Fragile Human Spirit

What do you do when you're torn right down the centre? When you feel like life is all about choices but it is impossible to choose? Is it possible to exist in this vague irresolute spot that exists between the binaries?

Is it possible to love someone so much that all you want to do is shield them and protect them from the world? I’ve seen the world and the people in it. I’ve been hurt and shattered by them. I’ve also fought my way back to sanity.. putting together the shards of my human spirit and dignity. Putting on my armor, all I want to do is protect my loved one from feeling this agony. No sadness must touch that soul; no despair can cast its shadow. Like a warrior I shield his spirit. Like an animal, my instinct is to guard him. Like a mother, I want to cradle him. Yes, no harm will ever come his way. No frown will ever crease his brow. No fear will ever keep him up at night. Every second of this life, I stand in alert vigil.

What happens then, if that source of sorrow is me? What if I’ve been busy building a fortress around him to keep other people out, and failed to notice that I’ve trapped him in here with me. Me – the person who wanted to protect him, now a source of agony and heartbreak. Am I selfish? Did I set him up? After all that’s said and done, can I now make a choice that will shatter his soul and leave him jaded? The morbid irony of life almost amuses me and I struggle to feel sane. Sshhhh! I calm the voices in my head. Who am I to hurt him? Who am I to hurt anyone? Perhaps selfishness is a sin. Perhaps wanting to be happy is too high a cost to pay. Perhaps, this is what life is… to live for someone else. Perhaps…

So amidst the torment and the pain that has somehow leaked into our lives, I withdraw silently and remain the unattainable.

Men and Fidelity

Yesterday a friend and I talked about the most random things under the sun. Amidst much mindless chatter, he said something that caught my attention. He said, “A man is only as faithful as his options”. In response to my quizzical look he patiently explained, “If a man has many options, many pretty young things throwing themselves at him, he’s bound to cheat but if he’s a fat account that other women don’t notice, he’ll be the most loyal husband or boyfriend”. I have no idea why this statement shocked me so much. I mean, I think this is a fact that most women already know. I guess hearing it out loud gave it a sense of finality. I’m sure men have their theories about women too, but I’m not here to play the devil’s advocate. As a woman, I have serious issues with the notion that a man is only faithful until he realizes he can get someone better!

Given that we know this or sadder, accept this, why do we then continue to set ourselves up? Is it the hope that maybe, just maybe, our current companion will find us worth the effort? The prayers we send up to heaven at night, “Please God, let him be The One” are so easily sabotaged by a straying eye. Is this what relationships have become? Is this what we’ve come to accept? Whatever happened to “unconditional love” and “forever”? For the few of us who still hold on to old-world notions of romance, are we just delusional? I refuse to be a bench warmer until some younger, sexier nymph comes along. I want to be with someone who will wake up every morning, thankful that he has me in his life. So would it be ok if I could mourn the loss of someone? Could you grant me permission to feel like life is just not the same? Could I be allowed to miss him and crave his touch? Could you indulge me when I feel like life just cannot go on?

To those of you who have lost your sensitivity… to those of you who feel like relationships have lost their meaning, I have only this to say, relationships are as special as we make them. Don’t let them fade away. I read this poem recently and I’m posting it here in the hope that someone out there will find that lost spark in their life.

"After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't mean security;
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises...
And you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
and learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight...
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers,
and you learn that you really can endure...
that you really are strong,
and you really do have worth,
and you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn."

- Anne Bradstreet

Changing Priorities

I have a box of treasures that I keep hidden under my bed. The other day I pulled out this box and remembered a childhood I had left behind long, long ago. In this box I found an essay I had written when I was ten years old. The topic of the essay was 'How I want the world to be' and my English teacher had given me three stars and an 'Excellent' for it. Now, close to two decades later, I can't even remember a time when life was so simple and desires so innocent. Yes, I have grown up but have I lost some piece of my self along the way? Am I jaded? Is there a way back to the ecstasy of childhood abandon? Here's the essay exactly the way it was written all those years ago:

The world I would love will have to be full of peace and love. People should live and let live, and never discriminate between themselves. This would be the ideal world for me. There should be no wars and people should be able to tolerate each other. There should be religious tolerance and no fights over land. The wold should be such that policemen, lawyers and judges should all be out of work! All of us should be understanding and not cheat each other. But apart from all these, there could be a few more changes in the world.

As a child I would love for the clouds of the world to be made of candy floss; the sea should be made of Pepsi; the barks of the tree should be made of rich, dark chocolate and the leaves of these trees should be made of candy. I would also want there to be a lot of trees around everywhere so that I can climb on them and play.I want the world to be full of fun and humor. the words hate, way, discrimination and killing should be erased from the memory and minds of people. They should even disappear from the dictionary.

Then the world would be full of love and harmony. Instead of horrible words like hate etc., love, peace, caring, understanding and harmony should be put into the minds of people. This is my dream of how I want the world to be and I hope that someday, if not all of it, at least half my dream should come true.

That was the essay - a child's dream for the future. Nope, none of that has come true. The adult in me had replaced the child's innocent fantasy. What's worse is that the rate at which our world is progressing, I'm fairly certain these will just remain unfulfilled dreams. But the clouds of candy floss, ocean of Pepsi and trees of candy and chocolate... hmmm, I think I'll hold on to that dream!

Persecution of a Hero

As I type, the 5th ODI between India and Australia is unfurling rather distastefully for many of us. The intention behind this blog is not to dissect or analyise the match. I don’t intend to examine strategies or discuss tactics. My sole intention is to tell people to BACK OFF!

Sachin’s name has gone down in history as one of the greatest sportsmen ever. This isn’t even open to debate. To people across the globe from different strata of society, Sachin has been a hero. Irrespective of the color of our skin or the religions we segregate ourselves into, Sachin has consistently unified us in our love and admiration for him. Yes my generation has lived the dream – we’ve grown up with a legend. We’ve watched him become the formidable force that he is today and on behalf of my entire generation I say, thank you Sachin!

Yes, we love him! Yes, we worship him! But can we sit back for just one moment and acknowledge how tough a road it has been for him? When you’re placed on a pedestal, your every move is scrutinized and worse, criticized. For decades now, our hero has maintained his quiet dignity and done what he loves best – he’s played cricket with all his heart and soul. How do you imagine it feels to be blamed for a nation’s loss? When our team loses, we pick one person to victimize and blame. I’m sorry, but this makes no sense to me! Yes, today’s score is disappointing at best but to every blog that blames Sachin or claims that Sachin should retire, I have only this to say – Take a close look at today’s score card. With the exception of Zaheer Khan and Irfan Pathan, the rest of the team's collective runs is STILL NOT EVEN CLOSE to what Sachin scored! So all you critics out there, until you can live your life like Sachin has, until you can display skills remotely close to Sachin’s poetic ease on the field, until you can make your country proud like Sachin has, I suggest you switch your channel to one of the many hindi soaps on air.

I’ve never been more proud of this gentle person with the spirit of a giant. In an interview with a television journalist when asked about his career having more lows than highs, Sachin’s response spoke volumes about his quiet confidence. "Go and check up the records," he shot back. "I think you are watching a different game."

Hold on… what’s that I hear? Silence? I thought so!

Khaled Hosseini Made Me Cry

Dear Mr. Hosseini,

This is to inform you that like most men in my life, you made me cry. Now, before you begin to wonder what this is about, no - you've never met me. You don't even know who I am or what I look like. I live half way across the world from you. Yet you made me cry and for that, I thank you!

Emotionally Yours,
Retro Ro

I am an avid reader. Some of my most prized possessions include books that have moved me. I happened to see a copy of Khaled Hosseini's 'The Kite Runner' lying on my cousin's bed one day. Books have a way of drawing me to them and as always, I gave in to the powerful force. After reading just three pages, I was hooked! I spent the rest of the evening with Amir and Hassan and realized soon enough that I couldn't get through the night without finding out what happens to these wonderful characters. I bought myself a copy on the way home (my cousin refused to part with her copy and protected it rather fiercely!) and gave up human company in favor of these lives that were unfolding in front of my eyes. I sobbed for Hassan and worried about Sohrab. I felt Amir's anguish; his urgency to resolve things and make amends. I cried and I cried and the people in this story became real to me. I felt like I was reading the diary of someone I knew really well.

Then one day while at a book store, I saw the latest arrivals. I abandoned my long list of things to buy, only to rush home and begin reading Hosseini's new novel 'A Thousand SplendidSuns'. My mother recognized the signs immediately and knew not to disturb me. I battled with the frustration of life getting in the way - I hated the long breaks from the book while I was at work or other such things. It took me a little longer to finish this book only because I had to sneak in reading sessions between "more important things". This heart-wrenching novel knocked the wind out of me. It moved me intensely. I felt every emotion Mariam felt. I cried for her and her lifetime of emptiness. I cried for Laila and the cruelty of her fate. I cried and I cried...

So you see, I mean it in the best way possible when I say that Khaled Hosseini made me cry. To be able to write words that will move someone so deeply and so strongly, is a gift. He is now one of my favorite authors and I join millions of other fans as we wait eagerly for his next work of art.

Take a bow, Mr.Hosseini!

Like Water in a Jar

Things change, sometimes too easily. It is so much worse when one person changes and leaves the other picking at shards of what once was a great relationship. Why do people get left behind? So now he's gone and she sits there silently, quietly, barely moving.. like water in a jar. She waits. She waits for him to come back so she can feel those ripples of joy again. She sits and waits..

They used to be 'us'. Now they're just two lonely people trying to forget each other. She struggles to forget the way his arm felt around her waist.; the way his hair felt in her hands; the way his smell lingered on her pillow; the way he chewed when he ate; she struggles. He dies a little when he thinks he sees her face in a crowd. He urges himself to forget her soft skin and the way she fit just perfectly in his arms. He pushes away the thought of her warmth and those eyes that spoke. They struggle to forget each other's names.

What came between them? They try to find an answer - as though an answer would alleviate they sorrow. They try to vindicate their feelings. Perhaps they were too young. Perhaps their dreams got in the way. Perhaps they just weren't the same people they were all those years ago. Sometimes, life's biggest tragedies boil down to the simplest things. Yes, they just weren't the same people.

So now they sit, each in their own world. He finds comfort in the new surroundings and she clings on the familiarity of the old. As sunset's shadow descends on their insipid lives, they put together pieces of their memory so as to not lose the past entirely. But memory can be cruel - some moments get lost along the way and slowly you begin to lose the person entirely. So now they sit and remember their lost companions, hoping that maybe one day sweet release will make them forget their names.

Happiness is a T.Shirt

Most of us spend an entire lifetime wondering what real happiness is all about. We spend our days in pursuit of this supposedly elusive emotion, but do we really stop to realize that happiness is really easy to find? Let me explain -

I have a cousin who is now fourteen years old. Like most kids her age, she's going through those tumultuous teenage phases and I must say, mostly with grace. As if raging hormones weren't enough, she also happens to be the only child of parents who cocoon her with their love. I love this little girl and have watched her grow up. Like i said previously, this baby of the family has done pretty well for herself so far. Now coming to this moment of pristine happiness that I was fortunate enough to be a part of..

She was a huge football fan and like any kid her age, longed for the much coveted jersey of her favorite team. Now came the problem. Where usually her every whim was fulfilled, her parents suddenly put their foot down and refused to grant her his prized possession. (In their defense, it was rather expensive and didn't come in her size anyway!) With the grace of a woman, this little girl let it go. She understood that her parents had a point and decided to just let the issue slide. She continued to worship her team and they continued to win despite the fact that she didn't wear the jersey to show her support.

Then came her birthday and a good samaritan decided to buy her this jersey. She of course, had no clue. It was my responsibility to pass this gift on to her as the good samaritan couldn't be present himself. So on her birthday, she was showered with gifts and the family gathered to celebrate. When all the excitement had died down, I slowly reached into my bag and passed her a gift-wrapped bundle. Another gift! She was happy. She slowly unwrapped the gift and looked at what was inside. She looked and it took her a few seconds to realize what it was, and then I saw the most spontaneous display of happiness I've ever seen - she burst into tears! This little child was so overwhelmed by the kindness of this gift, that her entire being quivered with joy and burst out in tears!

Yes, this was one happy child! I then looked around the room and smiled at what I saw. A room full of adults struggled to hold back their own tears - some failing rather miserably! This spontaneous display of euphoric happiness from a child, had moved even the hardest of hearts. I quickly ducked out of the room before anyone could see my own eyes filling up. Yes, happiness is a T.Shirt!

P.S. Thank you Good Samaritan! You have no idea how much your gift means to so many of us!

Silences

They had been together for ever. That’s how it felt to her – forever. As she sat there in the living room looking at the television she almost had to laugh at the farce their lives had become. They sat together in silence every night looking at the same television but their thoughts were always a million miles away. They would sit there a few feet apart from each other, thankful for the loud noises and disturbing images of the TV show as it distracted them from the abyss their relationship had slipped into. So night after night, they sat there – two strangers under the same roof, living a lie.

She liked these silences. Silence was good. It was the screaming and shouting, the abuses and vindictive words that she couldn’t take. For months now, their passionate caresses had been replaced by restrained and accidental brushes. Their longing whispers had given way to venomous words that neither of them could control. The resentment seemed to free-flow at the drop of the hat and she couldn’t understand why. She remembered a time they had met as kids and fallen in love – a time when their love was perfect. She remembered the elaborate dreams they had for their future together and now she sat there looking for traces of that love. As usual, she remained hopeful that maybe someday soon, they would go back to being themselves. Maybe their lives would collide into each other again and love would heal everything. She hoped and she hoped.

The agony of those estranged months slowly tore her up inside. But she held on. She owed it to him, to the past seven years, to at least try to work this out. When lashed out at her, she screamed back. Then slowly she would reach out to him and look for some middle ground. After strained words and many tears, the anger would fade and silence would take its place. Each night as she went to bed, she ignored the space between them and held on tight to the memories of a time when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “I’ll die without you. I’m nothing without you” he had once sobbed into her shoulder. She had held him close and whispered “I’ll always love you. I’ll always be right here.” Love. She wondered where all the love had gone.

As she sat there that night, enveloped in these thoughts of their love, she slowly looked over at him. She did not want to start a fight. Tonight, she felt weak. She would not be able to bear his angry taunts and irate screams. She knew it would break her. So, despite all these thoughts, she just sat there and looked at him. As her eyes searched every inch of him – that face and body she knew so well – she longed to see a shadow of the man who had swept her off her feet. The gentleness of his face had made way for a harsh and bitter man. She watched him as he sat there with his eyes transfixed to the television. This was the most civil they had been with each other in a long time. Yes, silence was good. As he raised his glass to his lips and watched the golden glow of the whiskey he had been drinking. She could not remember a time in the recent past when she had seen him without his glass in hand.

He emptied his glass in a swift gulp and got up to fix another. As he stumbled past her to re-fill his drink, she whispered “I don’t love you anymore.” She barely heard herself. With a deep breath she said to his turned back, “I don’t love you anymore.” This time they both heard it. He gulped a shot of whiskey and slowly turned to her. “What?” he asked wearily. “I said, I don’t love you anymore”, she said as she looked him straight in the eye. She was right, she didn’t recognize him anymore. They stood there in silence again but this time, it was a silence of peace, of understanding. Their eyes searched each other for a faint glimpse of what they used to be but they met with nothing but silence. Their eyes locked for what seemed like eternity. It was the longest they had been able to look at each other without contempt. Then, slowly she turned away and walked out the door. She had no idea what kind of life she was walking towards, but she knew that she was walking away from a life that wasn’t hers – it hadn’t been for a long time now.