The Singlehood Affliction

They say it’s kind of an exciting time when you close one chapter and start another. I seriously want to find that someone and give that person a good shake up. Bittersweet... Yes... Exciting it is definitely not. When you close a chapter on a relationship it can be a strange and exciting time. Strange because you are not used to be single and alone (even though towards the end it was what you felt), exciting cause you get to meet others, the unknown. So yes in a way your excited, which makes it bittersweet.

You try and meet others, trying to keep your head and heart out of the way, to go with the flow not expecting, just seeing where it would lead you. But they being the interfering gits will always get in the way. So you meet others and then analyse where would they fit in the whole scheme of things. What would happen to bonds you make when you meet the one. You begin to categorise them in zones where you would rather have them, where you would rather see them. Something You shouldn’t be doing cause you promised yourself you wouldn’t do that but inadvertently you end up doing.

So with each person you meet you are trying to figure out is there something there, a spark,  a future, overanalysing, things your shouldn’t even be thinking (cause you’re an over thinker). So while you’re in the meeting mode, you are also in trying to figure out mode.  

You meet people, people you easily hit off with, people who make you wonder if there’s something there that wasn’t there before, a spark? But then you try to take it slow, wondering if you should give it time and not rush into anything (cause wisemen say only fools rush in). So you want take it nice and slow, see what’s out there, before you let your heart settle (cause your heart wants to settle). At times you get worried if they would become the ones who got away.

You meet some who are more than half your age. You really like them, care for them but you can’t get over the age difference which makes you wonder if the generation gap will be impediment, afraid that it would. You have no intention of being the male cougar, a sugar daddy, titles you want to avoid, you want to stay away from. But then sometimes you ask yourself if it’s worth it, and so you friend zone them, no matter how much you care for them.

Then there are those who you haven’t met in person yet, but who still get you all excited, all revved up, who get your engine running. Who you hope to meet sometime soon, to get to know them beyond their posts and words, to connect with them. At time you wonder if it’s worth it to wait for them and put what you could have, on a hold, and wait for the unknown, what if there’s nothing there, then what do you do? Inspite of all this you still want to take the chance, to see what could be.

You meet those who you have a great conversation, who share yours thoughts and ideas, who shares zero chemistry with you. Though they may be good company, the spark just isn’t there. But then these are the ones you wish to still be friends with. Then there are those you would rather forget, you rather move on and not spend any more time and energy.

They say when you close a chapter on a relationship it meant to bring a sense of ease, a sense of relief, but what they don’t mention is the loneliness, the desperation, the depression, a longing, a hope to get back to the way things were before, to patch things up. Hoping there’s a hope for us.

Suddenly you wonder when did you get so desperate, so lonely, so insecure. You wonder when did you become so horny, a despo, a slut, in a way making you feel ashamed of what you’ve become cause that’s not who you are, or that’s not who you think you are. Loneliness eats you, and makes you do silly things.

But then despite all this you still continue to hope, you still continue to believe that’s there’s someone out there for you. You believe that sometime you have to kiss a thousand of frogs to find the right (damn that’s a lot of frogs to kiss, hope they have good breath, which is wishful thinking). You still believe...

Life is like a book... some chapter are sad, some are happy, and some are exciting. But if you never turn the page, you will never know what the next chapter holds.

Goodbye... Once Again...

It’s a surreal feeling, in fact you really don’t know how to feel, or what to feel, that’s what makes it so surreal. The last time I saw her was when we were lowering her to her resting place (which wasn’t her final resting place), and now all of left of her were bones. I try to tell myself that this is just a physical manifestation, of what was left of her. Her soul, her spirit are long since gone, moved on to a better place, to always be with you.

She looks so light (at least what’s left of her) making you wonder if she was always this light. Those final days it was difficult to move her not because she was heavy but because with the progression of the disease to its fatal stages had afflicted her body unable to help others to help her. The sad state of loved ones dealing with various ailments.

There’s all this emotions welling up, threatening to burst to the surface, but you’ve got a lid on it, not because you don’t want to show the world your tears. Damn you are that guy who wells up so easily, gets emotional at the drop of the hat, but when it comes to situations like these you find it in your self to hold it all together, to hold it within yourself, not letting it out even if you want to. You just wished in these moments you had someone hold you and tell you that all will be alright. 

I remember smiling (not in a weird creepy way) in a warm way, as I stood there thanking the people who had come to support her. Finally when i found myself at his grave, I let myself go. Just wanting someone to hold me. Yes we men too need the emotional support, big boys do cry. It’s strange how we manage to find strength when we need it.

As we finally lay her down once more, in her what is to be her finally resting place, in the company of her her parents and siblings, I know she would be at peace, and in a way I know I will find peace, a closure. She’s finally home with her family (and one day I know I will too). But for now I am standing there with all these feelings and emotions, finally saying goodbye once more, knowing she’s got company.

The Vicious Cycle that’s Hate

We live in strange times where its an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the law of jungle. Where religion is used as a weapon to spread hate, make gains, to consolidate power, to divide, when it should be spreading peace and love, when it should be uniting instead of causing a divide. Where thinking seemed to be getting narrower, instead of moving ahead with time we seem to be moving backward, and with each moment our outlook and tolerance level seem to be diminishing.

It’s sad to see that a hate crime against one religion is used as a justification, a reason to propagate violence, to attack innocent, to justify taking lives, sadly in the name of religion. Hate for hate, something that no religion propagates, tools of hate that no religion supports. What the fools failed to see people across all religions coming together, uniting to support the victims of hate. 

It is sad to see leaders and government office bearers use religion as a mean for their murky schemes, which are clearly religiously biased clearly giving leeway to people who just need an excuse to spreading hate and spreading fear, eroding away the freedom of the intended victims.

In an election year it pathetic when religion is wielded as a tool to make political gains, use as vote bank politics. How would building a temple or protecting an animal help a nation progress? Hasn’t  enough life been lost and blood been poured on mindless stupidity of men who fall into the religious trap. And then you have people holding office or aspiring to be elected to office making irresponsible and bigoted statements. Such people have no right to run for or be elected. For that matter no religious person, be it of any religion, should run for office.

We live in the world where hate begets hate, where one crime is used as a justification to commit another crime, a retaliation, a revenge, a vicious cycle. It’s time we break this vicious cycle, not get carried away by the agenda of others, vote responsibly. 

Andante, Andante

They woke up the next day, at the crack of dawn. They had kissed, but their chemistry fizzled out like the fire they had lit. They had kissed, there was passion in that kiss, a fire, but weariness took over them, like a dampener on their moment of passion, putting off the fire between. So they kissed and fell asleep, going no further.

She dropped him off at his place and left on her way home, trying to put the events of the previous night behind her. She had kissed him, and he was tender and passionate but she wasn’t sure if a night of passion would bring about a change overnight, after all does a leopard ever change its spots, or was it the zebra change its stripes. She doubted if he would change his arrogant ways overnight. She blamed the events of the night on the heat of the moment. So now it was time she moved on, not to think too much, and get ready for the day ahead of her. He had promised to take her to dinner, as gesture of gratitude, but she doubted he would keep his word.

After she dropped him off at his hotel, all he could think was her. He may have disliked her when they first crossed paths but then something changed, and it was because of the events of the night. He couldn’t shake her from his thoughts, even if he tried, even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to. He had to see her. He felt like she had imprinted on him, casted a spell on him, if that was possible l. He wanted to meet her but first he had to fix his vehicle. 

He quickly took a shower, and took a mechanic to the place where he had left it, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it in the place where they left it. Once it was towed, he made his way to the cafe. She was having a busy day, so he found himself  a table and sat there till she got free. 

She didn’t notice him, in fact she didn’t even know he was there. She went about waiting tables, she seemed to be getting better at this, or so she thought. When it was time, she climbed on the small stage, taking the mike she began to sing as the band accompanied her...

“Take it easy with me, please 

Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze 

Take your time, make it slow 

Andante, Andante 

Just let the feeling grow

Make your fingers soft and light 

Let your body be the velvet of the night 

Touch my soul, you know how 

Andante, Andante 

Go slowly with me now..”

As she sang he felt those words resounded to him, speaking to him. She may have been a free spirit, but if he were to have any chance with her he would have to take it slow, treat her with dignity and respect, let her take her time. She was a woman who couldn’t be rushed, who shouldn’t be rushed.

She finally noticed him, as she finished her song, a little surprised to see him there, she didn’t expect to see him there, yet there he was. She felt hesitant but she was a woman of her word and she needed to keep it, as he kept his. 

He waited patiently for her shift to end. When she finally got off her shift they went to a nearby restaurant. He surprised her by being the perfect gentleman, keeping her engrossed in a conversation, which thankfully didn’t centre around him. He was not the obnoxious, arrogant fool she had expected him to be, but proved to be good company. After dinner he dropped her at her place. As he left she kissed him on the cheek. He asked if he could see her again, to which she smiled and said yes.

Over the next couple couple of days he frequented the cafe quite often, becoming a regular patron. He tried to spend as much time with her as possible, without seeming like a creepy stalker. They spent time talking and grabbing a quick bite during her breaks. In the evening, after she got off her shift, they spent time walking around town, exploring the city, finding new places to dine, taking in what the city had to offer. Each passing moment brought them closer, slowly and steadily Love was blossoming between them.

When she had her weekly off they decided to go on a picnic. While exploring the country, she had found a beautiful meadow with a little brook, far from the hustle-bustle of the city. A quiet, tranquil and beautiful place, her secret garden. They made their way through the brook, wetting their feet, splashing water over each other. The day was a perfect day for a picnic. She spread the blanket under the shade of the tree and unpacked the picnic basket as he poured wine.

They sipped the wine as they sat there under the shade of the tree. A light cool breeze wafted across their face, the sun not too intense. They took in the moment, the weather, each other’s company. He couldn’t take it any longer, he had to tell her how he felt about her, how he was falling for her. This was perfect place, the perfect situation, the perfect moment, for him to confess how he felt about her. It was now or never, no pressure, he thought to himself.

She felt herself being drawn towards him. She had detested him initially but over the course of the past days she felt drawn towards him, she felt attracted to him. Strange were the way things played out between them, how things took a turn between them.

Without a warning, she lent forward and kissed him, catching him by surprise. He moved her hair that had come on her face, courtesy of the breeze, and taking her face in his hand, he kissed her. They kissed gently at first with the passion building with every moment. They lay there continuing to kiss each other, their bodies pressed against each other, lost in the moment, letting their tongues, their hands, their lips explore each other. As their lips interlocked, their noses met, they breathed each other’s breath, which seemed to intoxicate them.

They made love to each other that afternoon, under the shade of the tree, in the cool breeze, in the meadow, with the brook providing music. And andante, andante, they began to fall in love, a start of their love story.

The Lady with the Beautiful Smile... and a Noble Soul

The first time I saw her was at the BNP Ultra, where I was pacing a friend. My thought were she’s going to struggle cause BNP (or Borivali National Park) can be quite the daunting place to run. This was Jan (if I am right, grey cells seems to fail this ageing man) and the coolness helps. No matter the weather I still wondered if she could do it all. Thank God she proved me wrong (and the only time I’m happy to be proved wrong). She not only completed the race but she did it in style.

Over the year I’ve got to meet her at the Asic Training sessions, and she did join us for the monthly Bandra-NCPA Training Run. The more I met her the more I got to know her, the more I admired her. She has one of the most dazzling of smiles, and don’t let those greys fool you, she’s dedicated, and disciplined, never missing a training session. Working diligently with people much younger, never once flinching at the challenge thrown at her. 

There are runners who are known for ruling the podiums, there are runners known for incessantly posting their training’s and their selfies, there runners who run probably every race that’s there  to be run, but then there are those noble souls who are more than just about running, and medals and timings and posting, but are always there to support other runners. She is one such noble and beautiful soul.

She’s more than running, she’s always there to support her fellow runners. She got the permission done for the ARC Training session to be conducted at the Bandra Fort when the session would have to be moved else where. She’s an active member of the Society of St Vincent De Paul (SVP) reaching out to those who need help, the most vulnerable, irrespective of ones cultural background, social status  or religion. She also provides palliative care for those who need. All this in addition to her corporate job. Not to forget those beautiful birthday cards, she makes without fail, for every member. 

And yes her mum is a beautiful and amazing pianist and her brother is an awesome cook. Got the privilege and pleasure to meet them when she invited us over to her place for Christmas. It was a feast for the senses, the taste buds, ears, and evening of conversation.

It’s been a pleasure of getting to meet know her and many such beautiful and noble souls. One of the privileges of being a running soul is the opportunity of getting to meet such gems, to interact with them, to be inspired by them, and will continue to be inspired by them.

The Religious Quandary

Today as the the priest washed the feet of members from the congregation (both male and female, making you hope that one day they would go further than these set genders), as Jesus did for his disciples, all those years ago, symbolic that if you want to be the greatest you would first have to be the servant of all, this made me wonder where the hell did we loose the entire plot? When did we start behaving like an entitled lot, like one of the Pharisees? When did religion become a pawn in spreading hatred, become a pawn in vote bank politics? I believe in God as a divine being, I believe in religion, but don’t consider myself religious. I am a Catholic, but I am a Human Being first. I don’t want my religion to define me, to label me, cause I am a human first, the rest will all follow. 

Though I am religious (a tiny insy-winsy bit) I fear the religious zealots. Every religion have them, the ones who feel like they are entitled ones and the rest are undeserving sinners, they consider themselves the chosen and the others lost souls, those who feel heaven is theirs and the rest is left to fend for themselves. Who look down on people from other religions, other social status, other communities, the LGBTQ, in short people who don’t meet their expectations. But then they fail to understand that Christ spent most of his time around tax collectors and the so called sinners, preaching to them, eating with them. Wonder if these would the same, well maybe if there’s something in it for them.

Somewhere down the line we seemed to have lost our humanity, the whole idea and it’s preaching, of loving one another, of forgiveness (ok this is difficult). If God is love, and where there’s love there’s god, so why is religion so intolerant, why is religion so unaccepting, so cruel. Well it’s not religion that’s intolerant, that’s unaccepting, it’s the religious who are that way, who put it squarely on religion for their behaviour. They make you feel unwelcomed because of your beliefs, who you are, especially when you fail to fit into their narrow definition. But then no religion propagates hate, exclusivity, that’s all mans doing. And if you blame religious tenets then remember it’s written by man, and his interpretation of what god said. If they really wanted to follow anything then they should stop coveting their neighbour’s wife, or even honour your father and mother.

Somehow I feel that an atheist has more humanity and humility than most priest and religious do (see I used most and not all cause there are those rays of hope). There’s love in a world where there are no labels, that’s more accepting irrespective who you are, your gender, your social status, your religious beliefs, your orientation, what you believe in. And in doing so, people have begun to move  away from religion, to something that’s accepting of them, where they don’t feel threatened. We all need a safe space where you are allowed to be who you are, to be true to yourself. Sadly this is the one thing that religious zealots will never give you.

It’s time we change the way we see the world, and through our actions bring about change in the heart of these religious heartless. Show them religion is more than just what they believe, they need to change the way they see the world, take off their self-righteous religious glasses and be humane. It’s time to change the way religion is interpreted, change the way religion is perceived, it’s time religion and humanity walk hand in hand.

The Road... The Word... The Boy

On the road is where I’m most home

In the words is where I find myself

Two things that always help me

To make it through the highs and lows 

That is the life we live

The life I live

The road will never let me go

Always at my feet

Like a loyal friend

Always by my side 

Telling me it will always be there for me

No matter who I meet or

No matter where I may go

Words let’s me express myself

Express the feelings that I feel

That resides deep with the recesses of me

That would otherwise be suppressed 

Away from the prying eyes 

Not for all to see 

Just for me to feel

The road lets me take all the hurt I feel 

All my pains, frustrations and disappointments 

All of my silly insecurities 

All my mundane worries and cares

To mix into a potent ball

Lay it all at my feet

To set it on fire, fuelling me on

To get over the hopelessness I feel

Words let’s me say the things

 I wouldn’t dare to say 

What I wouldn’t find the courage to say

To express myself, to express who I am

Give a glimpse into my psyche 

To give vent to all that’s bottled inside me

To say the things I need to say

To lay myself out bare

In the words I write

The road is endless

It goes on and on

Always at my feet 

no matter where I may go

No matter what becomes of me

It will always be there for me

The ground beneath my feet

Challenging me, urging me

Always believing in me

No matter how I feel about me

The road lets me forget my cares, my sorrows

Every setbacks, every heartaches

It forces me lay it there

Forcing me to let go

Forcing me to move on

Not be stuck in one place 

But keep moving

Least I should be left behind

While the world would have moved on

No matter where I go

Over land or sea or shore 

I shall have a road beneath my feet

A word in my heart

Always a part of me

The road, the word, the boy

We all fall in love sometime

We all fall in love sometime

It’s something that we can’t help

It’s something that just happens

We just love the feeling of being in love

The hopeless romantic who’s lost all hope

We all fall in love sometime

No matter how much we try to hide from it

No matter how much we try to run away from it

No matter how much we avoid it

It always finds us

Maybe we just bad at the game of hide and seek

Or we just like to be tortured 

Of the feeling of being in love

But let’s face it, we are a lost cause

We all fall in love sometime

It’s the most beautiful feeling in this world

To be loved by someone who loves you

But it’s the most cruelest feeling in the world

Bringing with it a world of hurt

When things don’t really go your way

When you don’t meet the one 

You were meant to be with 

At least that what you feel in your head

It can make you the loneliest soul in the world

Leaving you feeling insecure and restless 

Despite all this, we all fall in love sometime 

Don’t let anyone, don’t let anything 

Tell you who you should fall in love it

Cause we don’t know either

Maybe they could point us in the general direction 

Now wouldn’t that be swell

Wouldn’t that would save us the time and effort

But you know what

No matter what they say 

We still fall in love sometime 

Let no one tell you your love is not right

Your love is immoral 

That you are not meant to be

With the one you love

Its against the very shred of nature

Cause I really don’t think they know either 

What love actually is

Other than what they have been thought

The lessons they have by hearted

They rote learned like a parrot

Using someone else’s thought

Understanding and perception 

Of what love should be

Never truly trying to get the big picture

But sadly their narrow minds 

And small head may never ever fathom

That we all have to fall in love sometime

With the one we are meant to love

And we may not really know who

So put all the thoughts behind

Let go and a chance, take the risk

Jump off that cliff

Never knowing if you would sore 

Or fall plat on the ground

A smooshed bloth on the earth

Cause we all need to fall in love sometime 

When we were Young

She saw him get out of the cab, joining his friends who had already entered the pub. Could it really be him... no it couldn’t be him, she thought. What was he doing in this part of town? What was he doing here? What was he doing in this city? So many questions swimming around her head. She peered through the windows to  check was it really him, ducking when one of his friend noticed her. So that’s how a gold fish in a fishbowl felt.

As she sat on the pavement she couldn’t help but go back to the time when they were young. A very strange place to reminisce, but she couldn’t help herself. As she stood up slowly, she once again glanced at him. Age had been kind to him, taken him in it’s stride. He seemed to be ageing well like fine wine. As she straightened herself, she glanced at her reflection in the window. She looked good, all thanks to the make up she wore, that made her look more younger, more prettier. Take it off and she just another plain Jane, who age had not been so kind. She felt a stab of pain in her heart, maybe that was why they called it window pane.

She remembered a time, which now felt like another lifetime altogether, when they were young, when they were friends. Growing up they had been very close to each other, almost inseparable. People would assume that they would fall in love, get married, have kids and start a family. This got her parents worried, cause though they liked him they didn’t approve of him because he came from the opposite end of the tracks, not from their social circle, not from their caste. He was good to have as a friend but not as a partner for life. She had been painfully aware of this, and even though she liked him, liked him a lot, she couldn’t bring herself to go against her parents wish. So when he finally found it in himself to propose to her, she put up an act, took offence to it and permanently friend zones him, even though inside her heart was breaking, more than the heart break he felt from her rejection.

She married into money, as her parents wanted her to, to social standards, into the same caste, into a bond that was accepted socially, besides her parents approval. She had pushed out two children from this. Her life was comfortable, her life was empty. She had given her love to someone who had no need for it, and this pained her. She felt pained that she let him go and in turn got trapped into a loveless marriage.

She finally found the courage to approach him. And when she tapped him on the shoulder, he turned to her, took a second to see her and then smiled and hugged her, bearing no animosity to her. for her rejection, holding no grudge. He held her tightly as if nothing happened, chatted with her animatedly, with excitement, as if nothing really happened. He was eager to know about her, what was she upto, complimenting her on her looks, congratulating her on her marriage, children, her life in general.

As she sat there listening to him, she just smiled, but on the inside she was breaking into a million pieces, she was hurting inside. She hated that she was growing old, and this made feel restless, made her feel reckless, especially knowing age and time had been kind to him, and cruel to her. She just wanted to close her eyes and take a picture of this moment, if this was the last time she would be seeing him. All she wanted to do was to turn back time and return to the time when they were young.

The Moronic Affliction

The world is filled with Atoms, Neutrons, Protons and Morons (well not quite original, but hey, if the shoe fits the feet then why bother). They wouldn’t realise they are one, even if it hits me them in the face (thank you Dr Amy Farah Fowler for this one). You just nudge, reach out and you could come in contact with one. They would probably take offence of you touching them, especially when traveling in a train that’s packed like a can of sardines, creating a ruckus as if you’ve violated their modesty. If this was the case  why did they choose travel by a train at the peak hour, take a cab instead, or why don’t they get a car.

They love to jay walk, even when there’s a proper pavement available (which unfortunately is a rare case). On a road that’s already in shambles, thanks to the metro, incessant digging, paver blocks (you take your pick). They insist on walking on the road, and no amount of honking would get them to budge. Makes you want to exclaim why the fuck (LANGUAGE!!!) are you walking on the road instead of the pavement. And if they respond means they’ve heard you, so why the fuck (LANGUAGE!!!) Are they still walking on the road??? God only knows, or their moronic mind.

In a office filled with meeting rooms and desk phones, they insist on using Skype with their hands free, and not their headsets, speaking in a loud annoying voice, effectively letting the entire office their invoices, allocations, entry, in short the whole office knows what they are doing. No amount of request, warning, annoying glances, and even posters (in all language) would pipe them down. They give you a stare, totally offended by you. If you think you had it bad, the poor people, who had the unfortunate fortune of sitting around him, seem to give out a distress call, a plea, koi hume iss moron say bachao.

If he wasn’t enough, you have the jaga maga (as we like to refer to them) who insist on gossiping in their shrill cranky voices about everything under the sun, right from their children’s studies, their sasoo maas, the latest recipes, or how to improve upon a recipe, latest designs, the latest salwar suits they stitched. In short sharing information you shouldn’t be privy of, you really don’t want to be part of but still you’ve got no option but to listen cause they can effectively drown out a crowd. 

Then you have those who call you up enquiring about a marathon when it’s just a training run. Even though they are disappointed to learn that there’s no prize, they still enquire if there will be bibs, medals and tees and how would this would be done. All this needs to be done in Hindi which this poor maca pav can’t speak to save his life. Makes you want to bang your head against the wall,  cause let’s face it, to make sense, ye un say na ho payenga.

They’ll come to the park in the cars and two wheeler ( and I say two wheelers I am not referring to cyclists, who would in fact we welcome). But the come and drive in speed, almost knocking poor souls who are out to train or just there for their morning walks. In fact they themselves could with a bit of walking, if they would just get their fat, lazy arse to move.

And on a dating app, where you clearly mentioned no nudes and privates on your profile, you still have those who will send you just that, asking for your bare chest pics, nude pics, dick pics, butt pics. Damn when did likes and preferences turned into something sexual (or am I just being dumb naive). So often you’ve got to pimp your self to morons. But hey there’s enough material on this for another blog. 

Then you have those who think their horns are the most melodious sound you’ll ever hear in the whole world. The bad part of it is they’ll never keep it to themselves. This probably the only time when sharing  didn’t mean caring. So they’ll blare their horns for all to hear, till ears to bleed.

And these are just the tip of the iceberg, and it was the iceberg that sunk the Titanic (and I have no idea why I used that out here). You could fit them all in one big universe, making a universe all their own, moronasia. Maybe then we’ll be saved from the moronic affliction.

.. Let’s Start a Conversation: Bringing about Change

In order to create a safe, inclusive, open and tolerant working environment, the place where I work has come up with a program called OUTFRONT for the LGBTQIA community (i.e. Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transexual, Queer, Intrasexual, Asexual, for the uninitiated) providing a platform to express them openly, be themselves, fostering a tolerant and safe working environment. Recently we received a mail informing us about including same-sex couples and their partner under the insurance cover, including Gender Reassignment surgery.

Now these are steps in the right direction, positive step. It feels good to see the organisation taking the lead, one of the few times I’m actually proud of being part of it, ok the only time I’ve actually felt good of being part of the company. These little steps go a long way to foster an environment where people are allowed to be themselves, who they are, be their creative self, not live in a closet, to start a conversation, to foster openness.

Let’s face it, no one chooses to be gay or queer or transgender, overnight, it’s not something one decide like hey let me be gay from tomorrow and see how it is. As the Mother Monster says “Baby we were born this way”. With so many men and women hiding in the closet, refusing to come out, afraid of the persecution, and ostracisation, the emotional trauma and the emotional blackmail, now who would want that, kaun khud ke pair par khulade marenga? It takes great courage, guts, strength and resolve, to come out to the world, to be prepared to face the scorn, backlash and the trauma and have very little support.

Steps like these go a long way in starting a conversation, if not eliciting an overnight change. Cause let’s face it we still have a long way to go. These conversations help bringing out of the closet and into the open what would otherwise be swept under the rug, would be treated as something that shouldn’t be spoken about, something that should be discussed, shouldn’t even be there in the first place, a taboo. They help make people comfortable, normalising life. What they want is to be seen as equals, to be treated normally like everyone else, not someone with a disease or a weird person. To love who they choose to love, to live the life they want to life, to be authentic to themselves. For this they would want an acceptance from their family and friends first and then society at large. Many a unhappy marriage (Indian) are because of parental pressure, societal pressure, cause families and society will not accept these people and their relationship, families who are ashamed of what their children are, fearing gossip, ostracism from their social circle and religion.

We have changed our attitude and treatment towards untouchability (unless you’re one of those who like to continue to benefit from it) then why not change it to the LGBTQIA community? They don’t want special treatment or privileges or reservations, cause that would create an unequal world which is not the goal. All is asked is an acceptance, to be treated normally as you would with the next person, to be seen as an equal and not as a deceased abomination in the world.

We elicit change from the stories we tell, the examples we set. It’s time we keep an open mind and be accepting of all, to hear what everyone one has to say, to keep the conversation alive.

The Story of Our Lives

There’s a story in each of our lives, 

and every story matters. 

Every story needs to be heard, 

needs to be understood, 

needs to be told. 

No story is greater than the other. 

No two stories are the same. 

No two stories would ever be alike

Even though we may try 

Every story is unique 

And has its own narrative

Cause no two people live the same life

Though they may aspire 

To be like each other 

But end up tweaking, unknowingly 

Cause they don’t go through life 

the same way

No two people have the same experience 

Cause lightening doesn’t always 

Strike the same place twice 

So going through the same thing

Would really need the stars to align 

If that was ever possible

Though our lives may seem mundane

And we may not gone through

Any earth shattering change

Or any transformation 

But that doesn’t make our stories

Any less interesting 

We write our stories 

through our experiences 

Through the choices we make

Through the decisions we take 

At times closing one chapter 

To begin a new one 

No matter how painful it may have been

How difficult it may be to say goodbye

To close the chapter 

And start a new one

We may feel our stories ain’t inspirational 

But what we don’t know

Our lives become Hope 

For those who need it the most

and yes we learn from the mistake 

That others make

And sometimes from the ones we make

Though we may never ever realise it 

So in the end we all have a story tell

So let your story be heard

But remember one thing

The narrative we write in in our hand 

So make your story an interesting one

I’ve go the Music in ME

As I listen to my music 

I get lost in it

I Want to dance right there

Not bothering anyone would care

Cause I really don’t 

I want to walk in step with the beat

Strutting my stuff down the street

If I had the stuff to strut 

Strutting like a peacock would

I want to walk to the beat

Little hop, a little skip

One step, two steps

A quick step a shuffle

To put the cares of the day behind me

Cause the music does that to me

The rhythm flows like a current in me

I jut want to sway and hum

Sing every word 

Not just mime it

I don’t care what other think

Or say that I croak

I want to be lost in the music

Forget all my cares

Live the words

Live every beat

I just want sway and twirl

A right turn, a left turn

A rounde and a cha cha 

If I ever knew how to do it

Want to move like a Latin dancer

Cause baby these hips don’t lie

And I know have rhythm 

And no two left feet

Definitely not like a stripper

But not really bad at it

I want to kick and flicks

To jive like a crazy fool

Do the Charleston 

Do the Carlton 

To waltz through the day

But never really smooth

I want to trot like the fox

And jitter like a bug

This boy wants to have some fun

People may think of me weird

And those who happen to see me

May take me to be a fool

But they don’t know 

They may never feel

The joy that I feel

The joy that music brings

The joy that dance brings

I don’t really need to know the steps 

Cause I’ve got the music in me 

And rhythm in my soul

Tinker-Tailor, Sailor-Runner

He knew that he would be a sailor, from a very early part of his life. They said he had sailing in his blood, salt in his vein. He knew he would be a sailor long before he could walk, let alone talk. He could talk sailing, he could walk sailing, he could laugh sailing, live, eat and breathe sailing. Sailing was all he ever wanted to do, a sailor he was meant to be. He was naturally drawn to the sea. He longed for it, like the deserts missed the rains. And in the end that was what he was destined to become, what he became, a sailor.

But things were about to change, take a new turn. No he wasn’t going to ditch sailing, he was just about to add a new dimension to his life. She came into his life, and with her she introduced him to the world of running. They couldn’t be more different from each other, like chalk and cheese. But she brought running into his world. She was a popular runner, socially very active, well known on the marathon running circuit. She clicked selfies as much as she was asked to be part of it, or even participated in races (or even more). She regularly ran races and was constantly asked to be face of races.

He on the other hand had no social media presence, was not on social media, had no inclination to be on it, apart from his phones messenger through which he managed to keep in touch with those he needed to be in touch with. He had no intention of coming on board. But what he did take from her was a love for running.

Being a sailor, he already had the physicality down to a pat. He was physically conditioned to running and worked to strengthen himself. He was a more practical person, he liked to read up, apply and improve, rather than going out there and just race. He preferred having a scientific knowledge, doing it the right way and using the correct from. He liked reading and getting to understand the science behind a method, before he applied it, he wanted understand the nitty-gritty, every aspect of running, and when he applied it, he did it with unwavering discipline and focus. He discovered being at sea didn’t stop him from training. All he needed was a treadmill, he could even use the deck of the ship to run laps. Being on the ship also gave him access to the best running gears, when his ship made port.

Over the course of time he gathered quite a vast amount of knowledge from all his reading and experience, that he was more than willing to share, to discuss and debate on it, to guide others. He didn’t keep this knowledge to himself. He was more than willing to share as much as he gained. He couldn’t match her popularity but for those who knew him, loved him and respected him. He was more than willing to help those who needed it, to support those who needed the support. Like a sponge he absorbed the knowledge, the experience that were to be gained from those around him and he put it to good use. He gave without a second thought. 

He continued to train, adding a new aspect to training, barefoot running, running the way humans were meant to run, discovering his capability, finding out how much he could push himself, learning about himself and running, improving his running and with him helping others. Becoming a running soul, supplementing the salt in his veins, adding another dimension in his life, another layer, becoming a Sailor-Runner.