Cruel Intentions

I don't know what’s considered a worse crime: Being a woman or Being an Indian... Being an Indian woman living in India and OUTRAGED feels just about fit right now >-/   Then again I haven’t been to Somalia or Uganda yet.

Cruel Intentions is not restricted JUST to the cesspool that the 6 rapists of the Delhi gang-rape case represent. It represents the very proud, toilet minded, misogynistic Indian mentality. I have evasively followed the going-ons of the situation since that fateful day when these 6 samples brutalized not just a young soul and a nimble body, but the very spirit and strength of every girl child in India and her poor parents and family who now look at her like a fragile piece of China, mine included. It’s almost like the Polo ad tagline “Mint with a hole” except the proud Indian penis-mentality is targeted at “Flesh with a hole” (pardon the graphic nature of the statement).

I love criminal psychology. I honestly and innocently believed that there was a niche population of such brutes. I was wrong. The vast majority seem to outlaw and outnumber the decent kind. If I were to just venture out of my house at an odd hour, that is a 99.99% guaranteed recipe for rape, molestation or murder. Such is the state of my country and maybe the world. Why isn’t there a demarcation between man and animal? Even animals, save for the rumor about dolphins, do not indulge in such heinous behavior. They are gentler, fierce and respect boundaries. The brutes I am referring to seem to think of boundary as an imaginary chalk and cheese line. I still wonder what goes through the mind of an adult brutalizing a child or even an infant in some cases. How does science explain the arousal and the need to consummate with a small bundle of innocence? Is it just the human feeling or are there really a bunch of mismatched wires in their heads. Is it the patriarchal society and the secretive yet powerful matriarchal influence? Does she allow and abet the rape and molestation of other female family members out of revenge and grievance for what happened possibly to her or just plain inhuman rage. Gentlemanly demeanor and pure unorchestrated chivalry is such a rarity; it almost takes me by surprise.

Either way what’s going on is despicable. I have also loved and hated. But in my hate and loathing there have been limits. I draw the line for homicidal tendencies in my fantasy world up there *points to the head*. But I have never ever executed or even imagined the actual execution of a crime or brutality of it. Just the very thought makes me wanna take a shower to sterilize my soul. Following the Delhi rape case I was shocked that there was even a debate. Helllooo? Woohoo…? Clap clap WAKE UP. This ain’t no debate you nincompoop dickheaded inconsiderates. This is all out wrong. Why hasn’t justice yet not been served? Why is there a definition for such ghastly crimes and degrees assigned to it based on which the accused is punished. There is no temporary insanity plea here – I beg to butcher someone who pleads otherwise. These acts are calculated and pure lust indulgence. A need to overpower rather than just ‘do it’. I want to ask the very smart and opinionated politicians and pseudo public figures if they would stand by their very intelligent quotes and thoughts had one of their own family members been at the receiving end of such ‘events’.  True that many would ‘honor’ family name and sign off on it with “aisa hota hai”. I am ashamed to admit that’s what happens here in mass proportions; almost like a by law or a family tradition. Fathers and brothers ‘teaching lessons’ through the act of violation; in-laws treating daughter-in-laws like legally acquired fully time whores and friends betraying trusts or exacting revenge in groups and making video clips like they are freaking Speilberg.

What’s worse here is not the crime or the victim here. It’s the LACK OF FEAR AND DISREGARD FOR THE LAW. There is no boundary or red line. Our system is so flawed, it almost allows provisions to those who rape, pillage, plunder and murder. The Middle East and Pakistan and Afghanistan and any-istans cannot be labeled the new destinations for all Dawoods. India is the new haven. They all make visits here, do their business and walk out through the appropriate red and green channels. In the week that Nirbhaya was battling for her life and the country against the ghastly judiciary, there were 20+ reported cases of rapes, some similar to Nirbhaya, in the same week. These are just the reported ones. Need I say more! The revised judiciary examines rape with a cracked magnifying glass. There are categories such as: rape+death; gang rape; rape according to age; rape and its outcome; rape by who and how many; rape or ‘simply’ molestation and assault etc. I want to laugh out loud. Laugh and then break something.

Should I have a daughter? Yes I will. Should I be afraid? Hell yeah I will be very afraid. Will I have assurance, security and support as a sister, daughter, mother, wife, girlfriend etc? Of that there is no guarantee. Will they break me? NO. Will being overly cautious, looking over my shoulder, being suspicious and confining myself and my choices forever be the right way to go? Who knows maybe; but it sure as shit won’t be a human life. Will I listen to and obey a man? I will listen to him and hear him out, if he does likewise. Do I believe in the sanctity of any relationship or faith? I will if that relationship is honored in the way that it treats me as an equal and not a weak WOMAN. Will people aid and help strangers? It’s hard to answer.

Mera Bharat mahaan. Mera ‘Tharki’ Bharat mahaan!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVVtO-ctuc4

One Last deTour

“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry child… See heaven’s got a plan for you. Don’t you worry, don’t you worry now”

They came, they raved, they left. Swedish House Mafia that is. One sweet sunny noon on 22 Jan 2013, I gave 2 hoots about the day, took off from work, spared the urge to check my BB, dug into my almost shallow savings and RAVED at the Sunburn Arena , Mahalaxmi Race Course. I had a good friend Banguela for company. Ironic as his apelido means ‘old man’. He was anything but an old hobbit for a 1^st timer both as an SHM fan and a concerter.

This was 1 event I ho-hummed my way to. I am an SHM fan… nah I’m an SHM junkie as much as I am an EDM, psychedelic trance and all pulse-rhythmic beats junkie. Hence, I was well aware that missing the concert would be a huge regret for me. I had attended many in the past mostly for the hype or cause of my ex-BF who was a huge metal and rock fan. This was purely for me. The passes had sold out faster than our IRCTC tickets aeons ago and I was getting poorer by the minute. I had the evilest sense of satisfaction when the 1^st concert was canned due to the ‘untimely’ demise of the Sena Tiger. Somehow, I took it upon myself that Gods were giving me a 2^nd chance to reconsider if I would go. And ‘go’ I did thanks to last minute passes which btw were not hard to get.

At the venue, other revelers begged for some nasty tweets from me. But thanks to the almost dear dying battery on my BB, I saved it for fighting with Banguela followed by some videos and pictures. Of course Mr. Samsung Galaxy just had to save the day. What I couldn’t see from my rather small frame, was made up on the screen of the ‘old man’s’ fone. The girls dressed in their best bare-minimum and the fellas were covered in smoke and confusion bordering on puberty and stupidity. I could tell most weren’t even followers of the music or must’ve heard a few tracks like revising the night before for an exam 1 must face.

The whole experience was exhilarating. It wasn’t exhausting and annoying like the previous concerts I had been to. It was well-worth every penny I spent and the experience was beyond me. An awesome view of the stage, the lights, the set-up, sound out-put and the overall crowd was balanced for me. The weather was perfect, the company was memorable, decent amount of spirit in my system (emotional and liquid) and I hoped the night wouldn’t end but, end it did. I didn’t care about anything. The music pulsated through the ground and it felt like a curtain of sound and waves had covered me. I had to constantly look around me to ensure I was still where I had started moving into a trance like state and more importantly I hadn’t lost banguela to the very un-still crowd. The SHM trio were interactive and kept us on our toes. The whole ‘We love you India’ signature was always a crowd puller and so was tugging at the emotional strings ‘You waited for us and here we are.’ Hell yeah we waited and really appreciate that they didn’t diss us but actually fit us in to make up for the unnecessary cancellation, thanks to the Sena Tiger. Nik Chinapa should be commended for carrying and toasting this whole thing fwd. #Epicwin. I was intoxicated by everything that evening and kept wanting for more.

Now in a sober state and surrounding, I will also had a line or 2 of marvel at Suburn/Submerge/Percept’s organization of the event. Sure they must’ve incurred losses and darned sure they made up those losses from the massive sale of the very expensive passes. But the organization, venue and whole setup earned an overall ‘kuddos’. I was excited like a teenager for my wristband, which btw I haven’t taken off yet. Emotional attachment doesn’t beg for age or gender, please. I have been snooty ever since to those who missed it. I can imagine there was a time, almost 24hrs before the concert that I wouldn’t have made it and would have been at the receiving end of the snoot.

Currently I’m battling huge withdrawal symptoms fuelled by a constant rerun of the SHM songs on my poor ipod. Not to mention a frantic download of anything and every song that remotely sounded like an SHM mix. I really hope this is a temporary hiatus as they realize what an impact their ingeniously crafted and executed One Last Tour has done. It was near world domination, if 1 views their tour dates and the rate at which every venue sold out.

I will miss the strobe lights that made a spectacular play just above me and the pulsating warm ground beneath my dancing feet. I will miss the breathless crowd in front of me and the 1 that had me for the whole evening!

........ 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 7^th Annual Batizado e Troca de Cordao will begin…

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

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 1^st 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 3^rd 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 1^st bridge is ‘R’. The remaining 2 I watch and covet everyday and they burn me from inside out. Bridges…. 

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 1^st 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.

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 1^st 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!

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.