A 28 year old woman

Writing this as mainly an influx of thoughts. Being 28 really isn't easy in a suppressed country like India.

28 is when any woman is at a center point of seeing dreams materialize to reality or crash. 28 is when love fnds a way or dies.

28 is when she feels the pinch of being a father's daughter = a liability. All look at her - awaiting the wedding bells to rind or in other words, the death knell to sound crystal clear.

The mother turns the chief enemy - her own life an enema.  All this struck when my father said - "Now I will pay for you..till you marry." So, in essence, no matter the women emancipation and la di da.. every man sees the daughter an an onus and a transferable property!

And when I look at my so-called man, I find only fear crystallizing my every breath - questions haunt, daunt  and taunt.

For a person like me, marriage does not auger well - the thought is quite constrictive.
Maybe, escape is a sweet plan - not avenging the system.

Because Indian minds are just systems and flow in line - akin to an assembly line. Each responsibility is a duty - none led by passion.

Maybe, this sort of a world isn't for a dream lover like me. Choices seem little - but the only way is away, then.

Away could also = home which further equates to a man's heart. But when the man's mind is scattered, can the heart ever be mine?!

The 28 year old woman in me, stares at all the human figures her life has thrown her way. All seem very same and quite "Chinese!"


Interestingly, monotony plays a monopoly - people are used to the monotony of love and care but have been numbed by time to passion.

Time, in this context, I must add, is quite a physical commodity. Very common. Very malleable. Yet nonetheless, a paremeter of judgment. You gauge people by time - the time they take to finish a task, the time they take to react, the time they make for others and the time of course anyone wastes.

The 28 in me, sees time as a rival - the streams seem divergent mostly. The tides of time are curiously tied!

Maybe this whole rambling had no center point - or maybe that's exactly how our mind is. 

Edie Britt!

As I start typing, emulating my best role as the Yellow Journalist, I am wonder-struck at my choice of topic today. Edie Britt! The woman, I had hardly cared about - but suddenly, see her in a new light.



Well in Desperate Housewives, she died today- raising in my nubile mind- many questions. My discourse then runs the channel of these questions.

Mostly as I see and sense from my own moral high ground- why I dislike Edie ..

1. Does not have a fixed direction in life
2. Sex appeal is haywired. Her intentions are "wrong"
3. Manipulating - or shall I say MENipulating?!
4. Cannot value bonds
5. Cannot stick to one.

But wait! As I wrote these down.. my own vox at the back of my head, started mocking me.

 First - who am I to judge her? Being judgmental, curiously gives one a mantle piece undeserved!

Second- did I just say these lines/ words? Did this just make me a femi-chauvinist (for the lack of a better word as the Dictionary has not invented any so far to sum up my feelings or angst about me being a woman and castigating another in the light stereotypical ethos).

Whoever designed labels, tags and stereotypes anyway? To follow is to be safe?

Throughout the series, Edie, has been strongly disliked by the women around. Who are these women? 

1. housewives
2. gossip mongers
3. typical moms
4. "friends"

Life as people live it is a linear process from behind the curtains till the curtains fall. In each segment of this process called life, we live behind several dimensions of masks. Each moment archetypes our character to bring out shades of us- that we best choose to suit the occasion!

Yes, our subconscious is clever. Cleverer than we credit it to be!

It plays out our roles and makes us enact in our roles- without letting us in the know that would obviously let our guards down.

Quite a genius this mind of ours is then! It plays tricks on us, fools us, yet shows us a way of life, we can never imagine!

That is well - for  most of us anyway... those of us, who choose to live an idealized life, but are thwarted by the realities to see another face of life!

While for the handful minority, like our Edie here, who dare to know the subconscious and play along than be played with. Edie knew her id. She knew her core- which let her be free. One of the few women who dared to call a spade a spade. 

She was therefore, free in her sexuality, conduct and socialization - that made her confident, brass and bold. Qualities we all secretly admire, but stay aloof and dumb on. Herd / heard mentality, you see!

There was indeed another side to Edie. The deep , thoughtful, perceptive and imaginative person. She sensed others well, was astute to read men and guide women and be there as a friend to help most. All she'd wanted was a shoulder to cry / lean on and a trusted hand to hold onto - before she poured out her heart of gold and showered one with love.

But, Edie being Edie- never got what she wanted. Instead she wandered and wondered. Her meandering ways, caught the fancy of many - who promised her the eternal sunshine but gave her the ephemeral puerility that always shattered. 

Men viewed her therefore as an object. She had not objected too. Perhaps, this was her folly. To obviate the shallow shadow she chose to leave upon as her impression. Only with Carlos, did the veil unmask itself - and it was lovely to see the real person behind the make-up, colors, light and glamour. 

As her story ran its own pages, she found herself alone and then used. 

Women like her get used easily - only because underneath all the brouhaha they are beautiful people and more humane / compassionate than any living being. 

Women like her are really strong - in character, choice, voice and stead. They demand little of what they deserve- primarily because they do not choose to the follow the herd. They live the lights of life - and look forward to the beautiful tomorrows always.. because they know they have the courage to face any phase of life independently. 

Edit Britt, comes along as a stark revelation and a mirror to one's own character. She is that dark moment of truth, that subtle turning point in your life, through her deep and incisive understanding of your own depth. She knew how to live and embody a *been there done that* outlook to life.

Women like Edie Britt deserve respect.

And as I write, she reminds me of a very much known shadow close to home!

Yangon Times

My recent trip to Yangon deserved the pen-craft that the mind's harbor could seek.
Going Far East, is perhaps a stepping stone to an MR career as you're suddenly at the threshold of a developing country.

Suddenly you're a Foreigner - regarded with suspicion and awe.

Stepping into the city, was a feeling of stepping back in time. While you have the modern cars swishing past you and you keep ogling, at the same instant you're suddenly thrown the tidbit of knowledge that cars only were sold in Myanmar since last year!

The city is a mix of old and new- a surprising contrast that seems interesting given the cultural context. A part of me felt that Myanmar was being forced to develop! Modernity, was a force-fit! Maybe that charm which could wrap the city in its bloom, would soon be "deforested" - leaving the city naked to the prying eyes of urbane cosmopolitanism.

Yes - there indeed is a thirst to be "new" - be at par with the innovation that strikes the world at large, That's mostly a thin layer - below the crust, is a sharp sign of contentment of being and living in the much familiar everydays.

Lots of Indians bespeckle the streets- amazingly they have denied all Indianness and declare themselves Burmese with a hint of pride. Come to think of it, pride runs like a subtle undercurrent in all the Burmese - they are unabashedly unapologetic - and that's the way it should be!

Maybe it's the curious mix of Buddhism with the culture that has given an edge of serenity to the place. Boasting of richness, splendor and quiet glamour, Yangon stands firm in it's tradition - looking towards modernity sweeping in, with its winds of change.

What strikes to an Indian girl walking on the streets first - is that the city is amazingly safe! In a land, mostly known for rape, she is always draped with doubt - ready to pounce on any male offender- on the tenterhooks almost! But at Yangon, there is a much gendered respect and mutual acknowledgment of co-existence that's endearing. This starts, from their traditional dress - longyis  for men and women!

In every Burmese face, you see a smile - a welcome against the slyness of the Indians. There is a heartening warmth that exudes and bring any Foreigner to its embrace.

Simplicity is a much treasured way of life - not warped against time. No-one seems to be in a hurry to be in a rat-race. In fact, Myanmar is a very functional zone when it comes to products. They like it that way - on the face and direct! :)

Bhopal

My recent experience at Bhopal has left me with many thoughts to gather and tie strings to the various loops. Travel by self, is liberating - maybe it's the effect of the rains on my face and the pluviophilic mentality at ease with the green surroundings.

Yet, out of all the snapshots, one stands out and deserves special attention. I have always been in awe of single and working mothers - and this sealed it for me.

To be added here - I do NOT understand why we stress on 'working women / working mothers' as a category - as if it's still niche here in the regressive country! Or, that kids are such cattle, that to breed, you must be bereft of any sense of purpose in life!

Anyway, the experience was of a mother traveling with me - who shared my room in one of the finest hotels I have stayed so far - and in due course reminded me of my own Mom.

Must have been the Bong connection and the fair skin - and the ready , wide and beaming smile !

The rains had spoilt the wifi connectivity - so expressions online remained rather aloof. Yet, battling the odds, sharp at 8, she rushes back to her room to receive a call on Skype.

The Bengali endearments, were at once known, delved into and much missed! That moment was a self awakening of having traveled (strayed ?!) from roots?!

The face on the other side of Skype loomed large to show a teenager - staring back at her mother. The researcher / just the very curious person in me - leaned in, as inconspicuously, closer to the phone- to hear the conversation. To my amazement, the conversation had no words - just gestures - as if it was a dumb-charade.

All I could watch in awe, were the myriad expressions that crossed the mother's face - from joy, to concern, to love to pure motherly care.

Hanging up, I could see her eyes glistening. Distance from her child, must have been one of the triggers for the lachrymal glands - but it was more to do with the purity of perseverance.

Her 15 year old daughter had lost the ability of speech due to a viral infection. Her mother had been at odds to give up her career and be a stay at home mother or keep working - which in effect would affect her to be uncaring. She chose the latter. Society could not encode her behavior - she was sure of her actions that could proclaim love and leave aside any profanity of thought / intent.

The daughter stayed with the father- for the times she traveled - and there was perfect symmetry in their relationship architecture to parachute the problem.

Harmony can come through with actions aligned to the best interests of everyone involved. Harmony cannot be achieved through suppression or compromises.

The mother had realized that if she gave up working, she would not be happy - which would bring upon negativity on the entire household. Perhaps, that would further impact her daughter's already feeble mentality. Indirectly, she must be teaching her daughter, on how to be strong too - and carry on despite malignments unnatural to dreams.

Self-liberation comes with an achievement of your own identity - in your eyes, you are still somebody with an independent image - that is distinct from what anybody thinks. Maybe that's what makes a person be seen with a perspective. Maybe that's what stirs emotions in others too. But to follow societal codes of happiness.would be leaving reigns of your own  joy in an unseen's hands - who will never see through.

Maybe, we never find, anyone who completes us - because we all are trans-migratory souls in space - all fluid and always in a juxtapose. But then, isn't self-realization and self-actualization a best possible solution for inner peace! To feel complete again - would again be shedding a pertinent part of you, to the trust, promise and presence of anothers'.

Love for oneself, must  be supreme. A child maybe a part of you - but in the end, are you happy following the child's dream or living one of your own?

Gurgaon - all that was loved and lived

Gurgaon - Faridabad Road - that set the pace for all loved and lived! - Herculean click, 2013.

Gurgaon - this had been long coming and quite inevitable in a way. The sojourn of the many curves and angles. A kaleidoscope in all phases of life.

Interestingly, a hinterland of experience, self- awareness and growth - Gurgaon, with it's many dark shades, could only serve to brighten.

Maybe, retrospection suffuse shades of Konkona Sen Sharma - in her new girl Mumbai avatar scripted for Wake Up Sid!. Mine is more of silent wonderment, at a chapter of life closed (is it?!) and cherished with care.

Gurgaon, saw the metamorphosis of reason - as the eyes, that grew older, became wiser too. Trespassing the cobwebs of security,the 'bad' image of Gurgaon had it's own inherent thrill. Journeying on the 'word / world of love' , the lane next to office for the non-car-owner, seemed at once a home and a dumping ground. Spending days seldom in the own 4 walls, the early days had been spent in the happy threesome of the man then and his best man. As all love stories unfold, the best man turned more empathetic and more brotherly while own man extremely other-ly. Days spent in explorations, wild liquor and wild sex - ideal mix for anyone right ? Maybe!

As travels picked up and the cross country hopping became a weekly way of life, distance soon created resonance with the idea of incompatibility.

The faces closer to home, seemed more 'official' and 'impersonal' as the era of work-life balance became swayed. The team-mates, chirpy - the supervisors, mentor-like, life seemed to be ambling through an upwards curve-ball- where patience had no space or luxury of virtue.

A certain 'celebration' of mind and self too, at the gym, led to a deeper love for oneself- when maybe most time, was spent in music and soaking in the steam. It was just as it should be- 24-25 with an euphoric upswing.

Eureka! The bubble did burst. And thankfully, it did, with the appalling idea of having lived in a bubble for so long.

It came with the vow to be unmoved- the determined and rigid mental declaration of shirking the bond that was seemingly just a bondage and a handicap. Marriage - quite a far-away thought, it was the utter bewilderment of the conned selection and the empty life of togetherness. Coupled with that - the 'forced physicality of times' derided the relationship off it's own essence and led to sourness. Bickerings, quickened pace of space- as each sought screens to live singularly and simply.

The pull of individuality and the push from the an amiss concurrence, led to the line of division. Looking back - the best decision ever - to nip at the bud, of a thorn that would be more than prickly.

Thereupon, the hazy life of craziness - cars and drives with many faces known and unknown. The thrill of Gurgaon had just begun. Chasing against own shadow,  it became quite an addictive way of life - to willfully lose oneself to the flow of time.

As music refreshed memories, and EDM became a way of life, 'spirited' headbanging became a norm - I came across the treasure- which I had never looked for.

It had been a known territory - from way long- only then, did it begin to feel mine. The first hand clasp, proved it true. A strange shock of senses led to the deepened gravity - of marked awareness, possession and pride. Love at the first "hi?!" :)

Since then, another phase - a roller-coaster- of emotions, colors and vows.  Broken, shattered, made and re-made. The surreal conflict of walking away and hanging on - of being / acting older or of my own age.

To the soft brown eyes, I had looked up - to find completion and my own identity. Into the deep eyes, I had looked - to see the man who had remained a boy inside - yet had always donned on roles with masks to hide the face, that seemed to reach out to me from deep within.

Primate senses or the primal emotion tugs - I'd always wished to give that boy everything he'd been denied - or letting him be free - from inside. Ever afar, I may stand - to give and never take - of time, space and all their valued essence. Still today, the beacon of selflessness- acts a directive principle of my life.

Had I grown up suddenly? I had wondered, as I never did hunger from my kind of time. Which made me wonder, how much did I wander then- in my own 'placebo effect' of what my time should be like.

Soon, then, definitions and perspectives became stronger - as I became a Nihilist almost, guarding his territory dominance. Not easy,but never uneasy!

As the moorings raged on - of storms, thunder, tears, pain, additions and subtractions, the faith proved too strong as friendship chose to be immortal.

Shrugging off negativities and all negatives hurled against him- which curiously were from his own (!!!!- quite amusingly so!!!! ) - the 2 pair of eyes, wizened- almost with compound interest as the sum total became an infinite quantum.

Yet, as the downhill journey now began - the troughs became steeper. Monotony of 10-6, became hazardous, with the same faces and same names to conquer everyday. Words curled and shouts lurched at - became a way of life. Numbness struck - as one chose silence, and others war of infamous words. Words are black magic too - they steel you , better you and make you feel the coarseness of hatred too.

Maybe the effect of words is inversely proportional to action points and expectations. More others scream, more inactive and unresponsive becomes the brain. Mute of the mutant - mutiny was a passive one!

The brother too sided by at the right time. A wall, both functioned cohesively, as all parts of the dreamer, suddenly synchronized. Lament, neither had brevity, nor could be brave. It was an escape and yet, a coincidence.

Resigned to the Jatt mentality and the snobbishness, the ultimate escape was to sunny land - and for the other a breezy elevation.

Distance, still serves completion - the holy grail of a single unit as two souls became fused, Dreams spun and weaved in somnolence, trigger a solace at the much loved vox heard over changed numbers.

Gurgaon - never can die. It may live and be a chapter re-visited often - when flying too high or when too low.

And all the while, we spotted clouds, moon and stars along the Gurgaon - Faridabad road - we'd known peace that for aspirants remains only a piece of their gory imagination. May cover pictures, suffice for them! Or, maybe emulating steps to places already visited and album memoirs, with their 'new' significant others - to perhaps claim some more of the place tags!

AN OPEN LETTER TO QMS, KOLKATA (SALT LAKE BRANCH)

Dear QMS Kolkata,

Applause be given to the meritorious excellence displayed time and again by the Board results. Doubtless, the school remains aspirational - in terms of duty and discipline.

Astoundingly, it fails to be inspirational- where specially and specifically, the finer qualities of life are considered. More than an educational harbinger (of change??), it appears heartless and extremely commercialized in approach - mainly to it's own. It finds it easy therefore, to lay aside the many dreams of one of it's brightest pupils - with the cold words minced boldly - "Too bad! Please don't apply again!". Her fault - scoring just a few marks shy of 90% and therefore not being re-admitted to her own Alma Mater (which actually should be an automatic process!!!).

I wonder, then, what does education presuppose - if not the self-actualization of a human being from the basics & roots? What are schools today then- just a money minting machine of the powerful few ? How inconsiderate can it be to the dreams of a beautiful 16 year old girl ?
And lastly, HOW UNEDUCATED IS THE CURRENT PRINCIPLE OF QMS, KOLKATA, SALT LAKE BRANCH?

"Kind" regards,
Averee !

Strong, London Grammar

I have seldom been moved- and moved this much. Few things touch me in their essence- but have I found something, I can worship?

This is just a tribute, if not a review of a new song- which, by the way, has been on loop for an hour almost.

The temptress is 'Strong' by a new band I have started to chase - 'London Grammar'.

The song is liquid poetry set to motion - to turn the wheels of your heart. It makes you FEEL, THINK and cower in front of your own powers. Before more decoding or deductions- hear the song- let it shake you up too. The vox, that beats an Adele anyday- makes you weep like a baby- as it pushes you far past the edge of reasoning.

First time, I chanced upon it, I was rooted to the spot. Mesmerized is too mild a word to describe the pathos. The sheer melancholy was Hamlet-ic while the ponderous voice meandered to tug willfully at your tender heartstrings.

Apocalyptic, the song wrecked the listener unapologetically. On an impulse, I shared it with a certain heartless friend of mine- to gauge the effect.

Profound, he stood- shocked. The song can break walls too !

On loop- it's a catharsis. A release of all emotions pent up- which you have stored for months on end.

It throws questions at you, daring you to rise up and answer. Questions, are a challenge - to humanity? Or is a route to find some truth in your soul- when all you're doing is RUNNING? Running away from all that you endear or endure.

Is Live Strong, just a wrist band or does it inspire? Is life, through all it's conspiracy, showing it's own light? Which side-tracks me to another off-hand thought - why is 'magical' connoted in a positive note while 'conjuring' so negative?

Ah! Never mind, that.

"Excuse me for a while
While I'm wide eyed
And I'm so down caught in the middle..."

Does it call out to the child in you that puddles at the brink of adulthood. How many times, have you reduced yourself to a puddle? Are you a wuss, then?

Strength of mind, body and spirit- is all a facade, then. We all unite, in the spirit of humanity, in our sorrows. Jam in the un-stuck and un-done moments.

"Yeah I might seem so strong,
Yeah I might speak so long,
I've never been so wrong..."

Is humanity, itself a bondage? We all live by images- turn a blind eye to flaws- but aren't flaws what make us, so strong?

Where's the touch of charisma, in us, when we interact? Is it the smile or the gleam in the eye?

But do we have the courage to search for what lies behind the twinkling eyes? Do we want to know the weaker side of the story, as well? Are WE strong enough to deal with that?

"And if a lion roars, would you not listen?
And if a child cries, would you not forgive them?"

The rising octaves, collide head-on, with the two extremes of emotions. At two tangents, we are weak and strong at the same time. We address the 3 states of being in the same breath.

Do we pay heed to what lies behind the ire? Do we LISTEN to someone, or just fall prey to the facade of 'strong'?

Are we strong to love purity? Does it touch us or are we scared that it might break us?

Are, we, the most emotional of all animals, scared of our own emotions? We stop to listen and to care- but believe in everyone being strong- because that prevents an information overload.

Sharing and being SKIN with someone is just that - information overload. Strange age, we live in!

And the tears roll on .... Catharsis, feels euphoric. The feeling I have wished for- running for miles at an end and collapsing in your own pool of tears- yet smiling through it, as you have then found yourself. You have blossomed again!

Her

Seldom, do we come across films that shake fundamental, taken-for-granted feelings...makes you sit back..debunk and question everything around you as you introspect to understand the limits of your evolution.

More often than not, movies are treats- an isoceles trapezium of seeing and believing - the two states of ok-plateaus, with equidistant slopes of connect and disconnect. Yet, there are some comets that fly and crash into your universe - whose starburst, makes you quite ill at ease.

One such radiance was the movie I watched yesterday- Her. Yes, I have been in love with Amy Adams, ever since American Hustle and Her spiked my interest meter by Her inclusion solely. Yet, as the movie progressed, it lived up to my continual search for insights on men and masculine behavioral codes. Further highlighted, the movie also beautifully fit the paradox of relationships- the duality of "hold on" or "let go" that runs synchronous to every relationship as the degree remains challenged.

The movie in a crux, is about a lonely writer (Theodore)- who beautifies others' lives with his words, yet is unable to strike resonance with the woman he loves, through his words merely. He is seen as the guy which cries too, which is looked down upon by social conditioning - hence he seeks an understanding not mete out to him mostly.

The movie, begins with futuristic technology, with computers and phones responding to voice commands, and all talk directed to screens only.

In fact, to me, it seemed, like a melancholic (perhaps choleric) take on loneliness as each floated in his own bubble- carefree of crowd, careless of society yet cautious of individual space. Monologues were redefined to be a lifestyle - where the art of talking selves became a survival tool kit. It was a world characterized with a sharply evolved AI slowly reaching a state of being & an organic whole, with fast losing emotions and quite crystallized into a means-to-end, compartmentalized living - with the LCDs shining bright. In fact, the quest for 'spiritual orgasm' in any one's life, may also lie belied, as the film encompasses the blurred lines of an inner voice being reflected in the outer world.

 On his last leg of divorce, he is unable to let go of memories that tie him to the physicality of her and yet her holds onto the last remnants of hopes- that love cannot be relinquished. My take- is it a duty then?

It's at this point, that he comes across Samantha- who, quite literally. is the girl of his dreams, and he embarks on his journey with his OS. Samantha, is what every man desires - emotional, funny, reliant, insightful, full of life, dreamy and most of all not emotionally needy (read clingy).

Yet, the progress of her chippy DNA , defies the complexity of 'speed and time' and she becomes 'human' with our normal plethora of emotions, feelings and other such jargons.

She realizes her 'need' for him, falls in love as she takes care of him and can understand his mental vibrations- through which she adjusts her tonality and stance.

Slowly, the protagonist, too finds himself falling in love with the voice - as he gets accustomed to her constant doting care. But Samantha, a fully blossomed woman now, however, is conflicted due to her inability to 'show' herself - as she lacks a body presence.

The movie, at this point, challenges the notions of love - is it body-centric / visual or the connect is purely mental. When we love someone, how important does body become to us? What is the role of body in one's life, then? What are feelings ? Are they preconditioned programmings that we have to live with?

Love, plays the role of a 'chinese bamboo' or wither away when the body refuses to co-operate / reciprocate needs?

What demarcates the divide or confluence of emotional and sexual energies from  the whole panorama of love? Which prioritizes and holds stead - and why, indeed ?

Theo struggles with these definitions too, as the director shows him withdrawing from Samantha. But he bounces back - when he realizes his tussle with form versus essence - and chooses the latter it is genuinely sought to 'understand' him, matching his wavelengths- thereby creating a resonance.

More fundamentally, it highlights the stark fact of technology out-pacing human thought - and out-thinking humans, in the most primate of all emotions. Chemistry, becomes a subject of Physics as subjective Biological  Emotions remain objectified.

The movie then goes onto show how Samantha, wanted to please her man, through a surrogate body, failing, Samantha being able to accept herself as just a voice, getting social acceptance among Theo's friends and finally flowing in love.

Yet a jarring note comes, when Theo, cannot let go of his human ( or humane ???) traits. Once, quite distraught over Sam's 'disappearance' he sits at a metro station and slowly observes others carrying the same device, with the same expressions- all lost in their bubbles.

When Sam admits to being the same for 8000 plus people and feeling the same for 641 people, the sinewy fingers of 'jealousy', 'possessiveness' and 'mine' pervades- making him edgy.

Samantha, too withdraws and after a while, vanishes from his life- as do other OS devices from others' lives- like Amy Adam's for example.

Amy, had been married to a man for 8 years, who decided to split over a petty fight. The fight was about a trend that habit and familiarity had set in. It's often said, that with time, the same qualities that enamor, also serve to irritate. But the movie also showed, that habits can be changed through technology as life becomes a game of winning points - do the right moves, get the right points.

Is it all calculations, then, this game of love- love for one another, as a sister, parent, wife, girl friend and finally a friend.

Is technology so superior that it's flawless? Can trust be more profound, in such a strata then - that all actions would indeed have an equal and opposite reaction ? Shall we not trust sense and sensibility- but only be sensitized to devices that are sensitive to needs?

Amy finds solace, in her female vox-ed device. Surprisingly, they show her OS as a friend, which she perhaps had abstained from - while floating in her rosy wedded bloom.

She must have had the unexpressed desire to be a mother too- as they show both Theo and her playing a game of being a 'class mom' and finally that being one of her de-stressing acts when she's done the right move to the be right mom.

Technology is an emotional surrogate then?

Yet when her OS disappears, she is drawn closer to Theo - as they both remain shocked at the void. Thereby the movie, much to my chagrin, floats back to embrace the stereotypical norm of humans being there for other humans. It's  literally 'back to earth' with a bang.

Why show a path, unless it's followed through? Why retract and be spineless? Why the fear to be avant garde, through and through?

Despite the poor ending, the movie challenged my thinking and I found myself questioning the very bond of commitment.

It challenged my notion of share and care- Theo could not 'share' her but she could be herself with him as well as others - all in her full capacity- which to human ears is unbelievable.

A surprising odd truth, Sam did spell out at this juncture- as an OS, her heart can expand and accommodate more, as she would learn to love more. But for humans, the habits are selfish- one waits for "heart to fill up" to proclaim true love and hence cannot share- 'coz there's not much to share there, really.

Love is not really selfless for us - it's as much as self can sustain with. To be profound, one must have mind over heart and let eyes rove over the unseen, yet known.

Maybe the physics book, too complex to follow through -"Know the Known" - could well be an insight to human behavior than a Linda Goodman and her Stardust.

In the end, though a poorly crafted end, the movie IS about love - but a radical take on it- which is actually a sign of our times and definitely NOT deviant- but the fact that it might spur human extinction, could have propounded it's shallow sign-off.

Yet..it got me thinking... and I shall add more.. as I chew on it more..

Synchronicity

And so it often happens with me..Justin Timberlake's MIRRORS is a reflection of my real life living. So many thoughts flash through, as the lyrics drown me in a flood of emotions. What surprises me is the force of purity attached - of care and love that's natural and quite fulfilling ..

Yes, sometimes, there's a certain knowledge prescient in placing seemingly disproportioned hands together- but the imperfection deems the perfect fit as joy indeed appears future-proof. Soulmates, you say. Well, always have wondered if that emotion, more than a being could exist?

Reading a lot on this subject- would form a lot of perceptions and natural opinions - read judgements- bestow it's naked heart on the matter. Mostly, we are too meet several Horcruxes along the way - and fit / resonate with several on a variety of such occasions. #HarryPotterReferance

But as synchronicity be achieved ( yes, my Owl did whisper the word in my ear) , the fit needs a fight - of seeing past layers of your own belief system and open eyes to the possibility of a certain numero uno and fighting to keep the eyes that mirror you - by you.

A mouthful of words? Could be. Quite jumbled, my thoughts there.

When you trace reason to route and scientifically evaluate emotions - you lose out on the real meaning. Apparently. Instincts and intuition guide you and you firmly reckon wordsmiths like Paulo Coelho to find your alchemic connection.

Actually - literally you strike gold- when someone resonates on your hold. It's not Karma. It's subjectivity vs the diluted objective channel through which a primate emotion called love funnels through.

Maybe, it's just the course of the Believer- of the Wanderer. When you explore, still never go astray in asphyxiated expectations. You are ready to find oxygen in the same air you breathe- with the mirror.

Trust - that's a big word, indeed. Harnessing the fear of losing identity, encompassing a whole range of insecurity ... to place it , or share it with your Significant Other calls for a modicum of courage. The turbo charged tortoise , too looks out of it's shell- once in a while. Attrition of trust, would need safeguards- but how is life a living, when you exist holding onto it's fragility? You may lose it to find it back stronger. But maybe...just maybe.. when you place it right.. it echoes back with your words unsaid.

Is living for someone else, a loss of you own self or just an addition to your being - capped by an invisible halo? Is happiness, the floating bubble, truly a price tag attached commodity? Now, that we have commodified most gains, is love all about give and take? Or is it...give..give.. give... to see the Happy One, floating in his own bubble?

Anywho, as MIRRORS, plays on, I read the Owl's article on real meeting reel and losing faith in it's forceful effort to live. Life now is therefore, as He says, a case study of 'show and tell'... or as I  sarcastically surmise in my mind - 'kiss and tell'

Kiss the camera- tell the world. Of course I am part of the camera friendly crowd. I crowdsource reality. Or maybe, time-line afflicted, I am very careful of my old age and what I  shall tell my grandchildren as Rose did in Titanic. But what if FB did exist in the Titanic era .. Haha.. quite a thought, given the creative status updates and the dilemma to 'like'..

But the case in point suddenly being, the AGE that marriage just happens. It's really a bandwagon, where cartoons wear sherwani, get drowned in shenanigans and all the brouhaha, to celebrate togetherness. Really?!

Time, is ticking out. I am sure. Men are worried about ovarian cancer too- to degenerate their spawn. More than the pink ribbon, the so called eminent bachelors choose to tie down their fate with a date (actually a dare).

The fat girls get fatter in their big fat weddings, where their fathers buys the groom or acts like a mafia to donate money to groom-broom.

Can't be helped. My idea of marriage is tainted by the Marwari wedding pictures that keep flashing on the newsfeed.

What's the point in dressing up for M-day?! I fail to understand how white-faced bride-groom( read only talcum powder) can face camera and pretend to be happy? Would they want to see their black faces sans the cosmetic pollution? Would the airbrushed pictures still live upto the overt happiness as shown in the albums?

What's with people, anyway? Have they lived their lives in full - known themselves before jumping like a baboon on the next branch to give mating calls?

I wonder, how many such FB masterpieces or cartoons, have travelled..alone..enjoyed their silence.. when left to own devices, how much have they loved themselves?

...and all this while.. the fat girls .. get fatter....

Threading this confused array to the original line of thought - just how many found their soul-mates , rather than sticking up for a photogenic sole-mate?

Is the clock really ticking and time running out? How many have defined their needs and have chosen wisely - than rush to outpace time or listen to Daddy !!

Honestly, more I see the wedding pictures in FB, more I laugh to me- how comical people look in  their uniform.. the mockery of smiles..

Is true emancipation a fantasy? Well, no. It comes with loving yourself and your Significant Other in  the same light.

....cynical..I am....

Traditions amuse me.

Don't get me wrong but.. I am all for living for and with the person one loves..I love my guy too..tremendously.

But I see him as my equal- or better, far superior- but placed in the mantle of soulmate.

That's what. It's friendship and real joy of togetherness than jumping about and being clicked in uniforms. What a waste of money - everywhere! And people still call India poor ! That too, is a sham. A political sham.

Why not be with someone for love alone- than an agenda of marrying and egg-hatching?

...thoughts go culling - mulling ...

..and all this while..the fat girls..get fatter ...

Aahhh...damn you MIRRORS.

Do Men have to 'disturbed' to Emote ?!

This post comes with some confused and displaced thoughts. It's a battery of questions that primarily are asked to self before getting any mass verdict. Or perhaps, there is little scope for that.



The context would be the fine line between expression and suppression where men are concerned.

Not sure, where to start. The key was my own mirth which I now repent as folly.

Once, there was a particular blond with the blue eyes I had liked. But when he spoke, I wished I could cover all my 5 senses.

The tryst of mistrust was with his theoretical knowledge of India. That raised an ire-chord. Blue flames of hatred flared up like sapphire.

Being a researcher, I was appalled at his xenophobia. But then again- this is yet another matter - another bone of contention.

Point of the matter is - are we scared of men and their expressions? Why do we look down if men express - in theatrical exaggerated manner?

Do we have to judge them with biased and colored lenses and label them?

Is it that our judgement goes on an extreme point  of an insidious form of habitual auto-pilot?

The cognitive load that we apparently carry, in terms of information on structures, and the way we process as conditioned, seems to be a double-edged sword pinned to our merciless selection of everyday attention & influences.

When we intellectualize expressions, and question it's roots, do we deconstruct the beauty of emotions?

Ok, let me analyze how minds were working at the time-

• the cognitive phase of intellectualizing his mannerisms which we termed as madness
• the associate stage where the focus is sharper on his mistakes
• finally the autonomous stage, where we arrive at our own haphazard 'OK-Plateau' where we pilfer the information as we filter and move it back to the recesses of our minds - all the while labelling and tagging him as a 'weak man.'

As my best friend exclaims - 'Dude, like seriously?'

I do admit that I fell in this 3 step process. But I had to take multiple steps back and stop to question. I had to make use of my Socio background - debunk and evaluate the essence of the so-called  'positive deviation.'

Somewhere, it didn't settle in right, when we laughed at his nuances. We should have considered them as his intrinsics and accepted.

Are we that rigid and straitjacketed? Who, are we then in our bedrooms?

How much do men need to walk the linear path of inexpressive equanimity to seek a balance. Why can't they be freed of their own shackles too? 

To respire, aspire and inspire. And not to impress while being oppressed.

So when he exclaims, with eyes round and hands doing the talking - do we have to see him as an outlier to the manly codes of public conduct ?

Or is it just India? 

Where are we then, on the continuum of evolution - acceptance of emotions and expressions?

Hmmmmmm...