Obsession

Pic courtesy: outinleftfield.com

It squeezes your heart

Until your mouth goes dry

And your hands quiver

In futile anticipation.

This longing so strong

For a lost season

Of laughter and caresses,

Tears, bitter and true.

Sadness is a burden

That weighs down your heart

Until your shoulders droop

And your smile is but a shadow.

Guilt is a dagger

That stabs into the depths of your soul.

Repentance, you seek.

Denial comes quick and sure.

Watching, waiting,

Stalking with your thoughts,

You create a new world

Of the shards of broken dreams.

Finding my space

A promise to the self is perhaps one of the first things we tend to push aside when prioritising the to-do list. I am a compulsive list-maker: from shopping lists to separate task lists on my mobile and computer and little bits of paper tucked away in various drawers at home, I have lists in all shapes, sizes and forms. In all those lists, things I have to do just for me, with no benefits to anyone else (except indirectly perhaps; as in since I'm happy and smiling, everyone around me feels better and so on and so forth), are always sidelined.

Happy Solitude/www.fineartamerica.com

This is not to say I am one of those self-sacrificing types. Nope, I do have my indulgences but inevitably, when I am listing things out, those made-in-the-mind promises to myself take a back seat. I've been meaning to write more than 200 words a day (apart from work, even if not specifically on my book), notwithstanding status updates and tweets. I've been meaning to finalise my solitude trip: the idea is to go away by myself for a week or two; the trip is meant to do multiple things--some alone time so that I can think clearly, bring out the Muse, etc etc. I've been meaning to meditate. See, these are the kind of things that often gets lost by the wayside as life moves ahead on the fast track.

This, despite the fact that I have a very supportive group of family and friends! So you see, I don't even have anyone else to blame! For now, I'm blaming it on the lazy, rainy weather. Coming back to the to-do list, I am making a new one now: a timeline this time, for fulfilling all my dreamy goals.

A Story. In a Story

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They burst into vibrant life
In the depths of my consciousness.
And I struggle to capture them
Before they dissipate into the veils of my mind.
Even as I write,
They twist the plot as they please.
Telling me it's not mine
To control their destiny.
I tell them, they have to conform
To fit in with my storyline.
No, they say, why don't you
Pen our tales instead?
No, I insist stubbornly
Even as the figments of my imagination
Create a world of their own,
With neat little houses and orderly lifestyles.
Desperate, I play the God card
And add a touch of misfortune,
A wind gone crazy
Or a man gone mean.
And they come scurrying back to me,
Pleading for their lives.
Gloating, I wait awhile
Before I let them have it all.
My way, of course.

Stranger in The Mirror

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The heart skips a beat
At the mention of a name,
Or the whiff of a fragrance
Deeply-loved and long-lost,
The scrap of a tattered love note
Tucked into books that you don't dare open.

But you cannot show you care.
Not any more.
You look to the needs of your family,
Which shrouds you in a cocoon of love
So tight, you dread the tender silken threads
Will unravel at the sharp edges
Hidden in the mysteries of your secret smile.

A passion hidden in your heart
Is safe in its crimson confines.
A love hidden from the world
Is never ridiculed.
You hold it tight as your veins are flooded
With the strength of a love so intense
You feel your heart will burst.
You are sure the world can hear
As your heart does its tumultuous leaps.

But you must hold on. Tight.
For fear of the labels.
Home-breaker. Adulterer. And more.
For fear of the pain
You foresee in the trusting eyes of your little ones.
For fear of your partner's look
Of absolute disbelief. And the sound of his heart
Splintering into shards that pierce you.

And you go on. Forever afraid
Of whispering the wrong name in the dark.

While I Wait

Warning: I haven't written poetry in so long I'm not sure this attempt will be a pretty one. Proceed at your own risk. :)

Courtesy: myyearbook.com

While I wait
I think back and remember
The way your hands enveloped mine;
Always as if my fingers were petals fragile.

While I wait
I hope you think of me too
When the skies open up with melancholy showers.
A snuggle under the covers!

While I wait
I hope you have moved on,
Made your peace with your inner demons,
And are not afraid of Life any more.

While I wait
I hope you haven't moved on
From thoughts of me and all our bittersweet memories.
Would that make me narcissistic or simply selfish?

While I wait
I will myself to be all-giving
As you were in another life,
Letting me fly while you wallowed in misery.

While I wait, I pine.

Another life

Reading The Bride Stripped Bare recently, I was in turns stunned, awed and appalled by the surprising secret life of what everyone considers a stay-at-home wife. The novel, which was criticised as literary porn, is "basically a very honest take on sex, from a woman's perspective," says the author Nikki Gemmel, who first published the book anonymously in 2003.
That aspect aside, what I was most taken by was the protagonist's secret life, her musings, her lies, her joys, her smiles, tears, jealousies and more... all running parallel to the other, seemingly regular life she leads. And it's not like her regular life is insipid or meaningless: it's filled to the brim with its own moments of fun, joy, grief and all that... Reading the book, I wondered if many of us do the same: smile at one person and think of another, scream at one for another's faults, love one even as you live (quite happily even) with another!
Even if most of us do not go to that extent, most of us do have a secret life that only we know about. It may just be a closet crush, a deep fantasy or a even unpublished scribbles that you may not have showed even your closest friends.
The novel intrigued me, to say the least... What do yo think? Is a secret life the norm? Or is it a devious deviation?  

Love, and a lot of gratitude

Pic courtesy: Ambili

There's a lot more to togetherness than just being together and touch wood, I am one of those blessed folks who enjoy togetherness, of the extra-nice kind.


Having known Abhi for close to 18 years (eeks!) now and having been in love with him for 17 of them (*smug smile, interspersed with a little awe at the number*), I'd probably be qualified to say I know Abhi like the back of my hand. But you know how people are, constantly evolving even though we so love to resist change!


Over the years, I have seen Abhi go from an angry-at-the-push-of-a-button (any button) adolescent to a man who can control his anger (in a very nuclear-weapon fashion, as in beware when it's switched on and directed at you). Jokes apart, he's a rock, and a good one at that... 'cos if he were the rock that absolutely refused to budge, impulsive me would have had serious problems. But he's the kind of rock that rolls (I couldn't resist that guys, sorry!) when necessary and that makes him a wonderful, best-friend-and-support kind of rock.


And while I don't see eye-to-eye with him on hundreds of things, it's surprising how we -- of the big egos -- often set egos aside to let the other win. Arguments, after the initial passionate-anger-filled phase, are often not allowed to fester in the 'I trumped you' stage. And that's one thing I like about our marriage.

And why am I analysing our marriage today? Cos we are close to a very special anniversary, the first birthday of DropCap Media, which started out as a thought in our living room in what seems now like ages ago. From that day on, Abhi has been a rock not just for me but for my firm as well, pitching in with money, equipment, advice and err... financial disciplining (which falls in one of those aforementioned don't-see-eye-to-eye categories). 


Not once, even during the first few days of struggle when our direction seemed lost in a fog of indecision, did he express any doubt in DropCap's ability to survive and succeed. Of course, we have had our fair share of arguments on management style, capital expenses and other blah-matters associated with running a firm, but when it comes to the big picture, Abhi has always been sure of DropCap doing well. He always treats it -- our success -- as an inevitability, and so doesn't get all excited like I do when we clinch a major deal!!


When I wrote a post on the official blog about our BIG day, I could have mentioned Abhi in a line, I suppose, but I didn't. For two reasons: one, a line just wouldn't do; and two, he's too much a part of my heart for me to pour it all out into what, I feel, is a professional space.


So this is a gratitude post just for him though he's unlikely to read this unless I send him a link. Lemme just go do that right away! :)

Momma thinks...

I know, I know, I shouldn't be here right now, blogging in the middle of a work day. But, I promise this is gonna take just 15 minutes and then, over and out!

Today is an official 'Day of Cribbing', a day--which, incidentally, comes by way too often for my liking--when I'm allowed to rant and rave, and generally put on a don't-even-think-of-striking-up-a-conversation kind-of face and be moody all day long. No, it isn't PMS; just one of those days when the maid has gone AWOL.

But I am not taking precious minutes off work to write an anti-maid rant. In my new, 'improved' avatar, I have already learnt to take such inevitabilities in my stride.

Pic courtesy: indyeahforever.wordpress.com

This is on another tangent altogether: I was running late to pick my daughter (her school bus drop-off point is about a half-km away from my apartment) and on the way, the usual thoughts popped into my head: 'Why is it that women always have to take the brunt of domestic emergencies? Shouldn't both parents have equal responsibilities?' and blah, blah, blah... a rather needy voice in my head kept going on and on. Mind you, I don't even have serious reason to complain; Abhi is more often than not ready to pitch in with Ditu-related details.

But my mind--unruly as usual--was off on its own sweet (sweet? nah!) track! And then it struck me: don't brace yourselves or anything-- nothing earth-shattering here...

Just realised that if God (or Nature, if you prefer) chose the woman to carry babies within her, there is definitely something special about her, right? Something more than special, I think, something that is both a wonderful blessing and an overwhelming responsibility. I don't need centuries-old conditioning or unwritten rules of society to tell me to always be there for my daughter, to nurture her, protect her, help her grow into a sensible and caring human being.

And by that same count, I believe God has put something extra, something mysterious by nature, in every woman: an impulse to love that bit more; that instinct to keep your child safe no matter what the circumstances; to keep giving a little bit of yourself even when you feel like you just can't, any more; the strength to love selflessly and then let the light of your life choose a path of her own, a path which in all probability leads away from you; and a kind of patience that beats definition.

And by that count, what does a little bit of extra duty matter?