Emotional scratching posts

Do we all have these? Emotional scratching posts - moments in time you go back to remind you of your biggest smile, or to an epiphany that made your world clearer. In my case, these are the lifelines that stave off attacks of depression or pull me through my lowest points of self doubt. Also in my case, some of these might involve situations that were miserable for others. Yes I do delight in the misery of others; especially if those people have at some time contributed to my misery.

I like the idea of holding on to these high points instead of holding on to grudges. Getting an emotionally uplifting scratch is so much more satisfying than a vengeful stirring of all that has gone wrong.

There are these moments where you need to pause, get off the roller coaster that our lives become. Moments where the world gets too much with us, so much so that all we see of life is a blur where we only see what we want to see. These emotional scratching posts are also great for moments of self-discovery.

Unless you know what truly makes you happy, can you know what kind of person you are? Do you exult at the small moments or the moments you fulfilled a long-held dream? The times where you saw Karma in action or when someone got what they deserved (good or bad)? Or is your ultimate high that minute you heard your little niece's cry for the very first time as she was born?

Then there are the times where I self medicate and look for emotional scratching posts through travelling, shopping and/or sleep. Sometimes looking outward is what the inside needs. To turn towards something unfamiliar can be the diversion our brain needs so that they can go on timeout. Coming back to the familiarity of the real world can feel so much better after a meandering through the unknown.

Dancing with monsters through the night

I've met many of the demons of the past. Some I live with everyday, some are part of me. There are others I struggle to forget and yet others that I struggle to bury in the recesses of my cluttered brain. I mostly succeed & living in denial of these demons works on almost all days.

But every once in a while, they refuse to be pushed down & I have to face them head on. And invariably, I become the person I was when those demons first overwhelmed me. Its like a unwanted surprise trip back in time. I remember my vulnerabilities & become my insecurities & fold into myself. Its not something I have any choice or will power over; because if I did, trust me I'd choose any other mental disease over the threat of these demons.

Its easy to judge me; I wear my heart on my sleeve. I will do anything for you if I like you & I will gently excuse myself from your life if I don't like you. I am open, honest to the point of rude & straight forward. But that also means I can't maintain a charade of things being right when they're not. I will still be smiling but I will have no idea who the smile is aimed for. 

Even today, I know the world is still spinning as it should with everyone trying to kill everyone else. But in my head, I'm back in college as an insecure girl with ambition but no plans or goals. Being taken advantage of, being lied to, being naive and not caring about how easy it is to get your heart broken. I'm battling my demons of the time I was in an abusive relationship because I thought that was what I deserved. 

But we're all older & wiser now, or atleast we pretend we are. Imagination is a tool that comes in handy when you're trying to rewind & play & fast forward the video tape that is your life. 

Enough is a Feast

A conversation I had recently got me thinking of excess and how very intrinsic that idea is to Dubai. But what if 'enough is a feast'? What if this constant search for more is the reason why the world is so much lesser happier nowadays? Was it a simpler time because we accepted the spouses we were arranged to marry weren't going to be perfect and that compromises would be necessary? Or because we used to accept that love wasn't going to be all doves and unicorns and rainbows.

Its easier to lose yourself in the quest of wanting more. The rat races, the dog fights, the constant up-manship, the games of control just seem to come so easily to so many of us. And isn't that how love stories work today?

"Never meaning what they say, yeah never saying what they mean."

Everybody is always trying to get the upper hand in a relationship; as if emotion can ever be played around with. Everyone is so scared of getting hurt and losing everything that the only currency they can deal in is fear.

We're all on this huge Monopoly board but we're playing the game blind. We're hoping against hope to land on Mayfair or Park Lane before someone else does but knowing in our hearts that we'll probably get Old Kent Road instead. Or, as in my case, get stuck in Jail. We see others buy up the properties we want, but we keep playing, wanting to see how much we can win... or if we can win at all.

But can enough ever be a feast? At what point does a person feel content? Or is contentment just a myth like other myths perpetuated by the fairy tale industry? I come close to that feeling very often but then a small glimpse of love between parents, children and lovers can push me back into the abyss of wanting more. That I suppose is more a glimpse of my humanity than my faults.

I have a lot to be thankful for, but I think it is time I wake up to my reality, the reality that I will always be the person who will keep looking and hoping for more. I will always be glancing around the corner and expecting love to just show up someday. And I've heard hope floats... which is good because I can't swim.

Onwards towards regrets

Heat waves

Spiral in the sun

Red clouds

Come undone

Sea of sand

Oceans in still life

Change without changing

Move in all directions

The past in your head 

The future in your hands

The life you left behind 

Pushing you onward 

-- Jason Eisenmenger 'Mojave'

Whether it is the fear of history repeating itself that drives you, or running away from the past or even the determination to 'never go hungry again'; the past is always present in our future. Take That sang about never forgetting where they're coming from and Beyonce sang what goes around, comes back around. Whatever genre of music tickles your fancy, the past is always too much with us.

There are these constant struggles within when my memories threaten to become my reality and I have to shake my head in an attempt to reboot. Sometimes this works, the other times I have to shake some more or shut down for a while. I don't want to be the irresponsible girl anymore. I want to grow up, have consequences, be answerable, take control and have regrets because of the decisions I have made.

They say the best life is one without regrets & I've always been proud of never having a single one. But on the flip side is the fact that regrets happen because you took firm control of your life and dictated terms. Don't regret usually stem from the fact that you stood up for your convictions and didn't get the best outcome? Atleast you stood for something, even if it was during a movie and everyone was yelling at you to sit down again.

I have always made decisions thinking that if I don't do this or that, I will regret it in the future. But now, I am beginning to see the idea of short-term regrets and long-term payoffs. I refuse to just let go of my past, I want to carry those experiences and regrets with me as I try and mould my own future. I know in the bigger scheme of things, one human life is hardly worth a footnote, but it is the story of my life. I want to make sure that I do the very best with it, because who else will? 

I know these foot prints I leave behind are in a sea of sand but atleast I will always knew they existed.

Plus size or plus one

I think I'm a good catch. I'm intelligent, well-read, interesting with a good job and am even mildly well-adjusted. And I know the answer to the most inane and arcane trivia. I mean I would be the friend everyone calls during the phone-a-friend hint of who wants to be a millionaire. But what I'm not is happy with the way I look. I say that with an air of not caring when I distinctly do care.

What am I doing about it? Nothing. And as I continue doing nothing, I also continue to feel that my real life (as it could be) may be passing me by. But reality seems to be just out of reach. I feel like I'm a toxic and potent combination of pickiness, high standards & low will power. I also have a lot of second hand experience with relationships all around me that go nowhere really fast.

Everyone around me is having babies or getting married or crying about how horrible it is to be single or going out with just anyone because they really don't want to be alone. This is my every day. I see the death of hope and the rise of cynicism all around me. But there is always a kernel of hope that stays alive somewhere in the depths of every heart. I know there is one in mine.

I see the world move around me as I stand still like in a video montage. Going out and actually being a part of life feels insurmountable and sometimes it doesn't even feel like its worth the trouble. I see the drama, the misery, the constant pull and tug of people who want more but won't give enough; the hurt of broken expectations and the despair of not being able to let go.

But then there is the rare occasion where I see the magic that sparks into life when you see two people who are everything that people write songs and poetry about. Everything that people look for in the eyes of their casual date or - in my case - in the eyes of anyone interesting who can hold up a sustained and intelligent conversation. Yes, that's how low (or high) my bar is; but as I grow up I notice that intelligent men are a very rare species. Also, men get intimidated by super women or slightly intelligent women and the ones who don't, get snapped up immediately by women who (wisely) refuse to let go.

Is love worth all this trouble & strife? But is that really a question at all considering I am writing about it at 3.49 am?

Games Children Play

You can only know your future when you can see where you've come from. My road to here hasn't been an arduous one in the truest sense & not many books would sell off of it. But it has been interesting.

At home, I was the little girl who was never quite as good as my sister, this was true of school too. I was regularly looked down upon in school until I made my first friend. One of my first memories of school is getting friendly with one little girl who was kinda left out because she was the smartest while I was being left out for being new. That was it.

Another girl then joined in to this duo followed by another making it a quartet. This is the story of two of those girls : they were beautiful, intelligent girls who I always felt slightly dumb around. They were girly with hopes and dreams & fun parents who treasured them. I always felt 'lesser than' but was amazed that they still liked me. They never made fun of me or my shabbiness or my not-so-great grades.

They were good girls, the best kind. They had the true smiles and the genuine hearts. Smiles that didn't stop unless in a hospital bed, hearts that accepted my every flaw. Even when I made other friends, it was the first two that were always home for me. All through my rebellious phase & my weird stunts, they always had a spot next to them for me during lunch.

Their lives moved on and those beautiful ducklings turned into even prettier swans. As I write this, I am aware of how much of me is shaped by them. They were such a big reason I made it through school without a completely broken head and heart. I have blocked so many memories from school because I felt tiny & insignificant (inspite of my girth). Most of the memories I have today is of sharing my lunch with those girls and playing weird lunchtime games, sitting with them during assembly and talking about hating one teacher and loving another.

That life seems a different person ago, a girl who was so determined to never be made fun of again. A girl who was more than just a sum of her parts, a girl who was so inspired by her two best friends that she knew she'd be more than just another girl from Wadala. There are people who inspire you without them knowing why & sometimes you don't really know the reasons either. All I know is that two little girls held on tightly to this little girl's heart & refused to let go. And somehow, that just saved my life.

Both of them are married now and never tell me any of the things people say married people say to single girls. One of them is a mother and I wish everyday her mom was around to see the wonderful woman she's turned out to be. The other remains my shining light, who somehow knows to reach out to me at my lowest & bring me back. I am no longer a big part in their lives but for me, they are my childhood.

PS: Dedicated to Asha Krishnan Bhojani and Smita Sridharan Somani

Do I make you smile?

I see you stopping by. Stay a while, won't you?

What is a storyteller without someone to tell the stories to? I want to make you smile, that kind of smile that bursts across your face when you have a mental A-HA. When you hear something that's so very you that every part of your self identifies with it. All storytellers want to captivate you in, bring you into their parlours, but I want more, I want you to stay a while. Won't you?

Ben Okri once told me, "Once you take away all the fillers, what remains in your writing is your voice." (if you can start off your writing with a Ben Okri quotation, you cannot go wrong. All you have to do after that is hope people read it in a James Earl Jones voice.)

I don't know if my writing has a voice; but I know I have something to say. I have a few war stories of my own, though I usually like to hide them. I'm an introvert at the best of times but more often than not, I'm the most social in a conversation where people are trading experiences. It's simple. I'll show you mine if you show me yours, our stories are our currency. They are the measure of our worth. Most of my closest friends are the ones who inspire me with the rich and varied lives they lead.

Stories are entertainment for those who have longer attention spans than 140 characters. Stories are for those who have a curiosity for the world. There is so much to absorb out there, no one person can do it all. That's why we have books and that's why a storyteller's job is never done. We all want to write our books, have someone play us in a movie. We all want our story told & there are so many stories that deserve to be told.

You cannot sell anything without telling its story. The whole world of business is based on that premise. Everyone needs a human connection, between people, between products, however diluted it may be. There is a reason why everybody checks out reviews before trying out a movie or play or restaurant or even a book. This is why people want to be famous, all they want is to be seen, to be heard, for their stories to be told.

Hear my story. I want you to stay a while. Won't you?