The Last Waltz

As the party slowly began to wind down, the band slowed down the tempo, till there was all but one more song to play. Those present either made a beeline to the buffet, or to the exit. The night of revellery was slowly drawing to a close coming to close, no longer young.

He sat there in his tux with his bow tie untied and button loosened, sipping his final drink, the last one for the road, wondering if he should go or should stay. His friends were at the bar getting higher than the Empire State. Should he wait for them, or leave them to their highness.

And as he finally rose to leave he caught sight of her, sitting by herself, all alone and shy, elegant and beautiful and forlorn, a beauty not in the conventional sense. Throughout the night he had seen many would be suitors being shot down, given half a chance. He wondered if he should ask her to dance? What did he have to loose? This was last song the band would play, it was now or never, nothing lost, nothing gained, nothing could possibly happen over a dance, he thought.

So he gathered all the strength he could muster, and walked towards her. She saw him approach, and gave a faint but shy smile. And as he put forth his hand to ask her for a dance, all prepared to be shot down, she put her hand in his, and whispered “I thought you would never ask!”

For a moment he was stunned. He stood there frozen to the floor with an odd look on his face, did she actually say that? But then he gathered himself and led her to the now deserted dance floor of the ballroom. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her close to him, holding her by the waist, as she arched her back. Holding his frame they got in hold, she the painting, he the frame. He slowly but firmly guided her. And so they glided across the dance floor as if floating on air. The world around them disappeared in a blur, as they twirled, and elegantly moved across that dance floor. They rose and fell with the music, with the rise and fall of the beating of their hearts, every breath which they took. In those moment the world ceased to exist. It was just the two of them and the orchestra playing, as they waltzed elegantly to the last waltz.

And as the song reached it crescendo, he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with this lady, who through the night was shooting down would-be suitors, not even giving them half a chance. He just wanted the music to go on so that he could continue to the waltz this beautiful creature. Though the world around them was all but a blur, he was sure all eyes were fixed on them, but it didn’t matter, all that matter was here and now. He just wanted the orchestra to continue to play, the last waltz to last forever.

But as the music wound to a close, she gracefully curtsied to him and smiling thanked him for the dance. Leaving him on the dance floor, she made her way to the exit. He stood there, watching her leave, his heart heavy, and his mind in whirl. It was all over now , nothing left to say, just a hope that the last waltz last forever so he could fall in love with her a bit longer.

To Compare and Be Compare To

To compare and be compared is a way of life, something that we all go through throughout our lives, be it siblings, cousins, friends and relatives, colleagues (past and present) and classmates, something that we can’t escape, no matter how much we try. It’s an unhealthy obsession we have to face, and often indulge in too. A bit of competition is always needed, but it may take a way for the worse when it is used as yardstick to measure success in life, turning unhealthy.

No two people are the same, no two people goes through life the same way, just like not all five fingers on our hand is the same. No two people have the same abilities and capabilities and faculty, that’s what makes us different from each other, that what makes us unique, one of a kind. Then why do we compare when we are so different from each other.

Success is a relative term. Though we may measure it it in the money we make, the position we hold, the properties and possession, and family, but is it an accurate way of measuring success? What are the value of money and position and holding properties and position when you don’t feel happy? Not everyone go down the same route in life, some take the route less taken. Some may meet success and fame overnight, some may take quite a while to get there, but does this make them less successful than the latter? 

It’s easy to compare but do we ever realise the harm it causes, the effect it has on the one who is being compared. It can act as a deterrent, constantly pulling them down, affecting their confidence, pushing them over the edge, breaking them down. What’s use of comparing someone when you could loose them due to your comparison. 

We go through life trying to live upto expectations, ticking off the boxes what is expected of us, the way we need to live and what we need to do, but then this our life to live, what is the use we living it to just meet expectations when your not living your life? Have you tried to understand the reason but before making a comparison, have you tried to walk in their shoes before making your disapproval known, be it verbally or through your body language. Do you realise the damage you’re doing, you may end up loosing them just because of your obsession of comparing.

Marriage and settling down may not be the goal for everyone, stop trying to push your agenda. There could be so many reasons for this not happening, not ready for commitment, heartbreak, or marriage is not just their cup of tea, or there could be other reasons. Try to find out the reason rather than trying forcing them into it. This is one of the reason for so many broken and unhappy marriages. You may force them into marriage to meet society and family expectations, but society and family will not necessarily come to your aid when it all comes crashing down. Why buy a flat and add to burden and stress to an already stressful life.

What we got to realise is that these comparison often drives ones to depression, to break down, especially when they feel they are not meeting expectations, leading them to take steps that they can’t take back, which would mean you would loose them forever. Reach out to them, understand them, help them, support them rather then comparing them. You mean the world to them, use this to have a positive effect on them. 

Comparison is unfair and will make you feel small and unsuccessful, which definitely not the case. We’ve got to stop doing it. We are successful in our own way and will take our own time to get there, you don’t have to be be hard on yourself. And if you feel low and depressed, reach out and take the hand that’s reaching out to help you. No matter how much you may think you’re alone, there will be some one there for you, who is willing to stand with you through it all. Just take that hand, give them a chance. It could help you get out of this vicious cycle, avoid you from taking a drastic step. 

I know for sure we may never stop doing this comparing thing, but can always hope for a better tomorrow where we are more accepting and accepted rather than comparing or being compared to.

Running the Inclines

No matter how many races you’ve run, you can’t help get those butterflies in your stomach before any race. That nervous feeling that creeps within, sowing the seeds of doubts in your mind, no matter how well you’ve trained for it. Add to the stress level of staying almost a Half Marathon from the starting line and you’re unable to find a cab at the unGodly hour. But then you’ve got to thank your stars of getting a lift from runners heading to the start line. Strangely enough you can pick up their conversation though you don’t speak the language making you wonder are you turning into a linguistic (if I am even using the term right here). 

And as the cab speeds through the deserted streets you wonder would you be able to say that you did a Full since you’re traveling 21 to the start point and then running 21 to the finish point. So technically I am completing 42, though officially I am not. Anyway, you marvel at the fact that the cab (not your cab since you were unsuccessful in getting one) stops at every red light, even at this hour. Damn Hyderabadi really do follow all the traffic rules at any hour, and here we Mumbaikar love to jump signals even during the peak hours.

Finally you reach the starting point, get off the cab, thank your saviours for their generosity and you head to the holding area. The weather is chilly, thanks to the overnight rains and you wonder if you should have worn your compressions, but first you should have carried them! So you greet your friends and cheer them as they begin their full (cause you’re too chicken to do one on this route), and then head to your Corral (kind of annoyed by how the host pronounced it, though I think he did it right), and try to warm up (if I even do that). Sometimes I wonder why the hell fo they do Zumba before a run, considering Zumba is a cardio exercise and not a warm up and you would be expending more energy instead of conserving it. What you need is a dynamic warm up.

Anyway, you head to the flag off point but not before waiting to cheer the full marathon runners, who have now run 10km and are returning back, but then you also feel sorry for them as they will be running right into the 21 km runners (strange things of the organisers).

By doing so you miss the start of your race so starting almost a good 6 minutes after the gun time, at the backend of the pack, but then who care, to be honest, you just run and do your thing, no matter where you start from, just that you need to weave your way through slow runners.

And just as you begin you have your first flyover, the first incline, damn they come so soon, your frienemy, your bette noire. You may love-hate them but can’t escape them, and on this route there are many, and some that goes on and on, almost contradicting the statement what goes up and must come down, which doesn’t quite frequently happen. 

So you continue to run and cheer your friend as you pass them, not because you’re blazing through the route, in fact you’re far from it, but you’re actually running at a good steady pace, but because they are doing a full and you’re doing a half. Since you run with no concrete strategy in mind (yeah one of those lazy ass runners), there’s nothing that panics you, except every time  the Garmin buzzes after a km to show you’ve slow down (thanks to my love-hate relationship with the inclines). You continue to go at a steady pace, trying to smile for the shutterbug and not look like a t-Rex having an orgasm. Thanks to a fellow runner, you are able to zone in on a pace and hold that as long as possible. 

As usual the weather Gods seem to be confused, to start with it was cold and chilly (thanks to the overnight rains), then it was breezy, and finally you had to deal with the sun and the heat, in addition to the 10k runners crossing over to half and full runners side (made feel for the poor full people). I thank God I chose to wear a cap instead of headband (comfort over the style though I think I do have that angle already locked up) and try and run under the shade of the metro, where possible. And thanks to the energy of the kids gathered to cheer and give high five, the enthusiastic volunteers and the Caffeinated Reload Cola flavoured Fast and Up (ok I am shamelessly product placing) was able to run cramp free and without much soreness and fatigue (much to my surprise and delight).

And then you have the Stadium in sight, time for that final push, for that adrenaline to kick in, and yes there will be the shutterbugs at the finish line and you want a good pic. So you cross that line, stop your Garmin (the post important thing), and any Running app that’s running (isn’t it ironic). And then it comes the time to collect your medal, click pics with it (no I am not hungry so never will I bite on it, no intention of chipping my teeth on it), and meeting friend and clicking more pics. 

I am a big hugger and believe in the power of that good hug and its ability to transfer positivity and energy. So got to thank my buddy Dipak to help me get started and then Kevin and the beautiful Shibani for their warm hugs at the end. Thanks to the organisers and all the noble volunteers for their able support in running an almost smooth race with the only blimp being the baggage which was a blessed chaos with no one having any clue and runners having no patient.

To end with, needed to have a good run here, with this being only my second run of the year, after TMM, and needed that boost of confidence with all the physical and mental issues that I’ve been through. So it was good to know that I am on my back towards fitness levels and personal goals. The mind has been occupied but now it’s time to de clutter and work toward s my goals. 

So to end, after running on this challenging route for 1:56:11 (as per my Garmin, 1:56:09, officially), would love to quote Miss Kelly Clarkson... 

“What doesn’t kill you

Makes you stronger!!!”

Boys Dance Too

I’ve got a confession to make...

I am a boy (if I can still date to use that term) and I love to dance. Damn what do you think I was confessing? Hope I didn’t burst that bubble of that curious mind?

I love to dance when I am happy, I love to dance when I am sad, angry or mad, I even have my own Happy Dance. Dancing has a way of setting my soul free (as if it ever be contained). I don’t think I can dance, I know I can dance, my style. I may not be dancing with the stars but I dancing with myself. I blame it on the pavwala blood that flows through my veins. Put on that music and my body will automatically catch the rhythm (not always on beat) and will begin to move.

I love to dance by myself, whether anyone is watching or not. I dance for myself and for no audience. A 1-2-3 5-6-7, Quick-Quick-Slow, 1-2-cha-cha-cha 3-4-cha-cha-cha, Rise-Fall. There’s something freeing about dance. And if you should chance to see me dance, don’t think me a fool, cause I really don’t care much of what you may think, I really do like to dance, even if I may look a fool.

Sports may not be the thing I like, I’ve never ever been sportingly inclined, but dance is the thing I like and and dance will be thing I’ll do all my life. Cricket and Football I may detest, but to ballroom and jive I love the best and that’s what I will do. 

Boys do dance, and they love to dance, secure with whom they are. They don’t feel less or should be made to feel less, because they love to dance. They need to be encouraged and nurtured, kept safe from bullies and judging eyes, those who laugh at them, pick on them because they love to dance. There’s nothing wrong with boys wanting to dance, and not just Hip-Hop but Contemporary, Ballroom, Ballet , Kathak, and any dance forms. They can be as graceful and elegant as anyone. So before you laugh and poke fun at them know that you are shattering someone’s dreams and soul, and in the process loosing your own.

So I am gonna continue to dance not bothering what you may think of me. Cause frankly my darling I give damn of what you may think. I don’t really care if I am in the spotlight or the attention of the ladies. I’ll dance for myself. Cause Boys do dance. 

“One Of The Lessons That I Grew Up With Was To Always Stay True To Yourself And Never Let What Somebody Else Says Distract You From Your Goals.” 

– Michelle Obama

The Security Check Confusion

Have you ever been through a Security Check and wonder what are they really checking you for? Why do take so much time? Can’t they just let you go through and save everyone a hell lot of time?

They ask you for your ticket and your identity card. Then they look at the ticket, the ID and then you, repeating the process a couple of time, much to your irritation. You want to tell them “Ya right that’s me, do you have any doubts about that? Do you have any problem with it?”

Inspite the annoyance on your face they still continue. Slowly a doubt begins to creep in your mind. Have you carried the right ID? Have you given them your ID only? Slowly your arrogance turns to tension. Beads of sweat slowly make an appearance across your forehead, and as they say, you begin to shit bricks (damn I sure am a big nautanki). But then you calm yourself down, trying to reassure yourself that if there was a problem he would have surely let you know.

He still totally continues to ignore you and continues to stare at your ID, you wonder if he’s wondering if that’s really you in the ID? Making you wonder, Oh God! Have I put on weight (with the dread slowly creeping in your mind)? But then you think, have I lost weight (now that dread is replaced with a pleasing smile)? But then let’s face it, when have we ever looked like our photo ID.

He finally ends the cycle, and hands you your ticket and your ID. You breathe a huge sigh of relief and rush to complete your check in, hoping your not too late to catch your flight.

Well i may have exaggerated a bit for dramatic effect. It doesn’t take more than 30 seconds before your true, unless your doing some gochi, then god save you. But then on the other end of the spectrum you have the security check at the Metro

station. They check you front and back and let you pass. Must be making sure you’re male and you have the tools to prove it (if you know what I mean).

Saint Honesty

Open up the windows

Let the rain come in

Don’t be afraid to get a little wet

Pull away the curtains

And all that’s uncertain 

Let rain bring relief to your soul

Let the rain come in

And wash away the pain you feel within

The make up that you put on

The mask that you slip on

To conceal all that pain in your soul

Though you don’t want the world to see

Cause they would perceive you weak

But for that moment be you

Don’t be afraid to bear your soul

What’s the use of staying dry and warm

Put a little music on

And move to the rhythm in your soul

Let it move you 

And take control of you 

Taking over your mind and soul

For those moments forget the pain within

And move to the rhythm you feel within

Keeping count to your heart beats

Waltzing away your care and pain

Don’t be afraid to wet the floor

Let the pain you feel 

flow through your tears

Don’t try and hold it in anymore

So let that tear flow

Bring all the sadness you feel out

Let those tears wash away 

The pain you feel within

Bring hope for a better morrow

Bringing a healing from within

You may feel a hopeless feeling within 

When things don’t go your way

When you want something so bad 

But you end going a bit mad

Because it seems so far away out of reach

When do things ever go as planned

Or we get the things want 

Cause though we may want it

They may not be necessarily 

what we need

We don’t have to loose hope

Or stay in the darkness for long

Cause it may be dark now

There’s alway hope that

After the darkness comes the light

Just like there’ll be daylight after the night

We don’t have to wallow in our pain

Or just keep it to ourselves 

Just reach to someone you know of

Who’ll be there to hold you

And try and support you

Dust you off and get you back on your feet

You don’t have to be low and alone

Struggle with your pain all alone

There’ll be someone to lift you

From the depths of despair you fall into

You don’t have to face it by yourself

There’ll always be a helping hand 

Someone who cares and understand 

Just be brave to accept it

And ask for help when you need it

They will always be there for you

Rain on us, Saint Honesty

Salvation is coming in the morning, but now what we need

Is a little rain on our face from you, sweet Saint Honesty

..and it all starts with a Connection

We all need love. It’s what we seek out, it’s what we need, just to love and be loved, it’s the greatest thing we will ever do. And though we may deny and try to hide from it, there’s no escaping it, cause love is all we need, love is all around us, like oxygen in the air that we breathe, all we need is love. But so often love eludes us, plays hide and seek with us, trying our patience, filling us with hope and then disappearing altogether. Sometimes love takes time to happen, never happening when we want it to happen, leaving us worn out, tired and drained, but always filling us with hope that it’s just around the corner.

But then love doesn’t always happen when we intend it to happen. When did things ever happen as it was planned to happen. Sometimes love happens when you least expect it, when you have given up on it, when you feel all hope is lost, when you have given up on it. Sometimes love needs to be given time for it to happen and for it to mature.

But more important than falling in love is forming a connection. When you form a connect you can move ahead. It’s not necessarily may need to love and companionship, but it forms a bond that goes way beyond the rules of love. It’s easy to get between the sheet, and get all wrapped up in the passion during sex. But when you connect you make love. You find passion not in the bump and grind but in those moment when you just lay still by each other, when you rest your head and can hear a heart beat as it beats like a steel drum against the chest. Those moments stay with you like photographs captured and hung on the walls of your mind.

You find a connection in those moments of stillness. You connect in something simple as holding hands, and something as complicated as opening yourself, showing yourself, your vulnerability, bearing your wounds and your inner demons, sharing you, not just a part of you. You form a trust, a bond. It’s saying I trust you with my innermost self, I am bearing my soul to you cause I can trust you to see who I truly am, and I know you’ll not go screaming, running for the hill.

We have all been hurt. We have hurt and have been hurted. That makes us cautious, makes us afraid of going down that road again, to come to that juncture once again, a situation we never ever want to put ourselves in and through. All this makes cautious, makes us put up walls to protect ourselves from getting hurt once again. So we take things cautiously, one step at a time, trying hard not to get ahead of ourselves, not to build castles in the skies so that they may come tumbling down, so they don’t come crashing down to earth. Moreover you are also cautious cause your love doesn’t follow the conventional rules of society. You don’t recognise the labels that others put on you. You rebel against it, you refuse to labelled, to be told who you should love and how should you love. But still your cautious from your past experiences, your past mistakes and transgressions.

But in all this we don’t loose hope, so we may take things cautiously, but we can’t help ourselves to hope. We need time to heal, these small steps help to get us there, where we want to be, where we want to be, to heal, to be at peace with ourselves. 

Despite all the caution we can’t help ourselves falling in love, hoping to fall in love, hoping to have someone to come home to, to share life with, someone to tell you that there maybe more than a million people in the world but for them you are one in the million, you’ll never be alone cause they will be there for you, your life will never go unwitnessed cause they will witness your life. You mean the world to them, your life is important to them. 

But in the end it all start slow and steady, it all starts from creating a connection, a connection that grow strong with every moment you spend together, every memory you make together, every stories and experience you share together. It all starts with a connection.

Far from the Maddening Crowd

Sometimes you just need to leave the life as you know, behind, and get as far as you can get from the maddening crowd. Walk down the road less traveled, walk through the mist, loose yourself to find to find yourself. 

There’s something about being wrapped in nature and all it beholds. Let it envelope you, let it leave you in awe, let it leave your spellbound. Let the cold mist send a shiver down your spine, let it breathe a cold air on your face, that’s fresh and clean. Walk through the greenery, the pristine environment, sliver of silver threads of streams and waterfalls, as they flow down the face of the hills, glistening in whatever light they can catch.

There’s something relaxing in the greenery all around you. The pristineness all around you relaxes all your senses, and in turn relaxes you, leaving you in peace, leaving you one with all that’s around you. For in these moments the cares that bothered you, the things that vexed you, seem to evaporate into the mist. The woods may be cool and dark, and the mist only adds to the mystery, but you don’t mind it all, cause you found a way to loose yourself and forget your cares. And in those moment you find yourself.

Then there are morons with their Bluetooth speakers, blaring their music, who you just wished should stay back where they had come, or just leave behind  their noisy devices, shattering the quietness and stillness, their stupidity. Why come to a peaceful place if your only objective was to make some noise. You’re willing to overlook their transgressions and their in explicable need to click selfies and pics in strange poses, in places where should be marvelling the show that nature has put for them, the pretty picture that’s painted for them, cause the place leaves you in a good mood, leaving you relaxed and elated, and nothing’s going to take that away from you, nothing is going to

spoil it for you.

So as you dodge the horses and the weights they bear, trying to tread carefully to avoid stepping into the dung they leave behind, though you know it will be your birthday soon, but this isn’t the cake you want to cut. So you avoid stepping into the muck, left behind by the rains, as you try to keep yourself dry wearing the ponchos (a plastic sack converted to a raincoat). So you continue to dodge horses, and the little hand drawn carriages, and the crowds of people who have come for a good time. So you make your way through the rains, aware of the naughty monkeys who may steal from your hand, creatures you need to be aware of.

But the places and the weather have left you in a  good mood and the company you  keep has got you feeling good. So you fall in love with the place, the weather, the air and all it could behold. But then you need to return back, back to the hustle bustle of city life, the life you know, the life you live. And though you need to return back to the life you knew, you carry with you the  memories, in a photographs you have taken, literally and figuratively, to be hung on the walls of your mind, a remembrance of the time spent away, far from the maddening crowd.

My Two Not So Quite Left Feet

I don’t quite have two left feet but then the right ones don’t always get it right!!! These feet have a mind of their own and don’t always go the way you want them. 

They say all pavwalas by default know how to jive, something that’s ingrained in their being, by default. I am not sure if that’s quite true but what I do know I have managed to learn the pavwala jive, a rare breed in the world of hip-hop, Bollywood, twerking and what not. So when you play jive music you’ll find me on the floor, pulling siblings and friends, while my other non-jiving friends sit back and watch, nursing their drinks and their ego, observing as I twirl my partner around the dance floor, with all eyes on me, trying my best not to drop them, which I have unfortunately done a couple of time (let’s blame that on heels and lack of balance). And when they begin to play Bollywood or hip-hop you’ll find me fading in the background, away from the spotlight.

There’s something about ballroom that has always drawn me towards it. The grace, the elegance, the fluidity of movement, the poise, the sensuality, the sexiness, without it being vulgar or cheap. Always felt that pull towards ballroom (and I blame it on my love for watching Dancing with the Stars and So You Think You Can Dance).

So the most natural thing would first find a ballroom dance class and the next would be to actually attend it. I had learned Salsa from Salsa India Dance Company. But then that was almost a decade ago, and like memory, when you don’t put those steps into practice, it tends to slip away from you (though the basics and the counts still remain with you). So, not quite on a whim, joined Conrad Coelho Dance Company, to learn the finer points of ballroom, learn other forms, furthering my dancing repertoire (if ever have one), to add elegance and poise and a bit of sensuality (don’t really subscribe to the thought that a guy who’s good on the floor, is good in the sack, or it just may be).

The best thing about a dance class is that you don’t really need partner. You can come there alone and still dance with all the ladies in the room. So you better stock on that deodorant, carry a towel (after all who wants to dance with a sweaty smelly dance partner). You are all at the same level, even though you may know a bit of dance, you are still learning the steps of something you may have not done  before. So you go quick-quick-slow, doing the New York, the Cuban Rocks, the Arm Lock, of the Rhumba (the vertical expression of a horizontal wish. You have to hold her, like the skin on her thigh is your reason for living. Let her go, like your heart's being ripped from your chest). You try to mimic the rise and fall of the waltz, hoping to look smooth but looking more like a clutz, most of the time, but still trying to do your best. You try to ensure you make your partner comfortable, after all you are acquaintances, fellow-learner’s, fellowship of dance. So you try your best to get the steps right, give the right lead (after all in ballroom it’s the man who shows off the woman, not outshining her), learning together with each partner change, encouraging and smiling, and yes goofing around a bit. Something you even find your self practising, trying to figure steps in the weirdest of places.

So with one level done, where I got to learn the basics of the Rhumba, Rock and Roll, Waltz and Cha Cha, it’s time to reacquaint myself with my old friend Salsa, and progress to other club, Latin ans Traditional dance styles, and take the ITSD examination, hopefully by the end of the year. So it’s going to be interesting to see where my two not quite left feet takes me.

Q

The Book, the Rain, the Boy

There’s nothing like curling up to a good book, some piping hot tea and some pakodas, on a rainy day. The rains may have left us home bound but books have a way of setting us free, letting our minds soar and our imagine take it own course.

In those moments, you find yourself enamoured by those words that they come alive, forming a picture in our minds, playing themselves out as go through them. Those words create a movie, one in which you are totally immersed in. No 3-D or 4-D or any D could provide us with the same experience. It’s a movie in which you co-star, you play an integral part. Books maybe adapted to films but there’s nothing like the film that comes alive in your mind (and I am not talking of that type of film).

If you just remain silent and stop thinking out loud, books have a way of reading themselves to you. It’s like authors themselves are narrating it to you, telling you about the interesting developments and plot points. I could swear that Michelle Obama was narrating to me about her life in Southside Chicago, before she met Barrac Obama, before she became the First Lady.

In those pages you can be anyone you want to be. You can go on a quest with the Fellowship to destroy the One Ring, or tag along with Frodo and Sam and Gollum as they head to Mordor to destroy the ring where it was forged. Or travel through the wardrobe into the fantastic world of Narnia, or through a wrinkle in time to the many earths. You could be a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardery, learning to cast spells and defence against the Dark Arts. You could be spending the summer with Ellio and Oliver and witness their romance blossom, and the incident with the peach. You could be Simon, patiently sitting on that Ferris Wheel, eagerly waiting to meet Blue. You try to learn what makes Ganesh Gaitonde click and who is his third baap. You could be following the case of Nick Dunne and Amy Dunne, and go that bloody bitch when you realise the twist in the tale. You could be in the same room as Fr Mirren and Fr Karrac, as they exorcise the demon Pazuzu from Reagan. Or you could find yourself standing in the Red Room of pain. 

You could be anyone you want to be, you could be anywhere where you choose to be. In those pages you find yourself in magical worlds which you could only imagine of, you find yourself in worlds you only read of, places you don’t have access to, places you’ll never be able to see, journeys you’ll never be able to undertake, to embark on, adventures you’ll never be able to go on. Books have a magical way of bringing them to life, a companion, a friend, opening us to new worlds, which would otherwise would have  not been possible.

Books form a perfect companion on a rain day, when you’re holed up at home with a book for company with an accompaniment of some tea and pakodas.

Que Sera Sera

We are people who are constantly caught up in the future, of what is to come, of what is to be, that what’s not yet here. Thinking and overthinking, worrying ourselves sick. And on then our past has an iron grip over us, refusing to let us go. Or it is us who refuse to let go of it. We are so caught up in our past, constantly worrying about the future that we forget that we have a present to live.

We analyse and over analyse to the extent that that what we fear ends up coming to pass. We are so scarred by past that we develop a fear towards taking chances, towards taking risks, towards living life. We are so fearful of being hurt that we refuse to give life a chance, to give our heart a chance to beat again. Experiences may shape who we become but it’s upto us how do we want these experiences to shape us, for the better or for the worse.

We are so caught up in an image that we fear of being seen for who we are. We fear to appear vulnerable, keeping a check over our emotions, holding back the tears, after all it’s been instilled in us that boys don’t cry. We have been thought specific traits and we try to toe the line to the best of our ability, not giving ourselves the slightest chance to be ourselves, not allowing ourselves to show ourselves, living in a constant fear of opinions and judgements. 

We are so caught up in our future and our past that we overlook our present. We worry about things to come that we don’t allow it to take its natural course. We are so damaged by our past that we fear what is to come. In the end we end up living between the past and the future but never truly in the present. Both ending up holding us back.

So as Elsa said, we’ve go to let it go, don’t let them hold you back anymore. You’ve got to break free of the shackles of the past, that what’s tying us down, holding you back. What happened has happened, its time we learn and move on. There’s no use crying over spilt milk. Let yourself heal, but don’t fear those scars, don’t let it affect you. 

We’ve got to stop fretting about the future, about things that are not yet here, things that we don’t have power on. It’s time we let life take its natural course without worrying about the course it will take. We’ve got to learn to take things as it comes without worrying about what could and what should be.

So in the end, we can truly say...

Que será, será

Whatever will be, will be

The future's not ours to see

Que será, será

What will be, will be

The Jolly Running Soul

When out on your run you and you hear a voice calling out to you, don’t cower, don’t be afraid and runaway from it, it isn’t the voice of God calling out to you the way it did to Samuel or David. If you look you’ll see a short, slightly stout gentleman, with a slight potbelly and a balding crown, calling out to you, running towards you, waving at you with great enthusiasm. Don’t runaway from it, don’t assume he’s one of those crazies, just run to him cause your in for a really warm, genuine hug, one of the best you’ve experienced, one that the doctor recommended any day.

It’s easy to dismiss him as just another runner, but he’s so much more than that. He is disciplined and diligent, never missing a training session, never missing an opportunity to run (though his form when he does those drill may be far from perfect), you’ll always see him completing the mileage he set out to do.

But that’s not the only reason that makes him special. He’s such jolly, cheery and enthusiastic running soul, and his enthusiasm is infectious. He in many ways reminds me of a Laughing Buddha, always smiling, always cheery, always jolly. It so easy to get wrapped up in his cheeriness, his enthusiasm, his joy. He exudes a warmth that is felt in every hug, that fills your heart with joy, a recharge you never knew you needed, or your desperately needed.

He such a loving and warm soul that no matter which side of the road you are on he will always call out to you, cheer you on, greet you with his warm smile, and if you should find yourself on the same side of the road, will grab you in a bear hug. Seeing him always brings a smile on ones face.

He is truly one of the few runners who is always cheery when you see him, always smiling, always supporting and cheering your on. Someone you can’t help but smile with him. Truly unique person, a gem, a one of a kind runner, a true Jolly Running Soul.

Running Crazzies

It takes a special type of crazy to wake up in the morning and go for a run in the pouring rain, while the rest of the world is all cuddled and wrapped up in their beds, the sound of the pouring rain lulling them to sleep, deterring from daring to step outside, stopping them from showing any unwarranted bravery.

You question the sanity of your decision as the rain pours like cats and dogs and in sheets, as your visibility is low and most roads are waterlogged. But then you’re one crazy runner who can brave the rains just to get a good run under his belt. So no matter the downpour, you will go for your runs.

So you splish and you splash, running in ankle deep water for most of the time. But no matter the water level you continue to go. Even a herd of deer, who happen to cross your path, give you a strange bewildered look as if to say what are these strange doing in the pouring rain.

You’re least bothered about their expressions and just ooh and aah about seeing them up close and personal. You continue to plod on, splashing through the rains, not letting the water deter you from going on, till you can go further no more. The dry riverbed of summer, which turned into a subtle stream after the last few rains, is now a raging rapids, thanks to the continuous downpour, trapping the people who managed to go on the other side before the water began to flow. You’re captivated, left in awe with the fury with which the water flowed, taking with anything that would stand in its way. You want to click a picture of it, but the pouring rains prevents you from doing just that, till you find someone with an umbrella. For a moment the thought of crossing over, taking a chance, floats in your head, till it’s cruelly shot down by reasoning.

So you reluctantly retrace your steps and head up Gandhi Tekadi, aur kuch nahin to Gandhi say he kaam chalana padenga. So you hurdle over fallen trees and splash in flowing water to get to the top, nature’s very own obstacle course. By now your clothes have become your second skin, clinging to your body, highlighting all your curves and edges, things you wished were rather not showing (if you know what I mean). Reaching the top, as it is now customary, you borrow an Uncle’s umbrella to click pics. Once the pics are clicked, it’s time to make your way out of the gate and on to the actual road, right in time before the park is closed for all.

The conclusion of the entire little running adventure is that you continue to run, no matter the weather, the runnholic in you will always itch to go out for a run, come rain or sunshine, nor matter what your schedule will be like, you are crazy and insane enough to go out for a run in the crazy 

running weather.

It’s OK to not be OK

What’s normal but a subjective term, cause what may seem normal to you may not be normal to someone else, and what may be normal to someone may not be normal to you. To the world you may not seem normal, and to you the world may not seem normal. So who is right and who is wrong? It’s you against the world!

Who defines what is normal? Who sets the parameters of what is normal and what is not? Who gets to decide, who gets to judge? They say, ok, according to the Book of Genesis, God created man in his own likeness, so when you decide to label as someone as not normal, do you mean God created something defective, something imperfect. When you label someone as not normal do you mean to say that God is not normal, after all we are created in his likeness. Perfection is overrated. No one is perfect and we are no one. So we are imperfectly perfect.

We are who we are meant to be. Conceived and created in the way we should be. So it doesn’t matter if your black or white, male or female, transgender, straight or gay, tall or short, fat or thin, young or old, your nationality, your religion, your orientation makes who you are meant to be. You’re beautiful in your own way cause remember god can make no mistake, cause if god made a mistake then who are we but mere humans.

We are meant to be different, we are meant to standout. We are our unique in our own quirky way. What fun would it be if we were just like the next person, conforming to what society terms as normal. No one can tell you that your not normal when they themselves may not be able to state what is normal. Society will never see the world as we do.  It’s our duty to help them see the world the way you do, may be a better world.

If someone laughs at you and call you names, join them, laugh with them, laugh at them, cause let’s face it, they are an ignorant cause they know not what they speak, cause their logic will frustrate you and their brains have taken leave. Be who you are, the way you are meant to be. Let no one tell you otherwise. Remember, it’s normal to not be normal. It’s ok to be not not ok.

The Parental Control: An Eternal Struggle

What are parents but the giver of life, the ones responsible for our conception, our creation, for bringing us into this world, breathing life into us, our very existence. But as much as we are eternally grateful for their presence in our lives and all that they have done for us, they tend to become the bane of our existence when they refuse to relinquish control over us.

So often parents are the ones who want to be at the reign, the ones at the wheel, driving you crazy with their expectations. They have their own expectations and dreams and you are expected to toe the line, and if you don’t meet or fulfil them then you’re not going to hear the end of it. They will never let a single moment go to remind you about it, and when you decide to forge your own path and not go down the path they foresee for you, when you don’t turn out the way they want you to, or do the things they don’t approve of, you need to be strong to face what is to come. Any deviation is met with resistance.

Many conflicts are purely due to expectations, what’s expected from you and what you are meant to be, the standards you are expected to meet. This ends up be the cause for many strained relationship, many a unhappy and fractured families, all because one refused to loosen the reign, give up the driver’s seat, let someone else drive for a change.

A parent is the child’s first teacher, instilling both knowledge and discipline in them. As their child grow a parent become their guides, helping them forge their own paths, directing and nurturing them, treating them like an adult capable of taking their own decision, taking a back seat while letting them drive their own lives. We are humans and there are going to be times we will will stumble and fall, we are bound to make mistake. But it’s through our mistakes we will learn, in every fall we shall rise. It’s here we need some one to guide us, it here where we need someone to help pick ourselves up, it’s here where we need our parents the most. 

We look up to our parents for advice, for guidance, for support. As much as we want our parents to understand us, we too need to understand them, to understand where they are coming from, not blindly rebel, refuse, clash with them. Nothing good will come out from a conflict other than a strained and unhappy relationship. We need to learn to talk, to say what’s troubling us. If we want them to understand us we need to help them see our point of view, to understand who we are and what we choose to do. They would need to let go in order to let their child grow.

In the end rather we driving each other crazies with the constant struggle for control, we need to collaborate to help us grow. This would help both avoid conflicts and bitter feelings helping both to grow.