The Three Kinds of People

In a recent conversation with my son, he mentioned that we should not be cutting ties with people; this was after we were wondering about being independent and self-reliant without bothering or disturbing others. He reminded me of an earlier conversation we had when I had mentioned that it is not ideal to to be dependent and lost nor wise to be independent and alone but quite reassuring when we can be 'inter-dependent'. He added on, 'We have lost too many people who we couldn't get along with and we are left with only a few... let's not lose them too.'

This was neat and timely. The books say, people either go towards people, avoid people or move away from people. The first two are surprisingly sympathetic and pathetic. Those who move towards people with a sense of neediness to be accepted, respected and loved are those who need constant validation; those who avoid are the one's who have been affected during earlier interactions with certain kinds who would have broken a trust or even better - betrayed them. The third kind are the complacent ones... with no need for validation nor fear of being betrayed - they simply move away minding their own business with self-assurance. Which one to be or not to be, is our choice and ours alone.   

Personally, I have committed to be of the third kind. Superimposing Transactional Analysis to these three types, this may also be compared to being a dependent child and transforming into a selective adolescent/adult and later maturing into a spaced-out individual. While this may sound and appear to be a personality trait, it is a dependent variable based on our situation. It is retrospective. 

My son seems to be right in content yet we may have to differ in perspective. For some considered lost, who walked away, who shut doors, who live in a scripted delusional narrative do not deserve to be with you for better or for worst. At this point, we may not know what we appear to be or which category we get slotted into by others. That is upto them and we have no control over it. The best I can say to those who have taken their time to label and slot me into a category of their convenience, I may be guilty as charged; but, the charges are guiltlessly accepted...  

Ditches and Hitches

A smile is all that you look for when life is sloppy and you don't seem to get a hang of it.

A smile even from someone unrelated and distant can make your burden light.

A smile when the stretcher rolls, a smile when a file moves, a smile that disappears at a turn and returns to appear once again for a lifetime. 

A smile is all it takes to make it's greedy cousin - the laughter - poised for a while.

For the past few weeks I have been facing this strange issue of a reemergence of unprompted memories at the wrong time in front of unexpecting people in the most inappropriate way. These moments happened while seated on a dentist's chair and when asked to bite into a mould to get an impression or when the nurse was trying to pump out the aftermath of a few procedures - when I was expected to stay still... but couldn't. It was the return of the uncontrollable happiness and laughter that were part of my soul a few decades ago. When this imploring excavation and restoration was happening in my mouth with two, three people hovering over my face and asking me to keep my mouth wide open or shut tight, I was erupting into laughter. Why(?) Because I was recollecting old jokes, silly ones, funny ones, stupid ones, creamy ones that were once shared among friends and closer ones and with whom I have cracked up like there was no end to it.

Well, this time, I was not going to stop... I needed this happiness. Something lost over a couple of years in the past. A dark phase of my life. A phase I wish can be wiped out. A phase when I was made to feel guilty and ashamed of everything about me... like the demons could gaslight anything (kuch bhee) and were there to snatch what was 'me' out of me. Laughter and smiles are like a thunderstorm and rain that quenches the earthy soul that clears the slate. That brings back memories, a new strength, a new possibility and lets you throw a birdie at people who are there thinking that they have the power to restrict or control it. It is this happiness - even if it is in front of strangers - as embarrassing as it can be that every man deserves to have.

Life is fun. Especially when you can see possibilities past the ditches and hitches... 

Hocus Pocus Focus

Why is it that we don't break into a laughter these days(?)

Why is it that we can foretell how a story is going to end even before reading the book or watching a movie to its end(?)

Why is it that we don't get fooled by people's behaviour - no matter how much effort they put in to conceal their intentions(?)

Well, perhaps if you are wondering why, the reason may not be that you were suddenly miracalized by a magical wand and have been loaded with a sack-load of wisdom. Neither does it mean that your years of investing in knowledge-accumulation has finally started to pay off nor does it imply that you have been suddenly awakened with realization from a session of pseudo-science like yoga, accupressure, accupuncture or even tantric hocus pocus. 

The actual reason for being able to reason, rationalize and reach a conclusion even before getting excited without a boring conversation or never-ending observation is because of a process of data assimilation and identification of patterns of thought and behaviour and being accustomed to experiences of knowing what that would lead to that comes with ageing with unwalled experiences. Its like being able to predict the movement of a vehicle looking at the indicator - it could be as obvious as that. 

While idiots may call it a gut-feeling for loss of better words, a intellect-wannabe may recall it to be Deja or Voulez Vous. To break it into simpler language, this factor to reach quicker conclusions on where the path one takes or someone else we observe taking could lead to - like the prognosis a doctor makes - comes with age; 'age' that provides experiences on exposure to stimuli that are at times pleasing and many times... unpleasant - like the scent of a woman or maybe the scent of the woman. 

We look in awe at the elderly who can predict the future of our current experiences and situations in life and may even look upon them as a sage or as some divine incarnate. But, we could be a big butt wrong... for the more a person is exposed to multi-faceted stimuli without judgement or preference and the more endowed he is with opportunities considered vain, unvirtous and condemnable that make him corrupt with experience, the better chances he has to be likeable and to be seen as a person with a halo by all. Only the wisest man siting there giving advice knows what a SoaB he is on the inside... Quite a predicament isn't it(?)

The fact is, as long as man has access to good, clean and an unconditional supply of air, food, water and sex, he will remain a Saint. Deny any of these and he becomes a Saint Bernard. While we all know that a well fed cat never steals, the problem with the world today is that we have made these basic and elementary human needs 'inaccessible' not only by making it unaffordable but by making it undeservable through values imposition - values that become barriers and burdens than anything of brilliance. Exploration in forbidden territories begin with denial and the enthusiasm to do so is sustained by the way one is able to justify their way until they reach a point of unguarded, unguided, unquestioned orgasmic explosion that comes with the risk of expulsion. The one's who find it, remain quitely seated with a smuck smile of bliss while the others who run around searching for it like a blind, headless chicken in a dark maze at night, may meditate to cool their groins. 

Life is simple. And in it lies the beauty of our salvation.        

The Recoiling Whip

 

Poetry and art, they say, are not to be explained.

They are to be understood and interpreted as the viewer pleases.

If explained, they cease to be poetry or art as they turn into a prose that is as much a narrative.

Life too swings on this balance - on one hand when logic strikes and makes us see everything as right and wrong, left or right, black or white; while on the other, we see life as an emotional essence that needs to be felt - unexplainable and uninterpretable. 

Then there is also the grey line between that black and the white... the crossroads at which we often st(r)and. Where pieces of the puzzle we try to solve, the riddle that we must resolve, the maze through which we fix our gaze - all seems to fall right in place. This is a God forsaken land where only truth triumphs, where one is true to their own self, where the exchanges that happened did so in the quiet darkness of our souls - the mutely comfortable point where remotely isolated truth gets segregated from the bashful lies - even if it cannot be proclaimed loud. The fantasies - implored and explored - every thought that could possibly bring an unstoppable mischievous smile. The facade.

Companion is a partner with whom your secrets are safer than it would be if it were with you; a person who judges not yet is excited and looks forward to hear and share about what one experiences; a soulmate with whom one can share thoughts and thoughtlessness as if one were speaking through a mirror. Mirrors are fragile and tend to break... still, reflections are as needed as a companion. When the journey into the next wilderness continues, away from explored and more accustomed paths, the vulnerability of being broken (yet again) does creep up like a recoiling whip. Yet, it moves...  

The Burning Child

You left me in the morning when the sky was turning gray,  

Slipped out like a whisper, like you had nothing more to say.  

No note, no explanation, just the echo of your name,  

And here I am, a child, left alone to bear the shame.  

Did you think I wouldn’t notice, that I wouldn’t even care?  

Did you think I’d just forget, like you were never there?  

But your absence carved a wound, a scar that doesn’t fade,  

And I’ve spent days in silence, choking on the blade.  

I grow up with questions that no one could explain,  

A heart full of anger, soaked in bitter pain.  

Where were you when I needed arms to hold me tight?  

Where were you when the nightmares haunted me at night?   

Did you ever think of me, or did you block me out?  

Erase me from your memory, erase me from your doubt?  

But I am not so fragile, I won’t be cast aside—  

I am the storm you left behind, I’m anger’s fierce tide.  

So here’s to you, the ghost who walks the halls of my past,  

The mother who abandoned, who never thought to ask.  

I don’t need your reasons, I don’t need your lies—  

Just know you built this fire, see it burning in my eyes.  

I’ll rise from what you left, stronger than before,  

A girl who found her power in a mother’s open door.  

And when you look back, if you ever dare to see,  

Know that it was you who made this fire inside me.

Promises To Keep

My children, in your eyes I find my light,  

Two stars that guide me through the darkest days,  

In every smile, you banish every night,  

And fill my world with hope's unending rays.

Though paths are steep, and I have walked alone,  

Your laughter lifts the weight I bear with grace,  

In every step, you’ve made this house a home,  

And in your love, I’ve found my sacred place.

A father's heart, though weary, beats for you,  

Through all the trials, I stand to see you grow,  

For in your joy, I find a strength anew,  

A love that only we three could ever know.

So here I vow, with all my soul and might,  

To guard your dreams, my son, my daughter bright.

She The Woman

Oh, woman of the silent night,  

Your hands have toiled without applause,  

In shadows deep, away from light,  

You gave your all, without a pause.

The world has turned its gaze away,  

No laurels cast upon your brow,  

Yet day by day, you fight and stay,  

Without a word, without a vow.

You bear the weight of others' dreams,  

With steadfast heart, though few may see,  

The quiet strength that softly gleams,  

The fierce resolve to simply be.

For all the deeds that go unsung,  

For every tear you do not show,  

Your worth, to which no words have clung,  

Is more than you could ever know.

So here’s an ode to what’s unsaid,  

To every task you’ve done alone,  

Though thanks are few, and praise has fled,  

You are the rock, the cornerstone.

Oh thankless one, you stand so tall,  

Though shadows cling, and light seems rare,  

Your spirit, it surpasses all,  

A beacon strong, beyond compare.

When The Dawn Turned Dark

Oh Mother, where did your whispers fade?  

In the cold of night, I searched for your light,  

In the shadows, I traced the warmth that strayed,  

Yet the echoes of you were lost in flight.

Were your arms a fleeting dream,  

A tender lullaby sung to the moon?  

I longed for your touch, a golden gleam,  

But morning came, and it was gone too soon.

Did you leave to chase the stars,  

Or did the wind carry you away?  

I stand alone, with these silent scars,  

Your love, a distant ghost in gray.

Yet in my heart, your name still beats,  

Though your face is but a blur.  

I gather strength from the incomplete,  

For in the void, I find who I am, and were.

Oh Mother, though your path has strayed,  

And you left me in the night,  

I rise, a flower in the glade,  

Seeking the sun, finding my own light.

Set It Free

Somehow there are a faces you don’t want to see… for instance, there is this yesteryear actresses’ daughter who tries to strut out of her mother’s legacy in an attempt to establish her own presence; yet, the sad thing is that she neither has the essence nor the stuff that her mother had; no, not one bit and every time I see her on the screen, I flick the screen as if in auto-mode and if she appears on some magazine cover, not by her merit but through her PR efforts, I flip the magazine into the nearest garbage bag… where I think she rightfully belongs. 

Another instance that I recall, while talking about puking at the memory of a person was someone I admired quite intimately - who at one point of time, a long, long time ago, made me forget my name… once. Cursed with chemosensory memory, I remember people and recollect events through olfactory stimulation and I distinctly remember this person’s smell… a concoction of talc mixed with cheap, teenager’s deodorant. After years, while straying in the aisles of a supermarket, the same mixture of talc and deo filled the air – must be someone who tried to sample the concoction, leaving behind the trail… by now, what once enchanted me, disgusted me. Looking for the nearest exit, in a frantic attempt I rushed out and threw up. 

Memories can be delicate and dangerous – a double-edged sword – can slay the reaper as well as cut the keeper. How I wish we had a pen drive-type memory box instead of the God-given hippocampus… to turn on and off memories that we wish to keep, restore or destroy completely at our will.

The sad part of memory is that unlike energy, memories, can be created as well as destroyed… never replaced. Yet, the memories attempted to be replaced, filters through the phenomenon of truth; where an enforced lie cannot replace or gaslight memory. Memory, is personal, is internal and uninfluenced as this storehouse sits comfortably relying to be influenced by amygdala - the powerhouse of emotions; emotions, that spurs out of experiences - both painful and pleasurable that are personal. This wiring of God, is irreplacable. A dark tunnel that allows only the keeper to enter, explore and exit. 

The very common mistake that people do, is when in a superficial mode to overcome a strong overpowering emotion, thrust an external pressure to convince a person that the memory they hold is incorrect and subject a person to their perspective of what the other’s memory has to be. But why would anyone try to replace another person’s memory? Well, it could be a passively jealous sister-in-law, a conniving lawyer, a greedy mother, a purposeless brother, a corrupt family that may see the pinnacle of selfishness as the crux of success or even an aimless therapist who for reason’s (only) their own, recreate a world that suits their convenience for their victim. But then, truth cannot be destroyed. Though reciprocatively one may agree superficiously for the influencer’s sake, truth, when suffered, erupts when one needs peace the most. At the end of the day, our mind effortlessly remembers what is true and was experienced rather than an enforced effort to replace it with a lie to grab things beyond our reach. Truth, will set you free.

To Do Or Not To Do

Marriages… to comment on it shrouded within chaotic walls, should have been unreasonable. Yet, after passing through corridors of mockery, ridiculing and finally subjugation, to feel as incompetent as an impotent on his honeymoon to fixate an opinion about it, a clarity shook me back to what it is, should be, should have been… 

People, especially the ones closest to you can be the most subtly disturbing as they convincingly convince you with their convictions – these issues can range from which car would be the best pick to values that need to be embraced and those that need to be replaced. These, both the kith and the kin, are the ones who magnanimously shed their light into matters governing your life while keeping their own in the dark. Have you realized, people who are very touchy and would misinterpret and miscommunicate anything and everything… just because, they can; these ‘those’ who live within closed walls and shut doors, have the dirtiest dust accumulated to their nose and hence operate in isolation and secret – lest anyone point at their filth. These sapiens, who hide their own imperfections and issues while periodically taking liberty to implore, amplify and ignite the issues of others, are the dangerous breed that we often hold hands with – especially when we feel lost and off balance. 

Recently, while deliberating to settle a dilemma and reach a convincing conviction on the institution of marriage, there was a talk by a Bishop that I came across. It talked about Christ’s advice on marriage. This was a point that did not occur to me – that Christ had His opinion on this. Had I known, would have consulted Him first. Better late than never. According to Him, a marriage is a commitment forever, till death do us apart; divorce and remarriage are as good or bad as adultery. This was news to those who were listening to Him – His disciples at a time when people married and divorced and remarried as they pleased or to please those around them – just like today. The disciples immediately countered this by stating that, in that case, it would be better to be not married at all. To this, Christ marked his bottom line: It is your wish to be married or to remain a eunuch.  

A woman commonly shows her withdrawal in a relationship by targeting on two things – food and sex. Typically tossed to the partner in the most unhygienic manner, scanty and deprived – both – in a gradient phase. The man on the other hand, usually jumps into another relationship or gives up on it entirely to move into another dynamic. 

How successful are remarriages? Some who shed their light to me recently on this topic, say that remarriages, have always been disastrous as two dropouts trying to engage in group study, are sure to flunk once again. One recent divorcee told me about her recent stint with a guy who she found likely to be a fit replacement… only to realize that once he got what he wanted after a short vacation with him, left her high and dry. She blamed him (again). Like sex was a one-way draw. Some women play the eternal ‘victim’ card I suppose; the problem is, it does not work with everyone, every time I suppose. There was an elderly member of the family who dropped in to say that remarriages take a toll on children as new partners often feel disconnected with someone else’s child and issues of legal heir and property disputes become inevitable – no matter how dramatically careful one is to draw a will, there is always a provision to (ab)use the law by the ‘children of the future’. 

Then I saw something interesting. There was a couple watching a kid bounce a stone in the water - watching how many times it jumped across the water and how far it would go. The kid took the second stone and threw it, and as expected, it bounced a little more and went a little further than the first. The guy held the woman and said, the second chance is when one gets to do better as the first always sets a target to beat. Well, that’s a point…