Monday, July 18, 2011

That Glass Bowl

The pen was lazily being twirled on the table, as she looked on.
An onlooker might think she's day dreaming. With her chin resting on one hand and gaze fixed on a glass window. A close friend might have noticed that she was just a bit miffed.

It was the glass bowl.
She'd first noticed that glass bowl when someone had pointed out how funny that tiny thing had looked. It was hilarious. A small, round glass bowl that was at the tip of the table, looking like it was doing a balancing act.. Her first instinct had been to run to it's rescue, and push it securely to the center of the table. But then, they had all moved up, closer to the window to get a bet a look. It was cute in an adorably sad way, like the bowl is desperately clinging on, with a lot of positive hope, that one day I'll roll back to stability.

That was a while ago. A few months.
Every day since that day, started with standing and staring at the bowl for 2 minutes and thinking the exact same thing "Oh you still haven't fallen!"...invariable, followed by a "Phew".
Though she had never gotten around to 'rescuing' that bowl, a feeling which had somehow gotten lost in the initial flurry, she had developed a strange bond with that bowl.Initially, it had just been pleasant surprise.
Like something you know will never ever last, but then you see it day after day. Soon all the 'what if's start creeping in your minds.
She found herself thinking that Maybe, just maybe, this bowl will make it.

Now she wondered what on earth she was thinking! 'A day will come, when the bowl will not only be safe, but right in the center, being something more than just a bowl...transforming into a vase or a pretty pen holder.' Seriously!

The wish had transformed into hope. And before she realized it, she knew the bowl would be fine, rather than hoping it would be. It made a big difference. That little bowl sitting on the other side of the window.
She knew she's sound silly if she told anyone that some days, when she wanted to give up, that little bowl gave her the motivation she needed to keep at it.
Sometimes, she'd just look up, lost in thought, focus on the bowl by habit, and a smile would form itself on her face.
And yes, there have been days when she just wanted to go over and set it in a more secure position.

This day had started normally, with her going to the window to look at the bowl. It was missing. For one silly moment, she just wanted to turn away and walk, deciding someone had taken it. But she knew she had to look down. To confirm (it wasn't) the worst. The minute she looked, she knew she shouldn't have. There it lay. Or what was left of it, in pieces.
What was once a merry looking round bowl, now lay as shards which seemed to glint with cynicism.

It was just a bow, she knew that. Glass can break, she knew that well too. This one was all set to break from the moment she had set eyes on it.

It was just a bowl, damn it, so why was it affecting her so much?

It had been 2 hours, since she had first seen those shards.
2 hours with no work done.
2 hours of staring blankly at what used to be.

A tiny voice at the back of her mind was saying "You knew it was going to break", not in the I-Told-You-So tone, but more out of pity. It somehow seemed harder.
Regret? If she could do things differently, would she have rescued the bowl on the first day, and never cared about it? Or at least on one of those few days when the thought had struck her? She didn't know, and never would.

It was just a bowl.

But everything is just something isn't it?

What does anything mean anyway?
This bowl breaking made her sad. Disappointed that even it had broken.

Sighing, she got up, to go and pick up the shards.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Eating that frog

We're back to old fashioned rants at Imaginative Realist.
Point of focus: My Job.

I have a nice job (weird way to start bitching about it, I know.Lets go with it though)
I have a nice job, great timings, my boss bugs me strictly only once a day (intensity varies, but number never does, so I like that consistency) and the work load is very decent.

I hate rejections.
Hate is an understatement.
I loathe and detest them.
I'm not one of those girls with a Princess Complex, who think they deserve everything, and shouldn't be denied anything. Nah unh.
I know what I deserve and what I don't. At least a rough idea.
So, when I know I won't get something, I either won't try going for it at all, and if I do gather up the courage, to go for something, when I don't know if it'll get approved or rejected, I go with ALL the doubts, the 'half' empty side might as well be an empty ocean, for the amount I'm prepared for the final 'no'. When it could be a yes too.
This could apply to anything. As simple as asking my sis if I could borrow a ear ring for a night. (Where the probability of a NO is like 5% is my point)
So, that's how much I hate rejections. I'm already making back up plans for how to handle the 'no' and what are my alternatives.
When I know it might be a no, my asking itself is "I know it's gonna be a no, I don't mind it, but se...."
Not very effective. (Ask the 2 guys I liked ;P )

Why am I blabbing about all that after saying my focus is on my Job today?
Because I joined my company's BD dept. What am I doing now? Sales.
Cold calling.
Which has probably got the highest rejection rates in the history of Rejections!!!!!!
I call people in Europe, who reject in the worst way possible: Very politely. Grrr.
At least reject rudely, and slam the phone down so I can hate you in peace.
Oh wait, no emotions in the work place....Eeeeeesh !
Not that one form of rejection is better than the other, but seriously?!

I can take mockery to great extents, i can take pranks like a sport, I can take all the anger/ misunderstanding you lash out on me, and patiently wait for you to calm down. I can take them all like a princess. But I can't take rejection. It .....

ARGH ! Chincha !

Well, that frog I had avoided for ever and ever, I'm eating that now.

So God, if You're up there and watching (You better be!) I've become more patient, and now I'm learning this too. So better do something fast !!!

Till then, .... well nothing, I'll wait.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Gummy Bears

I like gummy bears. Do you like gummy bears?
Little, colorful, sweet, chewy, bear shaped things, that you can just mindlessly chew on for ages.
I don't like them in ice creams though... (irrelevant point)

All said, why are they shaped like bears? Why isn't it gummy rabbit or gummy lion?!
Why all the hype for bears anyway?! It's really weird.



We have teddy bears, bear hugs, stories about sweet bears and Goldilicks... Winnie the pooh is a bear, there was this British bear..er....Paddington Bear. Dr. Doolittle's Archie... in movies.
I'm pretty sure there are a hundred more that I missed.

Why are bears portrayed as such sweet things?
I have nothing against bears, really.
But I am curious!

Did anyone receive a nice squishy hug from a bear (and come out of it alive, to tell the tale!)?
Or did humans have bears as pets before they switched to the smaller and more compact dogs and cats? (They did have more space in the world, before all the population explosion and all! That's a thought to ponder!)
But nothing in classics, or mythologies really point towards humans actively taming and domesticating bears. (I don't think Enid Blyton's books count here).

How did bears became so popular for the children? Why are they portrayed as such adorably friendly creatures, when they aren't really.
Well if anyone ever find outs, do enlighten me on that!

In the meantime, want a gummy bear?

Monday, July 11, 2011

A Rose By Some Other Name

There's a long email in my inbox.
A smile playing on my lips.
A tear threatening to fall.

I'm not here to write about any of that. I'm here to randomly wonder. And hypothesize.
(Doing a lot of that lately!)

What is the difference between the colour WHITE and SILVER?
Yes, silver has that sparkly, shimmery element to it, but otherwise, they're almost similar right?
Yet, when we say white, in our minds, we picture a...paper, a wall, soft fluffy clouds,.... beautiful white things. But, when we say silver, at least to me, there's an element of ...something more involved. I sense Christmas, I see shimmer, I see glittery stars... I feel a bit of magic.
Ok, that last bit might be slightly exaggerated, but try it, close your eyes, think silver, and see what comes to your mind, I bet you would get at least an inkling of magic in your images.

"What's in a name? that which we call a rose
      By any other name would smell as sweet"


Said Shakespeare.

That is true, I totally agree. 
Call a rose a pic and smell it, it would smell just as sweet.
Suddenly though, I'm wondering if a rose by any other name would have become so popular!
All over the world.
I'm pretty sure I've come across many flowers that have an aroma that is far sweeter than the rose, and I know that there are MANY MANY flowers that are much more beautiful than the rose.
So, what does a rose have that all of those prettier better smelling flowers don't have? 
The name: Rose.
The name that has been forever associated with love and romance, an emotional significance, and cliched in every way possible. That's what the other flowers don't have. 
So I think a rose, by any other name, would surely smell just as sweet, but would not have been half as popular.

So coming back to colours and words.

Words have a special ability, they can make the most drab and humdrum things sound exotic and spectacular.
For instance, if I described a girl with deep chocolatey eyes, and then a girl with brown eyes - Every characteristic, except the eye colour description same word for word, I'm certain the girl with chocolatey eyes would have looked better in your imagination.

I think that is the deal with white and silver. The association we've made with them over the ages. Agreed they're not the same, and do have a difference. Yet, they're not that different either. Our visual senses have associated silver with more ...interesting... shiny...sparkling things than those we have with white.
Visual tricks, just like with words.
Different part of our brain I guess.
This is just random wombling (wondering + rambling).
A stray 1 AM thought that I felt like exploring :)


All said, have a shimmery silvery day !!


Friday, July 8, 2011

Singing solace to the moon

I can't sleep.
Something happened today... yesterday.
There I was, on the phone with my friend, discussing a particular emotion we felt towards a certain issue.
Then my aunt pops out of nowhere and virtually suggests a solution to it. I was game, can't say I accepted, because that comes much later.
I kept myself distracted from then on, so I didn't have to think about it.
It's been less than 6 hours since the suggestion was made. I read, I went window shopping, shopped eventually, came back and watched Kdrama, but even the smallest pause, like when I'm walking to get water, the thought creeps up on me.
The feeling, which is frighteningly becoming more and more familiar, is spreading inside.
The need...the urge to run, and keep looking back, because something might catch up is high.
I see myself in a mall, sitting down in a crowded mall, head resting on a wall, eyes closed,and hoping that the world will become a blur of unknown colors, sounds, smells and people, like in the mall. Where no one notices you.
This feeling... when I want to scream and close my eyes and wish everything were silent for one god damn moment, at the same time.
Fear. Panic.
My fists clench themselves and all I want to do is go to my dad and cry to him that I'm not ready for this. Please don't make me do that ever. I'll do anything else, except that.
I can't close my eyes, just can't. They open.
I wonder how many years I'll have to battle this, and when will this come to a rest.
I can't believe this is just the beginning.

A small part of me wishes, hopes (though I try not to) that maybe, just maybe, this fear might just go away.
Time will tell.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

2 minutes

I was stuck in traffic yesterday.

I ride a bike to office, and there’s always a traffic jam on my way back. I’ve gotten quite used to it. It’s my time, when I can think, count the number of bikes around me, look at flowers along side or do any random thing that catches my fancy at the moment.

Yesterday, diagonally in front of me, not very (not at all) far from my bike was another bike. This jam I get stuck in normally lasts a minimum of 10 minutes, when everyone inches their forward.
So, this bike in front of me was going to be in front of me for a while.
Why is that piece of information relevant?
Because on the bike in front of me was a man, riding pillion was his wife, and hugging the wife was a tiny sleepy, half-asleep baby with its teensie hand dangling over her (the mom’s) shoulder.

Tiny babies are awesome, aren’t they?
Especially the yawning drowsy ones!
I was so lost in admiring this one, smiling to myself, when all the vehicles moved forward a few inches.
The baby’s daddy riding slowly, and me having no need for such concerns, accelerating more, I moved a bit more forward than he did.
The result?
Tiny baby’s hand was dangling just above mine!!!
:D
Total aaaaaaaaaaawwww moment.
I gave in to temptation and slowly touched the ultra soft baby palm with my pointy finger. The baby that had been half asleep, opened half it’s eyes (I have no clue whether it was a she or a he!) moved its hand a small bit till my pointy finger was firmly in its grasp, adjust its head, brushing cute chubby baby cheeks against the mother’s shoulder and went back to sleep with the most serene expression on its tiny baby face.

We were there probably for 2 minutes at the max, before the next burst of traffic movement.
I got to hold and stroke the hand that was hardly the size of 3 of my fingers put together. It was so soft, and the baby so adorable.
When the baby’s dad moved forward, there was this one moment when he/she held on tighter, trying not to let go… and I stretched my arms as far as I could till we had no choice but to break contact.

It was just a moment in life.
Not a life altering one. Not an important one.
Just a special one, worth remembering.
Hence this post, dedicated to that little baby who’s hand I got to hold for 2 minutes.
Who I like to believe felt safer for 2 minutes holding my hand, and who still brings a smile on my face, when I remember those 2 minutes.

Monday, July 4, 2011

My Dearest Li'l one,

How are you?

You with hands so tiny, you need both of them to cold your bottle, and all your strength to drink from it.
You with trust so great, that my little finger is enough to make you feel secure.
You with a smile so open it can make the hardest heart feel happiness.
You so tiny, all set to explore the world.
The world, your world filled with strange giants.

If you like someone, give them a hug with your little hands.
Hold on tight and never let go.
Kiss them too.
Smile a lot and laugh a lot more.
If you want to cry, cry.
Don't let anyone get mad at you for crying, especially me.
And if I'm not doing it already, hold me when you cry. It feels better to do so on a shoulder.


I know you'll trust me enough to repeat anything I say, as loud as your little voice will carry it. Remind me to teach you to say 'I love you'. Say it as many times as possible, and to as many as possible. 
If someone tells you that they love you, tell them that you love them too. At your age, I know you will with all your heart.

Play in the sand,
Dance in the rain, 
Sing off key with all the words wrong at the top of your lungs
Eat with both your hands,
Chase ants
Scribble on all that you find
Smear chocolate all over your face
Draw on the walls
Sleep 14 hours a day.

You might never get to do those things in a few years.

Expect me to pay more attention to you, even when I say I'm doing something, and don't ever forget that you are more important to me that anything else.
Don't be afraid to scrape your knees, I'll take care of them for you, and they heal.
Climb as high as you want to, as long as I'm there, I'll keep you safe.

There are a thousand more things I want to say to you,
Ten thousand ideas on how to be the perfect mother,
Millions of doubts and fears about the same
And a billion things I want to do with you.


Love you with all of my heart,
Yours always.

P.S: Penning these thoughts down now, in case I forget them in the flurry when you come.