Striving to love myself..

The first time I was told I was ugly, it was my 11th birthday. I had worn what my mother had picked out for me, checkered shorts with a silver belt, and a black tee-shirt with something silver on it- I was quite skinny that time. You know you dress well in school for your birthdays, distribute chocolates? When I was doing that, my so-called brother Amey, pulled me closer and said

"I know I shouldn't say this to you today, but you look ugly. Why are you wearing that?"

I never wore that outfit again. I steadily gained weight that year on. Sometime when I was 13, I had my first crush, and the guy told me I was beautiful, and I did not believe him.

When I was 16, I was in a theatre group. I was one of the youngest there. The two other sixteen year olds were reed thin, I was, by now, plump and chubby, as everyone would call me. Obviously I never got the main part, until in the end I was given one as charity. One guy who was dating one of the reed thin girls, once remarked out loud,

"Girls just look so breath-takingly beautiful with wet hair."

The three of us had just come in from the pouring rain. We all had wet hair. We all looked at each other at this statement. The guy smiled and then after a pause said,

"But not you Pragni, your hair is horrible, how can you ever look good"

I have been out with models, a dangerous looking guy, an ok-looking guy, a gayish-looking guy, intelligent guys, rich guys, one player or casanova and one semi-celebrity too. But I have never believed myself to be worth them, physically or looks-wise.

I hate it, and I hate admitting it, but everytime one of the guys here tell me I look beautiful, I pause for a moment. That pause is to convince myself that even if I don't think so, maybe they do. They are not saying it to please me. They are not saying it out of any obligation. They mean it.

Till a really long time, everytime someone told me I looked good, my instant reaction would be "yea, right" or "Stop kidding around?", until one day, R got really angry with me and told me that he wouldn't say it if he dint mean it, and I d better start believing him or saying it out right that I did not trust him.

I said, "I don't know what other reaction to give!"

Said he, "Try thank you. It normally works."

I did not believe my thank you's after that for a long time too.

It's just recently that I have admitted to my being very very conscious about my body. About my self image. And admitted it in front of friends and now publicly. I know this is not going to liberate me. But maybe, somewhere along the line, I will be re-introduced to my self-esteem. Ironically, I do not lack in the department of self-confidence. Funny how I have made that thin line so thick for me.



P.S - Last two days of the pills. I promise this confess all mode will stop then and so will the sappiness.

Those three essential things for any kind of feelings..

"I can fall in love with someone because of their intelligence, its one of the three things that can get to me.."
"What are the other three things?"
Pause
I knew there were three things.. I just hadn't really put my mind to it to think what those three things were, you know? And this was not a person who would let me change the topic at this point.
"aah.. this might sound shallow but pampering maybe? I guess if someone pampers me a lot, I could fall in love with them." I have had cousins who have pampered me crazy, and I have adored them. So I guess, it could work...
"And the way a person treats other people around him. The respect you give other people, the distance you maintain, the way you talk to them." Now that was the correct one of the two. I was sure.

But pampering? I thought about it all night. Can I really fall for someone because they'd pamper me crazy? And then some instances came to my mind. Pilot insisted on me taking the diamond ring he got me. I refused, he actually went up to the sea to throw it. I took it. I love the ring, I had designed it. But I din't fall in love with him.

Pilot always always pampered me. If I saw a toy I liked, it would be sent to my place in a few days, twice in a week, fresh flowers would be delivered to my place, fancy dinners, and coffee every other night. I did not fall in love with him. And then he started hanging out with my parents. He respected them, took advice from them, revered them. That's when I even started thinking of him as someone who I might be able to be with. He wanted to them help out with the summercamp kids. He was beautiful with them, strict, scary but lovable. That's when I realized that he is worth a lot more. If things would have continued a bit, who knows I might have been in love with him (if love is possible). But end of story, I did not fall in love with him. Inspite of all the pampering, and inspite of all the respect I saw him give others.

I think the respect he gave others, made me respect him. And respect is very important for me. To give and receive. But it did not induce love. And pampering just made me feel nice, but I always knew it was a materialistic nice. And I guess seeing me feel nice, he felt nice. He never did it to make me fall in love with him. I hope.

Since intelligence is a must in people around me, I should have been in love with Dhum, Pinki, Petrovski, Veeru, Jats and looking at intelligence from a different angle, Pilot too.

But I am not. Which effectively negates my dialogue above. I cannot fall in love with anyone just because they are intelligent, or they pamper me, or that they are respectful. I can just be a little pleased with them for it.

I guess love just happens right? Without a reason?




**
So since you are reading this, I shall retract my statement above that I made to you. And rephrase it. A bit. "I don't know how to fall in love with someone. I don't know what can make me fall in love with someone. I don't even think I can define love. But yes, these three things that I listed? They make me think highly of a person. They make me realize that the person cares, for himself (intelligence), me (pampering) and others (respect). Which matters. I guess."

Not a child, not an adult

I have been often told I think too much and too far. This post is a result of that.

Browsing through youtube videos I came across the videos of Chote Ustaad, a singing contest between kids. I started with the grand finale episode, two really pretty girls singing beautifully. One had the most beautiful, sweet and melodious voice.
The other had the most grounded, husky and fabulous voice.

One had springy curls all over her face, a clear face and expressive eyes.
The other had straight luxurious hair that fell in a cascade around her face, sparkling eyes and an attitude to match.

Both had the public fawning at their feet. Both are less than 13 years old.

What happened to have pimply faces, an unsure attitude, that awkward age when you look your worst for that certain time and not knowing what you want to do with your life because you are not even 13!!

I am scared. Scared for my children when I have them. Because either they will be one of these talented children, or one of the not talented ones. If they are like these, they will be under this constant pressure, which I am sure these children are under. They will have their life decided for them, no matter what it is that they want to do, how it is that they want to live.

If they are not, they will grow up watching these talent shows, wonder what their talent is, why they don't have a voice like that, or a flexible body like this, or a figure like that one. Or they might know someone who is talented like that, and feel inferior to them.

The summercamp where I teach dance, constantly has parents coming up to me asking me to hone the dancing skills of their child because they think that the kid has the ability to "enter and win boogie woogie". Or I have even had one come and boast to me about how her daughter has such an amazing face that she has already featured in 12 ads and won around 2 lakh rupees. The girl was 9 years old.

I have had mothers come and tell me "Look, look at my child dance. She goes to Shaimak Davar's classes every day to train" and when the girl dances, she swings her hips, but not to the rhythm, she looks ahead with her eyes all small and scrunched up, but blankly, and she says, "my favorite dancer is Isha Koppikar and Sameera Reddy".

I once choreographed a dance for one student for a talent contest in her school, and she was pretty good. We did on the song Remix, which is based on school life. We hunted all the markets to get an awesome costume for her, a black corset, with a leather jacket, a leather skirt with knee high boots and a school tie. When we reached the hall, she pointed out her rival to me. She was a girl dressed in a yellow bustier with chiffon strips for sleeves, and a chiffon transparent harem pants and her hair all curled up and heavy orange eye make up and gloss. I had not let my student put anything more than a dusting of powder on her face to block sweat.
The girl danced on "Saaki saaki, aa paas reh na jaye koi khwahish baaki", while my student danced on "Na koi tension lena, nahi koi darr ke jeena.."

Ofcourse, the Saaki girl won. My student was heart-broken. And she asked me, "next time can I dance on an item number too?"

I fear the day my child will ask me that. When my child will think that to be liked, she or he needs to expose, be extra-ordinary at something, be supremely talented or have an attitude.

Chemical Imbalance

I wish I could explain to you what it feels like when you are actually in a happy mood, but you can feel something clicking somewhere in your brain which brings on a bad mood.

I wish I could explain to you the anguish that tears through your mind, and then the other side, where you know why its happening, you know you really are not that sad, but just the fact that you are not that in reality, but are feeling so right now is a pathetic thing.

I wish I could explain to you how horrible it feels, how alienating.. how much you would just love to give in and cry, because although you know that that wont solve the problem, it sure as hell seems like what you should be doing.

I wish I could explain to you how much it hurts to cry alone, or cry but let no one notice it. Because logically it makes sense to do not cry in front of anyone since its an induced state, but in the mental state you are in.. that's the polar opposite of what you need.

I wish I could explain to you how suddenly you want so much more, you need so much more, you emote so much more, you expect so much more. It's like you just CANT bottle up these things which you know have the capacaity to hurt you.. so are best not wanted, needed, expected, loved.

I wish I could explain to you how much imbalanced you feel, how it completely puts you off your foot, how helpless you feel and how much you need that support from everyone who matters.

I wish I could explain to you how it is so so necessary that in this state you give me every little thing you assumed was given, you say all those things that can assumedly be left unsaid, you give and show every ounce of what you are feeling.

I wish I could explain to you how much you matter at this stage. And I wish you would realize that more than one person, I need all of you. That I am literally dependent on you. Really really do.

I wish i could explain all this to myself. And coach myself enough to get over this.. to learn and to master this too, so I can stop depending on your calm, your faith, your love, your company and you. All of you.

Bonfire tonite

Am off to a bonfire in a farm tonight. Like a proper bonfire, in a proper farm, with hayrides, and hot dogs ( :( ) and beer. And wine and chocolates, because that's what I am taking for the host. We are taking, I mean.

But before the bonfire, I have a ordeal. A bike which actually screws my case. The bloody seat has been made to dig into the butt bone (if there is one) of the rider. Which is me.

As of now, I am trying to think of what outfit to wear, and such calm (?), pleasant thoughts. But soon, I will start on the endeveour of screwing myself up.

Might post pictures if anyone wants to see them. So let me know if you want to see me, Petrovski, and lots of random people, some who are my staff, and a lot of fire and beer.


P.S - Wine and Chocolates (Ghirardelli's) and a Thank You note. That's a good enough gesture for a boss who is hosting a Bonfire right? Please say yes.

Innnn-Out. Innnn-Out.

Breathe. Breathe harder. Slow. Innnn-Out. Innnnn-Out.

He had "quit" smoking. Except for yesterday when he had a couple. And a few days before that when he had a few at a party. But he had quit. Really.

It’s just the room you know. Too many people. Innnn-Out. Innnn-Out.

He was choking on his emotions. She had just entered the room.

Weighing the scales

So eitherway you get screwed..

Either its a lifetime of regret that you dint follow through.. or its a lifetime of torture that you did follow through..

What's better, regret that eats at you all life leaves you discontent or torture that eats at you all life and leaves you unbalanced?

WTF is happening in Gotham City

Unbelievable mood swings.. And I don't know a single person who could understand them..

So many things to say, but no one's there to listen. Flitting in and out of people's lives.. Some, have completely shut their lives altogether. Maybe I am shutting mine too..

Suddenly my attachement to this blog has increased. But it feels exploited, because of random people who dont care a hoot and their random comments, and because of people who care, but dont care enough to say anything.

Everyone is suddenly black and white. It's like I have lost my prowess of seeing the shades of grey. She is white, he is black (I thought he was white, but no, he's black) They are black. He is black. She is white. They are black.

Suddenly I am questioning all the relationship I have made. Isn't it supremely stupid to claim to have so many best friends? And if they are, which of them really understand you? Which of them knows what is happening right now, even though you dont talk to them daily. Most best friends are actually just good friends. Or very close friends.

I wonder if there is a point beyond which you wouldn't want to mature. And leave your fun, flighty, so-many-best-friends side behind. The side which laughed a lot once upon a time, when you were with them. But now you laugh with others. And then feel scared. Coz maybe you have lost what was once too precious.


(I know this blog has been getting too mysterious and non-understandable lately. It's majorly because it's me talking to myself. If you don't get it, or don't like it, I don't want to say sorry to you. You can either just continue checking up once in a blue moon, or forget that it existed. Your pick. Either way, the loss is mine.)

constants and variables

Time is the only constant.

Emotions increase or decrease in intensity, reactions waver and fluctuate, friends come and go, people live or die, opportunities knock, withdraw and knock again, situations, cimcumstances, nature, weather, hell, every bloody thing changes.

But time is the only constant.

That day comes every year, no matter what. That night comes every year, those few hours too, repeat on the cycle of the clock. Its a different surrounding every time, but the thoughts inside me, run on an endless loop.

If only I could go back and change these few hours... And then a pause.

Because I know, no matter what, I would still do things the same way. Because the emotions then were pure and strong. Even if now they are diluted and gone. The reactions then were instant and true, even if on hindsight it all seems stupid and immature. The friends then, I believed them to be the best, even if now I realized they sucked at their job of being my friend. The people then who died a million deaths, resurfaced, survived the blow, and trusted again. Opportunites were lost, but other's came up too. The situations and circumstance, seemed justified then, now.. don't even ask..

But time remains a constant. Through it all. Unfailingly on time, and unfailingly there. Just there always.

Easy to Jinx

Ever wondered at how happy you are, how perfect everything is and how wonderful the weather and the day is.

And then have it jinxed so bad it's not even salvagable. The sky opens up and pours (and you washed your hair today, dammit),  the day turns dour and that perfect balance is ruined.

And happiness? It's like a bubble that you keep trying to catch or even just touch. But it either flits further away, or bursts into nothingness the minute you are close.

Mumbai's underlying faith

What happened to India? As in India a country and not Maharashtra and Uttar Pradesh and West Bengal as different states.

http://www.indianexpress.com/story/358801.html

Is this man crazy? I am a Mumbaite, I am NOT a Maharashtrian, I do NOT speak Marathi, I do not even KNOW marathi for that matter. I was better off without knowing the existence of this man. Should I be banned too?

I am no big fan of the Bacchans. But I do know that Mumbai was always about being a cosmopolitian society. Just like Delhi, and Bangalore and Calcutta to a certain extent. My friend circle in Mumbai was always a mix of everyone. There was a Gujarati, a Maharashtrian, a Catholic, a Marwari, a Parsi, a Muslim and a South Indian. And we were always so proud of it.

No one asked for the state origin of a person before helping them out during the floods. We din't ask for language proof before stretching an arm and a leg out to people affected by the Train Blasts. Those who went to help after Godhra and the Earthquake in Gujarat were not only Gujaratis. Those who helped after the Tsunami were not only South Indians.

The last time people in Mumbai asked about dharam, mazhab and religion, Mumbai burned. And bled. Is this man mad enough to want to start that again? We have learned from that incident right? We will not fight amongst each other because your God has a different name, your heaven has a different name and your religious scriptures are different from the next persons.

Hell, I don't even believe in Religion and God. All I believe in is Mumbai. In the people in Mumbai. Their might be crooks, rascals, and eve teasers. But please let there not be people stupid enough to believe this idiot.

Please?

Not smart enough. Really not.

I dropped a course today because I am not smart enough for it.

Seriously. I thought I was the nerd of advertising. Today I realized that even that is not good enough for this class.

Have you heard about those classes where students and the professor sit around a conference table, stare at a problem set in the center and try to reach a solution which will co-relate with life's problems? That's this class.

The students argue about the epiphanic moment in their lives when the situation they were in was influenced by history, politics and their own biographies. And how that relates with the white and black racial division and the undermining of Native Indians and the poverty they have had to go through because of the Great Civil War of Independence in America and the hegemony of pedagogy.

Lost. I am thoroughly lost in the three hours that the class goes through. While the students around me go through various stages of orgasmic noises because of the great knowledge imparted in the class, or dawn on the real solution to placing wooden blocks in such a way that the bottom blocks do not have to take the burden of the neo capitalist economy.. I sleep.

These are all scholars, who actually learn a lot in the class. Who actually can make a lot of sense of everything that just bounces past my nose. And I can't do that.

So I shall drop this class. And admit to the world and myself that there are several levels of intelligentsia and I am way low on it. Way too low.

"Take the next flight out and come back."

Sometimes you wake up in the morning, hug your T-shirt, and realize, how much you miss things.

And then you just wish that you could hug them quick and tight and then carry on with the new routine.

*Hugs Gumbal*

I'm a Grad Student

When you are a Grad student it is assumed that when you shut your eyes for a minute it is because you are re-thinking the thought.

That when you stare into the distance, you are pondering over something deep.

That when you are gazing into your laptop, you are considering a problem and when you are furiously typing away? You are storing away each word spoken in class.

It is believed that when you are discussing something with the guy next to you, it is worthy of disturbing the quiet in the class.

That when you turn to look at someone talking, you are not checking them out.



When you are an under-grad student, it is assumed that you are sleeping, not focusing, lazing, chatting online, emailing, gossiping or checking someone out.

I am a Grad Student.

I know.. that 10 years down the line.. I am going to look at you and wonder why I held back. Why I doubted.. but I know I must doubt now.. I must think and re-think now.. I must hold back..

Because The Crazy in me? It resurrects itself with every doubt I have in me.. regarding me, you or the future..

Alone..

She sets the table. Puts out the soup, toasts the bread, heats the mushrooms. Absentmindedly she picks up the red handled spoons from the holder and lays them next to the mismatched plates. The microwave pings and the oven buzzes. Both the mushrooms and the bread are done. She sets it out on the small kitchen table and pauses. Picks up one of the plates, serves, steps to the sink and eats. Standing there.

When you start living alone, you train yourself to get used to eating by the sink too. Standing.

Jaane Tu - Please Don't Torture Yourself...

Its been over two weeks since Jaane Tu.. Ya Jaane Na was released.

The furor over this film, the fact that it was supposed to be "refreshingly nice and cute" and that it had a feel of what I call the Neo Indian Cinema phase made me want to see it really bad. I had been pestering Mr. Pilot to catch it with me since the day it came out. Yesterday, finally we managed to see the film.

And I cannot begin to describe my disappointment. Trust me folks, its a rubbish film. Coming from someone who actually adores films, loves a new feel to movies, and likes masala, action, comedy and every other genre. This film is a messed up venture.

A messed up effort because the story is good, but the execution of the story (not the movie) sucks. The main characters are real, substantial, and amazingly well done, the side ones? were forgotten in the deal. The dialogue delivery is awesome, but the dialogues itself are archaic.
The shots are beautiful but they make you think that a lot was cut out from the film. The twists are stupid and unnecessary. Isn't high time people understood that you do NOT need horses, Maharajas, typical Gujju friend who slips in and out of his accent, ghosts and flashbacks in a movie to make it good? If you wanted to take digs at older films, you should have made the Indian version of Scary Movies.

So there's Aditi and Jay. Both have unbelievably possible nick names - Meow and Rats. Go figure. I think the director and the screen play writer spent so much time carving their characters out that every one else is just an excuse to the movie. Both are the typical college kids, confused about what they actually feel, and looking outside for what they actually have right within them. They share an awesome rapport with their families, with each other families and with their friends.

And then there are a volley of side characters. Jay's mom- Savitri Aunty, thoroughly unbelievable; Aditi's super-cool parents, who suddenly become presumptuous; Aditi's brother, who could star in a sequel about his confusion and loneliness; their friends each defined by one character trait. And Jay's girlfriend, and Aditi's fiancé, also defined by one character trait. Jay's girlfriend lives in an imaginary world, and Aditi's fiancé lives in a macho, maar-dhaad world.

Did I leave someone out? Oh yes, Jay's dead father who lives through his portrait and his long lost Maharaja brothers who ride horses to city clubs and aspire to be jailed wearing leather vests and stetsons. Sigh.

Have I said enough? No? Ok how about the final scene where Jay, who has never done any horse riding, except in his dreams, starts galloping across Asiatic Library, Link Road at Malad and then to the International Airport to stop Aditi from leaving the country. But since she has already completed immigration and is sitting right next to her departure gate, he whizzes past the airport authorities, ducks machine guns trained at him, kabaddis around at least 10 security guards, goes through the baggage x-ray portal, up and down a few stairwells and reaches Aditi and starts screaming Meow, Meow. And then adds his trademark love song to it. And wins her.

The songs have a new age feel to it true, but they really are not exceptional. I love Kahi toh, but that's because I love such sappy songs with beautiful lyrics. I like Kabhi Kabhi Aditi, but I wouldn't listen to it after 3 or 4 months. And Papu can't dance sala seems quite stupid after hearing it twice. But I guess everyone has a different taste in songs, different genres for different peoples.

All in all, please please please don't see this film in a movie theatre. In fact, avoid seeing it even. If you really want, catch a few glimpses of it on youtube, and you will know the best parts of the movie. Else, avoid such mind numbing nonsense.



Sorry everyone, who claimed that this movie is spectacular, runaway hit, refreshingly nice like sunshine, peppy, cute or even fun. Really it isn't When will someone start writing truthful reviews and not mislead the poor aam janta like us man...

The spoils of a conquest

A pure white hair-band lying on the floor. In front of the drawn curtains.

The roller chair, abandoned between the room.

Flowers knocked over from the glass vase. The vase, amazingly, unbroken.

The laptop lying on its side with its charging cord dangling from the side.

The book, the page you were reading preserved so preciously till now, on its face on the floor near the bed.

The Ipod speakers blaring an instrumental track you normally always skipped over.

Pillows on the floor and the bedspread crumpled. Bruises on your legs, your calves and your neck.

Going to Imaginary Places..

"Have your medicines NOW" "I would, but I can't find them.."

I feel like I have lost this entire last week. Starting from the Sunday gone.

Everything planned went up for a toss. The only thing I remember of the week is endless visits to damned doctors (nothing against them, just a personal grouse) and endless flowers.

I think I might have visited every species of doctors in just 7 days. Gynecologist, Radiologist, Ophthalmologist, Obstetrician, Pediatrician, Dentist, Endocrinologist, Anesthesia Specialist, and a Psychiatrist in making. Sigh. This from someone who is shit scared of doctors and read the italics above. Trust me, it feels like I have met every species existing..

Yours truly is a believer in natural cure. Meaning when sick, wait for the body to recover by itself. Without the help of medicines or damned doctors. And now, after the last 7 days, I take 5 pills, 2 syrups, 2 powders and drops in my eyes daily. This is what is the perfect combination of mental and physical torture.

Believe me, I try to 'lose' these medicines as often as I can. Now only if that would work...

phobias of the mind..

So you know what's the problem?

I am not committed enough to writing and posting here. I write, actually, I start writing. I voice out some random thoughts. Most of them pretty heavy. I don't piece them. I just pour them. Then when I feel like I'm half way through, I re-read it.. I wonder why the hell should I be posting this. Writing it should help me enough. Posting it means expecting something more. Why expect more? Especially where this is no real commitment. No expectations from the other side. It's not like people who read this blog expect to know all this.

So there is an expectation problem and a commitment problem. With this blog. And in life. Not only mine, every human being's life. Too bad, I say.