Beginning 1995 Jai Kaushik, perfect. Tall, fair, handsome, 5’10’’, working in a top pharmaceutical company, a rare blend of logic and creativity, poet, quick witted, mathematical genius, pursuing MBA from a leading University. A best fit to be written on all matrimonial columns, a dream for all the women. Sharada, short, wheatish complexioned, stout, the only appeal in her face are the dimpled cheeks, mischievous glint in her eyes (which were of course hidden behind her spectacles) as well her long hair. The first time it was on a photograph, Sharada just detested the very discussion of marriage. Grandma was adamant, and here was a family, who wanted to take her as their daughter-in-law. Sharada was forced to look into the photograph, and that changed her life forever, her heart skipped a beat. She wondered until now, how could somebody so perfect be her future. She wouldn’t have dared to dream for a man like Jai Kaushik. But sometimes, imperfections are so perfect. People, relatives, friends, everyone were jealous about this match. Both their families exchanged vows and the dates were yet to be announced. Star partners in every sense, nothing could go wrong for this taurian and virgo, Jai and Sharada – beginning of an instant love story. The two year courtship was like a roller-coaster ride. Highs, lows, blues, pinks, Sharada hardly remembers any day that has gone sour between them. Except for Jai’s autocracy, which Sharada loved. A zing of dependability is independence for every woman; an emotional dependability. Sharada lived every moment for the future. She was a part of Jai’s family now; their seemed no hiccups for her unlike the new bees. A cinema-scope comedy filled movie, bright coloured photography with a tinge of black for sophistication, texture of cotton hung across a hill for art, classic tamil and Malayalam songs were the background scrore, love lyrics by friends, choreography in bharatanatyam and kuchipudi, dialogues were sweet nothings and direction by God. Yes, before they could blink and open their eyes, Sharada and Jai were at the feet of “Lord Krishna” in Guruvayoor. Sharada’s father conferred her hand to Jai; they got ready for a lifetime tie-up, that’s how their weding cards read. As they climbed down the aisle, Jai had a victorious thumbs-up, very young and yet too early, a four years difference was also perfect. A loving mother-in-law, a caring father-in-law, an adoring bro-in-law; that set the beginning of a perfect love, family and life. The first night something very special for the newly we couple and this one for Sharada and Jai was one to be remembered. Sharada was not new to the family; and hence for her everything seemed cool, she does not remember shedding a tear, as she left her family to a new home. They had left Guruvaryoor to their destination house, however, the drive was tiring and by the time the family was home, it was dark, power cut around (a sign!). The mother-in-law picked up a bronze vilakku (diya) to welcome. Everything led in dark with a ream of light coming out of the vilakku (diya). A white cloth laid on floor dressed with rice puffs, tired both entered the house. As they finished their customary round of puja and Prasad, they had to stay in the dark for about 30 minutes cracking jokes before the power came back. As they planned for dinner, Sharada was up and ready to lend her helping hand, that night the mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law cooked food. Sharada was busy cleaning the floor and vessels. It was almost midnight, and Sharada with a little hesitation stayed in the sit-out wondering what next, a little push by her mother-in-law made her enter the bed-room. The room was not decked up like the movies, it was an ordinary bed room, and Jai was tired, waiting. Jai spoke logical things about transport, expenses, food, and friends and so on, Sharada kept listening to all these, the tiredness in them literally pulled their eyes and soon Jai fell asleep, tired and snoring. Sharada’s eyes were wide open and didn’t know when she went into deep peaceful sleep.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Incomplete - 13 Murdered in Love - 6
As Sharada lifts her tired limbs towards her home down the village, her thoughts oscillated from past to present. Sharada had some horrid, unpleasant and a miserable feeling which was racked with sorrow, but through all of these all she knew was just to be Living was a Big thing. As she approached the lane near her house, there was a disturbed feeling, too many people around whispering among themselves. Unable to fathom the reason she increases her pace in the direction of her house wondering what has happened in her absence.
Swiftly she enters the room in which grandma lay speechless, motionless with flickering eyes. Her eyes rolled around the room and noticed newly wed couple- Meera and her Husband. Mute Meera had teary eyes; Sharada observed Meera really loved grandma. Before she could comfort and console Meera, grandma’s cough caught her attention. Her health was deteriorating drastically; a call for the doctor had already been made. Within minutes the doctor arrives and does a holistic checkup of grandma. Sharada, almost prepared to hear what she dreaded the most. The expression on the doctor’s face was convincingly and apparently reflecting helplessness. Doctor Ramakrishnan called Sharada in a corner and asked her to inform all the relatives that there was not much time left. With drooping eyes Sharada pulls herself, lets the news sink in. Doctor Ramkrishnan indicates to pray to the Lord for betterment of grandma and leaves the house. A sudden roar inside the house to be noticed, people have now started calling and informing relatives.
Grandma probably knows the consequence and calls for Sharada inside the room alone. They look at each other and with feeble voice they talk. Health now declines further, pulse rate slower, body movement minimum.
It was twelve in the noon and by four in the evening the eldest son of grandma had arrived with his wife. His eyes met that of Sharada and were pleased to see her. His first words were “Good you came here.” He entered the room where grandma was lying down, fast asleep. He held her hand and sat quietly. By the night almost all the close relatives had arrived except for those resided outside the country. All the neighbours and people of the village close to grandma refused to go back and stayed back inside the house praying for her health.
It was now two in the early morning when a car arrived at the entrance of the door. They were Sharada’s parents. There was a strange mixed feeling, it had been years they saw or even heard Sharada and now they met in such an unpleasant atmosphere. Confused whom they must attend first- Sharada or grandma, their minds make a quick decision; hugged Sharada and proceeded towards grandma’s room.
Grandma is alive, breathing, extending arms, recognizing her sons. At around five in the morning another car stops at the main gate. Jai Kaushik, his wife Madhuri and his kids- Dhruva and Dhriti get down from the car.
Swiftly she enters the room in which grandma lay speechless, motionless with flickering eyes. Her eyes rolled around the room and noticed newly wed couple- Meera and her Husband. Mute Meera had teary eyes; Sharada observed Meera really loved grandma. Before she could comfort and console Meera, grandma’s cough caught her attention. Her health was deteriorating drastically; a call for the doctor had already been made. Within minutes the doctor arrives and does a holistic checkup of grandma. Sharada, almost prepared to hear what she dreaded the most. The expression on the doctor’s face was convincingly and apparently reflecting helplessness. Doctor Ramakrishnan called Sharada in a corner and asked her to inform all the relatives that there was not much time left. With drooping eyes Sharada pulls herself, lets the news sink in. Doctor Ramkrishnan indicates to pray to the Lord for betterment of grandma and leaves the house. A sudden roar inside the house to be noticed, people have now started calling and informing relatives.
Grandma probably knows the consequence and calls for Sharada inside the room alone. They look at each other and with feeble voice they talk. Health now declines further, pulse rate slower, body movement minimum.
It was twelve in the noon and by four in the evening the eldest son of grandma had arrived with his wife. His eyes met that of Sharada and were pleased to see her. His first words were “Good you came here.” He entered the room where grandma was lying down, fast asleep. He held her hand and sat quietly. By the night almost all the close relatives had arrived except for those resided outside the country. All the neighbours and people of the village close to grandma refused to go back and stayed back inside the house praying for her health.
It was now two in the early morning when a car arrived at the entrance of the door. They were Sharada’s parents. There was a strange mixed feeling, it had been years they saw or even heard Sharada and now they met in such an unpleasant atmosphere. Confused whom they must attend first- Sharada or grandma, their minds make a quick decision; hugged Sharada and proceeded towards grandma’s room.
Grandma is alive, breathing, extending arms, recognizing her sons. At around five in the morning another car stops at the main gate. Jai Kaushik, his wife Madhuri and his kids- Dhruva and Dhriti get down from the car.
Incomplete - 12 Murdered in Love - 5
Locked inside the house for so long, it was time for Sharada to breathe a new week beginning and venture out. Fear plays a big role, and its true, the more the distance and running away from reality will bring it even more closer and proximate. As inside, nothing had changed outside. The day started the same way as it used to 20 years back. She recollects the early morning mist/ fog, Sharada and Rema collecting milk, running around the village, enjoying little games of marbles etc
The real world had coffee shops, malls, pubs, beaches and all these in villages were susbstituted by temple premises, water pond shores. These were predominantly places where women gathered and gossiped. Some visible changes were women had started driving and riding, once dominant with high caste so called “brahmins”, the line houses were also rented out to “hindus”. Festivals in the village were widely encouraged, participated and appreciated by all hindus. The monopoly, isolated, rigid tag for the community as a whole had vanished. Overall the originality, the smell of the sand, the camphor fragrance, the raw temple floors stood same without much modernisation. With slight changes in the basic structure of so called upgraded village everything remained unmoved, unaffected, passive.
Sharada had ruffling up in the store room, was looking for something and there she found, her cycle and the walking stick. Her memories of Grandfather was very little, and one was this. She was glad that she was the only grandchild to have been able to protest grandpa and get things done in her favour. It was her eight grade, Kerala was a vacation destination and it was then when cycle was introduced to her; she was the first girl to bravely pedal; grandfather was just against all these and especially girls / women- the rationale behind this is nothing to do with suppression, it was about general fear of accidents. On that account he hit her with the walking stick.
Sharada would not dare to do it now, however, a child in her would’nt stop and she stepped out with her cycle, of course this time not pedalling but strolling it along. Her dream was to walk along the way to her college. The roads led to a brick making factory, the smoke and emission gave a weird smell, however, the girls loved it. None knew how it was made, but the heating process and the pyramid made out of all this raw materials excited her. It is still the same, Sharada amused to herself. A verternary hospital; queuing up cows, bulls, some had dogs this time. As she climbed up the hill towards her college, she remembered how some girls had entered an isolated big house only to steal mangoes. With a smirk on her face she continues. A weird feeling, as Sharada stood in front of the college gate, strikes were a very common phenomenon earlier and so was the case even now. As she touched the gate railings, she stood motionless without expression.
Sharada moves back as all the memories are action replayed. Some places are not meant to be retunred because they always remain with you. If not for the suspension, things would have been different for Sharada. The sub plot in her life to get murdered in love, would have been a late entry.
The real world had coffee shops, malls, pubs, beaches and all these in villages were susbstituted by temple premises, water pond shores. These were predominantly places where women gathered and gossiped. Some visible changes were women had started driving and riding, once dominant with high caste so called “brahmins”, the line houses were also rented out to “hindus”. Festivals in the village were widely encouraged, participated and appreciated by all hindus. The monopoly, isolated, rigid tag for the community as a whole had vanished. Overall the originality, the smell of the sand, the camphor fragrance, the raw temple floors stood same without much modernisation. With slight changes in the basic structure of so called upgraded village everything remained unmoved, unaffected, passive.
Sharada had ruffling up in the store room, was looking for something and there she found, her cycle and the walking stick. Her memories of Grandfather was very little, and one was this. She was glad that she was the only grandchild to have been able to protest grandpa and get things done in her favour. It was her eight grade, Kerala was a vacation destination and it was then when cycle was introduced to her; she was the first girl to bravely pedal; grandfather was just against all these and especially girls / women- the rationale behind this is nothing to do with suppression, it was about general fear of accidents. On that account he hit her with the walking stick.
Sharada would not dare to do it now, however, a child in her would’nt stop and she stepped out with her cycle, of course this time not pedalling but strolling it along. Her dream was to walk along the way to her college. The roads led to a brick making factory, the smoke and emission gave a weird smell, however, the girls loved it. None knew how it was made, but the heating process and the pyramid made out of all this raw materials excited her. It is still the same, Sharada amused to herself. A verternary hospital; queuing up cows, bulls, some had dogs this time. As she climbed up the hill towards her college, she remembered how some girls had entered an isolated big house only to steal mangoes. With a smirk on her face she continues. A weird feeling, as Sharada stood in front of the college gate, strikes were a very common phenomenon earlier and so was the case even now. As she touched the gate railings, she stood motionless without expression.
Sharada moves back as all the memories are action replayed. Some places are not meant to be retunred because they always remain with you. If not for the suspension, things would have been different for Sharada. The sub plot in her life to get murdered in love, would have been a late entry.
Incomplete - 11 Murdered in Love - 4
A fastest week ever; such were the pace of some instances in life. By the time you look back you are almost reaching 35; the trend now is “life starts at forty” so it is reassuring that one has 6 more years to grow to start a life ;)
World is very intelligent around; one can be assessed by the kind of colours and clothes worn, the wrist watch brands, how neatly one has polished shoes, how the hair is kept – straightened or highlighted, these are enough for a person to be packaged into a box. These boxes are – enterprising, high potential, hard-working, calculative, presentable, deep, superficial, articulate, aggressive, go-getter, energetic, young, mature, immature, negative, emotional, positive, over confident, low morale, team player, leader, supportive, creative, rationale, logical and the list goes on. Now all these reflect in your personal lives too.
If everything is right with a handsome packet; nothing is wrong in one’s personal life. There will only be compliments; support in times of hardships, support in times of injustice and all kinds of support will follow through.
If some things are right and some things not so right; a packet not handsome yet okay; then the discontentment continuous. Sometimes you will be supported, sometimes you will be discouraged, sometimes you are the best and sometimes there cannot be things as worse as this.
The last one, nothing is good so obviously there are no complaints because nothing is good anyways.
Is there an analogy to this? Yes right, the rich, middle and poor gap. This happens on a psychological level inside the mind and that mental framework goes down to action as you try to live out a balanced life.
To start with we are all essentially “Gullible” people, in order to protect personal identity, we run around good, medium and bad and give it a definition “attitude”. It’s the way a situation is handled, reacted, responded makes us fit into any of the above categories.
In the said situation, a likely promotion slips to a non-deserving team member and if the deserving candidate happens to break-down, that’s it; beware this will be framed, which ever box, but the conclusion will be “very low attitude” or “low spirited attitude”. On the contrary the deserving person congratulates the winner, its termed as “good attitude”, the person has all the potential to go places. The subject of fear does not enter the mind, as the thought is for a long term success viz a viz the short one. And then person with neutral or no reaction; there are signs sent out “be careful”, there is one out there, can go around scheming.
Now split this as just a situation or an incident; then the person in the prior reaction is framed into a “low spirited attitude box” this is only for that moment and this should not be concluded as his/her character. But unfortunately the human tendency or so called mind is so naive that such framing affects the mind and the victim believes that this is due to “low esteem” and starts to work against an emotion which perhaps is just a throw and wrap case.
Suppressing an emotion leads to lot of complications. There is no right or wrong to this; it is how the system is functioning. And this is known to all or at least heard of.
In school, many must have gone through this act called “by heart” or “ratta maaro”; some chapters are just useless, you can’t figure anything out of it. This will eventually pose as a definite question on the paper, so students just memorise it and vomit the same on the answer sheet. (Hope everyone remembers the effects from a scene of “3 Idiots”); some of these will be remembered even after 20 years. Classic examples are poems; songs; proverbs etc. These don’t change; they stay, the more you rehearse the better you get at it.
That is how the case of “framing or boxing” is; very hard to change a mind that has fixed and categorised a person or the character based upon a certain incident. There is no chance of change or given a benefit of doubt (oops...wrong word) unlike what happens in compositions, or prose, one can change. Reiterating a phenomenon of a form or structure will after a long time become that phenomenon.
Similarly in love one ends up prioritising, giving importance to the partner involved - a catalyst, who enables the so called ‘heart’ enters ‘mind’. Love is indeed an art, a very creative and intelligent art. It can make you think what you are not. It can make you become what you are not. It deceives criminals like you and me. Here it is a murder by killing the very feeling of originality. This murder is committed inside a human body to begin with. It actually works on mind than heart. It can make u dream and on the same scale bring you out of it. Love becomes so powerful that in the end it defeats you. All these play a very vital role in your professional and personal life.
Sharada technically can be compared to dry leaves..... that sway exactly the way the wind blew. All it required was repetitive iteration “three times” by the other person and she would start coining herself, seeing herself just the way others saw her; not realising so called “others” can also be wrong. She would introspect and started viewing her identity simply how it was perceived by others. A tendency to harshly interpret herself; by the way, this also has a box “I am hurt stigma” “cry baby” “self pity” “seeking attention” “emotional”......enjoy, choose the best.
People don’t have time to read gloomy and teary things; all they want is a fast paced thriller or comedy or life inspiring, motivational books. Because all whatever is written here does not interest, gives tiring signals, the person behind this note is also so sad, upset and experiencing harsh things; so by far, very difficult to catch hold of one’s attention for the longest time and write to them “truth” because they are inadvertently facing them.
World is very intelligent around; one can be assessed by the kind of colours and clothes worn, the wrist watch brands, how neatly one has polished shoes, how the hair is kept – straightened or highlighted, these are enough for a person to be packaged into a box. These boxes are – enterprising, high potential, hard-working, calculative, presentable, deep, superficial, articulate, aggressive, go-getter, energetic, young, mature, immature, negative, emotional, positive, over confident, low morale, team player, leader, supportive, creative, rationale, logical and the list goes on. Now all these reflect in your personal lives too.
If everything is right with a handsome packet; nothing is wrong in one’s personal life. There will only be compliments; support in times of hardships, support in times of injustice and all kinds of support will follow through.
If some things are right and some things not so right; a packet not handsome yet okay; then the discontentment continuous. Sometimes you will be supported, sometimes you will be discouraged, sometimes you are the best and sometimes there cannot be things as worse as this.
The last one, nothing is good so obviously there are no complaints because nothing is good anyways.
Is there an analogy to this? Yes right, the rich, middle and poor gap. This happens on a psychological level inside the mind and that mental framework goes down to action as you try to live out a balanced life.
To start with we are all essentially “Gullible” people, in order to protect personal identity, we run around good, medium and bad and give it a definition “attitude”. It’s the way a situation is handled, reacted, responded makes us fit into any of the above categories.
In the said situation, a likely promotion slips to a non-deserving team member and if the deserving candidate happens to break-down, that’s it; beware this will be framed, which ever box, but the conclusion will be “very low attitude” or “low spirited attitude”. On the contrary the deserving person congratulates the winner, its termed as “good attitude”, the person has all the potential to go places. The subject of fear does not enter the mind, as the thought is for a long term success viz a viz the short one. And then person with neutral or no reaction; there are signs sent out “be careful”, there is one out there, can go around scheming.
Now split this as just a situation or an incident; then the person in the prior reaction is framed into a “low spirited attitude box” this is only for that moment and this should not be concluded as his/her character. But unfortunately the human tendency or so called mind is so naive that such framing affects the mind and the victim believes that this is due to “low esteem” and starts to work against an emotion which perhaps is just a throw and wrap case.
Suppressing an emotion leads to lot of complications. There is no right or wrong to this; it is how the system is functioning. And this is known to all or at least heard of.
In school, many must have gone through this act called “by heart” or “ratta maaro”; some chapters are just useless, you can’t figure anything out of it. This will eventually pose as a definite question on the paper, so students just memorise it and vomit the same on the answer sheet. (Hope everyone remembers the effects from a scene of “3 Idiots”); some of these will be remembered even after 20 years. Classic examples are poems; songs; proverbs etc. These don’t change; they stay, the more you rehearse the better you get at it.
That is how the case of “framing or boxing” is; very hard to change a mind that has fixed and categorised a person or the character based upon a certain incident. There is no chance of change or given a benefit of doubt (oops...wrong word) unlike what happens in compositions, or prose, one can change. Reiterating a phenomenon of a form or structure will after a long time become that phenomenon.
Similarly in love one ends up prioritising, giving importance to the partner involved - a catalyst, who enables the so called ‘heart’ enters ‘mind’. Love is indeed an art, a very creative and intelligent art. It can make you think what you are not. It can make you become what you are not. It deceives criminals like you and me. Here it is a murder by killing the very feeling of originality. This murder is committed inside a human body to begin with. It actually works on mind than heart. It can make u dream and on the same scale bring you out of it. Love becomes so powerful that in the end it defeats you. All these play a very vital role in your professional and personal life.
Sharada technically can be compared to dry leaves..... that sway exactly the way the wind blew. All it required was repetitive iteration “three times” by the other person and she would start coining herself, seeing herself just the way others saw her; not realising so called “others” can also be wrong. She would introspect and started viewing her identity simply how it was perceived by others. A tendency to harshly interpret herself; by the way, this also has a box “I am hurt stigma” “cry baby” “self pity” “seeking attention” “emotional”......enjoy, choose the best.
People don’t have time to read gloomy and teary things; all they want is a fast paced thriller or comedy or life inspiring, motivational books. Because all whatever is written here does not interest, gives tiring signals, the person behind this note is also so sad, upset and experiencing harsh things; so by far, very difficult to catch hold of one’s attention for the longest time and write to them “truth” because they are inadvertently facing them.
Incomplete - 10 Murdered in Love - 3
Nirmala, Meera, around 20 relatives plus some villagers prepare to leave the house; conclusively Nirmala had implemented her plans to precision and had set up everything at the Guruvayoor temple. Just about six days and Sharada was witnessing "love-run-shut" case; mute Meera forced into a wedding to a stranger. Some things don't change; one of them being the so called "roots", its profoundly engrained into the psyche untouched by time. Currently in this instance “caste” playing the perfect criminal, banished Meera to marry the man of her preference. It is highly inhuman to expect Meera accept the “groom-to-be.” As Meera prepared her second innings with a stranger, it became evident in her repertoire that all she could go was this far, prove herself by running away. Meera had lost all the strength and was in no mood of conversation. Silence was killing but it communicated many things only understood by Sharada. The ‘air’ in the house was becoming heavier; the only thing Sharada wondered was there anyway she could help Meera. Difference of opinion kept racing in her mind, the same question in all ‘tenses’ sprang frequently; however, she eventually detached herself. It was important to help but it was also important to allow them to help themselves.
The current instance called for getting locked up for some more days, for Sharada. Nirmala arranged for a care taker to look after grandmother. Nirmala invited Sharada for the wedding; evidently Sharada excused herself; for the same old reason of some memories attached with some places and Guruvayoor was one of them. Sharada saw Meera leaving the house with blessings from grandmother. That’s it! Meera's eyes were wide open and she had set out to be a part of a strange world. A world that’s cruel, harsh, insensitive, unkind, heartless….
What will happen to her? She will also live. Like everybody else. May be work, have kids......but she will ‘Live.’ And about the boy; he will also ‘Live.’ That is what it is to "love" ....straight jacketed answer, people will move on and live and live another life. Nobody today has the time to wait and waste time thinking about someone. Broken one cannot go beyond two months, it is superimposed by "good moments" shared between two people; ask why it didn’t work then the answer is "they had different things to do with life"; "we cannot be happy in marriage"; "everyday life is important to me, our concepts of love is different"......Sharada wondered how did grandparents and parents live a long married love less life?
There wasn’t any specific agenda that called Sharada's presence in the working world, so in spite of her running away spree, she stayed back and mulled over all details.
Before Meera left, Sharada overhead some relatives suggesting various beauty tips; like applying turmeric paste before bath, cleaning up of unwanted hair using an eraser, applying appropriate oil and shampoo on hair - just imagine, pushing someone into undesired act to please and be presentable. It’s sad an auspicious occasion like marriage has come down to only to prepare the girl to be attractive. The days of describing woman’s beauty, dressing her in gold and “pattu saree” so that she ignites positive energy and spreads radiance is the feature only attributed to bygone era. People can be just insensitive; but may be there is a lesson to all of these; may be it is an opportunity to fix up things and the “faster the better.”
Sharada used to enjoy marriages especially she loved singing and every function had a mandate of mikes. She probably made love to a mike more often than the man himself. She would just run and grab it, it didn’t really require anyone to persuade her. One such occasion, when her uncle was getting married all her cousins from different cities (Mumbai, Chennai, Ahmedabad etc) were home. They would sing in Hindi, Tamil, Malayalam, sometimes Telugu. English was very rare. One of her cousin's Uma was standing uneasy with tears in her eyes; of course Sharada being the oldest of all intervened to understand the situation. By now the girls’ strength had increased and there were about seven already trying to listen to Uma. She had a terrible stomach ache, it was a quick realisation, without any hesitation, Uma was pulled and taken inside the house; they all knew what the problem was. As Sharada readied a cloth piece and explain things to her, from nowhere came out a white rectangular cotton pad....Sharada was surprised to learn something like that helped women viz a viz a piece of cloth.
It was not a matter of exposure or awareness; it was more something to do with experimentation. Its like all these finite details are borrowed and followed within the household as it is inherited; and the bar of excellence is up to a "mother" and her encouragement to children how and when one should experience. Few things in life are excusable; one can blame the place and family. So Sharada convinced herself also with this reason and that widened her horizons. This passage is also to showcase how vulnerable, innocent, ignorant Sharada's upbringing throughout has been. Everything was black and white; and alas unaware of the conspiring world.
Sharada questioned, and answered all the questions. She wondered how women like her grandmother knew everything about all these. Some stories made deeper impact and one from the pages of history was this, Sharada had read that "Temple" structures and carvings on them were a way to educate woman. Men had the liberty to acquire worldly knowledge by indulging, socialising and reading; this exposure was limited when it came to woman. A man and woman relationship was understood and learnt from the little carvings on the temple structures. Marriage immediately calls for begetting kids, but talk about the process of creation and grandmother would give dirty looks. It was not in the books of women to familiarize their own kins with these things.
Meera belonged to now and her exposure to things would be much more than what Sharada had and all the more a reason for her forthcoming days to be good. Just wishing her the best and praying god for all the good things, Sharada had gone to bed, this time at 10pm.
The current instance called for getting locked up for some more days, for Sharada. Nirmala arranged for a care taker to look after grandmother. Nirmala invited Sharada for the wedding; evidently Sharada excused herself; for the same old reason of some memories attached with some places and Guruvayoor was one of them. Sharada saw Meera leaving the house with blessings from grandmother. That’s it! Meera's eyes were wide open and she had set out to be a part of a strange world. A world that’s cruel, harsh, insensitive, unkind, heartless….
What will happen to her? She will also live. Like everybody else. May be work, have kids......but she will ‘Live.’ And about the boy; he will also ‘Live.’ That is what it is to "love" ....straight jacketed answer, people will move on and live and live another life. Nobody today has the time to wait and waste time thinking about someone. Broken one cannot go beyond two months, it is superimposed by "good moments" shared between two people; ask why it didn’t work then the answer is "they had different things to do with life"; "we cannot be happy in marriage"; "everyday life is important to me, our concepts of love is different"......Sharada wondered how did grandparents and parents live a long married love less life?
There wasn’t any specific agenda that called Sharada's presence in the working world, so in spite of her running away spree, she stayed back and mulled over all details.
Before Meera left, Sharada overhead some relatives suggesting various beauty tips; like applying turmeric paste before bath, cleaning up of unwanted hair using an eraser, applying appropriate oil and shampoo on hair - just imagine, pushing someone into undesired act to please and be presentable. It’s sad an auspicious occasion like marriage has come down to only to prepare the girl to be attractive. The days of describing woman’s beauty, dressing her in gold and “pattu saree” so that she ignites positive energy and spreads radiance is the feature only attributed to bygone era. People can be just insensitive; but may be there is a lesson to all of these; may be it is an opportunity to fix up things and the “faster the better.”
Sharada used to enjoy marriages especially she loved singing and every function had a mandate of mikes. She probably made love to a mike more often than the man himself. She would just run and grab it, it didn’t really require anyone to persuade her. One such occasion, when her uncle was getting married all her cousins from different cities (Mumbai, Chennai, Ahmedabad etc) were home. They would sing in Hindi, Tamil, Malayalam, sometimes Telugu. English was very rare. One of her cousin's Uma was standing uneasy with tears in her eyes; of course Sharada being the oldest of all intervened to understand the situation. By now the girls’ strength had increased and there were about seven already trying to listen to Uma. She had a terrible stomach ache, it was a quick realisation, without any hesitation, Uma was pulled and taken inside the house; they all knew what the problem was. As Sharada readied a cloth piece and explain things to her, from nowhere came out a white rectangular cotton pad....Sharada was surprised to learn something like that helped women viz a viz a piece of cloth.
It was not a matter of exposure or awareness; it was more something to do with experimentation. Its like all these finite details are borrowed and followed within the household as it is inherited; and the bar of excellence is up to a "mother" and her encouragement to children how and when one should experience. Few things in life are excusable; one can blame the place and family. So Sharada convinced herself also with this reason and that widened her horizons. This passage is also to showcase how vulnerable, innocent, ignorant Sharada's upbringing throughout has been. Everything was black and white; and alas unaware of the conspiring world.
Sharada questioned, and answered all the questions. She wondered how women like her grandmother knew everything about all these. Some stories made deeper impact and one from the pages of history was this, Sharada had read that "Temple" structures and carvings on them were a way to educate woman. Men had the liberty to acquire worldly knowledge by indulging, socialising and reading; this exposure was limited when it came to woman. A man and woman relationship was understood and learnt from the little carvings on the temple structures. Marriage immediately calls for begetting kids, but talk about the process of creation and grandmother would give dirty looks. It was not in the books of women to familiarize their own kins with these things.
Meera belonged to now and her exposure to things would be much more than what Sharada had and all the more a reason for her forthcoming days to be good. Just wishing her the best and praying god for all the good things, Sharada had gone to bed, this time at 10pm.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Incomplete - 9 - Murdered in Love - 2
Let’s take a reverse gear and sneak into little things during our school life, which then of course mattered most. To buy and preserve ‘baer ke phal’, mouth watering ‘pan pasand toffee’ and waiting for some surprises exchanged in the form of colourful ‘ribbons’ are some of the common reminiscence of the school days. Each second guarded waiting at a place and ensuring every action is beyond suspicion from that of teachers, parents, fellow mates and even neighbours. Liberty of wearing wrist watches was though attributed only to the working class, the time was ticking just right for “us” – it was the new beginning - the first “puppy love” ‘Love letters’ existed and so did ‘love messengers.’ Only to prove that the person in love was more important than others, some messages were blood written. All of this existed unaware that everybody around is watching and noticing this development; unaware that this has become the talk of the town, unaware that grades are depreciating, unaware that parents are alerted. In order to get complete sanction to hold hands and walk around, a test has to be passed; prove your ability to score and score a distinction. On the Day of Judgment when results were out, you find the name on the "toppers list". Timely success blindfolds everything and intelligent people around strategically plot against world's precious feeling called "love", it’s rubbed as infatuation. The next thing to life is to score and this time score the best degree ahead. Taking a clue from epic movies, there exists concept of "waiting" and "waiting for that day"............a long wait only to realize that the loved one is settled somewhere happily with his loved one. Love after all is not about the hugs and kisses, but about the chills that hit every part of your spine when you think about them. Love is strange; it greets you as a stranger only to remain a stranger throughout. Another one, a phone conversation ignites and boils down to desperation within the love minds; a possible meeting in the evening will be disrupted, as the boss stands villain at the work place. The second step of "love", the adamant one, "only to outdo and correct one's perception". Dressed exactly the way to impress and get continued attention, breaking all norms, feeding all the lies, it thrills to bunk office in the afternoon only to meet him and duly come back to attend the missed schedules. Fight out all odds and end up marrying the guy only to find that everything seemed to be just a dream. Learnt to see the imperfections perfectly... aaauch that hurts. Then another form of love, which is termed as "soul partnerships"; everything is felt, heard, dreamt; believe it or not, it will exactly happen the way it is. The "Bhagawad Gita's", "Ramayana", "Mahabharata", "worldly things, positive things, "white" will be the colour; songs will be eternal, peace and only great conversations. Salt and sugar will be proportionate. Holidays will be in serene places, Himalayas will be a dream. A priceless moment and timeless love is born. But it vanishes, where doesn’t know. Then there is "one sided love"; bet "men" will beat "women" on this. They will continue to love, forgive, forget and help only to keep the woman. The ones into this will go through unimaginable levels of happiness only to see the wonderful day come true. Appreciate and empathise then it will be the mistake of life; neglect and it will turn out to be rude; neutral, the hope continues. “Materialistic love”. People fall in love not with the person but with status, standard, wealth and fame. This kind of love however, last longer than imaginable. The reason being all the wants are satisfied, life becomes self centric and one hardly gets time to think what has been missing.
Then there is “internet love”, “trial and test love”, “open love”, “friends forever love”, “unconditional love”, “conditional love”, “possessive love”, “obsessive love”, “love of beauty”, “love of minds”, “love of conversations”, “spiritual love”, “analyst love”, “assessment love”, “sun sign love”, “horoscope love” and the list goes on.
There are concepts of love – Selfish and selfless; Freedom and Possession.
The new trend (borrowing words from a conversation): “Love” is the biggest brand in the world, greatly marketed by Archie, Hallmark and of course Yash Chopra. “Forever Love”, “Long Lasting Love”, “First Love” etc.
Finally “ambiguous" love stories. The reason to start the relationship will be weird; from friends it will convert to brother, then it will convert to affection, and then convert into care, will convert to love. There are many roles to play, one of a friend, sister, mother, lover, wife (brother, father, husband) and god knows what. But then roles are limited so once the interesting “zing” goes away then there is no continuation to it.
Give 100% in a relationship (gender free)
• Be honest – they let you go• Be loyal – they feel suffocated• Be emotional – they don’t want moms• Be a lover – they don’t want “high maintenance”• Be level headed – then its convenience• Be articulate – then it’s manipulative• Be nice – then its diplomacy• Be a reminder – treating them as kids• Don’t remind them – not taking care of them • Fight – not in the line of frequency• Don’t fight – take advantage of the situation• If fat – loose weight• If thin – gain weight• If slim – don’t wear revealing clothes• Smoke and drink – easy picks and drops• Don’t smoke or drink – very traditional• Wear black – inviting somebody• Wear some other color – low color sense• Violence – its because they are short-tempered• Become aggressive – then its crazy• Joke – considered as no respect • Angry – not on par with humor • Take hurts – then no self respect• Take no shit – then egoistic• Spend – they disapprove• They don’t spend – because they don’t want to prove• Laugh and play – one isn’t serious• Serious – get a chill pill• Don’t have sex – infidelity• Ask for sex – maniac• Go the last mile to keep him happy – he isn’t happy• Don’t do anything to keep him happy – he isn’t happy either• If love does not succeed – there isn’t enough love• If it succeeds – then there isn’t love
On a starry night, holding each other tight and sitting on a verandah…..imagine with a sister; having candle light dinner...imagine with a father…..would it make any difference? If the feeling doesn’t change; then go with the trend. Concepts will change, love will change and suit according to the world’s needs…
Ultimately, love cannot be replaced as friendship.
Sharada fell in all the spheres of love; she wondered if she was Krishna’s Meera (epic); and her mind now slowly drifted to the real Meera in the house and she was trying to figure out her love.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Incomplete 8 - Murdered in Love - 1
Thoughts for the day:
"There are two kinds of people in this world, one who gives advice and one who takes";
"If you want to be happy, be happy, it’s in your hands";
Ways to go… and kick start a wonderful day.
Such proverbs/ axioms are very familiar and regular displays at the school or office notice boards. There is no doubt that experience of great people enables "ordinary people" to self motivate and lead a contented life. However, this comes with ‘some’ side effects; such inspiring text induces high standards and literally disables people to function the way they wish to.
A stark look at the students who perform terribly in exams serves as the best analogy to what mounted pressure does to students. Low grades resulting in low self esteem, low confidence and just getting categorized as non performers is sufficient to kill their aspirations. This is carried forward to later stages of life – both professional and personal.
Lets not forget cases of “love” and people going through relationships either smoothly move on to the next or just don't come out of it. Suicides; not offending anyone, but labeling it as a "cowardly act" is actually a defense - all in all to stop somebody from doing an act of crime to oneself. A priceless gift of GOD called life cannot be offended. All these are debatable, finally it ends up to the last thing, and life is to live and live happily...have an optimistic approach. The lesson learnt is, it is better to argue less else you will be framed of being “pessimistic – loser’.
Meera was back. The boy was very terrified, they were in two different rooms and police had interrogated them deeply - which the kids found difficult to take. The boys’ parents were there to take him back home. Somewhere the commotion had to calm; Sharada was there to negotiate and mediate every dialogue between the boys’ parents, police and other third parties. Sharada was very composed and absolutely rock solid without any reactions. As the crowd cleared, the house looked like a “place” after a heavy downpour. Sharada was exhausted, Meera was sleeping, Nirmala excited, confused yet relaxed, Grandma continued with her chants.
The fourth day, Nirmala along with some of her close relatives was having discussions with Meera. Sharada was attending grandmother. Meera was in a state of silence, she would not respond to any of their queries. "Just leave me alone" Meera would repeat these words constantly. As the day progressed, Sharada requested Nirmala and her relatives to give some space to Meera. It was best if she was left alone for few days. Sharada gave confidence that Meera would be back to her normal state if she was allowed to live the way she wants to. Though Nirmala would argue as marriage was haunting her mind and such behaviour was not socially acceptable. Sharada could do nothing but just try to strike a balance. It was an intricate issue and tricky to convince Nirmala, however she did attempt to pacify by buying time, till then some kind of message from boys’ parents would also arrive. Offensively Nirmala’s agony comes to surface for the first time when she utters "I would not agree for that"; "we have the right guy for her, and they can shift to a different city or place". Persuading her was becoming even more unattainable. All Sharada heard was grandma retorting "Sharada you don’t get involved here, just leave it"
Sharada had now become immune to many things; she would not allow her being to get hurt anymore. These kept happening and happening all the time; thankfully she had some good friends around who kept her alive. There were incidents of lies, betrayal, allegations, and people taking advantage!! Sharada understood that this wasn’t only about her life, many had similar instances; each one behaved differently. Sharada behaved differently and that is it. The act of suicide or self hurting was attempted by Sharada and she convincingly believed that these were not acts of cowardness but lot of guts. And if she hadn’t been successful, then it was because she wasn’t that strong enough. May be the moment of suicides were the most distressing realities to her.
She always stood up and remembered various realities, one about a woman who loved, married a man and lived life very normally until she had two kids; a boy (4 years old) and a girl (hardly a year). The man met with an accident and that was the end of his life; that left three souls in this world without him. They live, fight through all odds – the woman got a decent job, built a house, made engineers out of the kids, got the girl married and boy independent. The woman probably had an option or alternative – kids alive. The woman just killed all her desires and lived for them. But whose mistake is this? What if the kids weren’t alive? Or born? She would have another marriage? Kids out of that marriage? Another death? But “hope”, a hope of past, if the man was alive, he would have stood by her throughout, got the kids best of education (all subjective); may be give her all the satisfaction of life – financially, emotionally and physically.
Life is all about moving, constant, changing, shifting and probably adjusting. A girl pregnant with twins, on the night of labour goes through so much pain only to deliver still babies. Life is all about such instances. The most important thing is about people who live that life with memories; memories of the dead one's or bygones. Sharada always wondered how parents would react to find their only daughter dead and them alive… It’s all about LIVING and that’s why we are bestowed with this precious life!
But why live a miserable life? What is that one has to prove to the world? Who means the world? There is one tale of life written here, somewhere in some part of Trivandrum, Delhi or Neyveli there are other tales growing and all of them have a role.
But when you fall in love, you fall.
Life is all about moving, constant, changing, shifting and probably adjusting. A girl pregnant with twins, on the night of labour goes through so much pain only to deliver still babies. Life is all about such instances. The most important thing is about people who live that life with memories; memories of the dead one's or bygones. Sharada always wondered how parents would react to find their only daughter dead and them alive… It’s all about LIVING and that’s why we are bestowed with this precious life!
But why live a miserable life? What is that one has to prove to the world? Who means the world? There is one tale of life written here, somewhere in some part of Trivandrum, Delhi or Neyveli there are other tales growing and all of them have a role.
But when you fall in love, you fall.
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