Unmasking Relationships...

I was trying to think of the 'perfect' relationship the other night and I just couldn't think of one. It's true, everyone seems to be fighting their own battles. But as much as we struggle to float and find a state of contentment, we forget one very simple thing.

Social psychology has a concept which is so simple that it roughly translates into an English phrase. We mirror our expectations. Unknowingly, we behave with people like we wish them to behave with us. If we want someone to go out of their way and plan surprises for us, we plan surprises for them. If we like to be cuddled, we cuddle. If we like our space, we give space.

And herein lies the fundamental problem of human relationships. We need to do to a person what that person likes instead of what we like. And in return, communicate clearly what we want them to do for us. Subtle suggestions through behavior don't work often. If you like to be told that you are loved often, merely saying I love you to the person won't help. Instead, just communicate that you would like to hear it once in a while. Likewise, if you think a candlelight dinner is romantic, do not plan that for their birthday or your anniversary. Think of what they like, whether it is clubbing or being with a larger group of family or friends, and plan something around that.

Relationships would be much simpler if we asked simply and gave selflessly. This only works in rational relationships where the partners care about each other and are compassionate. But if achieved, it can save many a hearts from ache.   

My Deepest Secret Made Public!

My tattoo is my deepest secret made public.

It is a confession I carry around on my body. It is a scar I have willingly gotten. It was a spontaneous decision that I over thought for ages. When I got it, I couldn't imagine anything else as my first commitment. The tattoo began as an attempt to embrace the circle of life. It ended up being a way to remember the lessons that a particular period of my life taught me. But honestly, it just was so I was no longer ashamed of my lows and what even I perceived as weakness. Many times I am reluctant to flaunt it. Simply because a tattoo is meant to have so many deep meanings that I am overwhelmed by the questions people ask. I haven't yet found a way to explain why a rose. But I assume I will get there eventually.

It is on my body for life right? So I have time to find the correct words.

Whose Power is Greater?

Some moments in life, I feel I am reliving a previous occurrence. Over and over again. Not in beautiful relish of the moment. But in sheer agony that the same moment has presented itself again. And nothing seems to have changed. 

My reaction, my thoughts around it, my emotions. All crumpled up in a similar fashion come pouring out. It isn't a joy to analyze it later to choose what to change, for clearly, I have learnt little from the previous moment. 

But the familiarity of those wounds, the recollection of those memories, the recognition of the repetition, make it frustrating and revealing. 

I wonder what attracts these moments to me. Or what compels me towards them. Whose power is greater?

So. That's NOT Exactly Why It Ended.

We were in love. But we weren't the only ones. Everyone was in love with the idea of us too. We kept getting advice on 'How to make it work?' She loathed advice; such advice ticked her off further. So she resisted listening. She asked me to dismiss it too. But I told her that it wasn't so easy. We weren't the only ones in it. She glared at me and marched out of rooms. The audacity that I include others in our somewhat private, somewhat public love affair! But it was the filthy truth. They, were involved. Not just without our consent but without our knowledge. They judged when we fought; they argued on why we fought. They watched our love grow, too. They gossiped about the bedroom secrets. So when our love affair ended abruptly, like mine so often do, they continued to be a part of it. As unwelcome, unwanted guests.

It wasn't just our relationship. What happened in that relationship wasn't even the same for both of us. The others drew their conclusions, made their assumptions and retained their side of the story. A story that wasn't enriched with what happened behind closed doors and within our minds. It was a popular tale that they wished to spread from willing ear to unwilling ear.

So, I wasn't wrong when I had included them in it. For their version would be the one remembered despite her resistance and my submission.

The Eccentric Me!

Sometimes I wish I could put an instrument into anyone's mind and see exactly what they are thinking. The ability of the mind to dilute the politics in order to sound remotely diplomatic is exhausting. Obviously, I am guilty of this practice too, not all the time though!

Or to take this forward, another option would be that no one could ever say anything that they didn't truly mean. If they did, they would automatically grow mushrooms on themselves. (In my head this sounded funny.) So, if I accidentally met someone I couldn't stand, my facial expressions and words would show exactly this. Often, I cannot control the expressions my face makes in response to a person I don't like. The pointless point I am trying to make is that it is exhausting to decode the "political correctness" of everyone. If everyone said what they truly felt, the pain of figuring out their veiled contempt would vanish. I would be at ease. But I suppose earth would no longer be a happy place. Even though it isn't really one at this point.

I am perhaps no longer making sense. But the attempt is to envision a world where people would speak openly. Then murderers, closet dictators, ill-tempered souls, two-faced folks and bigots can be identified easily. And I can proceed to not be associated with them. For now, I have to engage in a strenuous decoding process which quite frankly I am no good at.

However, I guess I am asking for too much. Maybe I should attempt to practice this honesty for a while. I am bound to ostracize myself for not being socially acceptable anymore. Sometimes, that doesn't seem like a bad plan.

"Memories" - A Free Verse

Revealing itself to me,
was it a dream? An illusion?
Or a suppressed memory?

Feels like the present.
The edge of pain.
I bury it,
preserve it
from perverse
penetrating vision.

Incapacity to deal,
pushing it aside,
I discard it.

Intense living
forced these
repressed memories
to life.

Not an illusion,
not delusion.

Memories
they haunt me all the time.

My Way of Living Life, Only Sometimes!

Does anybody read these ramblings in abstract time and space? Does it change even an ounce of somebody's belief? Does any of it matter? Will it ever matter? 

To say, I write only for myself is an outright lie. But I admit I write to spend a little more time basking in the immense pleasure it provides me. I write to spend a while longer in a world I wish existed. Writing about realities is often stressful and pain inducing. But it reminds me of my deep connections to the larger than me, life. It deepens my understanding as my thoughts are never as clear as when I write. And that means something as my writing itself often lacks clarity. But I fail to understand the need to always make absolute sense. 

Sometimes, my writing wanders aimlessly from one strange thought to another. It drifts in the time and space of my creation. I love the feeling that I possess the ability to mold the stories anyway I want. It is something I have created from what I have read, what I have seen, the people I have met, the women I love, and the cities I have been to. And it might be powerless to everyone else who reads it, but it is intimate, powerful and passionate to me. So maybe, I don't write for external benefits, people or accolades. I write to feel that intimacy, every day, to feel a raw and unadulterated connection over and over again. But it isn't easy. Being intimate with something means having my guard down. It means I am vulnerable. I have set myself up for ridicule, mockery and harsh criticism. Honestly, I don't take these very well. I am a volatile and sensitive person. I care deeply about everything I write. I am attached in an intense way with the material I produce. But that doesn't change the fact that others' opinions can make you grow. So I put myself out there. I take that risk. Sometimes, I fail and I pull back into my shell. Sometimes, I can see for myself the potential that could exist. I build, I break and I build again.

Writing for me is my way of living life, sometimes. It is the way I deal with society and its crude ways. I write about my angst, my pain, my happiness. I write so I can empty my mind. I write so I can gain clarity in my thoughts. I write to be able to be. I can push myself a little further to reach my dream of being a good writer. But I struggle a little to acknowledge this. In fact, I struggle a lot.

Even as I scribble these incoherent thoughts, I am struggling between my understanding of political and personal; between the lines I have drawn of private and public. But writing helps bridge these conflicts of interest. For that side of me, I need to keep writing. If not in a blog, then just as drafts; At least for myself!

Moments Worth Reliving!

I have always felt like I wanted to freeze some moments for eternity or whatever it is that lasts forever. Not just a mental picture of the moment but the emotions and people that comprised the moment. When I look at my childhood photographs, I find the emotions in the photographs always led to long re-telling. Most of the time, I don't remember the people in the frames.

People change as does everything, I just wanted to grow older.

If I happened to find a photograph at random, on the road or in a house I rented, it would be more of a mystery. The photograph is of no value to me Neither are the memories captured in it.

But, I avoid getting to the point and digress.

If only there was a way to make each memory from every photograph come alive and play a few seconds of those moments before you. Then, when I am 90-years-old and senile, I will still be able to remember the

moments that I wished to immortalize.

Slide on next to me, just another memory, to keep me company.

But doesn't that take away a little bit from the essence or magic of a photograph. The many layers to it apart from what the frame essentially reveals? I presume so. I cannot help but wish to be a speck on the wall of not just the memories that I have created but also the many others in the photographs that I passively encounter. It just seems like a memorable journey to take, through the frames of people's lives and their memories.

For, the saddest and happiest moments always seem worth reliving

Vulnerability is Overwhelming But Necessary

Sometimes, you don't know why you cry. Your life seems but perfect to everyone as well as you. Yet tears wet your pillow. You feel lonely, afraid. You feel pain you can't explain.

Sometimes you are ecstatic. You know all that you want. Life is a heavenly place. But that feeling doesn't last.

Sometimes you feel lost. You run around trying to find your way. Your eyes grow weak in the hunt for the right path. You stay awake in an attempt to map your life.

Sometimes none of this matters. Sometimes the chaos is calming.

Just sometimes you share your misery with somebody else. And it makes sense to them. They don't charge you with over reaction. They don't logic life with you. They are in sync with your emotions.

Sometimes you feel safe.

Sometimes there is an outburst that is nonsensical. Sometimes there is clarity in every sentence. Sometimes you feel miserable. Sometimes you laugh at the self-pity.

Sometimes I write you or he or she. But in reality it is all me. Sometimes I need help to accept this. Sometimes truth is right there but there is reluctance to acknowledge.

Sometimes vulnerability is overwhelming but necessary.

Me. Me. And Me!

For all those who look at me but don't see me, I feel sorry for you. For those who think my capability or the value of my opinions is linked to how much money I earn, I feel sorry for you. Because it is disproportionately high. For those who can't deal with the clarity of my thoughts or the infidelity of my interests, I feel sorry for you. Because, I have the guts to say, I don't know what I ultimately want. And I won't settle. 

For those who only hear my silences, I feel sorry you can't feel the beauty of my thoughts. For those who disregard all that I do, I feel sorry for your myopic vision.

Because yes, though I am luckier than most in countless ways, I am also stronger. I am infinitely more tolerant, forgiving, emotional and giving. I do things for people without bothering about who gets the credit. I am talented, intelligent, punctual and have a will power of steel. So if in my idiosyncrasies, you see none of these, I feel sorry for you.

Courtesy: A fellow blogger email!

Fragiility :: The One Constant Thing In Life

Of all the things that keep changing in our lives, I think the one constant that remains is fragility. Fragility of life, of lifestyle, of jobs, of relationships, of health and of wealth. One of my favorite uncles once said something. He said it as a passing thought, but coming from someone whom I always hung onto for every word of his wisdom, it made a lot of impact on me. This is someone who has seen a lot in life and at 40, he reinvented himself, much like what management books tell us to do but we often ignore in the garb of complacency. He said “There is only one surety in life. And that is that you have no idea what it’s going to throw up on you the next second. Just when you think you have it figured out, it shows you how naive you were to think so”.

Think about it. Simple words. Words, we've heard so many times that they almost seem philosophical now. But words that couldn't have been more true. As one grows up (what everyone always urges one to do, don’t know what the hurry is though), one realizes that life can change in the blink of an eye. So what do you do? Seize control of it…lunge at it, even if it is almost fanatically. Swerve it your way. Whichever way that may be. Want to get back into reading? Pick up that book that’s gathering dust since ages! Feel guilty for not seeing your parents? Plan an impromptu trip. Spending too much time at work? Pick up the phone and randomly call your wife/ husband/ boyfriend/ girlfriend for no specific agenda, but well – just. I’m not talking big life changing leaps here. Small steps, but steps that take you on the path you choose. So that at least for a few moments, you get what you want, do what you want, before life takes you by your ears and changes your lane again!!

Life is a Saving Grace - Treasure It!!!

Last month, I bid adieu to one of the most important and charismatic individual in my life. My Grandmother passed away 18th of September, a day I will never forget for many reasons, one of which was the sheer amount of respect her holy corpse was able to receive. The whole episode was like a beautifully assembled pack of cards pulled down by the weight of time in a matter of seconds. 15 days before this, she was on her way to a pilgrim site, Naimisaranya in Uttar Pradesh; she perhaps already knew this was going to be her last visit to a holy site and then it would be her ultimate call up to the heavens. The reason I say this is because of something that happened on the day of her departure to the site. 

My brought up and the values instilled in me by her and my Mother are culturally and traditionally orthodox, touching the feet for blessings before leaving the house is some sort of a mandate; but I never believed in it. My gut always told me, if I believe in it, I should do it, else there is no point. And hence, I often am forced to do so; but having noticed my reluctance, my Grandmother stopped asking me to do it. But the day before she left to Naimisaranya, I visited her to say bye; and even on that day, before leaving I did not bend down to touch her feet and take blessings; and at that point, at that very moment something happened that will stay with me for the rest of my life. When I said "Bye Ammamma", she looked at me with teary eyes and said, "Come here, touch my feet and take my blessings, who knows if I will come back from this trip or not, I am old and getting ready for the big journey as the days go by". That to me, is the biggest moment of my life; something I will wear up my sleeves every time I bend down to touch the feet of an elderly. But has it changed the way I think about the whole thing? No. 

My Grandmother has seen not one, not two but three of her beloved Men fall to the graves in the last decade. Including her, the four big pillars of the Mahakali family are no more, but they left behind their moral sense of responsibility and a deep well of excellence that could by itself overpower an ocean of wisdom. The virtues that my family and more specifically my Grandparents have instilled in me form the fundamentals of my daily being. But the question today is, how important is my belief in these virtues? Is the belief in a virtue more important than the virtue itself? Introspecting this idea yields me different questions.

Could it be how rational thought destroys our soul? Could it be about the triumph of irrationality and the power that is in that? You know, we spend a lot of time trying to organize the world. We build clocks and calendars and we try to predict the weather. But what part of our life is truly under our control? 

What if we choose to exist purely in a reality of our own making? Does that render us insane? And if it does, isn't that better than a life of despair? But then, what would be the true purpose of the life of our own making? Would we have a desire to excel? Would we be able to justify the true purpose of our being? 

But rationality and irrationality is purely subjective. Also what's better is only a matter of how deeply you apply your thoughts to it. If being happy and content is all that you want in life, then isn't living an insane life in a world of your own, the perfect thing for you. The problem with us is that we don't know what we actually want, and when we do, we hate to accept them and instead conceal them in some virtuous thoughts. What matters is not the virtue but how much you believe in this virtue because at the end of the day the only person you are answerable to is your own self.

So I say, live your life so the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their views, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and of service to your people. Show respect to all people, but grovel to none. Let us all, and I mean this generation of us all, make our ancestors proud again; let's keep our differences aside, let's show them all who live their life in hatred, conflict and cynicism, how family as an entity and society as a change are strengths.

When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself. And then at the end, when your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. I literally mean, Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

LeBron James - An Expensive Hate Tag

As the ECF drew to a close this morning and the Heat shut the curtains down on the Celtics and possibly on the big-three era, I for one realized how an arrogant, gigantic, and legendary in the making, LeBron James rose against all odds and averaged close to 35 points and 11 rebounds a game in the Conference Finals to almost single handedly take the Heat into their second consecutive championship finals starting on Tuesday. Let's forget the Heat for a moment and just focus on LeBron here. I will be honest. Yes, I wanted the Heat to lose or let me put it right, I wanted LeBron to fall. As soon as the memory of James’ 45-point, 10-rebound, five-assist season-saving performance wriggled into the brightest hours of Friday morning here in Hyderabad, it was no longer about Game 6. That was no longer good enough for me and for most LeBron haters. He had to win Game 7. I was waiting for him to fall today again, but like a true warrior as he stepped up the game when most needed and played another tiring, emotionally nerve racking 48-min game, I told myself, enough, I can't pretend to hate this guy anymore and that too, just for the heck of it and maybe because our dear friend Ramesh is obsessed with him, that ain't no sportsmanship.

So, after the game, sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper I had this unusual sense of disgust within myself. I was forced to take an objective viewpoint and began questioning how one man can attract so much undeserved hatred and criticism. Was it something to do with the strong, palpable hate I have for James or was it something else; I wondered. And I bemoaned, perhaps this is a love that was to spring from my deep hate I have for him. After all, our greatest collective hate should explain our widespread love, and there is no better example than my renewal of love on James today. As a sportsperson myself, if I love Sachin, Nadal, Barcelona, and Messi, there is no way in the world I could pretend to hate this man any longer. I was always awed by his ability but he made me fall in love today, all over again and for only the second time after Ronaldinho seduced me with his quite stunning magical ability on the football field.

  

James is one of the best players in the league and, in my opinion, when it is all said and done, could be one of the greatest players ever to have played the game of basketball. And yet, at this moment, LeBron James is the most hated athlete in American sport if not in World sport (although, I believe Mourinho takes the world plaudits). If we did not love sports, we would not hate LeBron James as much. He has not sinned against society. He has sinned against competition. And this sounds backward, but it's true: If he had sinned against society, we would have an easier time forgiving him, the likes of Mubarak and Kasab having to get away from people ranting by spending time in air-conditioned jails is a sick modern era's example. We all sin against society at some point but in sports, competition is everything.

Let’s pick on what James had to offer and where we, and I for one, went a bit overboard and out of control with critical assessment. I don't mean the hate is unjustified. Or justified, for that matter. But let's pause for a second, put the hate on the stove to keep it warm, and think about this. Why do we even hate him, why?

 

• Because the 2007 Final series was a rout by Spurs on the Cavaliers? I remember rooting for Cavaliers and James playing his fourth year and his first finals played an exceptional season until the final. To be pointing fingers at him for a dismal Finals performance is no way justified. And one has to remember, James was 22 at the time of the series and he was the single reason Cleveland were in the finals. Think about that.
• Because LeBron spent seven years in Cleveland and Cavaliers made many half-hearted efforts to keep LeBron happy? An old, fat Shaquille O’Neal, and a non-motivated Antawn Jamison isn't good enough to keep many superstars with a team. When the best player you play with is Gibson, you know you won't be keeping your superstar for long. So, can we blame him for leaving Cleveland? I guess not.
• "The Decision" as they labeled it and the high profile announcement – LeBron could have chosen a better way to exit Cleveland than with an hour-long special on ESPN. But then, maybe he was compelled by people around him, maybe there was a contractual obligation, I do not know. But one thing I probably could do, Feel for him. Maybe on another day he wouldn’t have done it and maybe he regrets it doing as much as many of us hate him for it. Having said that, I believe, and he would too I guess, "The Decision" was a mistake. But how long are we going to talk about it.
• And the utterly infamous, "Yes. We. Did." campaign. The Miami Heat fans cheering, as other fans were angered, and NBA analysts scratched their heads. It created an unprecedented amount of hype around the newly-formed Miami Heat squad. And it was that hype that led to peak the “hate” when Heat lost the 2011 Finals to a spirited Mavericks. So, would we hate him for that? Maybe. In sport, nothing goes unnoticed
• For all you know, the All-Star game is a joke. So last year when the papers did the rounds that James wasn’t gutsy enough to take the final shot, I laughed. I kept it to myself. But I thought, this is the heights of cynicism that any sportsman can be subjected to. In reality, the game was for ratings and fun, and if somebody takes a dig at you for your performance in such sort of a game, then you know you have already won.

But then I also believe and if James is paying attention, he should realize by now, the other guys do matter. The guys on the bench matter. The yuppies and pappies paying too much money to sit courtside matter. The guys who got cut from the team matter, and the guys who played college ball but couldn't get a sniff of the NBA matter, and the guys who sat on the bench for their high school teams matter. Without them, LeBron James is just a guy doing cool stuff against nobody in an empty gym, for nothing.

 

And maybe that is at the heart of the hate. Maybe that is everything and the only thing -- the one truth we all must believe in if we're going to be modern-day sports fans. LeBron tried to circumvent that truth. He went for a shortcut. It's a sports sin we can't forgive, and won't forgive, unless Thunders whip Miami in the Finals this year, then LeBron James will have served his penance. If we could let go Luis Figo moving to Madrid from Barcelona and Sami Nasri moving to Manchester City from Arsenal, why can't we let go off this.

 

In our minds, LeBron James tried to beat competition. It's the one victory we never want to see. Ring or no ring, in my opinion LeBron James is a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer. He is posting numbers that can be compared to very few players all-time. The man has Goldberg's body with Carter's athleticism. Chances are he will never satisfy his haters or silence his critics because everyone has their opinion. But hate him or love him, you definitely can't say you've ever seen anything like him.

 

Sports-viewing is, at its essence, escapism. LeBron hasn’t yet let us escape. And we hate him for that. When he is on that court there is no better sight in the sporting world. Hail LeBron. 

Lionel Messi - ITV4 Documentary

If you are a football fan... do yourself a favor... watch this video... I may be biased at times... but this one is a special special dedication to the world of football... and what it has given us... the little genius... and the best player of his generation... three time world player of the year - Lionel Messi.

I donno if he the best player ever... he sure has the goals and the applauds and the individual honors... but for me its always Ronaldinho at that level... he was magical... sheer genius... For those who are not aware of my love for Ronnie, here is a piece from my old posts -

http://pk-thethoughtpost.blogspot.in/2011/01/outrageous-footballer-ronnie-for-life.html

But Messi has something that Ronnie did not... the hunger... the desire... and the appetite for more goals and more trophies... just that little discipline.

Here is a documentary on the little genius hailed as the best ever - Messi

Life Goes On...!!!

Time is a fickle friend. It passes by, no matter what you want. You may want to hold on to it, make it slower, but the clock ticks on. You may wonder how this time shall pass, but worry not, it shall.

The terribly unromantic thing about life is that it goes on. It may seem like the world is ending or you may be so happy that you could just die. But you probably won't. It'll pass. Like most else in your life, as my fav dialogue goes... This too shall pass.

The human spirit is resilient. More than we give it credit for. Not the cliche spirit like titled by newspapers- the Mumbai spirit and so on. Nope, the very spirit inside you and me. It faces the most difficult times and then adapts so quickly, it seems like it was all a dream. We underestimate our endurance. For better or for worse, we can take far more than we imagine!

I wondered how this time will pass. But it did. I'll meet you again soon... very soon!