Just the Straight line

   Last time I updated the blog was literally light years ago. But then wait! to my rescue is a detailed list of excuses. Blame it on the busy academic schedule, assignments and more assignments, either there wasn't any time and when the time waited for me, motivation was absent. Doesn't that happen with most of us? You see, we humans have a strange relationship with Marginal Utility of goods and services available at our disposal. If I were to draw that curve, it would be exactly as drawn below;

THE curve exactly describes my love and hate relationship for 'salty blog'. Initially the motivation was phenomenal. Almost everyday, I tried to update it. But , then came the stagnation phase at the top of the curve and as a result, first my constant surveying the blog faded and later my writing succumbed and I fashionably diagnosed my condition as the deadly 'block'. Sad na! No, the story doesn't end there. Some of my friends and even the audience tried to persuade me to write regularly. It did help. I wrote one or two posts after that but it was not for too long. The downward phase of the curve began.

Relatively, in place of blogs we (have and still do) replace many things/people (Yes, people!) in our own lives. After a point of time, we tend to move on and leave behind our once-close partners of life. Some days later we may/may not realize their significance. Cliche, but till then usually we have lost them. 

I am really glad that I reunited with my blog today. And no, you salty blog we aren't breaking up any soon. I can't afford you see. ELECTIONS are approaching. And that means my venting out frustration and happiness. Also, how can I forget. Its Sub-Continent Cricket Season!! From now on, there won't be replication of crests and troughs. Instead, just a consistent straight line.

Practice Haiku#1- Love's Labour's Lost

My first attempt :

Warm passionate hug,

that plucked me away from you-

Since then, I hate you

Dear Diary, je t'aime encore

My brown coloured personal  diary has always been by my side. There is historic documentation of my life in it. Unlike my OCD for perfection in almost everything, it reflects the imperfect side of me. My diary lacks uniformity. There is no perfect order. Its my 'Life' in more ways than one.

   It dates back to .. *scratches her head* Ahem! Lets not pretend, I can never memorize the historic years! All I can recall is taking my English teacher's advice, I rented an annual chocolate brown diary from papa (father). Certainly, I was offered other colours and distinct shapes, but my obsession with chocolates and coffee overpowered my feeling and prevented me from picking up the glossy hot pink one. I henceforth, became the proud owner of my mini-life brown diary.

Initially, it was literally in blue and black. All those years of cursive writing in the Convent school showed its consequences. Off white pages that were always adorned with an 'OM' on top were decorated with flawless calligraphy. I tried to record all that I did or felt back then. I have to admit that I literally wrote everything. The aggression of the initial teenage years gave way to comparatively settled but highly confused pre-adult days. Trust me, now when I go through all those date entries, its all captured and evident.  

    'In-order' writing slowly vanished. A new form was born. From blue and black, it became any-colour-on-the-planet-that-lied-next-to-the-table. Chronological sequence ceased to exist. I wrote wherever,whenever and whatever I wanted. Sometimes, I didn't even complete my poems. When I initially compared my life with my diary, this is what I meant. The trade cycle curves of inflation, recession, boom are all there in that diary. There is a vivid description of my highest high and the deepest low. Writing a daily diary is fun, but re reading them once you grow up is hell of an experience. 

   Our recent love hate relationship bothers me a lot. The sight of the deserted diary that lies in seclusion on the table haunts me. Layers of dust are slowly settling permanently. The culprit, Thou my laptop! How I wish I get back to my love and start afresh. That would bring back the lovely days of writing on a page with a pen. ( This rare phenomena is witnessed only during examinations)

Note: This post writing attempt has been really difficult. I have written after a very long time. Thank you Brandy for helping. I was ignoring the problem but when you brought it up, it kind of motivated me.  

For the French:  Google what would I do without you?

Man up!

     Diversity is a unique feature of our world. No, I am not talking about different faces or distinct nationalities. Its the divergent intellectual mindsets that thrills me the most. I don't come across this earmarked visible category everyday. But when I meet, I am like that kid who has been taken to a fun park after a long dull break.

    Another opportunity came my way. While trying to get the background information about my co-dialogist, I happen to assemble mixed feedback. While some told me that she was a 'strong-lady', others ridiculed her style. Owing to these divergent views, I was even more excited to meet such a woman.

    Waiting in her office while she was busy, I quickly glanced through various books, novels, 'Teacher-appreciation' cards that were kept decorated in the gothic-almirah. And then a faint yet strong voice that could be easily distinguished emerged with a face. In a turquoise saree worn under a black sweater with a hot pink shade of minimal lipstick, she was stylishly dressed. It was not her dressing style that was fascinating, intead it was her persona that mesmerized me.

    To me as she herself quoted, she wasn't a "womanly woman or a manly man", she was a blend. Strict disciplinarian, she was and still is the most sough after to ensure maintenance of required standards in the Vishva vidyalya. Her eyes were testimony to the adventurous journey of hers. Her opinions on various issues ranging from quality of education to ethics in media were impressive. After a good one hour conversation, we took her leave. Though she carved a space in my mind forever.

SHE has a miracle!

Conversation in a hospital between my cousin sister, her husband (somewhere I also intervene) who are just two-days old parents of a baby boy (not that it matters ) after 10 years of marriage.

HE: Going to visit the doctor once, call me if your sister needs anything and take care of the baby.

SHE and HE have a moment of non verbal conversation,and I can sense that both of them are overwhelmed and too emotional. Also, SHE wants to say something, but before SHE mutters someting, HE leaves.

The baby is sleeping after crying his heart out. SHE has just had a C-Section, still I notice that SHE is struggling to get up.

ME: Whats wrong? Do you need something? Should I call HIM?

SHE: No, I just want to walk!

ME: But, you are still weak. Doctor has advised you complete bed rest. Why are you exerting? What is the matter?

SHE (interrupts me): Dont ask questions, just help me.

I extend my support. SHE takes two round of the small white room which had been rendered life after the baby was born. And then tells me to call HIM fast. 

SHE: Tell him I am walking.

ME, super confused

I run and call HIM.

HE is Busy taking down notes of do's and dont's.

ME: SHE is calling you. URGENTLY. SHE got up from her bed and is walking.

Before I could complete my sentence HE runs to the room. 

They are hugging each other. 

ME stops. Becomes the silent spectator.

HE makes her sit on the bed. 

SHE takes the sleeping miracle baby in HER arms. AND hands it over to HIM.

As HE takes the baby, my strong macho man, HE breaks down and SHE starts crying too. Tears roll down HIS cheeks. SHE comforts HIM while he fills HIS heart by looking at HIS miracle.

ME still confused.

Its later that I learn,
HE had not seen the new born, not even a quick glance for the past two days. HE took a vow not to touch him until and unless SHE is out of danger and starts walking on HER own. It was a high risk pregnancy and the doctors had mentioned high chances of a situation where HE could have to choose between the miracle baby or HER.

Roadblock

      Its been only three months. Three months since the day when I first lived my dream. My dream to take formal training (PGDMC) before becoming a journalist. Journalist under whose ambit comes anything and everything that I have ever loved.

      After three months I wasn't the same person anymore.I changed. Changed for the better. My admiration and respect for the profession elevated. But this scenario was only until a few days back.The tables have turned. Tehelka has happened and  I am angry as well as heartbroken. Though I was aware of the hardships that a woman journalist faced in a media organisation. But there was hope. A belief that things aren't that bad. And then how my deep slumber ended!!

     The victim has been failed. Not only by her so called 'father-like' boss Tarun Tejpal but also Editor, Shoma Choudhary who unfortunately happens to be woman. I mean how can you even call an unconditional apology 'ethical' when there has been a sexual assault. Not once, but twice. Instead you comfort the victim by giving the culprit a sabbatical of 6 month! No inquiry, no penalization? More to this in my next post.

Reality

       A few days back my younger sister bowled a googly. Owing to my incompetence in deciphering the delivery in a professional manner, I was clean bowled. The googly question? She apparently wanted to know the way we differentiate between what is right and what is wrong!!

          And I was in a fix. Even if my peer group calls me a geek (no, i am not!), from where was I supposed to extract knowledge to be able to give a convincing reply? Wouldn’t you agree with me? 
No copybook knowledge that was rattafied over the years came to my rescue. With this, self introspection was given an impetus and I was shifted in my contemplation mode.

           Isn’t it true that we all have our own definition for right and wrong? We all have our own pair of sifting glasses on all the time 24*7 from which we sieve the right and dump the wrong. And we all have our respective reasons to categorize these things. Our criteria are set. A set already perceived notion that may or may not be based on our own past experience or lessons learnt by others taught to us time and again ifluences. If this is how we classify the right and wrong, then how can we brand the other person’s notion? Our right maybe wrong for some and their right, our wrong.

         It all comes down to our perceived notions. Living in a free world we all have been brought up in certainly distinct surroundings, under the influence of starkly different conditions. This has a detrimental effect on our perception about the world. It’s seldom that two person hold the same view in everything. Then we must agree to disagree and give respect the other person’s view. But I know, it’s not that easy to practice as it is easy to preach! Our egos are huge and we usually don’t appreciate the word wrong. After all who likes to be wrong when there is an easy way out to be right!. Is this right or wrong? I leave it to you to decide on that.

Life, as we know it

......

Jab jab dard ka baadal chaya

Jab ghum ka saya lehraya

Jab aansoo palkon tak aya

Jab yeh tanha dil ghabraya

Humne dil ko yeh samjhaya

Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai

Duniya mein yunhi hota hai

Yeh jo gehre sannate hain

Waqt ne sabko hi baante hain

Thoda ghum hai sabka qissa

Thodi dhoop hai sabka hissa

Aankh teri bekaar hi nam hai

Har pal ek naya mausam hai

Kyun tu aise pal khota hai

Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai 

                                             .....

      Perfect life! I wonder sometimes what exact are the situations that give boundary to this othervise pseudo-perimeter . Who are those 'more privileged' and is there are any specific criterion?

     Seems like all the fairy tales exist only in the virtual world of books and movies, a jump into the real scenario and everything (almost) changes.

      At one point, we are embroiled in our own problems that we totally disregard and many a times completely ignore problems of our fellow humans. A little heed and suddenly it dawns upon us, 'k mera dukh toh kitna kam hai'(my worries are so petty!). Yes, i know we all have Been-there-done-that. But then aren't we all humans! Self-pampering and protection is a stimulus reaction. Even if we are aware of the fact that our problems are petty, we love to exaggerate and gain sympathy. And mind you! this section of sympathy finds its biggest consumer in oneself. And its then that the seldom equilibrium of demand and supply is lost and we are back to square one.

      As above lines try to put it across , dawn and dusk are a regular part of our lives. Neither can we run away from them nor can we expect ourselves to be the new superheroes with just-discovered 'twilight' powers. Without being impartial we all have been given our share of sugar with a dash of salt. The difference lies in our shades of life that we flaunt. Nobody is living a life straight out from a 'perfect novel' as the perfect character. Problems have been there and they are here to stay for long.Its acceptable to fall but unacceptable to not rise. Grab the opportunity, add experience to your book of life and traveler, move ahead.

     Face it head on. Sympathy is a big no-no. I agree that it is indeed relaxing to confide in somebody and open your heart. But creating hullabaloo is seriously not cool. As they say, life is small but its an adventure. Smile more and keep the world's thought process in motion which seeks the reason behind that smile. Before the bubble bursts, one should learn to appreciate others and not to forget oneself! And just enjoy the beautiful adventure!!