I’m afraid I’ve got an opinion and I’m afraid I’ll die if I don’t shove it down your throat...

Everybody has made it their personal, moral, social, obligatory responsibility to make clear their idea of perfection, to decide what’s right and what’s wrong before double checking that they themselves have not committed the same folly (could be something as severe as a hair-cut or something as silly as a selfish act). Clearly, the high and mighty souls (do they have one, I wonder?) feel that the whole purpose of their visit to this part of the universe is to deliver their unsought opinion...

Teaching a child, the father of man (and woman)


They say love thy neighbour. But what if thy neighbour doesn’t reciprocate?

To which they say, do your deeds without any expectations. Then, why do it at all?

To which they say, do it for ‘your’self, and not to prove a point to the world. Well, in that case, I’d perform my deeds, sure. But then loving ones neighbour doesn’t figure in my list. What then?

And anyway, if I am not to have any expectations, then how do I create a standard for myself. If I must feel ‘satisfied’ with what I have, then does that mean, I need not aim for the stars, assuming realistically that I am not already amongst the stars?

They say, do not do unto others as you would that they should do unto you. But then where were the ‘others’ when this was being taught in the moral science class?

One lie leads to a thousand lies, they say. But that hasn’t stopped a lot of us from lying. The lies get justified as white lies, harmless lies and many more colour and intensity based categories are made.  

 I wonder what am i to teach my offspring... the one that’s warm and sunny, juxtaposing a stretch of cold, frosty moments, followed by flashes of cool and cloudy moments, with occasional bouts of prolonged heavy rain. My twenty-month old two-footer knows that the tiny French-manicure like nail of her pudgy left hand’s little finger, is enough for her to make me stand up in attention and do a “Aye Aye Sir...” to almost all her whimsical commands. So, what am I to teach my child, who is clearly the father of the man (I married), when it comes to being assertive, impractical, fanciful, but SURE of what she wants and how she’d get it.

I need to join a pre-school for the uninformed mommys  and get a dose on the right things to be taught in the right ways to the monster in all her rightness walking (falling, getting up, dusting her bum just to fall again) this wicked vile world.

Rant

Angry. Sullen. Sad. Betrayed. Wild. Violent. Disappointed. Scorned. Furious. Depressed. Suicidal. Apathetic. Is it practically possible for one person to feel all of these emotions at the same time? I don’t mean at precisely the same second. But each emotion pushing and shoving the other to occupy mind space? Is it possible? Or am I just thinking it up?


I want this. I wish I had that. I hope I become like him. I long for that cozy cottage. I yearn for a long holiday. I wonder if somebody is going to do it for me. A friend, while discussing our not-so-happening career graph, asked if we were not ambitious enough. Honestly, I don’t know what to say. Correct, even I am not surprised at my response. That’s how lackadaisical I’ve become. Returning to the point, I thought of all the people who saw the ‘fire’ in me, the power, not just the want, to do something big. And here I was, at 27, nowhere close to the starting point. Where did I go wrong?

I think I know the answer to it. I let many people have a say in my life AND tried to incorporate my little self as well. What a distasteful hotchpotch your life becomes when you lack the conviction to stand by what you believe. AND, like puke inducing cherry to the cake, let others lead you. Ooooh la la!

Now that I know what went wrong, do I have the nerves to stomach it with head held up high? Do I have the conviction to undo the knot and stand afresh? I don’t know. I’ll let myself know in another one week. Buying time? No. got a painful croaking throat. Need to get that straight and then we’ll grab the b@#$%^s by theire balls. No, I don’t need my throat for that. But who’ll do the abusing when they wince in pain?

Blahg!

I wrote this a few months before she came:
Motu is my friends 18 month old Labrador. He is everything she didn’t want at this point in her life (professional as well as personal) and he is the only thing that she looks forward to on a bad day. And a good day. And even on a not so happengin day. And of course, every day! Anything that ties you down, not at gun point but by mere existence is a Motu now on.

There are quite a few Motus in my life. A few of them can survive without me, but it would be just survival. What more does one need? Oh there is all that crap about living and not surviving for the sake of it. Enjoying life and not letting time tick by. Then there is this little bundle of pain, anxiety, uneasiness, fear and worst of all, limitless joy that’s to come.

If once it was difficult for me to plan running away and starting afresh, now the mere thought sends me on a headache-ridden guilt trip. Now I am going to be responsible for the little monster all set to turn my life upside down. She is not even here and I eat as per her fancy. Sleep has gone for a toss and size XS is history.

Come to think of it, I have no reason right to whine. Serves me right for taking things for granted. Serves me right for acting like a 7th grader (I’m sure they are way smarter than I’m at 25) who thinks that before the stork, a crow will pass by warning you of the arrival and I’ll just have to glare the dog away. (The dog is fine, by the way. Annoyingly excited about the kid. Already planning things that make me role my eyes and clench my jaws.)

Change, She Did Not

I thought it would change my life.
I thought it would make me more docile.
I thought I would be more accepting and forgiving.
I thought I would be like the ones with a calm head over their shoulder, carrying their stiff, starched organdy salwar kameez with a smug composure.
I thought I would love to act like a wife.

Obviously I thought wrong. I can’t even begin the beeping act :).