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I, these days, skip almost all Indian News channels as they spend hideous an amount of time over Panel discussions on IPL : the country’s all pervasive, all-encompassing religion – Cricket  in an entertaining and glamorized format (now, let’s add ‘Scandalized’ word too! anyways, we are not new to scams, flows in our blood, it throbs in our bones)….The Indian media,  to a large extent, undoubtedly and shamelessly, thrives on or chases News which have High Sensational quotient (Death, Massive attacks on people who usually do not feature in the country’s economic leaps, find place in this genre) and High on Comfort for our senses (we, the strivers in India who aspire for hi-comfy lifestyles do not want to shed tears, we do not want to feel sad, we do not want to see depressing images of poverty, unfortunate deaths, ….we just want to get excited, we do not mind doing that tiny bit of stretching our hands n sms our opinion, about an issue in consideration, in terms of  ‘Y’ or ‘N’,  display a smile of instant satisfaction and slip into deeper layers of nonchalance).  

Amidst the whole mass of nonsensical news, exciting updates and loud Breaking News that is manufactured with ridiculous a level of enthusiasm and energy by the Indian media, I came across this Last word from Nandita Das in THE WEEK, truly an honest / sincere voice reflecting the current state of affairs in India  

Nandita Das, an award-winning Indian film actress and director who is known for her critically acclaimed performances in Fire, Earth, Bawandar and Aamar Bhuvan, writes For the last many mornings we have all started our day with headlines on the IPL. Not about the game, the matches or the players, but the scam, the shocking deals, money laundering, and nexuses beyond our imagination. We have lost track of what is truth and what is fiction in all the versions of stories we have been hearing. For someone like me who has not kept up with the IPL news, sports or otherwise, the magnitude of money and muscle involved in it became clear only after the Pandora’s box opened.

I never felt the absence of cricket in my life, but was well aware that it was a religion in our country, at par with its only competitor, the movies. Recently, a friend told me, only half in jest that I was not true Indian if I did not follow either of the religions. So when my husband got passes for the IPL match in Mumbai a few weeks ago, I decided to witness the euphoria. It was even beyond what I had imagined. The cheers, the energy, the excitement, it was all so palpable. Every time the home team made 4 or 6 runs, the human wave the audiences made, in complete unison, was a spectacle. I found myself inadvertently joining the frenzy.

But when I read about the scam and the controversy involving the IPL, I wondered what the 40,000 odd spectators who were watching the demi-gods were feeling. Was there a deep sense of betrayal or were they simply irritated by the distraction from the pure pleasure of the game? Or have they just become plain cynical as nothing nowadays seems to be above-board? Have we just got used to scams and so losing faith in yet another institution or a rich and famous man is no longer shocked? Either ways it is tragic.  

But what disturbs me is that all other news that should agitate or inform us more about the world we live in, is finding no space. I am not talking about the media where the space is shrinking for news that is not sensational, not urban, unless scandalous, but the shrinking space in our minds and hearts? I was shocked to read that a 13-year old girl who was repeatedly raped, got pregnant and wanted to terminate her pregnancy, but the courts did not permit her to do so. Already struggling with the trauma, she was neither physically nor mentally fit to have a baby. With time ticking for the young girl, the delay will only mean death of justice. This was a much smaller news than the IPL scam and we did not get a minute-to-minute update on it, and for that only we are to be blamed.

There are many corners of the country that development has forgotten to touch and for we are to be blamed. I recently read a piece in a weekly magazine about the dismal condition of the people of Malkangiri district in Orissa (of course the cover story was the IPL scam). If you have never heard of the place, I do not blame you, as nor I have, despite being half Oriya. It is a back of beyond place with no roads, no electricity, no infrastructure, just abject poverty and a justifiable simmering anger. As the state has abandoned its role, the Maoists are their government, their police, their savior. People are caught between irresponsible governments and groups engaged in violent retaliations. Sadly all this does not agitate us enough to raise our voices, or even bring it to our public discourse. There are bigger scams happening all the time where the faceless, nameless person is the victim.

To get the audience rooting for the underdog has often been a good way to ensure the success of a film, but when are we going to see that in real life? When are we, the privileged, going to stand up for those who have no voice in the world of exciting scams and sensational marriages? Those stories will never make it to the headlines, but if we want to know more and start caring about the disadvantaged then maybe the TRP ratings will go up, making it a win-win situation for all!

They say for a collective consciousness to shift you only need 7% of the population to endorse an idea. And I am  sure that should not be difficult if we all start thinking about those who have gone to the margins of our papers and our minds. So as always, the onus is on us and the time to make the shift is, now.” 


{Me conversing with the Sea, Worli-Sea Face and the patch of Fresh and Slender grass, indeed, is rejuvenating an event}  

Someone who I truly admired said to me “One need not discourage you. You are Self-discouraged”. Such words of evaluation do trouble everyone who can see self in my position. I am surprised at the ease with which an individual is evaluated and thrown at the door-step as “you are that kind…”, ”you are this kind…”, “you can never be…”,”you will die struggling against the intense loneliness you would eventually feel in a strange city”….”. such statements, usually, are flung at me by a few individuals who know me from either regular interaction or being part of my life for a few years, and I am not new to them. But the pain, every time, I feel, is new and fresh. I walk across to the stone which reads “Familiarity breeds contempt”, stare at it for a while and tell myself “Familiarity makes me vulnerable to others. I may have opened a tiny and allowable part of my world to a few individuals, which instantly puts them in a far more vantage position to either criticize me or diminish the positive energy in me. It’s relatively much an easier task for them to judge me over a recently developed situation in my life, and conclude me as one of those aforementioned kinds or types, without studying the external factors that would have led me to a glorified fall or a miscalculated move in my life. Why do we have to expect everything that we encounter in our lives to turn into something extremely pleasant, forward-journeying and a huge success? How can we lead our lives devoid of mistakes and failures? How can an individual solely be blamed for that unwanted or undesirable development or a stalemate in life? How can individuals, who I expected them to be relatively far more understanding and tolerating towards me than others, draw such conclusions about me, so effortlessly and spell doom for me? If I assume more or less similar quantity of familiarity exists between each one of them and me, then why am I not able to draw quick conclusions about them as well? Or is my life far from perfect, while theirs are near perfect, comfortable and consistent? …” One feels the need to get closer to the chosen few, so that they could taste a more soothing and splendid flavor of life. Is not it one of the basic needs nurtured by all of us? and how different it would be if it also engages in intense raw evaluation, where an individual stands naked, shivering a little with the soft yet cold breeze, eagerly waiting for a few words crammed with positive energy, oblivious to the fact that this microcosmic unique world that he/she is built, in real, reflects similar level of harshness of the external world, from which he/she escaped to breathe in some kind of respite?”

I could be a plain nonsense to all those who know me very closely and deeply, I could be someone who still has not achieved much, but I am glad that the most average, hardworking human beings, who seem to have adopted a disciplined approach to their lives, tolerating the regularity of existence every moment with a sense of calmness on their faces, relate themselves with me and love to hug me and cradle me with a few kind words that make me come alive.  A few other creatures do not have any problem in interacting with me, such as those dogs, who live on the streets, who have this admirable property of extending unconditional love to those humans who stop at them, willingly and enthusiastically, to tuck in some time and energy for them, who,







  {Crabby’s little friend, one of many dogs who stay by the sea} some time ago, had given them a pleasant-sounding name. The beauty of simple life terminates here. 

{Dogs by the sea side nestled in the softly-caressing Green horizon, the black dog,
at the moment of capture, was seen listening, intently,  to the musical performance by 
bunch of sparrows perched on a dried branch of a tree}

Jyo’s Bucket list {who does not like to be a Passive Observer or Consumer, but to engulf in the culture or to experience the adventure}





1. Deep sea diving

2. Unexpected blanket of kisses and hugs on top of the Eiffel Tower

3. A summer, a monsoon, an autumn and a winter with HIM

4. To watch all the French, German and Russian movies made during 1960-1990 with HIM

5. To work as a Waitress-cum-Sunday chef in a side street restaurant in Arles

6. To own a little Bookshop Around the Corner and to run Weekend Reading Sessions for children

7. To enjoy a luxury cruise with George Clooney

8. To live in New York for a Summer-to-a Winter and attend Poetry Workshops

9. To be a Strategic Planner on Nike and Harley Davidson for a year

10.To power self with the charm of the Pied Piper of Hamelin (female version) and turn all those men who harassed me, who made me cry, who hurt me, into battalions of helpless n clueless mice

11.To wander around the Speyside, the highs and lows of the Celtic land

And the final….


12.To be Calvin’s Girl friend or to be Tom Sawyer’s Becky {To go back to my blissful childhood adventures}





femme magnifique – Aneesa’s Bucket list


#to climb the Eiffel tower and renew my energy with a kiss on every floor (make every floor count while #counting every floor),
#to get married on the beach,

#to run a travel show with ‘him’,
#to own a multi regional beer parlor with indoor sports,
#to experience life in an igloo,
#to pet a tiger cub,
#to ride a horse like it was an extension of myself,
#to get stuck on an lonely island with George Clooney,
#to ride the Harley,
#to cage George Bush in the zoo,
#to get a tattoo,
#to travel every lane and by lane in Venice, hand in hand,
#to own a house by the lagoon on the bora bora islands,
#to farm on the Indian terrain,
#to survive in a jungle for a month,
#to work towards animal welfare,
#to script my movie plot and convert it into a film,
#to fly a plane,
#to ride any F1 sports car,
#to learn all the water sports there are,
#to learn Arabic and French,
#to master the piano and compose my own tunes,
#to work six months and travel the rest six months,
#to have a baby and to adopt a baby,
#to send a message in a bottle and leave it in the sea hoping to receive a reply,
#to never forget to live everyday like it was the last,




***Do go for an evening stroll, a long Coffee break or sleep over a book and come back***


And those who want their respective Bucket list to be featured over here, do write. Would love to see your Bucket list….I feel, it’s imperative for one to have a Bucket list which provides more a meaningful direction to varied struggles in life as well as a gentle nudge or reminder for one to move back into some kind of life-like rhythm.


…He, for quite a long time, flipped through a copy of the magazine at the roadside Newspapers & Magazines stand and reached for a fresh copy to buy. When asked, he said the one he flipped through is no longer new. I wondered, “Is it “Fashionable to be Nonsensical these days”? and those who kick-start such trips filled with bad nonsense (there is good nonsense too, trust me!) are the “Fashion Trend-setters” and those who play audience to such programmes are the “Fashion Followers”.  I, these days, have been feeling rather hopeless about my existence (much against my never-stay-dull n disinterested n pessimistic spirit I wear most times), which gets a crazier tug of acceleration due to the “Surround Nonsense”. It starts, invariably, from the moment I slipped into the car, after casting a quick glance of admiration at the blue sky and the air with a hint of coolness. It starts from the moment, when, everyday, I start marching towards an ordinary enough decision to be ”Career-minded Woman on a fresh new day”. I, everyday, decide not  to go with the flow of Nonsense that jumps out on me from one of many FM channels being played on the Car Stereo. But, one more day, once again, I find self surrendering to it, helplessly, withering at the weirdness of it…

One of the beauties stroke me so,  “yeh kya pahna….kahane waale uncle zara side dena, yeh hair style kya hai kahane waale uncle zara side dena…..” {I am not able to recall the exact bits & pieces of this grand radio spot of Pepsi My Can}….  The launch TV campaign, recently, unveiled Pepsi’s new stylish “My Can”, which reflects the cool-style quotient of today’s Indian youth – “Nayi generation ka naya style”, which, ideally, should be a product centric ad. But, it’s the Iconic brand Pepsi..a hint of that electric blue is sufficient! The TV ad has one stupid looking young kid (he looks stoned! forget to get a glimpse of wicked glint on his face) who walks up to the Glamorous Bollywood idols Sharukh Khan and John Abraham {both appear so eager, leaning forward, almost gearing up to whip away  their autograph to the lad} and shocks both of them out of their wits and blissful world by calling them “Uncle”, pepsi1.jpg  only to extend his arm to caress “Pepsi My Can”. Yes, it is really stupid; one more speck is added to the creative garbage glut. So, what would one understand from this : youngsters are given one more lethal device that helps them to create a niche for selves in this stupid, mundane looking world – grab hold of a Pepsi “My Can”, which like ATM, would pump that required level of cool quotient into one. It would also enable them to serve the  statement “UNCLE or AUNT” to “men/women in 30s and 40s-yet-looking & feeling so youthful”, with a perfect slurr, in a right level of intensity, as if they are declaring, yet another time, to the older world that they arrived here, finally!  What a highly effective tool, which could make one look and behave cooler, so effortlessly!  The radio rendition of this seems to have gone a step ahead in spreading across the nonsense around — Youngsters derive a nonsensically devilish delight by fixing their attention on older men and women who seemed “younger than they used to look, courtesy Workout Routines for 6 pack abs and rejuvenating packs for hair and facial muscles” , who almost are ready to take evasive action should it be needed. Both the brand team and Advertising team (let me include the Planner too!) seemed to have ignored the fact that  Older men and women, no longer, entertain such high-pitch discomforting trips of sudden realization, if the younger world addresses them as “Uncles and Aunts. You, no longer, are younger”. Most seem comfortable and at ease with “being aged or getting into 30s or 40s”.  And do youngsters, who these days, are far more mature, level-headed and too deeply engrossed in their lives, widening & broadening their worlds, early-career moves and multi-hued many a social interaction {which is  not just frivolous monkey-activity-like-hanging out} have enough time to snub older mortals, to shred their stomach and facial muscles? This nonsensical advertising campaign drives me nuts with no respite in sight.  “Pepsi New Generation, X Gen, Y Gen…” are older concepts, would not bucket down magical rains on this iconic brand. Wake up and look at what’s happening around ! swatch.jpg “Iconic Brands with high emotional connect are about a message – a strong, exciting, authentic message that tells people who you are and why you do what you do. Swatch is all about “High quality. Low cost. Provocative. Joy of life. We are not just offering watches. We are offering our own PERSONAL CULTURE – Nicholas Hayek of Swatch” ….I would say, Swatch is no a mere Wrist watch, it’s a Graffiti board on your skin. 

Now if I force self to talk about one more grotesque mishap on one’s senses, I would take on the Panasonic radio spot, which is absolutely maddening, this makes me want to scream. Interestingly enough, it starts with a scream in exasperation, one could hear the whole world shake violently with this loam-shattering realisation that the Panasonic Plasma technology is Mother or Father of all Plasmas.

Can someone be generous enough to think, and to create some sensible radio campaigns? Humans do not cruise smoothly to their respective work places, and they would be surprised immensely if they were not put through a grueling journey through rush hour traffic everyday, every moment. It would be a kind gesture if junky FM channels stop broadcasting such nonsense, right at the beginning of a fresh day, when humans are groping their way through traffic-induced osmosis.

This series would continue its plight soon…..{A Strategic Planner who wrote her miserable experience assuming the tone of a poor, gullible receiver}           🙂

Next session to be launched on : Pond’s “Look Younger in Just 7 Days”…..Just leaving a thought with you               “God created Wrinkles. Brands created Anti-Wrinkles”


I see no sense in attending workshops where humans preach other loose-limbed (or) long-limbed (or) short-limbed (or) some X-limbed, tight-lipped or dry-lipped or soaking-wet lipped or some Y-lipped humans passionately on how to loooooove one’s work, how to motivate self, how to motivate others, how not to demotivate others by ordering them to work on certain tasks or how not to discourage enthusiastic living things by ignoring their sheer girth, breadth, breath presence or through intentionally/unintentionally carried out miscommunication. I suggest, dear folks, what one must do is walk out of such delirious workshops, the sermons of which, anyway, would not see a bright speck of sunlight. 

Just walk out, sit and watch the Grass in movement. The Grass is at work, relentless and silent, thinking of a high-impact, low-decibel yard maintenance program. Those sleek blades of Grass stay on ferocious, even when they are trampled by heartless feet, senseless fools or losing their green tinge for a paler hue. Despite many crushes, crunches, they dutifully push up their slender necks or urge their little ones to brave the horrid world of humans, as they are lain down on their death-bed.

So beneath our foolish feet nestled in the comfort of leather or non-leather footwear, the earth brings the “Sturdy Grass” to birth. And this’s what motivates me. When I seek a piece of appreciation at my prestigious work place, which, invariably is an inhabitant from the Utopian lands, or when I am displaying acute “Withdrawal Symptoms from life, courtesy my work-mates”, I stare at the slender necks of Grass. At certain times, raindrops and mist “sparkle up Grass”, which is a delightful, rejuvenating and life-affirming sight. And how can we forget that scintillating moment when the Grass grabs hold of the Sun to it, and opens its luscious hands wide enough to bring richer colors, perfume or fragrance to the milieu, foolish humans live about?

Grass works on a daily basis, and always strives hard to make one’s morning walks or evening walks or those romantic interludes comfortable. That’s why, foolish humans mumble “Carpet Grass”. Sprinklers and Lights provide those additional nutrients for the Grass to sway with the light breeze, with zero pollution. Grass works diligently, and foolish humans receive compliments on how good one’s yard or garden looks. So who, when, where and why recognises the “Grass efforts”? The breeze, the essential elements like the Sun, the Moon, etc who spend time carefully going back and forth across the waistlands of Grass and shower compliments, especially, at those hours, when foolish humans sleep like pigs.

Raising its head against many constraints is both a tedious and thankless task for the Grass. Interestingly and encouragingly, Grass never detests its existence and grudges about its culture. Yet another valuable lesson that I have learnt from the Grass, last weekend, but I may fail to sustain it for longer time. Who serves summons for the Grassy heads to come out, to evaluate the quality of their work? I think, it’s not a human. The Grass would survey the landscape, would begin walking across the yard, with the breeze quietly in tow. Should it find an errant blade of grass, it would stop and gently tap on its head and thus taking care of discrepancies, which happen once in 2 months. It’s that amazing ability to draw in immense pride through disciplining itself while at work, without any forthcoming robes of accolades, positive comments, thank yous, “good job babe” pats, captivates me interminably.

warrior.gif ….If you come across such Grass-like work environment that makes one feel as though one is capable of doing things one has never done before, one has never thought about before, one feels encouraged to do one’s best, to stay at one’s best moods or elements, devoid of any malicious political dramas, and manipulative agendas to kill others’ spirits (foolish humans may term this as a Strong Survival Instinct), do let me know…………..I am willing to be a blade of Grass! – a foolish human  

A sharp incompatibility between men and women, the most celebrated versions of Adam and Eve, in various kinds of situations, amuses me. “Misunderstood”, “Misinterpreted”, “I did not understand”, etc etc are the statements thrown around to demonstrate this partially mitigated evil repeatedly. It is one of those mysterious things in the world that are misunderstood with unmatchable fervor. And the population of humans who consider themselves intelligent by feigning ignorance about this ever-troubling menace is quite large, thus rendering how deep is this mysterious thing that sleeps between man and woman, that walks hand-in-hand with man and woman, that sits between man and woman on the bench in the park….and all those situations, man and woman wander about.

Mystery leads one to tangible & pulpable (i) Sense of wonderment (which is positive and heightens the whole aura of “being experimentative”, A few brave hearts take this less frequently trodden path, only to lie senseless after a few milestones), (ii) fear, (iii) irritable silence, (iv) anxiety, (v) listlessness and (vi) hate (such a profound performance by this emotion, which does vanishing act and balancing act with such an enviable aplomb). Being aware of, or having experienced such repercussions, most humans compromise to sleep with “feigned ignorance”. 

“Feigned ignorance” is an unparalleled movement, participants of which declare, across coffee tables, sauntering from one corner to the other corner in a hall, holding wine glasses, with so much ease, that it’s practically impossible for a man as a man to understand woman as woman and vice versa. Being a part of this wholesome, seemingly peaceful movement sure does is quite enjoyable an experience, the need, as felt, to view self as the conqueror of certain decisive battles has strengthened over a period of time amongst men and women. They also wanted to project their image of “being a preserver rather than a destroyer of relationships” and to receive accolades from the milieu how much delight they garner by keeping their respective relationship-mates or prospective ones pampered.

This resulted in the emergence of specific kind of literature –“raise your eyes, stare deep into your mate’s eyes unobtrusively and sink into the abyss”. Simplicity is alien a concept to me, but let me redefine this category of literature – “Steps to a Happy Relationship”, “Leapfrogging in Dating” etc etc…The show windows of bookstores display hearty, beaming, light-hearted titles promising early clouds, resplendent meadows in relationships for the needy men and women….

(CAUTION: Do not search for these whacky, eerish, crazy titles as they are part of my figmentation}

“Drench The Woman of Your Dreams”, “Beam with the Best Catch of Your Life”, “How to Make Your Man to Salivate Over You”, “How not to Play like Dumb like Bimbos {you could be one, but dnot splurge!}”, “Fuel to VroomVroom with Your Man” “The Essential Tool Box to Mend Differences”, “How to Avoid and Run far away from Deathly Dating Mistakes”, “How to Plant that First Kiss At the Right Angle”, “How to Stretch That Dinner With No Sense of Desperation”, “How to Make Men Leap at You”,  “How to Break the Match-box with Zero Guilt”, “How to Pry on Her Inner Thoughts – A Kaleidoscopic Preview”, “Know everything about Him – from his shirt button to his shoe-string”, “When to Open the Door, When to Shut the Door”, “Morning flirtation Vs Evening flirtation”, etc etc.

I wonder, does one really require such books? the ever-increasing number of books of such kind, the ever-increasing snippets on this critical issue in Magazines, Newspapers, Quizzes (you answer this whole set of Multiple questions, you know what needs to be done to repaint your bed-room) indicate people do need them badly. But how effective they are, how better equipped they make us for every kind of situation is a bit dubious. There are a few nagging factors :

a) each one of us tends to gather a grey-head, and become almost like a Pundit about relationships, after having gone through a couple of failed or mangled relationships. That means, the seasoned lovers would not consider such books or titles ? Therefore, who is buying or dying to read them ? Youger generations? they can solely not be the consuming class ? Does this mean this whole need to retain, manage relationships is evolving? Are women becoming more predictable and men are less predictable? Heightened sense of experimentation, coupled with increasing women working population have complicated the existing network of relationships, so people need more “Aunt Agony columns” and titles of such kind?

b) Most of these titles, am sure, are written post-intense research, interactions with victims, a few leaves and skeletons are pulled out of one’s closet as well. But each one of us is unique, each situation we face with the other person (who happens to be yet another unique person) is unique, then to what extent these so-termed effective, time-tested tools, mechanisms, tips come in handy? Life situations can never be tailor-made. If they are, why do people say Life itself is a higly revered teacher?

c) If we digest such books for managing or sustaining specific level of heat in the relationships, just like the tutorial classes we used to attend when we were striving hard to pass in exams (in brighter colors), what happens to this essential element termed as “Spontaneity”? So are not we almost like gizmos, robots that are designed to perform certain things or murmur certain words? so where is our armour of personality traits? even if I ignore all these, are not we Faking when we are demonstarting whatever we had learnt from the books, to the other person in a given situation? Faking is Bad, I know that You know it. And how long can we Fake? we get listless after a while, with our true self getting restless inside.

{dedicating this post to my new master Woody Allen}


I will try to be my other self (b) over here : I nurture two “forever conflicting selves” – see, almost all mortals live within gray shades, images filled with contrasts (reflect largely in one’s behavior towards others), a bit is plucked from Black window, while the rest of it is painted in White in varied a hue from life. Now going back to conflicting selves….

(a) the brooding self blended aptly with certain degree of melancholy (this variable is adjusted based on the intensity of situation I put myself at times, as driven by the attraction quotient, a man manages to sustain at my windowsill). When I am with this self, everything appears to be dripping down silently, including the four walls, the floor, the backyard, the courtyard, the trees, their branches, the squirrels creating riots over them etc etc. As if thousand others me are dripping down from within and drenching the whole world around me. People term this phenomenon as “Tearfalls”. I declare this as a “high intense phase of Introspection” – where I brood over myself, my reactions to certain moves made by a man for who an imaginary hand in me strummed on the heart strings, ignoring the nearing steps of yet another debacle resounding firmly on the wooden deck. Therefore, I remain moody while meandering with this self. At times, I engage in diabolical tendencies. Do not ask me, what are they and how different are they from others’?

(b) the effervescent self bursting forth, extremely an ideal and advisable situation to be sustained by a career-minded woman who forever wades through myriad political dramas, as conceptualised by “Men at Work”. This “Never-Say-Die” momentum oozes out in generous measures in whatever I do and I could see similar kind of spirit amongst other women too!  But this wholesome, highly indulgent hedonistic gleam always have something to revolt against, it could be a tiny nut from a system that loves to maintain the “status quo”, a condition where everything lives in the same situation, a semi-frozen status for period longer than years. Are not humans creatures of habit ? This frustrates my high-decibel motoring system and when this happens , like many, I tend  to pen down a few philosophical lines. Most men, due to difference in chemical structures & composition, choke over nubile, energetic and vibrant women like me and usually tear themselves up over some unseen and inexplicable traumas. There is no reason to expect them to do so! But they still do. What would men do they feel this sudden caress of trauma ? they howl for other mates, walk down to a nearby beverage hole, and amidst that cries and whimpers of modern musical escapade,  they chalk out certain game plans. The mission is : how to make bread crumbs out of this problematic woman.       

I wanted to cover … this Capsule, i) Dance – A Liberating experience ii) fist fight for elbow space….But the material in my hand on both the issues appears inadequate {wicked smirk over my lips !}

And enjoy this funky sway {I usually initiate my dancing sessions with this piece}           🙂


I was *kibitzing (do not ask me what does this mean) since the time I stayed far away from my couch, about  which of the two classics that I managed to watch this week, despite the hectic travel & work schedule my system was struggling with, has influenced me to the extent that I found a palpable change in my attitude towards various developments in my life and my daily interaction with others.

Is it the sheer poetry of one’s imaginary world and the raw emotions brought forth with such an intense fortitude by both the women protagonists as captured by Ingmar Bergman’s “Autumn Sonata” or the Godard’s Masculin féminin, a stylishly crafted timeless piece, a fresher yet philosophical view on restless young bodies, thus establishing the fact that “philosopher and film-maker share a way of being, an outlook on life, which is a pleasant intrusion as brought in by the fresher generation to the society.” Like many, I consume many things, consciously or unconsciously, these days. What more I could desire for, when a substantial part of this consumption – on the movie couch, on the bed, at the window, on the terrace, under the canopy, in the airport lounge, in the cab making its way through narrow gullies in those small towns…, instead of idling away like a lotus-eater, works on my conscience, religiously, to alter the way I look at things, the way I perceive things, the way I consider many a motive of humans I interact with, the way I respond to a few of them. ….

When the whole world around me plunges into darkness, all of a sudden, I feel everything turns towards me, the walls, the rooms, the fence, the wind chimes, everything …to hear the dialogue between my soul and me, which is loud enough for them to cheer when one of us score a point over the other. Most do this, and I do this too. I tend to brush aside many queries that my soul poses at me, which are the immediate outcomes of many activities that I do as part of my rigmarolic existence,at work, say for instance, why did that Client Servicing Director forget to remind me of the meeting when he knew that I was a key member on the brand thinking? My soul queries me “Is this kind of an indicator that people take your presence and your efforts for granted? do not you think it’s time for you to raise a revolutionary voice that breaks the clutter? Ideas are such fragile creatures, once they are out of your mouth, there does exist a battle amongst others to appropriate this and declare to the rest of the world they are the original fathers of the ideas ? how do you want to raise a revolution that the world gets numbed by its impact and listens to you with utmost respect?”…sure, they are excellent points, so relevant for my personal growth, but I brush them aside to focus on the task in my hand…it’s like suppressing the revolt in me against the treatment I receive from the world at that moment, crushing the voice of restlessness, the surge of unrest and surrender to this desire to fulfill one more task as sent by the outer world earnestly……without consideration, without shame. ..where do we buy energy drinks that are compellingly fortified enough to suppress the interminable “sense of unrest” in us?    

But when I plunge into the darkness along with the other things, I feel the need to sit and face the accumulated queries as posed by, the things gnawing at  my soul. So much energy is spent on many things that I do for the outer world, well, I have nothing against them as they enable me to strengthen my position and my status of individuality in the society, but I should also pay attention to certain essential things that I am expected to do for the world inside me. High walls of resistance, arrogant looking fences in brighter hues have to be built, the cracks on the walls have to be repaired, the curtains or the blinds that let me escape from the outside world need to be washed clean, to be dried in the sun , the creases to be ironed, the floor has to be vaccum cleaned, the porch needs to be swept clean, the wind-chimes have to be given a through-clean sweep….so that I could face the outer world with renewed rigor.

{The picture : Eddie, a cute, lively, playful dog, wondering at the world outside the window – as captured by Abhishek}

now moving over to the “Philosophical burst” 

“….there are many situations unanswered you are left with, and you unnecessarily trouble self over them, as to why people reacted so to what you said or you did, why do people stay silent leaving you perturbed over their sudden disappearances, but experience tells me that there certainly would be many situations created for you in future, before your death, when you sit across the table and drill the person in question as to why he or she did so, while your mind keeps itself busy in screaming at her “you bitch” or at him “you bastard”, the voice of which stays inaudible to the other person across the table. You may be wondering as to why I said this to you now…just think. As you know that I certainly would not eagerly wait for your response… because I know that you would one day explain the reason for this, if not this moment……….{Jyo}

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