Friday, October 19, 2012

........ to B & TdC 2012

Batizado (baptism)

“The Batizado welcomes new students into the school and strengthens community bonds as recognized and nurtured by M. Bimba. Students are baptized by the floor i.e. that is, they play against higher level capoeiristas and are subsequently taken down by a rasteira to signify a continual process of humility and improvement in the game."

Troca de Cordão (exchange of the cords – belts)

“The changing of the cords signifies the level of a capoeirista. Some capoeiristas will receive a new corda before or after a game played against a Mestre in which they have to show their advancement and earn the right to wear the new corda.”

The Batizado is the most anticipated event/ experience of the year; a combination of graduation + prom night + annual day. New students are excited and the older experienced ones anticipate something new and feel a sense of pride and joy moving on to the next level. It’s a day that demonstrates and acknowledges one’s hard work, perseverance, blood, sweat, tears of joy and possibly some nicks and cuts and, most of all, a sense of accomplishment for that time period. I am still a novice in the universe of capoeira i.e. I’m 2 Batizados old so I have, thus far, experienced 1 year as a newbie and 1 year as an experienced student. Now is my time to move levels up.

There is a lot to experience and gain from the weeks we spend together as a group and with our guests. This year we have expanded to many centres with our line-up of senior instrictors. The tree is growing branches and leaves with each leaf being represented by us – the students. This batizado will marks 6 long eventful years of Capoeira India, it will include students of our Master Reza ‘Baba’ Massah and students of our Sr. instructors, it will include 2 weeks of absolute high energy, talents, workshops, music, festa, the planning and THE EVENT itself.
Apart from the obvious, we become 1 large albeit loud, chaotic, moody, funny, crazy and high on axe familia. We learn so much about 1 another from just spending time or taking charge of certain responsibilities together. The hidden talents and skills make an appearance. There is an almost relaxed to hyper-adrenaline change in the weeks leading to the event. Seniors step up their game and are given independent responsibilities or sole ownership of many crucial points for D-day; here our experiences as students kick in which we emulate as seniors. Our teacher (Baba) serves as a constant guide and support during this time. He is truly a 1 man army probably on an entire plant of Gurana‑ a‑day (you would if you need to deal with us brats). We fight, we play, we work and then we retire for the evening with a chilled bottle of beer and laugh at each other with each other at what we did and what was left out. These stories remain with us until we create new ones the following year to replace the old ones.

The main day is an unbelievable experience. It has its share of high octane energy and peaks and valleys just like any event or show does. But the difference is that where we would have 1 pair of hands, 50 more show up to help you iron out the creases. The Batizado is conducted as a planned and choreographed show (apart from the rodas) with a few impromptu modifications. But the beauty is that we are all soooo well versed that there is just no glitch and we blend in. ‘Tis true when we say “Just bring your energy.” Really that’s all that matters. When you are so happy and going through such a rush, the audience hardly ever realizes what happened behind the scene. They are already wowed by us. Another notable feeling I go through is quite similar to the 1 I experienced during my school sports and annual days. Your family comes beaming with pride and wondering what all are you going to perform. We turn into little children asking them to spot us and make sure to take the signature pictures for keepsake. Family dynamics never change. Each ‘kid’ will always be ‘the star’. The rush during the Batizado also changes your game and your experience as a capoeirista. You will go through waves of excitement, a moment of humility in games where you have been taken down, moments of exhaustion followed by a split second change to absolute axe, moments of trance where you are sucked in by the bateria and their resounding music. The songs sound different and even your body feels different. You invariably try new moves, moves you saw, moves you dared never try or thought you just couldn’t do it. Your perspective and understanding of capoeira or the people in your capoeira family changes; however slight. It’s a journey that’s just started. Sometimes even playing a game in a new venue, new floor, new people with many others watching, changes you. It’s a learning cuz this brings you out of your comfort zone of playing within your circle of friends and in your class where you train.

There will be some hilarious moments created by either you or your friend. Either way, we have enough to carry forward to the weekend and discuss them to stomach crunching laughter. The weekend away is the 1 time EVERYONE makes it. Everyone plans and pours over their calendars to accommodate these special days and not miss out. Sure, we have had our parties and outings but nothing beats having 40-50+ odd people from everywhere living, eating, dancing, singing, laughing etc. all capoeira. And if there is a swimming pool or a beach… eeevveeennn better J. A detailed analysis of the JUST CONCLUDED event will happen and planning for the 7th Annual Batizado e Troca de Cordao will begin…

Welcome to 6th Annual Batizado e Troca de Cordão. Love and Axe

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Bridges

There were these beautiful patches of land. Wholesome, green, ethereal beauty like colors bursting from a picture that had been worked cleverly in Photoshop  Except these were real. There was a brook, a stream or a body of moving water dividing and connecting the patches. There seemed no good reason to leave these places or try and go for what was beyond what one possessed  All out of a picture from a Lord Tennyson poetry book. Untouched, uncorrupted and no potential for such.
There were bridges connecting these patches of land. I lived in the center most patch and I built the bridges albeit with some help from the patch owners on the other end. It was a mutual decision to build that bridge with the understanding that it would connect us – deeply. We had absolute access to each other and there was love and trust. Our relationships at the point of building the bridge defined how strong or weak or patchy the bridge was. None of the bridges any of us built were uniform from start to end. For the most part the bridges were insanely strong.
We let nature try and test us as we built ‘em. Sometimes we retired to our own patches of land and homes and watched for the storm to end. We could see each other across the water and our eyes said it all but we continued to wait for the storm to settle. There were times, unbreakable times when we decided to hell with the weather – let’s take a stand. Let’s work at it in the rain and wind. Those were good times. I remember them all. We would wipe the disdain and remnants off each other. Giggle some and even challenge the travesty. Then head over to each other’s patches and just love each other. There were times when it was really quiet and not a stir outside. Perfect sun moon and stars. Perfect broth on the stove and perfect coffee in our mugs. But a storm raging in our hearts. Waste. That’s all I could think of such days when we didn't make the most of it and stood still in our compartmentalized egos which we pretended we couldn't overcome.
Then came more land owners on the other side of my patch. With the ever increasing weakness and cracks becoming obvious by the weathering it had stood by, I wanted to build some more bridges. I didn’t at first. For the longest time I shared 1 water bank, 1 neighbor and 1 dream. I looked around and noticed more land owners who were always there but I just didn’t acknowledge them. I was human and a girl. I turned. The sun also burned my skin a different way and all the same existences smelled and felt different. I was nervous but these land owners wanted to build bridges and connect to me. Many I refused but I was more than willing with some (2).
It was the same experience. Except something dangerously different about these 2 new ones. They were risky, new and even outrageous. But I sunk in like I was meant to be there. The toxicity didn’t bother me and the sweetness only made me succumb. This wasn’t me. I hated it and I loved it too. But I kept my eyes on the 1st bridge. I couldn’t give it time for maintenance and the energy it asked of me. I combined my inadequacies  and its flaws and converted them into rage. I was Toby Maguire (spiderman) in the black alien suit. Meanwhile I threw myself into the new bridges – guard down, morals and principles some. I accepted everything like an idiot. My increasing blindness towards the old bridge – MY BRIDGE – made me miss when it had caught fire and was reduced to shards of weak links. We looked at each other again from our windows. We saw the tears we both tried to hide but again the compartmentalized feelings. He came over the remnants of what was once our bridge but the other 2 patch owners hogged my attention from him.
I was lost. What was I doing? I burnt down the 1 bridge I built. I wasn’t even as sure of the new bridges as I was of this one. But I went on. He left and never returned. Like nature saw our burnt hearts she increased the width of the water body separating us. The silting made it impossible to swim across also without risk. We didn’t feel the same strong urge to swim across no matter what. I was falling in love with one of the new bridges. There was even a time I worked alone all alone to build that bridge. I was hoping that my love and dedication would stir the new owner my way. See that he had to contribute evenly and not just when he felt the need to. When I stopped working he would come and pacify me to work together. We would… for a bit and then it would be me alone. Now we both built an incomplete bridge. Sure we can cross over but there are gaps and scrapes and nails. There is hurt and hard work instead of a smooth walk across. I loved that bridge. I still do. But it doesn't love me back.
The 3rd and last bridge. Complete mess but there is innocence and stupidity there. It was a trial and error bridge. The real risky one. This owner loves me. I didn't quite ever ensure if I loved him back with the same intensity. He would pretend to not work on the bridge during the day cuz others would watch him and he didn't want that. But at night whether the moon was at its brightest or there was no light, and when my candle burned out for the day, he would sneak and toil away. He just didn't know that I watched. I kept watch as well and cared. Every nick and cut he got I cared and made sure that they healed. He was clumsy and he was careless but his heart was very much there. He didn't want me seeing it and I pretended like I had not seen it. That too annoyed him and amused me.
Now I am 2 bridges weak and burned, 1 shabby and unreliable yet working but none to cross over. I could sit in my patch all alone surrounded by all these patches and their owners and the water and the bridges and yet be lonely. I still sit and ponder – which bridge is really worth repairing and putting the last of my blood and sweat in. which bridge do I wish to climb across and seal in my memory for ever after. Which patch owner is the one I would like to build the bridge again and again with. I still ponder.
The 1st bridge is ‘R’. The remaining 2 I watch and covet everyday and they burn me from inside out. Bridges…. 

Monday, August 27, 2012

Babyfreeze to 1 Giant Leap

This is dedicated to the ones who actually believed I could do a fraction of what is streetsoul – Bboy Pari, BBoy Jaggi and BGal Jagriti. I had just broken up from my partner of 5+yrs and wanted to get back to dancing. Normal step-itty step was too mundane and I needed something that sent me home with sore muscles and a gratified soul. Enter – Bboying. I knew and had seen bboying but never in my wildest dreams thought or imagined there was indeed a scene, a pool of rare talent fueled by determination and the openness to have people in. I was graciously accepted in. I was the only girl in the class *roll eyes*. But Pari and Jaggi were the sweetest funniest and most dedicated bundle I had met and befriended. Add to them others like Sid and Jagriti. I have seen some funny classes, some amazing classes and some serious power works in place. I saw the talent, the dreams and a lot more. What remains (to date) with me is the relations and friends I took from there. 4 to be exact. 

Pari (co-founder and key member of UDK aka ‘Underdog Kombat Crew’) my ever confused flittering soul, an absolute delight to communicate with and a powerhouse of potential with an equally heightened talent for IGNORING that potential. Think I have had more conversations with him where I am busy scolding the shit outta him. Lol and the poor guy takes it all in. I see big for him. Big dreams and bigger banners and posters of his dream graffittied across it. He is hardworking and relentless. But the thing that strikes you about him instantly is his modesty and how humble he is and easy to reach out to. From my 1st class I never felt stupid or clumsy. He relented and pressed for repetition and trial and error. Didn’t give up. It wasn’t like I was going for THE world jam of bgirling but it didn’t matter. I was a student and I was learning. It was my outlet for many possibilities and impossibilities. He was open about what works for him and what didn’t. What he thinks he did wrong and happiness for all that went well. Simple and crisp. He reminds me of Manny from Ice age. His appearance is the bang opp of Manny but he has his misplaced head still sitting on his shoulders. My recent encounter with him looked hopeful and that he is well on his way. I am still waiting for his red-carpet moment. It’s been nearly 3 years now of knowing him and there are many more years to come… Cheers Pari. 
Jagriti – let me tell u this girl is driven. She is fearless, hyper, uber talented and underrated. If let loose she can give the world a spin and can put many to shame or a run for their savings account. Unfortunately, for her health and over protective bodyguards it’s been nothing less of a struggle for her. To simply showcase what is already installed and needs basic upgrades. My constant companion to all do’s to reminisce about good ol’ class days. And when the moment kicks in she is at her best and can deliver. Cover girl for Nokia India Fest 2011 J Waiting for her to graduate from her latest ventures to the clouds up there. 

Jaggi – I don’t know where to begin with him. Once I do start, I’m afraid there won’t be an end. A bundle of energy, talent and absolutely originality. More than bboying I always remember/ miss Jaggi for his quick wit and dry sense of humor which has us either in splits or in hours of ‘jugalbandi’ over sms until one of our phone batteries is exhausted or in case of Jaggi – he will lose his phone, in the local trains, periodically. In fact losing his phone has now become sort of a tradition which I am sure he will diligently pass down to his young’uns like family tradition (hoping that when he reads this he realizes how annoyed the rest of us are with him). Forgiving him his trespasses, he has a heart of gold and an unknown source of patience that he now distributes evenly at the Bainganwadi project “Familia de Ouro”. He is a delight to watch at all the events and a severe underdog – ironically also part of a crew aptly name UDK aka ‘Underdog Kombat Crew’. I always wait to cheer him at all do’s along with Pari, Sid (literally another fella like the IA sloth) and Kannan – a younger protégé. Jaggi is a powerhouse with power moves and dedication. He builds in on hours of training and yet manages to not let any part of him break down or wear out. The kids at Familia de Ouro had taken to him like moth to a flame in the rains. That’s when I knew there was an unmistakable heart of gold and limbs of steel. Once in a while this guy, I absolutely love, has the penchant to amaze me with dormant talent or an action that has me with a stupid gaping look on my face; almost like powerful aftershocks after a fresh eruption or earthquake. And to think he works in finance pppffftttt. Mature and level headed than most guys his age and well beyond his years – he knows he has me to support him forever and he makes sure he makes every instance count by sucking my blood dry <3.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Finding 'ever after'...


John Nash: Thank you. I've always believed in numbers and the equations and logics that lead to reason. But after a lifetime of such pursuits, I ask, "What truly is logic?" "Who decides reason?"
My quest has taken me through the physical, the metaphysical, the delusional – and back.
And I have made the most important discovery of my career, the most important discovery of my life: It is only in the mysterious equations of love that any logic or reasons can be found.
I'm only here tonight because of you [wife, Alicia]. You are the reason I am. You are all my reasons.
Thank you. (recalled from The Beautiful Mind)
I watched this movie after I made an early move back from my weekend at Khopoli –40+ of us headed there to a holiday home, which belongs to a fellow capoeirista who graciously and generously threw it open to us. I went very reluctantly but also because I wanted to spend alone time with my guy, boyfriend, love… (I hate these terms but 1 gets the gist). A girlfriend later very aptly put it (speaking from experience I gather) that there is no such thing as alone time in capoeira. Tis’ true and I have seen it. He insisted I get there and be there with him and I’m glad that he insisted and literally had to force my mind. Deep down I wanted to go but there was a big part of me that wanted to avoid this weekend because of the mental blocks that I have developed and now seem to grow over me like persistent algae in the deep Amazon. It doesn’t help when the algae is further feeding off nutrition (read rumors and gossips and doubts) and growing at an alarming rate.
The weekend was a blast and just what I needed but there is some I would change, some I would rerun and some I would avoid. These are always such experiences and everyone has some of the 3 feelings even if they denied it. I struggled with trust and opening up. I struggled with dealing with the new. 1 always enjoys the 1st flush of romance and the honeymoon period of dating someone new. I had been in a 6yrs relationship with my best friend of 5yrs. I knew nothing about dating and anticipating someone unknown; someone I knew barely 6 odd months. I didn’t know how to acknowledge his openness to declaring his love for me, how to reciprocate it appropriately enough that he knows I feel just the same way and to open up my mouth and ACTUALLY say what I felt and thought at the time. Instead my energy was focussed on “…really.. You love me?... really you bought me this and gave me that?”. It was the sweetest gesture by this young guy I have fallen mysteriously for. Possibly my struggle to understand WHY I really loved him and wanted him is my mental block. And even more as to WHY after all that’s been still continued to be fed like IV poison 150mg BID escalating dose. What I really needed were 2 pills called ‘FUKITOL’ and ‘LEAPOFAITH’.
Coming to the movie. I have seen it 6-7 times by now. Eternal hopeless romantic that I am. A true story of the devastating effect of paranoid schizophrenia on a genius mathematician. But I focussed on his faith and HER. Jennifer Connelly portrayed Alicia Nash (nee Lardé) wife of John Nash. She is a beautiful gentle creature who rigorously pursues her love and ends up with a raw deal… not until he comes to terms with his condition and wins the Nobel Prize. It was the age of ‘till death do us apart’ and that’s what Alicia did. She stayed and struggled and graciously took on this ill man she loved and never for 1ce abandoned him or even took advantage of her beauty combined with his disability. It’s a rare possibility today and the fact that your partner is debilitated is a sorry excuse for many cheaters. He, on the other hand, spent most of his adult life in the throes of vulnerability and differentiating the real from the delusion. But he never struggled with his wife. Theirs was a beautiful relationship so pure that you would have to look away if you didn’t live up to that benchmark of love, faith and trust. I know I did. I couldn’t build up half the trust with my partner of the totality that I saw in 135mins of screen time.
I couldn’t even muster the courage to be myself with him. Why do I struggle so much? Where is the leap of faith that I encouraged him to take? 1 of the most important people in my life always assures me he is right there. Anything happens in any aspect of my life, he is right there. Somehow, I feel like his hand too won’t be strong enough to pick up all of me from the low point I am risking crashing into. All that was going on in my life was the equal and opposite of John and Alicia Nash. I wish life were that clearer. Friends who have known me long enough snicker that I struggled to stay single for 2yrs and now this. Apparently, my choices and I just had to be legends. I don’t think of it that way. In the words of Julia Robert’s character in Notting Hill, “I’m also just a girl...standing in front of a boy...asking him to love her.” I don’t think it’s too much to expect especially when you are sure that traffic is indeed flowing both ways. But where is that blind trust? Where is that passion I had in me eons ago when I made a guy giddy with how much I loved him. I don’t advocate nausea and diabetic sweetness but I know when to take a step or 2 back.
I am nervous, unsure and still testing the wool ball like a frightened kitty. Except the wool ball has been kind enough to stay put and not roll off. In an almost subtle yet obstinate way the wool ball is there to stay to unwind slowly to reveal each thread, each hue and each flaw. It’s almost romantic the ties that bind the kitty to the wool ball that she won’t let go and yet will keep tossing round. Occasionally the wool ball rolls off into dark corners and under furniture, which the kitty must retrieve but she takes her time. Eventually she lets off a purr and a sigh, goes, and gets it cuz she knows she is making a fuss over nothing and needs the wool ball… stupid stupid cat.
If only I had half the grace, beauty, poise, patience and gentleness of Alicia Nash and possibly a tinge of her strength and sensibility would I be able to get through this phase of my life… puuurrrr! Then we could be reasons for each other to… well just be!

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Smoke, Spirits n a Death Wish

She sat nervous
Cold and emotionally withered
All life drained from her pale face
Hands trembled
A sorry state they made
The crumpled piece of paper
Her death wish as it came

She pulled out a cigarette
Flaky and worn
Yet with disjunction
She lit what was her own
How many days had made this
Breakfast to start and late retreat?

Rocking back and forth
She couldn’t tell apart
The dusk from the dawn
The halo of an arc
How long would this life line run?
How many miles before she succumbs?
 
The warm smell of fresh bake and coffee
Home with the sheets and fresh laundry
The tree tire that hung
Just outside her window
Oh what she would trade
To move from ghosts to the known

She felt like staleness
Ran through her very being
No one pondered
How she became so weary
Her tears bled the wonder of tomorrow
“Oh wait” she flustered
“What day was it now?”

The disease had come
And wrapped her over
Skin and bones were all that defined her
All glow was wiped
From the innocence she grew in
As the smoky weed
Made here shallow within
 
Her thirst ran deep, desperate, pitiful
Her strength could only afford
A scotch nearby full.

Friday, July 13, 2012

R

"There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringin me out the dark...." Adele
We should've had it all... Gata

The 1st song to play on my ipod on the morning of12 July 2012. Such irony that just the 1st two lines applied to me but the song in harsh reality applied to the 1 left scarred and broken... why was this day so significant to me. It was my friend Tania's and Preeti's bdays; it was the day after I completed a year to my milestone surgery; day I wld acknowledge the truth in its real light as I see it and the day after I last saw R. I cried bitterly on my way to work and could not make it stop.
There is a storm and u live in its pathway in a small but sturdy hut. However, the door hinges r bad and no matter what u do, the door keeps swinging recklessly with the wind and won't shut. Then u jam it shut with all ur might and are content its shut. Moments after u leave, that door is still ajar and gently swaying with the ever-teasing wind. U notice but u let it go as long as it’s almost closed. Then that 1 darned gust of wind and rain and all it picked up on the way hits ur tiny hut - the door swings wildly open, rusty hinges give way, leaving u bare and defenceless in the path of an unforgettable storm... That hut is my heart. The door is the chapter I thought I closed with R. The swinging was me avoiding a possible reconciliation. The final straw was last night when I realized the biggest mistake of my life when the whole hut and everything with it blew away to shreds.
R was, is and seemingly possibly will remain the love of my life, my soul mate. A soul mate not as my ex-boyfriend, lover, husband et al. Soul mate for simply being present in my life. His soul was enough to make up for his and mine. We were 1 in the truest sense of the word. I did the math and let it become two separate broken pieces.
One could never tell where he or I ended and the other started as 2 separate beings in the flesh. We were the envy of all around us. I loved being his trophy and his arm candy.. His lady love right from the chaatwaala in 2nd street @ Shastri Nagar to the Marriott and WESTIN. Every laundry shop, grocery store, general store, shops, maintenance etc. identified me as Mrs. Ratish Nair (not even to-be). I was in heaven. A girl couldn’t ask for more love, security, validation and someone who kept her virtually 24x7 on a pedestal. He was to be the best husband and the most doting father I would have ever pictured of him. I knew him and he knew me. I had it all.
But like all fairy tales, this one too had its pitfalls. We were so compartmentalized in our bubble that the bubble became world-resistant. We could not function without each other. Apart from our professional commitments, which were galaxies apart, everything about us screamed identical twins. Yet within our bubble, we balanced each other beautifully. I handled his eccentricities and he my cat-like qualities. I was prissy, moody, childish, childlike, stupid, curious, hyperactive, and always craving his attention. The best part was he loved giving me attention. That he had eyes for me would be an understatement. He was my personal surveillance unit. No one knew me as well as he did to the point of predicting dead-on what was expected of me next. He was prince charming in all his glory and yet he was the humble one who rolled in the mud and cement and tears and my stubbornness. I was the fish and he the bull. Yet I absorbed and reflected all his qualities and he turned into the Piscean. He role played beautifully and knew when my ‘yes’ meant ‘no’ and my ‘no’ meant ‘yes’. In the words of my mother, no one could and would control me like he could. He achieved what my own family couldn’t in the years they tried. He turned me from a tomboyish mess of a blob into a beautiful fairy-tale overnight. I went from unnoticed to straight on the billboard at Times Square, NY. For the 1sttime in my life, I had others envy me for nearly everything including his presence in my life. I felt excessively undeserving of him and in that haste of thought and emotion I did innumerable unbelievable things just to show my love and my dedication… except our tunes were different. I was so handicapped without him that I couldn’t buy a toothbrush without him. This would later become a harsh reality when I broke down 1ce just buying a plain ol’ toothbrush. For me he was the pink diamond in the mines of diamond around the world. The kind that Solomon Vandy would risk his life for and treasure to buy him back his freedom and his family in the face of adversity. R was indeed my rose pink diamond.
Why oh why do I not have him now? Compartmentalization for both and unsensitization for me. I had been bitten by the 6yr itch and how. I wanted to scratch the bubble and just peak out. Following his resistance to what he predicted would be the end of our innocence; I tore a gaping hole and jumped right out into anything and everything. I behaved like a juvenile delinquent, a runaway, a reckless teen on a mindful mission to rebel against the good and bad that R would have thought or projected for me. He cried, he suffered, he regretted the bird in cage syndrome and he paid for it. He forgave, accepted, and moulded himself. But my overexposed mind was no longer kind to this poor unsuspecting soul and he was no longer the charming prince I fell in love with. I tried and tried to bring that feeling back, recreation attempts fell flat like a poorly timed pudding in the oven that looks pretty for but a few seconds and then caves in revealing the gooey mixture that never made it. Around this time, I also got a lot of attn. from the opp. side of the boundary. I knew I couldn’t venture there but the attn. was exhilarating and only reinforced my stubbornness to be out there and not come back. I have to say that 99.99% guys would leave and flee but he stayed on. He believed and prayed and wished and hoped. He worked and worked and chased and worked. Today when I look back I see the most patient man ever. The kind that are shot down only to be valued and appreciated much too late in life. I ran around like a wild cat knowing well I was shadowed and covered from all of life’s harms… until there was no one chasing me i.e. R.
R nearly is a creation from the big guy up there. I always wondered where he gathered all that …. whatever good things he had, from. He almost made me look like a confirmed sinner. I felt that last evening when I asked him to meet me for dinner. From sheer heartbreak, he was leaving the country for good I understand. He wore the shirt that resembled the one I loved most. The brown in his shirt matched his coffee brown skin and I missed his shoulders that had embraced and supported me a countless times in good and ugly. He seemed so sure and yet made the least eye contact (his eyes had the kindest warmest look ever). I stared at him almost to the point of shamelessness. I was so taken in by him and questions and sentences ran helter skelter in my mind like people running from a burning bldg. I knew it was over from the moment he arrived and shook my hand and then reciprocated the awkward hug I gave him. He talked a lot about his work and plans and all. I couldn’t help but watch this new person carefully hiding the being I had loved more than my life. I had dressed up for the dinner. I wanted to look pretty, not attractive. I wanted to make an effort to show that I had thought about this dinner…. Farewell dinner. Midway when he took a call from friends and work I msgd my twin and alter ego Supresa that I just realized what a bloody hell of a mistake I made by letting him go. I fought tears through entré and main course as I pretended to dish out some strange giggles and even take a single picture of him. A picture of US was out of bounds now. I mustered the courage to apologize for the heartache that caused to both him and me and for not having faith in him to continue. He was gracious and awkward and didn’t lash back. He was soooo mature. I shrunk under the table, almost. I felt small and lost and again like the girl who couldn’t buy toothbrush without him around. He was now the one I let go and I am the one that got away. 
I see now that I chose to play the villain where I considered someone else the villain for nearly a year. It takes a lot of heart smashing to admit ur mistakes and contributions to something like this and hope to survive it. I hope I survive it. It’s been the worst night and morning in a while where you feel your heart racing (literally) and feel the need to jump into the ice cold Pacific and swim against all odds to make it to the shore. Possibly the cold would numb every physiological tell-tale sign of my heart break and the adrenaline would give me the strength to get through the mess I contributed to… I love R, always will…

Song playing... Coldplay - every tear is a waterfall...

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Obstinate feline...


 She moved and danced. To feel the edge of her hips and the ripples of the belly as they swayed in trance. She took a few steps back and lunged 3 forward because she felt a sense of suffocation in the 1 square tile she initiated this trance. No one was watching or so she thought. But then again she wanted her emotions to be on display. Have someone watch her secretly. Cup her face into his hands large enough to fit in and feel like you could sleep there. Have him breathe ever so gently down her neck almost like letting her know that he was right there but not quite locking her in an unbreakable embrace. Now she was confused. Her mood swayed from wanting the unbreakable embrace to wanting to be free as and when she wanted.

This was the boy the man she wanted. She prayed and swayed and swished her way through for. Now he was here and she second guessed her thoughts. She ran. She was the commitment phobic disease that was spreading to him and not the other way around. She wanted him to make a mistake; make her feel like she could step over him and it was ok to do so. But he was indeed perfect. He was flawed and he was perfect that way. He was a rogue ruffian who had taken to her in the most delicate manner possible and treated her like a rare glass prism with colors and magic streaming through. One slight err and she would crash and break and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. That’s what he projected and that’s what he possibly thought of her. She would’ve liked to believe that given the soft kisses and delicate moments. But she impersonated herself as the feline warrior. Walked like she owned it all and that the world was at her feet or should reconsider their stand if they weren’t at her feet. She had the power to have it all and have most of it she did.

She ran. She always ran. Physically, emotionally and hypothetically. She loved the chase and the run. The pulsating beat against the sound of the asphalt under her feet. She ran because that’s where her emotions were on 100% display. She could run through a good cry and behave like nothing happened. She ran most from the ones she loved. She thought she was avoiding being hurt or influenced by them. She didn’t know she was running from herself being whatever they fell in love with. Her running was her excitement, her victory dance and her exaltation that she was loved back by the one she loved. Oh no! its confirmed and its right there in her palm. Now what!!!

Would her love fail her? Would her love make her feel like there was better to love or that she deserved better to love? She was exhausted. She couldn’t save her best for last. After all when does one really know the last is the best. What is the ‘best last’? she started hurting the ones she loved. She fought and picked and nitty-grittied it. She decided distance was far safer than being close enough and making eye contact. She thought it easier to break away from than make a way to paradise. She tried seeing the sense that was being seen by others but it was blind to her. she just couldn’t sketch the outline of what was forward. She could only sketch what she hoped would be forward.

He loved her. He showed her he loved her but didn’t know if she loved him back. He didn’t give up and that irked her. But again if he did give up, he would strengthen her belief that he eventually did. She was a wild one waiting for the right owner to tame her, grace her and sway her. Waiting for the right hand on her firmly holding her down despite the large glassy stare but softening as she knew it was for her best and then rewarding her with some love as she purred back. That kiss so gentle passionate and firmly gripped. Warm flush and glow; forgetting where her body ended and his started.

She still waits and sways and runs and prays. She still walks and talks like she knows the what nots. She is difficult and fire but love is quite plainly her only desire!!

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Maa's arms






‘Maa’ I wailed when I fell of the stool
Yet she glanced and turned her head away
I was 4 and little did I know
That glance meant the wound wasn’t that grave.

I got older and the glances lessened
My trials and tribulations
Were of far more sophistication
At least that’s what I thought
When I struggled through
In Ma’s arms I found comfort and mute

Her hugs were silent
The right touch and strength
In them I found solace
A force I couldn’t bend

Such depth such warmth
Affirmation and a pinch of pride
‘It was ok to let go’
Whatever that was made me cry

Silence became the cue
But her arms were the cure
I would close my eyes
In the darkness I would be lost

For that moment of time
No world berated
Only ma’s arms became
The sole of my existence

Sometimes I tease this nonchalant habit
An indulgence of sorts where I‘m lost
Maa never wonders why I succumb
She just waits for me
Patient and undone.