A nosey affair.

Walking back from work on a friday evening is always funny. You have loads of uncomplete work for coming week. And you have loads of work to complete in weekend. So was I there, walking home on a friday. Thinking hard, thinking nothing. When a rain drop hit me, from no where and dropped straight on my nose!!

It comes as a mild shock when a drop of water hits you on nose. Something like when you are concentrating hard on a speaker, in a meeting room. And suddenly you are so over-powered by sleep that you dont even come to know when you slept. With a jerk goes your elbow, off the arm-rest. And you realize.. damn I was sleeping. Just as the jerks pulls you out of the sleep, the rain drop pulled me off my self-eneveloped world. Where I was only craving for some good food and a good nights sleep.

I look around and realize it is night. Feel the damp air, realize that it is going to rain. And realize that yes there is a world out there which does not go by plans, schedules, and time. So I let the drop guide me. I decide to walk till the drop turns to rains, washes me down. Something that I didnt plan for, that didnt fit in my schedule and for which there was no time. As we all know there will not be again, till a tiny drop hits me, right on my nose.

Resignation and nostalgia

Giving resignation makes you funnily emotional. How much ever you hated your work or people or anything one still gets emotional.

The urge to hug the HR and tell her everthing will be alright. Smile funnily rather stupidly at the not working printer in a this-never-worked-and-will-never-work way. Sighing big time before handing your age old id card "Yeah yeah that is me, yes yes I was that thin a few years back, I always wondered how the security recognized me!!". You tend to get more friendly with all irritating human like beings whose existence you had denied all the time. Be extra good and not only recognize them but also say a word or two. Telling them best of luck for there future and wondering is there a future!!

And finally on your way out, giving an extra wide grin to the security and saying a heartfelt thank you for frisking you so thoroughly, as if you are in habit of carrying bombs to work. You would have actually, given a chance. Probably a few automatic weapons as well, they are always handy. And for the last time you dont even haggle with the autowala for charging you 5-10 rps more "Aah! let it go, anyhow this is the last visit!"

What is loneliness.

Is it cry of a lonely bird,
heard on a quiet rainy day.
Or is it that silent ticking of a clock,
unheard otherwise.

Or may be it is those serene nights,
when we don't speak; or else,
the magic spell of the night will be broken.
Or it is the rising sun,
in all its grandeur, making everything sublime in its presence,
that I watch in awe standing on my terrace.
Or is it the those lazy afternoons,
when I can hear the leaves rustle...

Or is it that strange feeling,
that creeps into me, when I am,
in the middle of a crowd...
and suddenly I'm detached from it.
Smiling foolishly at people unheard,
inside wanting to run away...

May be loneliness is me turning into myself,
me finally getting up and...
walking away from that crowd.

Living as an Empath.

An Empath is some one who understand others emotions. To put it simply.

But how hard or easy life will be once you are an empath. When you feel everybody's pain right on. If not at an equal level probably to some amount. When one cannot handle ones own pain, how can one handle ten different kinds of pain and trouble and emotions.

Wont that also give us a deep understanding of all around us. What makes them do, things they do. We will be more understanding more tolerant. We will handle all situations tactfully, the world will be a different place.

Somewhere I believe that we all have an empath within us. Just that we dont explore it beyond our loved ones, isnt it always good to blame rather than sit and think what caused all this. Or best shut off our brains as we know the situation is not going to last for long, so why try to understand.

All said and done, being an empath will be terrible, cause then I'l know that I have no one to blame as I understand who-dunnit-why :-)

A dash of stardust pls.

This is a real sweet dialog I heard in the movie "Stardust". I could not but think of preserving it some place for me to come back and read it again and again. So what better place then my blog :-)

"You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I'm trying to say, Tristan is... I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it's trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no fits. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine."

The hint of a smell.

Have you ever travelled down the memory lane just by the hint of a smell. The smell of tadka and fresh made rotis take me back home. And it is hard not to remember my mom. How she struggled to teach me cooking. Constantly nagging me to get the perfect round roti. When I used to carry my books in kitchen, read aloud my lessons and make rotis in 11th std. And ending up making maps of non-existent countries. I still do curse my brothers for making fun of my rotis and never appreciating it when now I am a roti pro.

I must be too much of a foodie cause the next smell etched in my memory is that of my moms cake. I went to this random bakery shop, and it had its oven just backdoor, and there was this strong mixed fragrance of vanilla, baked floor, cinnamons, sweet hot vapours coming out of that door. The bakery still comes alive in front of my eyes, and I did compliment the owner that you have floored me long before buying anything, how he smiled generously and talked very warmly to me. That bakery shop transported me to our house where I was handyman of my mom when baking cakes. cleaning, clearing clutter, cutting things, at beck and call. Me and my family used to poke our noses 10 times in the oven to check if the cake is done or not. And the house was filled with warmth and sweet smelling spices.

The smell of wet grass, decaying leaves reminds me of my university days, when we went hunting for boundaries of our 2400 acres of university. Some wild spirit we had.

The smell of dry grass reminds me of hot summer. Scortching heat of southern India.

The distant smell of cold fresh breeze brings back memories of the cloudy skies, that soon transform there colors to darker shades of grey and then you see rain descending down. The rain lashes the earth and a hot puff of steam from the ground hits your senses. Soon you are surrounded by the earthen smell, the cloudy skies, the cold rain water. And it reminds of some long forgotten hard to recollect memory that leaves you sighing.

And my romance with smells continues, wanting for more.

In search of peace.

I was recently at a home decor expo with my friends. Time and again I have seen Buddha paintings at such expos and usual home decor shops. I always wondered when am I going to paint one. There is something about this painting that I always liked. And I know what it is. It brings a sense of peace to me whenever I look at those closed eyes and calm face. There was a vague idea if I could manage to get, even a hint of that peace in the painting I'l get some peace for myself.