Trials and Tribulations by Fire

I turned 39 today. A year short of a glorious 40.  In the last year, I have seen many ups and downs.  Mostly because of men/man.  Grey hair has started sprouting abundantly everywhere on my head.  I do what all the other glorious women in this age group do: donate money to Loreal and paint it! I wish I could color it blue, but it ain't the corporate color yet, so can't attempt such silliness.  My mom was also born today. How?  Well, when I was born, she became a mom, right? So, she was born/re-born.  I am in a very overloaded emo mood.  All these years, like a complete fucking chut, I kept lying awake, wishing people on their birthdays. Except 2 sweet women, none, (exceptions are there, who all I can forgive) wished me. I was expecting one person to wish me. Nada. Nothing. I do not exist. Maybe, I deserve this shit, you know. Sidelines. Crap.  No, I don't. I am a fine person, I am pretty, educated, cultured and yes, I have a mind of my own. Why the fuck

After a long time, I was reading my old blog posts. Came across some funny ones. I wondered where all that humor had vanished. Maybe life stole it. Or I lost it when I got down on a platform.  Like Kareena in Jab We Met, I somehow got down at a wrong station and forgot to board my train. I felt lost. A friendly TTR came by and helped me board my train. My seat was empty. Nobody had taken it yet. My stuff was still there, waiting for its owner to lay claim.  The train started running full steam but I could no longer feel the joy in the travel. I felt as If I had left something behind on that station. But, we have crossed over to another state, I cannot go back.  I think, I will go back! 

Hi blog! I have been away for some time. Have been busy. Distracted, should I say.  No apologies for the time I didn't give you.  I will, now. 

I have done it.  I disabled Whatsapp and Facebook.  On my phone.  Deactivated my FB account as well.  Friends asked me, why! I said, I will be back. I don't want to be back.  I want my life back. I want to do Ctrl + Z.  That is why this purge has to work.  I need to get through these few days.  Today, tonight will be the hardest. Withdrawal symptoms et all.  I will come out of this phase also.  Exactly twenty days to go. They say, 21 days maketh a habit.    

Was generally browsing through some news posts. Happened to login to FB and clicked a link. Landed on this page, 'coz of my unending curiosity.  Here is the URL, click here .  I checked all of them. And felt pretty thrilled.  There is a caveat, as usual.   

Sanjai Mishra weeps and says, "You have planned everything. Where does this old father figure in your plans?"  A silent Richa Chadda looks on, maintaining a stoic silence.  With spellbinding performances by Rich Chadda and Sanjai Mishra, Masaan , meaning a crematorium a smashaan , is a Hindi language film about two central characters. One of them is Richa: Devi Pathak and the other is Vicky: Deepak. Sanjai Mishra plays Richa's father.  A parallel track has a debutante, Vicky Kaushal, playing a dom, a corpse burner, aspiring to break the shackles of his caste and become a civil engineer.  Brilliantly portrayed, the nuances the director has captured will take you by surprise. An underlying casteist theme coupled with the aspirations of small town inhabitants with a opportunistic blackmailer thrown in, the movie is intelligently made.  I watched it on a whim. But, it had a cathartic effect on me, moved me to tears. I cried so much and for a long time. The lo

My friend said, "We will talk later, you are not in the mood."  I disconnected the call by slightly pressing the button on the ear phones.  I had excitedly picked her call up. To yak. I didn't say much.  Didn't feel like talking.  My eyes kept darting to the two little blue lines on the damned messenger screen. They refused steadfastly and remained greyed out. Damn! Two little lines demanding my whole attention. I could have done so many things, switched off the bloody data connection. I did nothing. I gobbled up data like a sea monster and kept staring at the screen like my life depended on it.  Had to physically make an effort to tear my eyes from the damned screen and get some work done.  Morning started on a rough note. My maid sulked, the weather seemed very happy and gay. I decided to sleep for exactly three minutes and got up after 45 minutes. Sigh! Kicked myself.  Finally, for the day, got something done.  Let me get my sorry ass home. I need t

Happened to visit the Chennai Book Fair 2016 recently and bought these books.  The book fair is happening in the YMCA grounds, Royapettah and is on till Jan 24th. Check out their Facebook page:  Chennai Book Fair Dragged my poor mother along. She trudged along, huffing and puffing, but bravely, wearing an excited smile. She was pretty kicked about her outing and happily browsed through the books. She picked up many books and with a glance would see if I approved of her choice. I recalled how I would pick up costly toys and plead with my eyes and beg her to buy them for me. She would never say no. I did the same. Felt so happy, can't explain in words.   I found some nice stalls where they were offering books at discounted prices. I got the above for a few hundred rupees and felt amazingly thrilled.  So, my goal of picking up my reading habit and picking up pace is blessed. Thanks to Mahesh, who posted the picture on FB. Till I complete atleast a couple

One eighty days It ain't much you say If you count in the seconds and minutes, it still ain't much Count the number of ticks the clock will take, it still ain't much Count the number of skipped beats I will miss, is it still not much?  You fly away my little bird, fly away to a far land, with an artificial beach and no one to look after your back Fly away, far far away, my sweet little bird, away from me... When you return, when you return, oh my little bird, I will fly to meet you, greet you, and tell you, the pain, it ain't much, now that you are back.  

It has been a difficult time, I agree But, like all difficult times, this too is passing Every thing that happens to you leaves an imprint An indelible sign that something has happened The soul understands these changes, halts for the body to catch up You came in and imprinted love, longing, and intensity  on the parched land Like how a single drop of rain clings to the dry earth, soaking it, loving it I care not for rivers, a few drops here and there, now and then is enough for the broken land to breathe, to ease out the time remaining To the darkest deepest corner your light will reach and lighten up making the dark slink away to a far corner, to the deep recesses, to remain till the next darkness descends.