your childhood wherein you totally idolised someone who was in college/ in their teens or early twenties??? What WAS that about???

My folks became the local guardians to this young lady who was a family friend, when I was about ten (Those were the days when girls 'brave' enough to stay away from home to study/work were appointed local guardians to watch over them... personally, I like keeping my head low and handling my life myself). So, this cousin of mine... in her late teens then, she had long waist-length hair and was so utterly beautiful!* She was also the embodiment of what the generation before ours considered 'virtuous' -no vices, no boyfriends... Every inch the perfect little woman.

In the years that we knew her, she came over regularly, always helped my mum out in the kitchen, baked cakes for our birthdays, brought us all presents from her first earnings, was very well-behaved and had beautiful manners, carried herself well, dressed beautifully, had something interesting to say to every member of the household no matter their age, was skilled in painting, emboridery, calligraphy and had a million other accomplishments and a huge circle of friends. At her wedding a few years later, although I was an itsy-bitsy teenager I remember thinking 'Maybe I ought to get married too' just so I could be lavished the sort of love and attention she was. She was worthy of every tiny bit of it of course.

And yet, my fascination with her was nothing to do with wanting to be like her. I was certainly not going to take up medicine as a career. And as for the rest, I was already very far from being anywhere like the person she was. She was just too perfect. I adored her. And not in a silly have-a-crush-on-her sort of way. I still don't know what it was, but I lit up everytime she was around. There were most certainly other people around who lavished more attention of me than she did, people who spoke to me more, entertained me... and yet, those few hours every month that she came around, they were incomparable. Being around her was feeling happy like never before... as if I had been blessed with the chance to see the brightest, most beautiful star at close quarters and my hands had managed to retain some stardust.

That was then. I've met her a few times after... she lives in a temple city, has a cute and naughty young boy she mothers with the right amount of attention and stop-in-your-tracks stares, has a successful practice and has opened a hospital... I'm always happy to see her. And yet, it's not the same. She's still the same, just has more grown-up things to do and has moved on of course. She treats me about the same... But I have grown up.

And I am now in the place I placed her. For years, a certain cousin has been giving me the same sort of attention that I gave to my older cousin. It was always so flattering, specially considering how everyone else only seemed to notice the unseemly in me. It was flattering to think someone looks up to me. She started calling me 'Barbie' years ago saying I looked so doll-like (Yes K, someone else gave me that name years befire you :P)... and my response was to call her 'Kelly' after Barbie's little sis. My Kelly is 16 now, all grown up and yet to bloom, and breathtakingly beautiful. We feel tongue-tied around each-other... conversation being restricted to smiles... and stealing glances when we think the other isn't looking. God she is SO beautiful!! We went into a coffee-shop and a lad no older than her was already giving her interested appraising looks! It breaks my heart... it breaks my heart because I am fond of her, but not so close that I can be a beacon. I'm sad wondering if she no longer thinks am worthy of her idolisation. I wonder what changes she saw in me. I would dearly love to be an elder sis to her, but I don't want her to be like me one bit... I don't think am worthy of being her idol. God she's beautiful!!

It makes me wonder what she sees in me... or saw in me. It also makes me wonder what I saw in my other cousin. It's not about regretting it...it's more trying to define what there was. It's a bittersweet feeling now... cherishing what I had, mourning what I don't anymore... Pride at being chosen to be her heroine, pride at seeing her grow up... sadness at losing that feeling, sadness at losing that connection.

*There are exactly two other women who I think come that close to being truly beautiful and I haven't met one... no, not Aishwarya Rai. Remember Neerja Bhanot? The airhostess who was killed trying to battle hijackers? Her. Pity she died before I was born.

My Fingers Fly, the Notes Go High... Inwardly I Sigh

I started violin lessons today, again. After a two year hiatus that is.

It was nice to remember a little bit and thus not plague my tutor too much... but I'd forgotten how hard it is to get a grip on things. It is honestly very difficult, uphill work... keeping the violin balanced, making sure my neck doesn't crick and my wrist doesn't hit the fingerboard or my elbow gets wonky, having to hold the bow just so while my fingers absolutely refuse to mold how they're needed to, and when I get THAT right, actually trying to play notes, and if all that were not enough... having to look at the notes, interpret them, keep time and then play while squinting so I play on the right strings. Whew! But I shall do this and I shall do this well, goddammitt!!!

Beyond all that... my tutor happens to be a mere itsy bitsy, just-turned-twenty-something lass, has been playing for 8 years and is still in college, has her whole life ahead of her with a postgraduation being a distant curve in the road... and she makes me feel OLD! I don't know when it happened that the quite hep me became the 'trying to be hep with her fancy phone with plugged in earphones and ultra short haircut that makes her look weirdly cool but definitely old' me... sigh.

Was That You, God?

On my way back home today, there was an old lady on the bus. She started chatting to the young woman standing next to us about the t-shirt the young lady was wearing. It said 'Today 2003', translating to the day that employees of her company elect to do charity work, getting a day off, earning the t-shirt and also earning CSR points for the company (And if you MUST know, the company is Goldman Sachs). And the whole charity part started the old lady off.

"I don't know why they call it charitable work. Charity is a synonym for ove, but I don't see any love coming from anybody doing charitable nowadays. It's more like an avenue for them to shower pity and a little help. We're the second richest country in the world, next to the USA, and what do we have to show for it? What do we do with all that money except fund weaponry to combat unknown enemies? An enemy that remains nameless... we kill people we don't even know in the name of protecting ourselves from the enemy. Has anyone ever thought about who the enemy actually is?"

Standing there, looking at a woman most people would think was shooting off the lip for want of nothing else to do, I thought "What if this wasn't who we think it is?" It takes obscure people doing random acts to sometimes wake our conscience. Joan Osborne got it right,

"What if God was one of us?"

The Tag on my Bag

This happens to be my first ever tag in about two and a quarter years of blogging and was passed on to my by the lovely lady of moonlight. I intended to write about the bag I used earlier, a classy deep pink Hidesign one that had been my graduation present, but since I've changed over to a different one now, I'll go with the new one. It's 'cognac brown', from Esprit, has three main pockets and plenty of hidden ones in the central one and looks ever so chic when I get to carry it rather than slinging it over my shoulder. And while the contents do vary day to day, here's what it mostly contains:

• Wallet, with more receipts in it than money, several cards... credit, debit, calling card, loyalty cards, membership cards, a little bit of change (usually in 1p or 2p denominations :P).


• The plastic bag containing my recently acquired make-up stuff (Moisturiser, foundation, eye-liner, two eyeshadows which double up as blushers, kajal, bright-red lip gloss, mascara)... since I've never used make-up before this, am yet to acquire anything to hold the make-up.


• Lunch dabba, fruit, piece of cake, whatever delicacy I might've packed for the day.


• Travelcards, Oyster, office keys, Railcard on one side


• House keys and umbrella on the other side.


• Occasionally my rather new camera since I believe photographic moments can happen any time and I need to be prepared.

Other bags I carry when I get bored are the purple & lilac rucksack I've had for about four years now, the pink graduation bag I mentioned earlier and a slightly big grey one which I use if I'm staying over somewhere and need to carry clothes. Which do I like best? All of them, but I'm not an accessory fanatic so it doesn't matter about the kind of bag I have long as it suits my purposes.

My dentist, whom I've known for a good 12 years now, recently reminisced about the first few months when I used to visit her... she particularly remembered that I always carried a tiny purse, cartoon motif adorned, in which I stuffed prescriptions, money, x-rays and stuff... I guess I've always been someone who cannot leave home with empty hands, my bag is like an anchor to me, without it I feel lost.

Parting is such sweet sorrow...

I faced a sensory overload the first time I saw you. Before I did actually see you, I had dreamt up fantastic visions of several versions of bliss and anticipation was the reigning feeling here.

What I appeared to you like, I shall never know... but then again, new people are nothing new to you really. I guess I did somewhat feel we would get along quite well... that you would treat me with kindness if not actually welcome me...

Looking back, it hasn't been that long really. And yet, it feels like forever. In a good way. You did make me feel comfortable, welcome and have been kind to me... I have loved every minute that we have had together. With you, I think I have finally found my bearings and my feet have found ground, my dreams have taken wings to approachable skies, I seem to have found that inner scrap I was trying to locate frantically... with you, I have found definition.

You've seen at my best, and my worst... you've given me the gift of widening horizons and of wonderful friends I would not have found if not for you. Of sparkling nights, snowy mornings, summer evenings that last long and appreciation from quarters I never knew existed have I been blessed. We did have our sad moments too... but far be it from me to blame those on you.

Our association has been the high point of my life and I shall forever remember it as such.

I must part from you now though. I have loved you and you have made me feel loved in return... but you cannot claim me as yours; you never will. I belong to another and that is how it shall always be. I must leave you to return to the one who claims me but I shall be back. I have a presentiment that this hiatus shall be the end of things as we have known and much shall have changed when I am back. I'm hoping that whatever happens, we'll take it in our stride and make something beautiful of it... because that is what we do. I shall miss you though.

London, you have been amazing.

Here's to you... here's to us.

Eh?

I just might have received a compliment today.

We were working on a volume of facsimile texts which have basically been scanned/copied from old crumbling books, cleaned up and presented nicely as a new volume compliation and it's tedious work, getting rid of annoying pixel size dots while trying your best to not erase the dots off 'i's, the dashes off 't's and such.
I had successfully managed to pencil in a bit of missing text or two without making it look very obvious when my colleague W commented: "Well at least you know that if publishing doesn't work out for you, you can always become an art forger."

Brits! :)

W, thanks a ton... it's been great working with you... wish we could have gotten to know each other better though. And here's wishing you loads of luck with your new job and life forever on! I do hope we stay in touch :)

The Reason

I think I know why God made me a human being.
Had I been any other creature I'd have given in to laziness and preferred to stay home snug rather than brave the cold and go out to hunt for food. And then I'd die of starvation.