Change, is the way it is.

Why was I getting pissed at his comment, I wondered. I could feel the smoke rising up and out of my ears over and over again. This was nothing unusual. Then why do I react so much? And when will I learn to simply not take it in. I sigh to myself. What is preventing me from doing that ‘take-a-deep-breath’ exercise to calm myself down? My ego. I had the answer. And I had the next question ready too. Am I enjoying the pain, the irritability, the anger? When I know its not good for me, then why am I not doing something about it? Perhaps this is one question I will never find an answer to, ever!
For a lot of people like me, in my generation (I don’t know much about the older one here), this is a common issue—not knowing why we make the same folly every time. All that we’re left with, is a sigh. I don’t like this sort of an existence. After a point of time, you get used to it, and then when you want to come out of it, you realize you’re just too old to change now. What the hell!
Am I really too old to change? I doubt so. The way I see it, I am never too old to change. And why is it a crime to change once you know WHAT you have to and what you WANT to change about yourself? Why must I be seen as a hypocrite if I want to change something about myself? There is a thin line there, I guess. Either I change what I need to change about myself and do it fast, or change what I WANT to change and subsequently follow the crowd. That is not changing, then. That is simply, aping. And very equivalent to monkeying around too.
Perhaps what is needed is to just be simple. Know what is good for you. Know what is not good for you. And most of us are endowed with a moderately sensible notion of good and bad in our mind. And you cannot deny that there IS a good and a bad, a black and a white. And a grey. What we need to know is that you do not need to stick to either the black or the white, the good or the bad. Just on the stuff that lies in the middle. The greys. Its ok to have a bit of black and bit of white in you. Whats important is to KNOW them all—the blacks, the whites and the greys. KNOW them and your conscience will take care of the rest.
Now that I am through with the post, I guess I can do that ‘take-a-deep-breath’ exercise. But hey, I might drop off. Hell, what was it all about in the first place?!

Whitewash Blues

A few weekends ago, an event took place in our house. An event that shall go down the annals of the history of the RM Household, cuz we got our house whitewashed after 8 damn years! A lot of junk was pulled out, to my mother’s joy and dad’s dismay, and a lot of the junk was thrown away too. In the midst of it all, I found a treasure. My little pink sipper I used to insist on drinking milk from as a tiny tot. It was quite a treasure and while my mom insisted on putting it in the pile of junk to be disposed off, I secretly hid it in my bag. I had decided I would keep it for my child (someday!)and even dreamt of making it some sort of an heirloom!

There was a lot of confusion all day and the men who came to do the work were more boys than men, in the sense of the mess that they made of the house thereafter. Though, on second thoughts, I guess messing things up is common to both men and boys. The floor was caked with white paint and after they left, we had a hard time cleaning up the mess, to the extent of abusing our body! Nevertheless, the confusion that ensued all day was indeed quite a sight. My father was busy giving the men instructions about the art of painting a house, as if it was Greek to them. I was amazed at their patience and wondered about the fatal moment when they would hand him the paint brush in a fit and exit safely. I wondered at mom’s stamina too. As if cleaning up the house wasn’t tough enough, she made it a point to make snacks for the boys and fed them too. And I was busy pulling my hair apart cleaning up the mess, rummaging through the junk that my parents had managed to create in 30 years, watching my parents’ idiosyncrasies and cursing the obnoxious boys, in my mind, who couldn’t keep their eyes in their work.

A week after the storm had passed, one cold winter night, just as I was inside the Rajai, feeling the warmth settling in on my toes, my eyes fell on the tip of my ceiling, and a portion of the paint on the wall coming off. I felt the blood rushing to my head as I cursed the boys for doing a shoddy job, but I held myself and let it out in a very deep sigh. Damn! Life is a bitch sometimes, and boys can only mess things up!! All of that effort gone a waste, I wonder when this sarkari house that the government has kindly bestowed on us, will flow out of proportion. These guys have some talent for making a mess of every thing they touch.

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On a Tweet...

I happened to read Shashi Tharoor's Tweet today where he mentioned that he is going to Mumbai today for the 26/11 Commemoration, and to meet some families affected by the attack, etc. I cannot help but comment on this, though I know it might be purposeless. But I really don’t care. And I don’t think it’s a crime to not care.

I want to ask Mr Tharoor what exactly his intention is in doing this. I assume that he is most likely to say the most cliché statement about wanting to "share their sorrow" and all that crap, to show how he as a minister is also one with the masses. I do not doubt his credibility as a diplomat. But I cannot help feel the prick when I see hypocrisy shoved at my face in this manner. Perhaps I could raise a thousand questions, along with the billion other Indians who complain about politicians doing their job well in playing politics as long as it ends there. But is this it? I want to ask him—and then what??? Why is it that one year down, we're still "trying" Kasab??? Where is the action? The reason why I gulp down that question every time it pops up is that I know there will be a 1000 answers and justifications for it. And, well, also the fact that I am in no hurry to be one of those billions who ask the same question.

But the political side of it apart, perhaps it’s an example enough for us to question ourselves—how often do we do this ourselves? Hypocrisy. Trying to show the world how good we are. Are we not constantly trying to prove ourselves to the world? Perhaps a few hot blooded youngsters might argue back about living for ourselves, working for ourselves, and we ourselves being the benchmarks of our own progress. But trust me, its all utter nonsense!

I have been working in the publishing industry for the past five months. I joined this company thinking I am doing something to satisfy my creative urge, as it was considered by many, from the conservative Mallu background that I belong to, as an "unconventional" profession (I really wonder why!). My knowledge about the field, when I had started, was just next to nil which, coupled with the inadequate presentation of my skills during my interview, led me to be placed at the post of a copy editor, which then I had thought was quite exciting and creative. But over these five months, things revealed themselves more clearly, and the ignorance was wiped off my face, rather rudely. I realized that I am just about somewhere near the bank of a huge ocean that I have to cross, to reach somewhere in life, as far as my career is concerned. Am I in a hurry? Not really. But the question that troubled me was not the hurry, but the same old question that I had started out with in the first place...Is my creative urge satisfied? And I sadly shook my head.

The reason why I began with this monologue about my unsatisfactory job in the first place, was because I realized a lot of truths in these five months. I realized, when I went for my first holiday after joining my work (trekking up to 13000ft), that all this talk about "doing what you like rather than liking what you do" is utter nonsense. I believe whatever field you choose, whether it is creative or not, does get stagnant after a point of time. And you are left asking for more. It is human nature to constantly seek change. And the only option I am left with now, is to satisfy my creative urge by doing things I like in my spare time, while I continue doing my job (till I am driven to the point of madness thanks to the purely mechanical nature of the job and a thousand other things of course). Perhaps there are more options out there. And my friends do ask me not to arrive at conclusions already. But why is it that I feel ready to chuck my job in merely 5 months???

And what does this have to do with hypocricy? Everything. But then on second thoughts, I guess at every juncture in life, I will stop and ask myself not whether I did the right thing in doing what I did, or jumping into whatever I jumped into, but what I learnt from all of that or whether I did indeed learn anything from all of it. And that I guess is how life moves on. Why judge things? Why the hurry to categorize things into good and bad? (this can go on and on I guess)

How does it help me? I guess it saves me a lot of conscience pricking. For, I am not claiming to make thousand people smile. And ultimately in life, I think if I can make someone’s life better, it is only through improving myself as a person. Only then can I serve to be an example to another. Whatever is in my ability to help another, I will do. But deep in my heart, I would know that I am not doing it to put up a goody-goody face before the world. It is to be good to myself, and to respect the life I have got. And if that helps to help someone, isn’t it all worth it? Whatsay, Mr Tharoor?