Unaccustomed to sadness

And another short story is over and gone. Still reading unaccustomed earth and other shorts by Jhumpa Lahiri. Once in a lifetime. That is what this one is called. The story of a young girl just entering her teens. Her crush on the boy she used to hate. How her family played host to his for a month or so. What is amazing about this one is that she steadily builds up on a character, letting you form your own impression of them, judging them even. And she snatches it away from you. In one single statement, she reprimands you, silently albeit, for being such a judgemental person. There is something to be learned from this for all of us, I suppose.
Another thing that strikes me about her stories is the strain. There is always a vein of sadness, a strange feeling that the people in this house are probably never going to be completely happy. It makes me wonder if she also had a life that was such.
Whatever said and done, Ms. Lahiri knows to write. She knows how to capture emotions that people would rather avoid. She is an expert at taking that awkwardness that every family experiences, but ignores and putting it out there in the open for everyone to see. She isn't afraid to tell you that she knows. She knows how it is. She understands that sometimes you need to get away, no matter how much you love them. She understands how relationships disintegrate and there is pretty much nothing you can do about it. They were just meant to be that way.
I must say, this is quite a leap for me, in terms of genre. I feel like I'm finally growing up. From Enid to Agatha, detoured to Ayn and finally to Jhumpa.
Two more stories to go. I'm waiting to see how they end more than anything, just to see if the pattern that I'm seeing continues. I hope it doesn't!

MindUnclutterings

"You can take all that anger and turn it into productivity." 

That was my mum's solution to my rage issues. Mhmm. It did work. NOT. Sigh. But it does work at times. When there are some old vases and crockery that need disposal. Done very efficiently. Smashed. Shattered. Dust.  And then came the helplessness issues. 

"Ma, I feel so helpless! What do I do!?" 

*silence*

"Get over it"

"Huh?"

"I said, get over it. You'll be fine."

Yep, didn't think that's gonna go very well either. And then, it just happened! Don't ask me how. It just did! 

So basically, what you do is, you take it (helplessness), make a gigantic rock out of it and chuck it in the ocean. Screw feeling helpless. Those feelings are not for us. They're not for anyone. They should be nicely gift wrapped and flung right back where it came from. I'm telling you. Promise me you'll do it. Promise me you'll try at the very least. 

On a completely different note, ever tried flying paper planes from the terrace? They're insane fun, especially when you're trying to get them to go into the bitter old man's apartment. And once your mission has been accomplished, you should run for your lives. Because bitter old Thatha will find his walking stick and come to your house. He will knock on your door - three ominous, spine-chilling knocks. And when you answer the door looking like an innocent child who knows not what he wants, he will hand you a paper plane. THE paper plane. He would look at you like he is going to whack the living hell out of you. And then, out of nowhere, he will suddenly flash you a smile, turn around and leave. After blinking like a retard for a few seconds, you will clench that paper plane in your hand and shut the door. As you turn around an eclair will fall from within the folds of that plane. Again, as you stand there looking at that chocolate filled treat, all pretty in gold and purple, it will dawn on you. You'll probably miss him the most, when you have to leave. 

Which is why baking him an eggless chocolate cake (he is very aachaaram you see) with vanilla frosting is of utmost importance. I contemplated making him a proper south-indian meal, but that could be disastrous. Wouldn't want to poison the man.

So chocolate cake it is! And it shall be done. Yes it shall. 

Ranteroo - Part Too

Sometimes I don't know why I do certain things. It isn't about doing something that is right or wrong. It needn't necessarily be wrong. But I don't know why I do it. I'm probably sounding like a crazy person right now, but shouldn't there be a reason to do most things? We do almost anything that we do, for a reason! What that reason is, I should think. The next time I do something for no apparent reason, I should stop. Just stop and consider why I am doing it. Because maybe it'll save a lot of people from getting hurt. Or maybe it'll give me an insight into my own twisted head, that might help me figure out how to be happy with what I have. That is another thing. Have I mentioned how really fortunate I am? I have the best parents in the world, an amazing sister, a beautiful family with such loving grandparents, friends people would kill for... All the materialistic pleasures I probably don't even deserve. I'm just wonder struck at how kind the BigMan Above has been to me and I am grateful for everything. I just hope I don't screw it up. Because that would be entirely my fault. And I've probably got that coming too.

Chemical Lorcha in the Mandai.

Its time we gave it up.
Its time we started afresh.
Its time we grew up
Its time we gave it rest.
Because having a plan,
It really blows.
Lets be part of a clan
and simply go with the flow.

Go with the flow. I'm suddenly addicted to this phrase. It makes sense to me. That is really all anyone can do. If you want to live a life that is relatively happier, lighter. But it is a concept that many people fail to grasp. One doesn't simply 'go with the flow', my mum would say. Plan. Plan for the future. Plan your day. Plan whats for lunch. Even if it doesn't go the way you planned it, you'll be prepared. How, you ask? More planning of course. Plan for what might not happen. Plan for what might happen that might not actually happen. Oh man. For someone as lazy as me, that sounds like PUNISHMENT (Capital Punishment - Get it? Okay sorry).

Mind you, going with the flow isn't a walk in the park either (hah! Umm. Sorry again). It takes a fair amount of courage to do it. For some people just doing something as it is chucked at them is terrifying. Like myself. Therefore, physiologically, psychologically and basically, I am screwed. I confessed to a friend once and she looked at me with an 'Oh, Shradha' expression oh her face.

"No, not really."

"How do you know?" I ask.

"All you need to do is find the balance. Do both."

Oh it is THAT simple?! *snorts of derision* Well, lets just go ahead and balance away then! *Humph*

Okay, I guess I'll find a lopsided balance somewhere along the way. When I do, you may hop along if you like.

I wish

I wish it would stop. The tears streaming down your face. 

I wish you didn't have to be in pain. 

I wish you would realize that she suffers no more. 

Because having to suffer unspeakable trauma is simply not fair. 

I wish for you to understand that she is at a better place. 

A place that is free from suffering. A place where happiness is all you get. 

I wish you could see that you are not alone. Ever.

Because I just would not even contemplate to leave. 

I wish you would see that you are stronger than you think. 

I wish for you to use that strength and take on the world , be brave. 

Because you are destined to see, do and be great. 

What I thought of on my way to work.

I think it is safe to say that we all spend most of our lives trying to acquaint ourselves with the ever-changing world. And when we are sufficiently comfortable with the set up, we want to shake things up. We want to make life interesting again. Hopefully find a little happiness during the way. This eternal battle teaches you so much. Throw in a bag of surprises and we have life, as we know it. I hear not many people are fond of surprises. I never understood why! I love them. Get that heart racing. And maybe give it a few jolts once in a while. Oh, the joy. That is actually all we want. Joy. Solace. Eeee. I just hope we don't lose our way trying to chase her.

That's right! Happiness - definitely a girl 

Of Dreams and Visions

It had been a long day. A tiring one too. All I wanted to do was sink into my cozy bed and snuggle up in my comforter. And that is exactly what I did. Didn't even change into night clothes. It felt like I had just closed my eyes, when suddenly I woke up.


Did I hear something? 

It was all a little blurry. It was quite breezy and could feel my light blue curtain flapping around. I propped myself up, on my elbows. What was that near my desk? Looks a little bit like someone was sitting on my....

And that was when my heart stopped.

Should I scream? Where was my pepper spray? Please God, let this be a dream. PLEASE!!

He was examining the Polaroids above my table. He chuckled at the one with me tickling Thatha.

Oh shit. I'm gonna sneeze. Why is it like the movies!??! No. Don't. N.....*aaachhhhooooo!* 


Crap.


He turned around. He was old. Reeeaaally old. He smiled and took a few steps towards me. I pulled up my comforter a little higher and stiffened. Funny thing was, he seemed familiar. He was wearing a blazer that, I was pretty sure, I had seen somewhere. And then I noticed something even weirder. I could see.... through him. My clothes-line picture strings were like lines on his forehead. Now I was a 100% sure I was dreaming.

"Shradha?"

How did he know my name!? Are my notebooks somewhere on the table?

I nodded. Then it struck me. I had seen him before too. In pictures.

"Krishnan Thatha?!"

"Hahaha! You remember! Yes, I am your great-grandfather."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I was just staring at him, wondering how on earth he entered my subconscious and became a dream. In the meanwhile, he came a sat down on my green chair and looked around the room. When his eyes came back to mine, he smiled again.

"Am I dreaming?"

He shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I thought I should pay you a visit. You're the only grandchild I haven't seen!"

Ah. Maybe it was an unfulfilled wish of mine. Okay I should stop interpreting this dream thing. 

"Oh....."

"I see that you have a lot of pictures here. Pamechu looks so old in that one!"

"Yeah.... That was when Thatha came to visit last month..."

"But his smile hasn't changed. You like photography?"

"I guess..... It is fun!"

"Hmm.... I used to collect spoons as a teenager. Quite a big collection I had."

"Spoons?"

"Yes... and forks too"

He put his hands in his pocket and drew out a spoon. It looked antique. He held it out. I was looking at it with a little apprehension.

Is it real? What if I can touch it? That makes this much more real.

I took it from him anyway. It was cold to touch. Very slender. Probably silver too. And with such intricate work on it. She was a beauty.

" Where is it from?"

"My father once took me to Bombay. I was just a kid then. It was 1903...... I remember, because that was my first time in an engine coach. They had a grand opening of a hotel then.... at Colaba. It was magnificent! The halls were lavish and the restaurants, spectacular. My father was having coffee with his colleagues, when I stole it."

He chuckled. He seemed really pleased with himself.

"Nobody knows it till today. Except you, of course. Ah the tales I could tell."

And before I knew it, I was sitting beside him, laughing at his tales. Stories about spoons, his first crush, his first job, his first failure. He was such an amazing storyteller! I had forgotten that he was probably a figment of my imagination. I was probably sitting at the edge of the bed, because the next thing I remember is falling.

Thud


Ow. My hand. Oh god, the floor is so cold. I don't wanna get up!

I partially opened my eyes. I could see floral motifs.

Oh right. I painted that. Not bad at all!

Shradhaaa. Shradhhhaaaa. SHRADDHHAAAAAA!

"Whaaaatttt!"

"Come down, now."

Uggghhhhhhh. 

I got off the floor and stretched. That was definitely the weirdest dream I had had. Since the dog-horse one anyway. I was still half asleep as I trudged down the stairs. Someone was watching the news.

"......has left 31 people dead and many more injured. The Taj Mahal hotel in Colaba was opened in 1903...."

That sounds familiar.

"Pa, what happened?"

"There has been a terrorist attack at the Taj in Mumbai. Its all over the news."

"Did she say 1903?"

My dad mumbled something. And suddenly it all came back to me. I ran as fast as I could. Once I reached the room, I looked around. For a sign, anything. And there it was. Glinting in the sunlight. Right next to my bed. Silver and everything. I went and picked it up. A little warm from the sun. The slender stalk had TAJ engraved on it.

Rinse and Repeat (Not Really)

Conditioning. No, I'm not talking about 'please apply to shampooed hair and leave for 3 minutes before rinsing'.

I'm talking about being strong enough to take on whatever the world throws your way. It doesn't have to be a gigantic ball of fire. It could be something as simple as a wet paper towel. The problem with a wet paper towel is that, you can just wipe it away. The feeling that it was there, lingers. There, but not really. It takes a while to go away. And you know what's worse? You are not entirely sure that you want it to go away. So basically you are left in this state of limbo that isn't really limbo, because it just isn't. This feeling is a bitch. You can't do anything else in the world because it keeps nagging away at one tiny corner of your mind. Sometimes I just want break something on my skull, hoping the nagging would stop. But I think we all know that neither is the nagging going to stop, nor am I brave enough to attempt.

Masterchef Musings

Can I just say how really impressed I am with the people at Masterchef Australia? I've seen my fair share of reality shows (like a grandma, actually) and I've seen the kind of things people do to sell the show. Think Hell's Kitchen. What a LOAD of bull. And then came Masterchef and it was novel and intriguing. As the show went on, you realized that these people were actually real. Genuine. I mean, I was in LOVE with Georgie and Gary and Matt was that man in pink pants who was scary but adorable. So not only did you get to learn fancy culinary terms, you got to watch some good food, amazing cooking techniques and great showmanship. Then comes along Junior Mastechef. The first time I saw the commercial, I was skeptical. Kids can be quite annoying (yeah I'm one of those) and watching such amazing chefs patronize kids would be plain sad. And then I saw the second episode. With a huge chunk of cheesecake. So that I could concentrate on the cheesecake if it got too boring. What actually happened was something I never expected. By the end of it, I had said awww so many times that my cousin was begging me to shut up. And I'd eaten one spoon of cheesecake. One. It had never happened before. I was gobsmacked.

What exactly was it that made me like it so much? I loved the fact that they were treating them like adults. And due credit has to be given to the kids too. They didn't throw hissy fits and not one of them cried when they got eliminated. They were mature without being cocky. (Where are these kids in real life?!) Even grown ups don't handle it that well. All the challenges have been set well too. Its easy without being pre-schooler and the kids manage to put up such lovely versions of it. The warm and fuzzy factor kicks in when you see a kid in distress and the chefs help out without making it look like they did. And they have something nice to say about everyone's dish! And yet when it is undercooked or lacks seasoning, it will be put across. Could one ask for more!?

It simply too heart-warming. Love it. Now what worries me though is Masterchef Australia itself. What if the grown-up version just isn't good enough anymore?