Reflections of a restless eccentric

I've just come back from a distasteful encounter--one I deemed a friendly personal visit turned out to be yet another coercion attempt into something I wasn't interested in.I have a go-to-hell attitude reserved for such occasions but I can't infuse politeness into it:P I call it the barrel of gun manner--ice-cold and scary. I envy people who can be polite in these situations though.That reminded me of my Mom.She can tell you to go to hell and make it sound like you've been given an invitation to the most exclusive event in the world.It's one of the amazing qualities she's been bestowed with or cultivated--really don't know which. And that's when I realised that as my eternal muse,it's only fair that she gets an entire series that's about her and dedicated to her.She's lived quite an interesting life.:P Side note:A lot of stuff on this blog is personal.I'm considering getting a second blog for these and moving articles there.I don&#

Written at lunch on a dreary day Abstract. Imaginary. Don't question me :p Once upon a time I wished for this very moment To bask in its magical glory To feel all that I dreamt of Imagined the ecstatic happiness it would bring me Then I realized that some dreams Are meant to be just dreams Time flew past till the glitter faded away And all that remained were embers of a once bright fire Now, when I've all but convinced myself Life decides to taunt me By dangling my long forgotten wish Right in front of my eyes It shimmers so beautifully If I stretch my hand just a little I can reach out and touch it Yet all I feel is fear--fear that it'll vanish the moment I touch it Maybe all of this is a figment of my imagination It's better if I call this wishful thinking And unsee everything I (think I) saw For a forgotten dream is better than a shattered one It's ironic how life gives you what you want At a point when you no longer know what to

I might as well write something while I wallow in sorrow:) Marked personal.Again,I don't mind people reading.Not so sad.It's your call,Reader. My mother and father,in terms of their personalities,are placed at extreme opposites of the spectrum.My dad seems extremely emotionless and cold,while my Mom is overtly emotional and impulsive.My dad is short-tempered while my Mom never loses hers.My Dad is highly impatient and my Mom is the epitome of patience.The list goes on and on.Ideally,you'd expect me to be the perfect combination of the two,having inherited both of their qualities.Ah,if only natural selection were that simple:P--Darwin wouldn't have written Origin of Species. I am not the balance between them--instead I seem to have both sets of traits in me.Depending on the circumstance,one of them dominates.This almost makes me sound like I'm bipolar:P To be fair to them,they both also have a lot in common.For instance,they're both workaholics.Used to be

Warning:I write this in soul-wrenching agony,in an overwhelming need to attain catharsis. Read only if you can take it! I write here knowing that not many people will read. Still,this happens to be really personal--if you're looking for something normal,please read some other post. I come home to find a parcel containing something that I'd ordered.I open it impatiently to find that it's exactly as I imagined it to be.I knock on my Mom's door,knowing that she's busy,yet all too eager to show her.She opens the door in the midst of a patient's consultation.The look on her face makes my stomach turn over. Brain hemorrhage ,she says. She's in the ICU.Not more than a week.They already got the forms signed.Need cash.Draw some when free. Her sentences are terse,probably trying to keep emotions at bay while she's at work.But her eyes are bottomless pools of agony.She promptly shuts the door and goes back to work.She's what they call a karmayogi . Profes

Dedicated to one of my closest and most interesting friends,Siva. A year ago, a dozen of us stepped into this hostel as perfect strangers. Now it feels like these dozen people are a part of my family. I thought I'd have two years with them,but I'm already bidding my first adieu. It's a bit early, but feels every bit as sad. Meet Siva. I first thought of her as an ordinary person. Soon,I got to know her well enough and that notion vanished in its entirety. :P She's one of the most interesting people you'd meet. Far from normal. I like this because the world is filled to the brim with boringly normal people. At times,she would be quiet for days on end. In the beginning,we all used to ask her if everything was fine and wonder if she's upset. We soon realized that those silences were a part of her. Again, this is something I like --digression, these silences remind me of Sherlock, but then a lot of things in this universe do :p. Getting back, I like th

I'm what you'd call an early bird .That term,by itself has undergone considerable mutilation over the years.For instance,my grandfather would call someone who woke up at 3:45 am an early bird.This period is called Brahma Samayam in Sanskrit.Someone who wakes up at this time would be closer to attaining divine qualities,or so they say.He also believes that anyone who wakes up after sunrise will become lazier and acquire asura-like qualities:P Now my Mom and Dad would call people who wake up between 4.30-5 early birds.One more generation down the line is me.6 am belongs to the wee hours of the morning for me.Most of my generation would sadly disagree with me.I know a lot of people who consider 8-9 as very very early.Sigh! Anyway,I don't mean to say I wake up early and wait for it to dawn.It's just that I like being early to work or college.This habit started in early childhood.When I was in school,I used to be more or less the first one in (excluding the guard :P). I

I've been meaning to write about this from a long time.It's part of a larger rant I have about the world and its stereotypes.I've given it a lot of thought over the years;wondering if I'm being obtuse,if I'm looking at it from the wrong perspective.But it's been long enough and I haven't found answers to any of these questions.The answers to my questions are questions again.I think it's time to put these questions out into the world.Maybe someone will come up with the answers.At least,it will get people thinking along the lines of these questions. This is just a point of view,an opinion.If you think there's something I'm missing out,feel free to point it out to me.I'm amenable to discussing it.  Inspired by a wonderfully written,thought provoking piece I read not quite an hour ago :) https://constantvigilance.quora.com/Wear-a-Pink-Dress-Watch-a-Rom-Com Like every other homo sapien with two x chromosomes,I have cribbed about the other

Memories are weird.Your mind delves into unknown depths and comes up with a fragment that you've almost forgotten---almost but not quite,because it's still there,waiting to be overwritten.I think our brains come with more space than we can ever use up,but the addressable memory is very very less for most of us:P I was having dinner this evening when all of a sudden I remembered this song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHm70Hv6gFI This was the graduation song for the batch of 2010--basically my high school graduation.While each of us got a candle onstage,this song played in the background.Back then,I never paid attention to the lyrics.I was caught up in the tension of the moment--having to walk onstage clad in a saree(tough the first time),collect a certificate,a memento and this lit candle and walk back down.Without setting fire to someone's hair or burning your hand with molten wax.The burning hair might sound funny,but this one actually happened.With close to

Warning:I've got sarcasm in my blood these days and this is going to be a hopefully humorous diatribe on household chores.:P  There,you've been warned.Now consider it precedent enough to commence reading:D Ah,where do I begin my woeful tale?Now's as bad a time as any. I'm in the kitchen with Beethoven's Ode to Joy on loop(ironic isn't it?).Vessels line one side of the counter,vegetable peels and cut vegetables the other.Two cookers on the stove that confuse me by haphazardly whistling and making me lose count.A vessel filled to the brim with milk(well obviously because foolish me underestimated the volume of milk while picking out a vessel:P) that threatens to spill over every second that I don't look.A chapati griddle that's over-heated and is doubtless going to char the roti that's currently on it.A washing machine buzzes from somewhere and I can't recall if that's the end of the wash or the rinse cycle.In the midst of the chaotically