Pause, heave, and... Move on.

The heart* was made to be broken. - Oscar Wilde 


           No, I am not talking about evanescent affairs or annihilated quixotic relationship. The cardiac can also shatter with demise, disappointment, deceit, insult, inefficiency and the like. The shatter is then companied by hysterical rage. Tears, masculine or feminine, are oft sensible when they well up due to anger rather than anguish. Anger, being profoundly venomous, could also be your motivation, your rocket fuel to success. (Take it from RajniKanth films.) Where a time machine seems impractical, it is vain to detach yourself, cry a river and wish for a rewind button in life. Also, never consider revenge, for it is the filthiest of emotions and deeds.


           These downfalls in life are in fact a blessing in disguise. Know why? You are more enlightened in life (of course, after you cry your river and tear at your hair) and you get to marvel at your strength. These are the times you will be cognizant of the people who always cared for you, where you can throw away those sad songs, pull up your socks, sport and be optimistic about the rest of your life.


                                              

           The question is… do you want to rot like a carcass? No, right? Every breath you take after your mishap is the proof you can stay alive accepting it. Time has it’s adroit scheming of dissipating hard feelings. Meanwhile, you can aid time by learning to distract yourself and keeping your personal light on. For the measure of a man is the way he bears up under misfortune. If something is foolish enough to fleet away from you, be smart enough to let it go.

             I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying. :P Just take this one thing from me.

            Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.

              Let’s honour 2011 by moving on. (: 

[*Based on the assumption that the palm-sized blood circulating organ is responsible for emotions.]

As bronze as Bronze is.

His hazel flaring eyes instigated sharp passion in mine, as he gazed into the starry skies. ‘No, it won’t rain’, I assured him; fondling his head ‘You can sleep out tonight.’ He ran around my leg and monkeyed up my waist. Bending low to his imminent licking, I diminutively wished it would rain after all. ‘Good night, Bronze.’ I said, switching off the lights. He was growing old and feeble every night. I instantly wished his presence alongside me. I glimpsed from the window, examining his serene sound sleep, and decided against disturbing him.

Ma gave him food and cleansed him every week. Pa made his kennel and took him for morning walks. I kicked him around, saddled my chores on him, played with his food when he was hungry, made him sick and bullied him; yet, he loved me best. I once found Bronze wearing my filthiest sweatshirt, lying on a hamper since I could not bring myself to wash it (I still haven't - It is now in a closet safely wrapped up).

It did not rain, nor did the slightest drizzle dew the flowers. The tranquil night was replaced by a scalding morning, burning the petals and leaves, drinking water from the mud. Bronze did not wake up to the rooster, not to the milk or newspaper calls, not to the blaring horns, not to the scotching heat brutishly burning his face, neither to pa’s morning walk, nor to ma’s breakfast.

 He abhorred tears, doing his best to lick them away; and he never met a human that he didn't get to like him, including people who didn't like Labradors or even dogs at all.  He would dance and prance about on his rickety back legs and bark frantically (he was a bit deaf by then) whenever I offered him a treat.

His chillness spread as I hugged him to my bosom. I fixed my eyes on the sky, nourished with tears and pain; an expression of helplessness and anger. I caressed him, kissed him, lifted him and kicked him, childishly yearning for a response. The rationality of my education faded; the hallucination of superstition, prayers and dreams clouded me, as I searched every part of his unresponsive body for life. The torrential flow of tears was never enough to testify my emotions.

There’s something about Bronze neither a brother, nor a mother; neither a soul-mate, not a friend possessed, something that made him rush to the gate to greet me every single time, amidst his dinner, something that made him help bring things for me, amidst his sickness, something divine, something genuine. He always jumped around as if I were the best thing since Biscuit. He never cared if I flunked Engineering Graphics, or had a Texas size zit on my nose.

I opened the curtains and looked towards the kennel. His name hung, inscribed on a plate as bronze as his name. His air was there, his hazel eyes stealing the stars from the sky, watching me back, breathing, and waiting to play ball with me tomorrow.

Love leaves a memory no one can steal. Death leaves a heart-ache no one can heal.

Bronze left a misery, I couldn’t deal.

The Workout

                I panted as I dropped the burdensome dumbbell to the marbled floor. ‘That’s it, coach! No more now…’ I panted harder as I inclined down to untie the lace of my Nikey. ‘But you didn’t even... ’ Buzz! Buzz! The coach pulled out the vibrating gadget and answered the call. My eyes caught the gym door which opened to make the most significant entrance of the day. He was in black shorts and he smiled at everyone in the gym as he passed them. He slowly unbuttoned his pale green shirt to reveal the red vest beneath it, while he ran his other hand through his jet black wavy hair. ‘Hey buddy, how’s it going?’ He asked Jay who strolled up to him to greet him. They were catching up on Diego Maradona. He grinned and a steep dimple flattered his smooth shaven cheek. The trainer apparently terminated his call and greeted him with a hi-5. The trainer whispered something to him that pulled out his 32 pearls, laughing, with the sound reverberating through his body and then mine. He commenced stretching his muscular arms, with no loss of enthusiasm in his voice, as I inclined down again to untie my other Nikey. His long eyelashes seemed to romance with the wind as his gaze alternated between Coach and Jay. Sweat started breaking free from his limbs. He cachinnated at a ridiculous gossip bit as he involuntarily wiped away a bead of sweat over his right eyebrow. The three walked towards the weights, where I was rolling down my socks. As his eyes caught mine, he flashed a smile which instigated a sharp twitch down my spine, well enough for a minor org***. All that escaped my face was a shy blush. I had to rotate my head a 60 degree to acknowledge the coach’s ‘Not so soon, lady. We’ve got a match to think about.’ ‘But coach! I am famished!’ I interrupted. ‘Let her go!’ He said, leaning his face toward mine and buried his dark chocolate eyes into mine. ‘She really is tired. The poor lady needs rest.’ The warmth of his body aura accelerated my pulse. The trainer gave THE look, ‘Rest, my foot!’ with mocking skepticism sketched all over his face. ‘Let her go!’ he pressed. The trainer contemplated at the wall for a while. My pulse rate aggravator slowly grabbed my middle finger and crossed it over my forefinger with an optimistic grin. ‘Oh alright! But be back by 5 am sharp tomorrow.’ ‘Thanks, coach!’ I said as I dumped my footwear into the stuffed gym bag in a cloud of hurried happiness. I turned and saw him sipping water from his bottle and said, ‘And thanks to you, too!’ His Adam’s apple ran up and down with every gulp and he finally pulled away his sipper from his mouth, over which a half shaven mustache complimented his smile. ‘Anytime!’ He said, as I was disappearing through the door, with his beautiful dimpled smile painted all over my mind.

                Do I love him because he’s beautiful or is he beautiful because I love him? :/

Only reason why I LOVE state board

I look at the question paper.

*Blink. Blink.*

Fuck, this is dead easy! I think to myself. My pen slides through the sheets. My mind slides through the movies I had watched recently. I don’t even know why I am standing up and sitting down constantly. Oh! I am taking additionals! This is so cool! My subconscious is writing the entire paper!I let it do the dirty job of vomiting all that I mugged.

15 minutes more. And I am already done. 18 additionals. Did I leave out something? Looks like everyone are still struggling to complete the paper.. 

I scratch my head. I think about revising the paper again. I decide against it. Draw something on the question paper. The invigilator gives me a dirty look. I turn down, embarrassed and try to break the pencil overwhelmed by the emotion. I start shaking my legs. Mr. Invigilator steals side peeks at me. He suspects me to be mal-practicing. Damn these 18 additionals! He still thinks ill of me!

He comes over and collects everyone’s bunch of vomit. My turn to look disgusted at his contented look when he is the one with contaminated hands.

Ureni comes and asks, what’s the answer to this one?

*Blink. Blink.*

Fuck, I don’t know! Fuck, I didn’t write it!

Same with few other people’s questions.

Oh my God! Didn’t I write anything at all?!

Holidays are over. We get our papers. I had written everything. Teacher says something about me being sincere. Shanmathi gives me a dirty look, or so I do assume. I swear I don’t know how I got so much!, I signal to her.

I flip through the pages and there they are! The answers to the questions I thought I missed!

Welcome to state board, I thought, and smiled.

Deviance at it's best!

Couldn't resist putting this in my blog!
Although it's quite long, it's worth the read.



"Mom, I've decided to get married."


The Seshadhris were only too ecstatic to here these words pop out of their elder son's mouth, yet afraid at the the same time. After all, their son did study in the United States for 3 years. And from what they heard from their neighbours, the States "do things" to perfectly normal sons. What if he wanted to marry a white girl? The blasphemy! How would they ever explain to their relatives?
"Indian no?", Mrs.Seshadhri asked, nervously.
"Iyengar...."
"Oh thank god! Chamathu da nee. We'll see the girl tomorrow!And I'll have to call all our relatives to inform them. Ha! First I'll call your aththai. Her son went to the states and ended up with one of those...punjabi a? Ya, punjabi-o ennavo. But my son? Chamatha Iyengar ponnu paathutaan."
"Amma..."
"What? I know I'm getting excited but its not everyday your son gets married! First ponnu paakanum. Give me her address."
"I can't give the girl's address."
"Why not? " interrupted Mr.Seshadhri. "Is it because they don't know? Its okay, we'll convince them"
"No, its because there is no girl"
"Ennada solra?" chorused the parents.
"I am in love with an Iyengar, yes. But its not a girl. Its a boy"
Silence.
"Is this some kind of TV show? Is some shanniyan going to come with a camera and say all this is some joke? I know! Vijay TV-la Simbhu is doing something like this. He's going to come now, isn't he?"
"No mom, nobody's behind your almirah. This is real. I want to get married to him and him only"
"This is not normal, you know that?"
"Appa, who're you to say that it's not normal? How do you know that it isn't normal? I want to get married to him and that's the end of it" and he stormed out of the room.


The Seshadhris were appalled, and did what any other parents would do when presented with such a private confession. They called the entire family over to discuss it.
Mamas, Mamis, Thathas, Paatis, Chithappas, Chiththis, Aththais, Athimbers, Perippas, Perimmasand a motley crew of cousins promptly assembled to exchange their views over filter coffee andmasala vadais.


"Enna kodumai Seshadri idhu"
"This is not the time to joke, its a very serious issue pa. Namma community-la this is just not done"
"Are you sure about this? I mean was he joking?"
"Will anybody joke about things like this? Avan serious-a dhaan irukaan. He's gay."
"Amma Amma, what's a gay?" interrupted 6 year old Achu, loudly.
Silence.
"Sshhh, Achu. Go play outside with Kichu." said his visibly embarassed mother.
Achu promptly ran outside hollering KICHU! GAY-NA BAD WORD DA!
"Kids"
"Yea. I'm hoping he gets a girlfriend soon."
"Shree, he's 6"
"The earlier the better. And I'm so not sending him to the US"
"Not everyone turns out like that. My son married a perfectly nice girl. Enna, she's punjabi. But very nice girl."
"You know she has a beard, right?"
"Oh please! At least she's a girl."
"Enough enough. This is not about her daughter-in-law's beard. Idhu konjam serious-aana matter."
"Yes yes. There are so many fundamental complications"
"Like if this marriage does go on, who gets to be the Maapla veedu?"
"Chechu make it clear to them that we will be the groom's house. We will demand our rights"
"Hey, who gets to tie the thaali?"
"Will there even be a thaali?"
"Maybe they'll tie a golden poonal around him"
"One more doubt. The girl usually sits on her father lap when they tie the thaali. Does this mean that the son sits on his mothers lap? How does that work exactly?"
"Yea! And then usually the girl wears that special koora-podavai before she ties the knot. Do we have to get this guy a koora-veshti?"
"Atleast you'll save on all those silk sarees."
"And that Mehndi thing. Unless your son wants it, ofcourse"
"Hahahaha! Thats so g...nothing"


An uncomfortable silence followed, but was swiftly interrupted by the Periappa.


"Come to think of it, that golden poonal will weigh a lot"
"Does your future...err son-in-law cook?"
"Aiyo! Don't call him son-in-law! I don't even want this to happen!"
"Maybe you should do that. Vidaatha. Then he'll come around"
"No way, then he'd elope. Odi poyiduvaan!"
"Thats not good for the family name."
"Thu! As if marrying a boy is very honourable."
"And besides, eloping-na, usually the girl runs away, gets a baby and then only gets accepted back in the household. This is how it is in all tamil padams"
"Ok, but how the heck are these guys going to get a baby?"
"My point exactly, so they won't elope"
"Which is worse. What if they get together like those villains in Vettaiyaadu Villaiyaadu?"
"Aiyo! That's a movie about homosexual psychopaths! You're son is too sensitive for that. He cried in the climax of Kabhi Khushi Kahi Gham, for heaven's sake!.
"Appove we should have noticed..."
"You think there's some kind of homeopathy treatment for this? Or Ayurveda? Some kashayam or something?"
"No no, its a state of mind. No kashayam can cure it"
"Or should we send him to a psychiatrist?"
"Illa. Those psyciatrists are Peter parties. They'll end up brainwashing us about how we are educated and must accept him the way he is"
"Adhaan pannanum" said Mr.Seshadhri, finally.
The entire household went mute.
"You mean...we have to get him married? To that...that boy?"
"Yes"
"Only then, he'll be happy."
"Aiyo sentiment thaangamudila"
"My decision is final. I'll go call him and find that other boy's number. I have plenty to talk to his parents."


The household watched him go with a rather stern resolve in absolute silence. The only sound was the jowku-jowku of Paati eating Vadai.
"Enna paati? What do you think?" said one of the cousins, finally breaking yet another uncomfortable silence.
"Ennadhaan payyana love pannaalum, atleast Iyengar payyana paathu love pannane, adhuve porum"

Let 'em Save Face

One thing that spontaneously gets on the nerves of people is embarrassment, which mostly happens when the person is wrong and that fact is shot out heartlessly- or still worse, gets laughed at for it.


There was this English teacher of mine (well, I write this as she remembers me not) who mocked at me for expressing birds in couples. Not only did I suffer 30 seconds of pink cheeks, I also lost hopes of getting a good grade in English for the year. Most of all, I began to hate her.


Anyways, this is just to say that no one likes to know that they are wrong. When you tell people that they are wrong in front of others, you not only insult them but also leave them no way to gracefully fix their mistake.


So, next time you are tempted to correct someone publicly, analyze your motive. Deep down, are you really trying to show your own superiority at someone else's expense? Because, making a show of it will only make YOU look bad. The right way is to show off your smarts without bruising their ego- to fix mistakes privately and to save them from further embarrassment. You decide what you really want- to be right or to be liked?