Living

We all talk about living life to the fullest and enjoying each and every moment that life has to offer. But what do you make of days that just pass by as if they are already dead by the time you begin to experience them? What do you make of those experiences? Do they just disappear from your universe simply because you did not take the trouble of registering them?

None of us succeed in remembering each and every detail of the things that happen to us. If something is forgotten, does that mean it has ceased to exist? What happens to people who suffer from Alzheimer’s and cannot remember what happened just a while ago? I find it very difficult to put myself in their shoes. If I woke up one day and did not know who I was, I cannot even fathom how I would feel. Would it mean that my life-time has just gone by silently, crawling away from my memory and leaving nothing but traces of anxiety buried within me? If that happened, would my life-time be measured simply on account of the anxiety that I will, then, harbour?

These days, I find myself becoming a rather passive observer. I don’t really desire life but I definitely have no wish for death. It upsets me that I have no other option – in a world where one is always spoilt for choice, having just two alternatives does not feel good. There are many things that I still wish to do but none accommodated by either one of those choices.

People sometimes feel I over-think. These days, I feel I just cannot think anymore – if I do, my head will explode! I feel my thoughts are held at gun-point to live and breathe as if they wish to survive. Sometimes I feel as if my thoughts have disowned me and I am left with no memory. I only have everything that has been forgotten and each day, I am struggling to live this forgotten life that seems to be whispering to me in an undead manner through words that keep running away from me the moment I choose to speak them out.

Silent Screams

She was a believer. No matter how bleak things appeared to be, she never lost hope; and in the end, everything did become alright again. So, there really was no need of her to question faith. Yet, these days, there were too many questions arising in her mind. Some of the questions seemed ridiculous; others she felt were valid. Each question that was raised weighed her down – she did not have answers to these questions and that made her uneasy. She felt stuck in a rut, unable to move. The unpleasant feeling tied her down as if her entire body was bound by heavy, sturdy, iron chains.

Why was it so difficult? If she had managed to arrive at the question, why was the answer so far away? Each day, she grew increasingly restless. Was this just a phase? Would it ever pass? Why was nothing happening? When would it end? Was she just wasting her time or was there a possibility of something good coming out of all this? She desperately needed answers.

She had smoothly flowed along the course of life. She had graciously accepted everything that life brought her way overlooking all flaws and seeing only what was good. She used to proudly proclaim that her life was perfect despite the presence of some imperfections. Where had she gone wrong? Was it not right on her part to ignore faults and just appreciate people for their goodness? She had never seen it as a conscious effort. It was something that came naturally to her. Why was it suddenly such a difficult task? She was known to be a motor-mouth. There were days when people wondered if she ever paused to even take a breath. But, all of a sudden, why was she tongue-tied? Where had her voice disappeared? She felt like a stranger among familiar faces. Her mind was like a volcano almost at the brink of bursting with a lava of questions but it just could not find an outlet to erupt. Every day, she was screaming in rooms filled with people who were seemingly deaf for no one took any notice.

She started questioning everything. Doubts emerged. She became frustrated. A few noticed that things were not as they usually were as far as she was concerned – they asked her what was wrong. Finally! Finally, people were starting to notice the change! She was delighted! She was ecstatic! She had a wide smile on her face – the time had now come for her to open her mouth. But alas! No sound came. She had become so accustomed to not being heard that she had ended up losing her ability of speech. She stared sadly at the inquisitive faces and just shrugged her shoulders. “It’s nothing,” she said in a dismissive tone, “I’m alright.” The people believed her. No one saw the fast pace with which she pranced, rapidly blinking away the tears that were now brimming in her eyes. Even if they did, they did not give it a second thought. Time is precious – why waste it fretting over an individual who doesn't cry for attention? The world is kind to just attention-seekers.

She gave up and resigned to her fate. She decided to stop speaking altogether – if she never asked questions, the disappointment of not receiving an answer would not haunt her. She was a victim and her silence played the part of rescuing the very world that had victimized her. In some way, the silence was also protecting her – shielding her from possible answers that she may receive but not like. She was being held hostage by her rickety belief-systems and was restricted from taking any action. Was there someone out there who could still hear and rescue her from this mess? She needed help even though she did not know how to ask for it. Was there anyone who could feel her pain and lend a hand?

Someone heard her. Not all was lost. One day, along came her friend, Death, to take her; and she gladly went with Him – after all, Life had betrayed her by not showing her the silver lining and leaving her alone. In the midst of her darkest hours of despair, she gladly embraced the company of Death and went with Him away from all her miseries, finally at peace. 

"Snap" Out!

Today, I ended up taking an unexpected trip, completely out of the blue, down memory-lane courtesy a bunch of photographs that captured various different moments of my life. The entire journey from one picture to the next was nothing short of a roller-coaster ride. With each picture that I viewed, I was either re-living a memory or I was trying my best to construct one. 

It’s perfectly acceptable to have no idea what was going on at that particular fated moment which my parents chose to capture the six-year old me. It’s also fine to wonder why the album contains a picture of my four-year old brother crying his lungs out. In my head, I was fabricating all kinds of fantastic stories – sometimes, it’s a good thing to not remember. It opens you up to infinite possibilities.

Then, there were more recent pictures of college-life. I was amazed at the amount of pictures I had of my college-days. To be fair, it isn’t really surprising – I went to college at a time when uploading pictures of your random day-to-day life was a popular Facebook trend and I was no exception to that rule. As a child, I remember having camera-rolls that would last almost a year (and sometimes even longer) capturing only significant events of your life. Today, a casual dinner with friends amounts to over fifty photographs!

Sometimes, I wonder if we are over-indulging on the exhibitionism. Do we really need to preserve every moment on film? I have great photographs of me at birthdays and parties with people I hardly know – I look pretty but there are no precious memories associated with any of these pictures. I find nothing to reminisce about when I glance through them. We all seemed to be too engrossed in capturing moments than making them. Today, we have thousands of pictures from our everyday life. How many do we actually treasure?

Some photographs also have the ugly quality of reminding you of all the bad decisions you have made. It can be amusing – for example, a picture of you with a really weird haircut because, at that point of time, you felt it looked really ‘cool’. At other times, it can be heart-wrenching especially when you stare at pictures of yourself with a person who has wronged you – yes, they seemed to be right at that point of time and yes, you have learnt your lesson but the photograph serves as an unpleasant reminder of the fool you had been. Destroying the evidence is no easy task – even if you delete the picture from your computer or tear the physical snap to shreds, one of your classmates is bound to have the proof of your ill choice on their Facebook page! It’s best to just ignore those memories and move on. At least, I did that! Meaning is a truly mysterious quality that arises at the juncture of the virtual world and the real world; don't you think?

What struck me as odd was the fact that I hardly have any pictures with some of my closest friends. Till date, I don’t own a single photograph of me and my best friends from school. My best friend and I would have less than five snaps together in a span of an eight-year long friendship. That’s less than one picture a year and a few of them out of this meagre lot are not even half-decent shots! The funny thing is – it doesn’t matter. I still cherish each and every moment I have spent with these special people even though I have no means of showcasing them to the world. I don’t see the point of flaunting them – they are dear to me; the world’s stamp of validation is not required.

Staring at the photographs brought me in touch with different versions of me. I got in touch with the younger me, the prettier me, the spunkier me – aspects of mine which I feel are slowly vanishing. However, that is life. I am sure as I move ahead; I will get in touch with these old parts and reconnect with them. It is equally possible that as I trudge forward, these parts will continue to bounce away and disconnect with me forever. Either ways, it is alright. Even if I am losing older versions of me, newer versions are getting created every moment. Whether I choose to capture them or not, all these versions will blend together in the end. Life is beautiful and more so, if you can freeze-frame at the right moments!

Reality Check

Some weeks ago, I was bonding with a colleague of mine at Leopold Café. Our initial conversations steered around the topic of family, travel, career-goals but a couple of drinks down, we were talking about more intimate stuff like crushes, relationships, our fears, and insecurities…Suddenly my colleague turned to me and whispered, “Don’t look immediately but that guy has been checking you out for the past fifteen minutes! See eight o’ clock!”
I secretly glanced in that direction and chuckled, “He’s probably looking at you! No one that cute would be checking me out of all people…Look at me! I look horrible!”
My colleague just rolled her eyes and replied, “Well, you forget that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder and if you think you look horrible, then, you probably cannot see what I can!”
We changed the subject but later that night, I wondered about what my colleague had said…

We all judge others – that is an established fact! We look at a person and immediately draw conclusions based on our first impressions. The judgments may change over a period of time but we are never people who do not judge. We can’t even stop judging ourselves; how in the world are we to stop judging others!
“I am so fat and ugly that I will never find true love”, “No matter how good my intentions are, I always goof things up”, “I am a pathetic loser”, “I will never get anywhere in life” – do these statements sound familiar? With all this negative self-talk happening inside our heads, it is no wonder that we feel nothing is perfect. We are all so driven by our need to be perfect that we fail to see the reality of people with their little flaws. It is these flaws that make them even more beautiful. It is so difficult to accept and embrace our own imperfections – I know that sometimes I find it extremely hard to see myself beyond my shortcomings. I am sure it is the same with everyone else.

In psychology, we learn about narcissistic personality disorder, a condition named after a mythological Greek youth, Narcissus, who was so infatuated by his own image that he drowned in it. These days, I feel everyone, including me, is doing the same thing. We are such harsh critics of ourselves that we are just not ready to make room for anything that can help us feel better. How many of us have difficulty accepting compliments? A few days ago, I told my friend that her dress looked fabulous! She gave me an unsure look and asked, “Are you sure I don’t look fat in this?” I laughed. How difficult is it for us to just give a polite smile and say ‘thank you’ when someone pays us a compliment? I know it isn't very easy for me. I find it easy to accept compliments like “You’re so considerate” or “You are a good friend to have” but I just don’t believe it when people compliment me for qualities like intelligence and beauty. When my friends call me smart or pretty, I really wonder what aspect of mine they are mirroring back to me and helping me to reveal to myself. Are they just being nice or do they genuinely mean it?

A lot of my clients and my friends gape at the effortless way in which I can offer them a fresh perspective of looking at things. The funny thing is that when I am in trouble, these same friends help me see the other side to my problem. Why is it that we can see others so perfectly but when it comes to ourselves, no matter how hard we look, we are never able to see ourselves clearly?

It is easy to say what another person is like but do you really know the actual ‘you’? Once upon a time, I believed that no one knows me better than I know myself. Recently, however, I was asked to make a list of “100 Reasons Why I Love Me” – the list had to contain hundred items of things that I was good at or things that I liked about myself and, to my surprise,  I could not go beyond #23. Reaching #23 was also quite a bit of a struggle! In the end I wasn't even sure if I actually believed in some of the things I had written down. Was I just writing some things down to reach the goal that had been set? Were there only twenty-three things (or probably less) that I was good at or that I liked about myself? Surely, I am better than this; or, perhaps, not? Being unable to complete that list was quite a bit of a shocker for me and I do not believe that the reason behind reaching such a short number has anything to do with modesty!
I asked another friend of mine to work on the same list. She too struggled. When I glanced at her list, however, I could easily rattle off fifteen-sixteen things that I felt she should add to her list which she was not so sure about. Similarly, she told me a couple of things to add to my list which I was not sure held true to me.

I wonder why we have one set of standards for judging ourselves and a completely different set for judging others. In fact, why do we judge? If everyone is a constant work-in-progress since perfection is a benchmark that can never be reached, why can’t we get real? Real people are not flawless. Real people fail. But they also get up and keep going. Real people are constantly wrestling and negotiating with their own shadows, fighting the good fight to keep from spilling their perceived darkness on those around them.

I wish to complete that list soon – hopefully, with a little help from friends (if they are reading this *wink*). I feel it is time for me to get real and get in touch with my core which is beautiful. Are you ready to meet the real ‘you’?

Before Sunrise | Before Sunset | Before Midnight |

Spoiler Alert: This post is about my thoughts on the movies, “Before Sunrise”, “Before Sunset” and “Before Midnight” and it is, unfortunately, not free of spoilers.

Eighteen years ago, on a train-ride starting from Budapest, two people from very different worlds – Jesse (played by Ethan Hawke) and Celine (played by Julie Delpy) – met one another. Even though the movie, Before Sunrise, was released in 1995, I saw this movie, years later, and I was completely floored! I raved about it to everyone I knew, even stating that it is “one of the best films ever made!” Knowing that I have low tolerance for uniform superlatives like “the greatest this” or “the worst that”, some of my friends were rather intrigued. They asked me to tell them more about the film in terms of the plot. Usually this is an easy question to answer; however, how do you get someone hooked to a movie simply by telling them it is a film essentially about two people just walking around and talking to one another? Yes, Before Sunrise is a movie about two people talking but I don’t really mind that because the conversations are stimulating, thought-provoking, engaging and allow you to know more about the protagonists in terms of how they see themselves, each other and the world.

For many cynics, a chance train-ride leading two strangers to form an instant connection powerful enough to motivate them to disembark in Vienna and spend time with each other until the next morning may seem to be too magical a fantasy to actually come true in real life. Yet this is exactly what happens in Before Sunrise and the powerful performances of the cast and the ease with which they converse with one another makes it absolutely believable. The characters are regular people – Jesse is an American with a Eurail pass on his way to Vienna to catch a flight back home. Celine is a French student on her way back to Paris. Their conversations are exactly the sort you would have with anybody any day –childhood, parents, former relationships, music and arbitrary philosophical stuff. The sexual attraction is obvious but it is handled with great care and patience. I like the way that their short stay in Vienna is not presented as a travelogue but as a series of meetings with amateur actors, fortune-tellers and street-poets. The tourist-sites are not emphasized; instead, they are seen inside a music-store, spending time in a church, going to a grave-yard, and drinking wine in a random park. The movie ends with them at the railway station the next morning making a pact to meet six months later at the same place without exchanging any contact information.

Before Sunset released in 2004. Fortunately, I had watched the first film in 2008 and I did not have to wait nine years for the next release – I saw it immediately.
Before Sunset is set in real time i.e. nine years after the two characters had first met. Jesse is in Paris on a book-tour – his novel, This Time, which he wrote, inspired by his time with Celine, is an American bestseller. Celine happens to be in the same book-store. In the beginning, itself, they broach the subject on why they did not meet after six months – it turns out that Jesse had come but the sudden demise of Celine’s grandmother made it impossible for her to make it. Since they had no contact information, there was no way of getting in touch. Jesse has a flight to catch the same evening and so they utilize the rest of the afternoon catching up with one another. While they continue to talk about environmental concerns, violence in third-world countries and religion, through their conversations, we also learn what has happened in their lives since their first meeting. Both are in their early-thirties and are dissatisfied with life in varying degrees. Jesse is married and has a son but he does not really love his wife. Celine is dissatisfied because her current boyfriend, a photojournalist, is not around as often as she would like him to be. The connection that they had with each other still holds and as the movie progresses, you can see the fumes of passion getting rekindled with whiffs of tension; especially when Jesse reveals that he wrote the book with the hope that he would find her someday and Celine replies that reading the book brought back painful memories for her. The movie ends with both of them arriving at Celine’s apartment and Celine playfully telling Jesse, “Baby, you are gonna miss that plane!” and Jesse smiles nervously, fidgeting with his wedding-ring, and replies, “Yes”.

If Before Sunrise painted before you a simple picture of ideal romance between two dreamy youngsters who meet, fall in love, and are very hopeful and enthusiastic about the future, Before Sunset, to some extent, is heart-breaking as you re-visit these characters who are now more grownup and somewhat jaded by their life-experiences. It brings you closer to reality and the picture that the first movie painted does not appear so beautiful anymore.
Being a fan of happy endings, I was somewhat disappointed when I learned, in the beginning of the movie, that Jesse and Celine never met after six months. However, I hoped that the second movie would show them having a happy ending. The abrupt end of the second movie seemed unfair to me! I hated the fact that it just left me hanging! I wanted to know whether they actually ended up being together “happily ever after” or were there going to be more twists to this romantic saga.

The wait ended when Before Midnight released this year. I was extremely upset when I found that this movie was not releasing in India. However, I watched it yesterday. Jesse and Celine are now middle-aged. They have two beautiful daughters who are twins. The movie begins with Jesse bidding farewell to his son from his previous marriage and is unhappy to see him go. The air of tension is evident throughout the film and you can see the cracks beginning to surface in the relationship between Jesse and Celine. The film exquisitely depicts a day in the life of the couple and you can see how the years of togetherness has brought into their lives a fair share of conflicts along with love. The couple is not just quarrelling over every day things like, for example, the fact that he does not shave; but it is quite apparent that the couple has genuine issues lurking beneath the surface of their fairylike relationship. As the story progresses, one can see that Jesse’s humour is a mask to hide the serious problems in their marriage while Celine’s assertiveness and strong-headedness are triggers for unpleasant confrontations. They still talk a lot, argue even more, sometimes are exasperated with each other  – in other words, they are everything a real couple is in today’s times; and like regular couples, they too sometimes fail to re-create the magic of their past romance despite good intentions. In every relationship, once the newness wears away, one is exposed to a lot of sides of the partner which one may not necessarily like. While acceptance is the key, a lot of us try changing some things about our partner and do whatever we can to make things work for us in the best way possible. Jesse and Celine are no different. They are still fond of each other but the spark that was so apparent in their years of courtship is dwindling with intrusions of reality in their relationship in the form of ambition, parenthood and work. One thing that really struck me while watching the third movie is how convenient the internet has made things – at a lunch-table, a young couple tells Jesse and Celine how they maintain a long-distance relationship through Skype. The subtext, here, questions whether a situation like Jesse and Celine’s would be possible today in an era where communication technology is so pervasive.

The three films, when seen together, beautifully depict how our shared connections just seem to bounce back and forth with the passage of time – it is a rare, beautiful yet real experience. In the first film, the couple largely talks of the future; in the second, they are focusing on the present; and in the final movie, Jesse and Celine are seen reflecting on the past and how their lives have turned out to be since their first meeting. You can actually see how a couple progresses in a relationship and how one advances and alters from one stage in life to the next. Before Sunrise is about the idealism of romance, Before Sunset grounds Jesse and Celine’s love as a decision they both have to make while Before Midnight is about the consequence of these choices. All the three films depict the protagonists trying to control the flow of life, attempting to find the meaning of their existence and struggling to keep their anxieties at bay through their words and actions. The most interesting feature of the Before trilogy is its focus on real-time – the gaps between when the films are released (1995, 2004 and 2013) are reflected in the characters’ ages in the movie. A part of me hopes that another sequel releases in 2022 – after all Jesse and Celine’s love-story only seems to grow better with age - but only time will tell if my prayers are answered! 

The Dustbin

Her cubicle was always in a state of perpetual mess. No matter what time of the day, week, month or year, heaps of paper-work and files always remained untidily stacked on her desk. It wasn’t that she was not a fast worker; in fact, she worked more efficiently than most of her colleagues. She just happened to take on more work than necessary in an attempt to dislodge the burden from others’ shoulders. She was everyone’s favourite in the office. Even those who were not from her department had a good opinion of her. After all, no matter how drained she was, she always had a warm smile to spare for those who looked her way.  Even when things became chaotic, especially during crunch-times, she continued to remain the perfect picture of calm. It did not matter how deep the mess was! She always managed to step in and clear it in a manner that was so flawless that one could not even believe that there had been a muddle in the first place.

Things were no different in the personal front. Her friends always turned to her for comfort in times of distress. No matter how messed up things appeared to be, she always managed to clear the clutter. Everyone came to her with their problems and she always lent a patient ear to their worries. She was the first person on everyone’s list of “Emergency Contact” – they knew she could be counted on in the case of any kind of urgency.

She was always surrounded by friends, family-members and well-wishers. Despite that, she always felt alone. No matter how hard she tried, she could never pinpoint the reason why.

He was a silent worker who was way too engrossed in his own world. He had no time for others. He came to office, did only what he was required to do, and then left as soon as his work was done. He did not like wasting time socializing with others nor did he like to offer a helping hand. He kept to himself because no one really bothered talking to him or involving him in conversations beyond the necessary.

When he was taking breaks between works, he often used to observe the people around him. She was always an object of fancy. Her actions always amazed him! As an outsider, he could see what was happening to her. He saw the smile on her face that did not completely reach her eyes. He knew she had a lot to say. Her eyes expressed it all but what was the point? No one listens to you unless you resolve to make your voice heard. In all these years, she had become so accustomed to listening to others that she no longer knew what it was like to be heard for a change. He noticed those moments when she opened her mouth, perhaps, to say something, but shut it again because no words came out. No one encouraged her to speak. Why would they? The purpose of a dustbin is to clear the trash around. It does its job extremely well and makes the surrounding area neat and clean. However, when the dustbin wants to talk, no one wants to go near it. Who wants to go near the foul-stinking rubbish? No one! 

She was everyone’s dustbin. They went to her for disposing their garbage. She fulfilled no other purpose in their life.

He could see her restlessness. He noticed her jumpiness. She was slowly turning out to be less good-tempered than she used to be. He smiled as he noticed that change – there comes a point of time when even the best of people snap. Perhaps, her time was nearing.

He wondered if he could do something to assist her. She, after all, seemed to be in no position to help herself. No one likes emptying a litter-bin but it is a job that someone just has to do.  He just wasn't sure if he was ready to get his hands dirty and clear the waste…

To Mumbai, With Love

I return again to this space after an unexpectedly long hiatus. The good news is that the break wasn't the result of a writer's block. Rather, it was my busy schedule that prevented me from finding time to gather my thoughts and penning them down. 

I have written about Mumbai so many times before. There are times when I wonder what more is there to say about this city that hasn't already been said before. It has been more than three years since I have lived here; and finally it is no more just a city of dreams or a city of unending ambitions for me.
When I first came to the city, I was one among the many aspirants who come to this place with starry-eyed dreams and believe this is the Mecca of making those dreams come true.

It has been three years and I am not sure where those dreams disappeared. In hind sight, I don't think I can even remember what those dreams were. It all seems like hogwash to me - a thing of a past that is so distant that no matter how hard I try to recollect, the only faint remnants of its existence is experienced in my heart in the form of piercing feelings.
Yet I seem to be in love with this city. It is difficult for me to pinpoint the reason. Do I love the city because it gives me my independence? Or is it the unstoppable life of the city that I am attracted to?
The people, here, are fascinating. They always seem to have new stories to tell; and some of the old ones are always eager to fill you in with tales of bygone days. But then people are interesting almost anywhere you go if you take the time to catch a glimpse of their world.

It is not the busy life of the city that attracts me. Living in Kolkata for almost seventeen years of my life has ensured that I prefer the slow life compared to the madness one sees while travelling in the Mumbai locals especially during rush-hours; and while Mumbai does have a charm of its own, nothing beats the old-world charm of Kolkata in my eyes. The way I see it, the crude, harsh tone of Marathi stands no chance of winning points against the melodious ring of the Bengali language. Forgive me if I appear biased!
Of course the one thing I absolutely love about Mumbai, apart from the beautiful rains, is Marine Drive - the entire stretch at night is an object of devotion on its own.
But is that reason enough to make me want to stay?
Of course not!

Acknowledging Mumbai as my "home" instead of being just the "current city of residence" was not an easy transition. But it happened. This change can be attributed to a lot of factors - my exciting work, my very messy but spacious house, my funny, travel adventures, my daily encounters with individuals that always give me wonderful stories to narrate about discovery and delight...This list can be endless. But one thing that truly makes this city feel like "home" are the wonderful friends I made who stood by my side and always sustained my belief that no matter how bad things were, "this too shall pass".
Sometimes I wonder, if it weren't for them, would I have survived the time I got stuck at Dadar-Matunga for more than four hours owing to the heavy rains? Would I have managed to take a leap of faith and resign from a job that did not seem fulfilling enough if I did not have their support? Would I have had the courage to embark on a road to a new destination I was absolutely clueless about? Could I have overcome the loneliness one sometimes tends to experience living alone in such big cities?
I don't think I could have survived any of that without them!

My old dreams may have evaporated but I have still not become a person who just goes on with the daily drudgery of life with no fun and zeal. Life is a journey and even though one may have to give up on past dreams and wishes as one advances, it does not mean that those are not replaced with newer goals and ambitions.
Mumbai has helped me evolve as an individual at many different levels - today, I feel more connected to my core. I have set new goals for myself and I am aware that I have the support-system I need in order to achieve them. Life is not a bed of roses and there are thorns that I need to look out for but I have faith - in the end, everything will be alright!
I guess this is the Mumbai spirit that everyone boasts about - no matter what disasters fall in your path a Mumbaikar always has a ready disposition to face and overcome all calamities. I think this new-found fighting-spirit that I seem to have recently discovered officially qualifies me to say I am a Mumbaikar, after all.