Music, flowers, books....and rain

My Dear Reader, I can't remember the first time I stopped to smell flowers,the first time I picked up the pen to write, or even the first song I listened to over and over again...I cannot even think of the first book that made me fall in love with reading...yet, these are the things that give me the most pleasure. These....and then the rain.

It's that time of the year again, yes! The monsoons are here. The time to fall back under the the spell of mother nature in her many majestic hues is here. So, I have paused, just for a bit to admire the gorgeous gift from nature that is-Rain.    

I have previously written about stopping and taking the time to appreciate the things that really matter. However, I find myself guilty of rushing by the things that give me real pleasure. So, I have resolved to take in the beautiful fragrance of the flowers that bloom during this lovely monsoon season. They seem brighter and more fragrant. I find myself wondering, if it is so because of the life-giving rains or because I haven't noticed their charms for a while.

The pitter-patter sound that the raindrops are currently making on the windowsill, have proved to be an inspiration for me to write this post after weeks of writer's block. Dear reader, I must tell you what a relief it is for me to finally be able to write again. The past couple of  weeks have been trying, as I was unable to retreat into my world and write.

I am listening to a golden oldie whilst I write these words. The lyrics roughly translate to the rain, bringing back the love of your life... Isn't that a wonderful sentiment. Rain brings so many things, melancholy, solitude, pain, longing, bliss and that most powerful of emotions, love.

What better sentiment to dwell upon than love, even if it is unrequited.  A great book that tells the story of love and yearning seems like the perfect companion on this wet evening. When all outdoor activity ceases, the best way to unwind is curling up and retreating into the world of exhilarating words, that remind one of how amazing writers actually are. I can't help but be inspired by the sheer genius that some individuals have of weaving great stories.

So, dear reader, this monsoon do all the things that remind you of why life and her many wonderful moments that are so like the myriad drops of rain, quenching the parched soul with vitality.

in which I muse about the sheer idiocy of "Writer's Block"

Dear Reader,

Yes it's me...remember me? The opinionated comedy of errors. Well I'm back... I know that all of you are mystified as to why I pulled the old vanishing trick. Well, prepare yourself to be horrified......I had a severe case of writer's block. I mean a BAD one people!!! I now give you leave to be totally sympathetic.

It was horrible my dear reader. I would get all these words in my head, bursting to be put on paper and yet all I could manage was stare at a blank sheet. So basically NOTHING. I couldn't even manage a single coherent sentence.

So many of you are writers out there, some of you are probably ones, whose work I would totally love reading. I am sure that you have faced that loathsome dragon called "Writer's Block". Well, what is it anyway? Is it the sheer frustration of not being able to craft a single sentence from the jumble of thoughts running in one's head?
If yes, then I was indeed plagued by that nasty beast! I wish that I had a way to defeat said beast though....... In a perfect world, writers would never be victims of something as mundane as "Writer's Block"!! By which I mean,  Bleh!!!..........Well, the name itself is soo unimaginative as to suggest that it was definitely coined by a person who couldn't write to save his/her life!

In a writer's world though, if one did have the misfortune to face the despicable beast, one would have dozens of weapons in one's arsenal to trounce the dull creature....Enchanted swords, shields and spheres, magic, spells, the wand of destiny ( thank you J K Rowling! ), or in really fairytale like instance ( where feminism doesn't exist) .... An all powerful handsome prince to do the trouncing on behalf of the lovely maiden who just happens to be a brilliant writer!!!

Alas, in the real world, all one can do is eat ice cream, do all the mundane things that are majorly avoidable. And lament over the loss of many great thoughts and words, that potentially, in one's mind at least could have   been that one successful, publishable idea!

So many event's took place in the meantime, at home and out in the world that I had opinions about. The writer in me iched to put these opinions to paper, being unable to watch these thoughts come to life on paper was torture. I may come across a touch dramatic, but really, the life of a writer would be boring indeed  if not for a healthy dose of drama, real or imagined.  And what could be more threatening or dramatic than "Writer's block" eh?

So, imagine my agony dear reader feel, at least a tiny amount of sympathy. And in case you are a writer like yours truly, empathise, and write back with your tale of woe. Know that here, you'll find a willing and true comrade. 

Dear Reader, I was reading Alexander's Pope's 'Eloisa to Abelard' and now I can't seem to get these lines out of my head so I feel compelled to write them down..

Look at me, my beloved, for it is when you look that I feel alive,
When you burn, I catch, fire
Oh yes, it is when you look at me that I feel alive....
Like Galatea compelled to come to life by the love of her creator Pygmalion....
Look at me my love, for the light in your eyes makes me feel like a work of a Renaissance Master,
Beautiful, yet simple....aloof yet passionate.....calm yet turbulent...Oh yes, just look at me once....just once..
Alas, we are to be apart forever......so let me be the Eloise to your Abelard....let me be Isolde to your Tristan...oh let me be...
Look at me my beloved, one last time....let me feel beautiful, desired, loved.....Let me feel human just once before I turn back to stone, before I wither in my bloom, lost forever to my gloom.....The poet who penned these did know a little about parting...So look at me one last time beloved let me see that soft light in your eyes, the one that makes me feel warm inside...although our love will forever be chaste, I feel like I've experienced all the passions love brings.....so, look at me...oh look at me my beloved, for I love you back.... so,  let me say all that is unsaid through my eyes to yours....
Through my heart to yours.......

Frederick William Burton, Hellelil and Hildebrand, The Meeting on the Turret Stairs, 1864 

in which I protest against being cyber-bullied

Dear Reader, most of you read my blog through the various groups on Linkedin. I inadvertently got embroiled in a nonsensical debate about 'what we should post onto such public forums. The crusader for propah posts was a lady sitting continents away who pointed out that since she was in the 'Business' of writing, she condescendingly pointed out... 

"This is not the place to recycle blog posts or other communications that are more suited to Facebook or a "witty conversation" Website. Unless your "experiences" have to do with the business of writing, post them on a more appropriate forum. 

The only comment you got on this post was a negative one. That should be a BIG CLUE to you that your audience is not here. Common sense and good marketing skills would seem to dictate that if you want folks to read what you write, go where your audience is. Otherwise you will continue to be ignored. "

Needless to say, the above comment provoked others to speak out in my defence. They assured me that I was not a complete non-entity and that I should post what I wished to. This debate has given rise to a really interesting question...Is freedom of speech and expression in this age of communication a Utopian concept. 

I know that there will always be those who dislike my written works and strongly disagree with my point of view. However, I have deep reservations against those who practice a form of Cyber- Bullying, for example posting rude comments, treating public forums as arenas to humiliate complete strangers continents away, trying to establish hegemony over these public forums, becoming self-appointed arbitrators of content etc.

Bullying in any form is inappropriate and disturbing and I refuse to be cowed down into not exercising this hard won freedom of speech and expression, which in my opinion is a basic human right. 

Writing for me is not a 'Business', the power to write is actually not a luxury than many in my country have, as illiteracy is unfortunately still rampant. Therefore, I feel incredibly privileged to be able to communicate through the written word. Art in any form should be for a purpose, even if it is to make people laugh through a display of wit. Thus the art of the written word is definitely not a 'Business' according to me. 

I also believe in civility towards all, even those who are my critics. However, I take umbrage to the use of such a negative comment on a public forum.I have never in anyway tried to give offence and yet, I have been subjected to such vicious statements by someone who doesn't know me at all. I wonder what caused the lady (who I am sure is perfectly amiable) to dislike me so? 

I confess, that as a self obsessed Journalist-writer I feel smug...You may wonder why? well, my professor at university used to like saying that "every 'Writer worth his/ her salt' should be subjected to vicious criticism and unnecessary controversies, it is what makes them realise the incredible power of the written word, after all the pen is mightier than the sword." 

I suppose, now that I have actually become, dare I say, a 'Writer worth my salt' , I'll be spared hate mail? Alas, dear reader, we do not exist is a utopian world and I'll always commit written faux pas due to my unfortunate penchant for the ridiculous and the absurd. 

Thus the tilted view of the entire brouhaha over a random girl's post on a random public forum is ...Does one really have to be proper and follow all the rules as a writer? As an Argumentative Indian, I'd like to say that had Gandhi followed the rules, he would still be a long-dead moderately successful lawyer in South Africa.

Good conversation is the best cure for a horrible mood

Hello Dear Reader, I have had the most amazing experience yesterday, I met nice people and spent the entire time engaging in witty and intelligent conversation.

I have had the good fortune of meeting interesting people and have recently been quite social. Now even if I generally prefer my own company, I love interacting with people every now and then. Yesterday was one that was really needed after the idiotic weekend. Anyway have you ever noticed how sometimes all we need is a bit of fun.

I confess that I was in a way relieved that I hadn't had the chance to over brood and over analyse the my predicament. I did make sure to drop hints into the ear of concerned parties about the pervy ##$$$@@ accessing my laptop and that's that. Your concern however was touching and I had a laugh at some of your 'innovative' suggestions.

I end with a quote from that genius, Jane Austen from her novel "Persuasion"

“My idea of good company...is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company." 
Anne Elliot to her cousin Mr Elliot 

in which a complete stranger invades my privacy!!

Dear Reader, yes, I made the mistake of leaving my laptop in the presence of a complete stranger, who I have discovered to my horror accessed my laptop and saw my private data! What horrifies me most is that he saw some of my private writings meant only for my eyes only.

I didn't realise that the act of leaving my laptop lying around would invite the **&&&### to actually read my private files, one which was saved in a confidential file! I feel violated right now, I feel exposed. In this techno -savvy  age, our computers have become an extension of our personalities, they are the equivalents of personal diaries, one which holds our deepest and most embarrassing secrets - our music, photos, ebooks etc.

You cannot imagine my chagrin at discovering this person's actually having used my laptop, I feel exposed to this intrusive gaze. The fact that he is a man, a person I don't really like, and also that he used the 15 mins of my absence to actually use my laptop without my permission has made me feel really vulnerable.

However, it has taught me a valuable lesson; and I'll NEVER leave my laptop lying about (this happened in my home; but still...). I also wonder at the voyeuristic tendency of certain individuals, what gives them the right to actually violate other peoples'privacy so? I send this question into the 'void'...What are your thoughts dear void?

all hail the 'serial protester'....

Hello Dear reader! There are 'Serial Killers', 'Serial Daters', 'Serial Kissers' , all of whom have compulsive predilections towards an act, they probably do it for some selfish reason (according to shrinks)  . And then there are those exalted personages who have a compulsive habit which they sincerely believe is an act of complete selflessness- they are the ' Serial Protesters'.

 The week has been hectic and in many ways one full of realisations (mostly unpleasant).In my previous post, I mentioned that nation wide strike in India and my support for the cause. Well, I actually found myself amongst the throng of protesters yesterday.

Now as most of you might not know,  so I have to tell you something about myself, I actually look like someone who would be on the front-line of  a crusade to promote a 'lost- cause' . Most people only realise on closer interaction my rabid devotion to logic and an objective and clinical approach towards any given event or task.

Therefore, I was lassoed into making posters for a cause I don't really believe in. I was also bullied into doing all the work and I had absolutely no help whatsoever! ( A few kindhearted colleagues did help, but only after I was on the brink of a meltdown). So, I stayed up the entire night on Wednesday making posters. All the while I couldn't help but wonder at my ignominious position at work. I realised that I have become the official 'dogsbody' the go-to person for all the random unwanted work, most of which was not even remotely connected to my job-profile. It is perhaps my own fault, I am constantly yelled at for no reason, by even my subordinates! It seems to have escaped everyone's notice that I am actually doing them a favour. I wish I wasn't such a doormat, I wish I was a snob whom everyone was scared of.

Anyway, after organising everything, I finally reached the venue in one piece. As I looked around me, I could see earnest looking students, people with bored expressions holding placards and the leaders aka those who were the first to shout a slogan, also generally the loudest. As I interacted with the lot, I was struck by something, I could see myself in some of them. A few years ago, I was always at some protest or the other. I was never in doubt of my politics but, back then, I had just become a mirror that's all.

You may wonder dear reader, a mirror? I never really saw fit to speak up about my basic beliefs, but just did everything my peers were doing, even went to meetings/rallies/protests about issues I didn't really care about. Thus, I reflected the opinions of others, just like a mirror. Well, a few years ago I was at a random protest when mid-slogan I had an epiphany. I found myself stupefied and asked myself- what AM I doing here, do I even believe in this cause. I realised that I had become one of those mindless herds at political rallies, who don't even know the name of the party that they have  come to support. I WAS DONE! My logical self rebelled against such mindless action.

As I interacted with the students at the protest yesterday, I saw myself ( as I was a couple of years ago ) in them. I was so full of myself, so earnest, so deluded, so blinded by my own sense of self-worth; in short I was a serial protester. It was an uncomfortable realisation only to be followed by a pleasant thought, at least, I was aware of socio-political issues because of all the time spent protesting! That is certainly a thought to make me feel better.

However, I must add that I greatly admire all the activists ( the sincere ones) for their zeal. It takes a lot to believe in something. I know, some people who are doing the praiseworthy act of creating awareness through, protests, rallies and public meetings. They are certainly not as full of themselves as I was and unlike some other publicity-hungry idiots are not in it for the fame.

I just found myself yearning for my earlier self, the girl who was crazy enough to attend a rally in torrential rain, the girl who was blind to the difference between earnest believers and jaded publicity hungry  rabble-rousers.  Alas,  my fires have burnt, and I can now clearly see the different faces in the crowd.

                     

In support of trade unions and strikers

Dear Reader, it took me an hour and a half to reach work today! Reason...today is the first day of the two day nationwide strike in India by the 11 major trade unions of India.

It has been called against disinvestment in Public Sector Units, Foreign Direct Investment in various sectors, including retail, poor implementation of labour laws, and price rise. As expected, transport was the first casualty of the strike and inconvenienced a lot of people, especially in the metro cities.

As one of the 'victims' I found myself grumbling about the crush in the buses and the extra time wasted commuting in the roundabout route to work. Still, I realised that I am and will always be a trade union sympathiser. 

I know that a lot of money will be lost due to the strike and normal life will be invariably affected, but I AM NOT A HYPOCRITE. I support the trade unions. Their demands are legitimate especially their demand to increase the minimum wage rate for the unorganised-sector workers and protesting against the removal of subsidies.

The common man is chafing under the weight of inflation and unethical practices of the ultra-rich. It is time that we rose to protest. Yes, I am at work today and was really inconvenienced, but I will not grumble when my comrades protest against injustice and demand a fair hearing of their grievances. 

I am an Indian, I work, I am political, I know my rights, I protest against inflation, I survive.  


             

Ambiguous feelings about Valentine's day

Dear Reader, in many ways Valentine's day for me has been a significant day through the years. My earliest memories of the day is making valentines for all my classmates in school. As a silly teenager, it was the day when I noticed boys the most, they were these exotic beings from another planet and I always found myself succumbing to an embarrassing fit of giggles in their presence, the horror!

As I grew older ( my late teens and early twenties ), I went through a really nasty phase, my friends and I used to go to the popular romantic spots in Delhi and pass really snarky comments on the couples, we made sure that they were in Hindi, so that our targets understood our meaning perfectly!!! I know, you're shocked now, aren't you dear reader?

Anyway, now that I am older and more mature (hopefully) I generally try to spend the day in good company, and hopefully not bitch about the day! This year, I went to the one billion rising event in Delhi. I went there in support of the movement to end violence against  women. However, I must confess that I don't really see the connection between dancing and ending violence against women???? I'm sorry dear reader, but I'm a slave to  logic and I just don't get it, period....still, I was there because I support the cause.

So, I met up with this nice group of people I knew socially and then, the fun began ( it wasn't really a blast, but it was good company). We had good conversation, and proceeded to stuff our faces with greasy Chinese food. So, we went to this cheesy place which was decorated with pink and red balloons and confetti (exaggerated eye roll) and they had this 'special festival menu'! And, I couldn't help but harass the poor waiter about what exactly was the 'special occasion' (I suppose old habits die hard).

Can you imagine dear reader, the entire place was full of cosy twosomes, and there we were, a group of almost strangers stuffing our faces with food and making conversation about social and political issues! Boy, did we stand out like a sore thumb!

Still, it was by and large a pleasant day. I have gone through a plethora of feelings on this day, from contentment, to excitement and wonder, to irritation and plain loathing. However, this was the first time that I felt lonely. I am happy about being single, but all my companions from the previous years are all happy in relationships and for the first time I had no company in the usual venting of frustrations. I found myself surprisingly yearning for male company.

It is surprising!!!! No really, for me Valentine's day is a corporate holiday meant to be the day when one pays exorbitant amounts on flowers/presents/food. Still, for the first time in my life I understood the underlying sweetness to the day. It is nice that the day provides us with a reason to let our loved ones know how much we care. What do you think?

In which I tart up for a good cause!

Dear Reader, I am a writer, and a feminist, I have these beliefs about being a woman and some rigid stances on the objectification of  the female body. I know, I know, you now have this furrow between your eyebrows....you are probably thinking "Now what is she going to rant about eh?"

Well this in not a rant, so you can now sigh with relief! The past week was awful! So, to feel better, I decided to alleviate my black mood by reading a trashy novel and chilling at home. It totally worked! I feel rested. I remembered this amazing quote by St Thomas Aquinas

                         

              “Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine”

It's soo true dear reader, I did not have the wine, but the rest was a definite help. I woke up today refreshed and thought that I could do with an outing. So, what did I do? Well I tarted up....yeah literally wore clothes that I generally won't be caught dead in and put on lipstick (siren red) and sold dogs for an animal shelter.

Men are soo predictable! They are easy to attract and manage if one projects the image of a ahem..'Hot Chick'! Seriously though, I kind of felt like an object, sometimes the male gaze can be so intrusive. For someone like me, who is generally happy being a wallflower, it was difficult being an object of attention. As a writer, I distanced myself from it all. The entire exercise was actually really amusing. 

I felt like Wonder Woman!

On one hand, I felt really horrible, and also manipulative. The fact that I hoodwinked unwitting men into adopting pups (really adorable ones) didn't really sit well in my mind. But, I used my feminine charms for a good cause, and in the end the guys did something good too. After all, giving stray pups a home is a noble thing to do. On the other hand I felt weirdly powerful; I understood, for the first time the power of being a woman. I confess that I found the sense of power quite addictive. 

But, it raised so many questions in my mind. Did I unwittingly betray my feminist beliefs? Did I in a way encourage the misogynistic, tendencies of the men I interacted with. Did I actually enjoy being a sexual object? 

In many ways, I would like to think that it was just good fun, for a noble cause. And yet, there are always these doubts.......Until the next post.