Ripples of my Reflections

I think, therefore I write

Year: 2014 (page 2 of 11)

The art that is communication

Remember those days when communication between two persons in different places meant writing letters, waiting for the letters or maybe for the privilege of an occasional telephone call? Yeah, I know that I sound cliched. But today I want to talk about this exact cliche.

I have lived in times when there was no mobile, no phones that are smarter than humans, no internet. I have lived in times when mobiles, smart phones, internet, computers were not so easily available to the common man and I am glad that I was part of a common man’s family then. I have experienced the thrill of writing letters and waiting for a reply. I have had my first rush when I got the first phone call from a friend. It made me feel important in the family to be able to give our land line number to a friend and to have her call it. We didn’t have anything to talk though. But I can still remember how we both giggled into the receiver of having done something grown-up.

And writing letters, ah! The feeling is indescribable, especially if the letter is to a budding crush/romance/love. My hubby and me were childhood sweethearts and were best friends right from the KG classes. So in the early teens, we had a gang of our own and all the usual drama in the class. So we had a code for writing letters among the members of the gang. Though there were other members in our gang, we two really hit it off with the letter writing, sometimes in code and sometimes normally. Starting from the silly “Have you done your homework?” to the then important “How is our enemy gang planning to prepare for the test?”, we have seen it all. The funnier thing here is it was almost always the action of writing and exchanging the letters that piqued our interest than the content itself. After all, what could a couple of school kids write about? 😛

Example of handwriting with gold pen
Anyway, I still have that feeling in me when I sit down and write something. If not physically, the closest feeling is typing up my thoughts. I know such is the case for many bloggers around here. My point in writing about this today is how the ease of communication has actually removed/replaced several prized feelings that still send a thrill coursing through our entire body. Today, we can reach anyone, anywhere at any time. The prerequisites are a smart phone and internet. Maybe even just a mobile phone. While all this has certainly eased our pain points of reaching someone, I feel sad. I feel sad that I cannot show my kid how “that feeling” would be. How the feeling of exchanging letters with your crush would be, how the feeling of waiting beside the telephone for a call that a friend promised you would be, how it feels to exchange coded notes with co-conspiring friends right under the nose of those who are busy trying to figure out what you are talking about, especially when all you would have been talking about is that your mom has packed aloo subji for lunch and that you would be willing to trade some for the delicious omelet that your friend’s mom packed.

Keeping in touch has now become so easy that the pain of farewell is diminished. When it is good that we can keep in touch with our old school friends to this day, we are missing that high which comes when you stumble into an old friend at the supermarket whom you have tried to keep in touch so hard but over time, lost it. Can any of the WhatsApp kind messengers or Facebook kind social media beat that feeling? I don’t think so. Today, the internet has changed the world into one big open book where anyone can peek into my page and read my personal feelings with no consideration whatsoever. Social networking was supposed to re-create the long lost bonds between friends and make them connect. But it went a step ahead and told us stuff about each other that we actually wouldn’t want to know or shouldn’t be knowing anyway.

As all this is taking us ahead, all we can do and are doing is sit back and reminisce about the times when we had more prized possessions in the form of memories and how all those would not be passed on to our next generation. The precious feelings are cursed to stay frozen in time while the human race races faster than ever.

Until later 🙂

I have seen God, have you?

You know how much I crave for hot dosas and how I end up eating dosas that have gone cold because I have to make them myself everyday. I see love when you make that extra effort to make me sit down and enjoy those hot dosas that you made.

You know you couldn’t stay on and help me with my busy life. I see love when you do everything that would give me even just a week off to recover and rest, to laze around and enjoy, to take a break from the rush.

You know you are getting old and your health doesn’t quite co-operate. I see love when, despite that, you still go on official tours to make more for the family, to help me.

You know you are too far away physically to help. I see love when every week you guys call me, it assures me I have a shoulder to fall back on. I see love in the beautiful life you are going to bring into this world in a couple of months.

And know what? I feel I have seen God. Human mind is ironical in that way, it realizes the magnanimity of the help and how much something means only when that something is taken away from you. Thanks to my family for making me see the irony and helping this agnostic answer some of her questions.

Until later 🙂

Woman of the house

*This post is inspired by my mom and this advertisement. A lot of people don’t give due credits for the woman of the house. I am not taking up the feminist card and talking here. In fact,I see a lot of women discarding the duties of a house saying that they have better things to do. A lot of people ask me when I can afford a maid, why won’t I hire one? My reply is that I don’t need one. This is in no way a feminist post. I am not going there now. I wrote this by observing my mom and extrapolating a few of my ideas. This one is for her, the woman of our house*

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I am a woman, a proud one at that. People judge me for various reasons, I don’t care. I have a family that loves me and I devote my life for them. Some of my friends don’t get me, why I should take up the typical household work instead of engaging a maid. I have my reasons. I have my situations. Moreover, what’s wrong in doing the chores when you can. I agree that I may not be that pretty woman with manicured nails and make-up intact. I am that woman who you never gave a second glance or maybe you did, only because she looked funny trying to balance her two-wheeler loaded with grocery shopping for the home she is making.

I am that woman who makes a house into a home. You can see me being tired but you can never see me sit down for that. My only thought throughout is I must take care of my health becaue only then I can take care of my husband and kids. My hands are rough and dry with all the work, sometimes they crack. But I have no time to pamper them, I let them be. They get used to it and rough hands speak of my life with pride. They speak of my love for the family. I understand independence and am protective about it but that doesn’t mean I can ignore the things I should be doing. It’s not something that I took up because the society says it’s a woman’s job but because only I can.

At work, there are a lot of men I compete with. They don’t get why I work so hard, but neither do they get that I have to work so hard to balance my work and personal life and still reach the heights I deserve. Society is biased a lot of times, but I don’t have time to crib when there are things to be done. I do my bit and keep trudging forward. There’s still a lot of gender bias in the society. But I know things don’t change by words and placards. They change by actions. I prove in action to the world that I am no less a person, the world would look back. I will make it so.

A lot of people who see me doing everything ask me mockingly, “So, you are the man of the house?”. I proudly reply, “No, I’m even better. I’m the woman of the house.”

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Until later 🙂

Inner Peace

When I was a kid, I used to be pretty excited about my birthdays. Of course, the birthday party culture was abandoned along the way but the excitement never died. I had have a thing for new stuff and hence all the new dress, accessories and gifts would fill me with adrenaline. I remember arranging everything I would wear or use on my birthday the previous night itself. New dress, check. Matching accessories, check. Chocolates to be distributed, check. School/college bag packed, check. Yeah, I was doing it even when I was in college, only that friends at college made it a whole different experience.

Up until school, your birthday doesn’t start until you get up in the morning. But college sure was different. At 12 midnight prompt, your friends would wake you up  and make you cut the gorgeous cake they had smuggled into the hostel without your knowledge. And then use 90% of the cake to give you a facial. The rest 10% would happily rest in our tummies. I even got a sprite shower once along with the chocolate cake facial. Then comes the birthday bumps, ragging, chatting, pulling each others’ legs, the gifts and thank yous and by the time we would finally go to bed, it would already be the time we would have to get up.

As time flew by, all this became a frozen past and I started getting used to it. After all, I was never a party person (Am still not). But this once a year occasion was what I called a dose of excitement that I can’t help. Now 4 years after graduating from college and leaving my immaturity behind, birthdays don’t matter much any more. Yeah, we take a break and have a nice day/vacation. At the end of the day, I feel as happy and peaceful I feel on any good day with hubby. Guess that’s what happens when you are so contently in love.

Anyway, my point is the personal adrenaline rush is gone. Before I used to have that rush even when my birthday fell on a holiday and the chances of celebrating it with friends were bleak. The feeling is different now. For the past few years, I have formed a tradition. Dress up, visit a temple (solely for parents’ sake), do a deed which equates visiting a temple in my dictionary, like putting a smile on someone’s face. I would at least make a decision and execute it if I am not able to do anything on that exact day. (This year, I am still thinking on what I can do to make a difference in someone’s life. Suggestions are welcome.) With that, hubby will plan an outing for us to spend some quality time and it will be bliss.

So I guess the little girl has grown up. Still a child at heart, but maturity creeps in no matter what. At least a little at a time. And I feel that little dose is necessary. I still jump up at the sight of a bubble wrap and set about popping it immediately. But that shouldn’t stop me from becoming a little more responsible. And being responsible/mature shouldn’t stop me from being the kid I am. I feel I can co-exist on both levels contently. 🙂 After all, what’s the point in being mature if you can’t be childish sometimes?

Until later 🙂

The lone tear drop

Mudra closed her eyes, a vain attempt to make the tears go the other way round. But she has never succeeded much,either way a lone tear drop cascades through her cheeks that were like pleasant plains and ended near her honey-dew lips. What a life it is, or rather was! She believed that she had no regrets, but memories plenty. It was beautiful, no one could disagree. But now? Everything in the house, every movement in the air, every existence around her reminded her of Rithvik. Her soul mate, or so she had believed. Even today, it felt too real to comprehend and too much an illusion to shrug off. Rithvik… The sound of his name on her lips strung a lot of chords in her. As each of them struck, she would just melt a little bit more.

Was it her fault for wanting to pursue something he couldn’t? Or was it his fault that he had his family depending on him much that he cannot think of moving? Was it their fault that they knew this would become a problem yet wanted to enjoy what they had as long as they had it? Sometimes life happens, they say! No, life does not just happen. It strikes with a deadly blow giving you choices that you cannot refuse and making you choose the one choice that you feared. The same happened to her and she did what life made her do. Bidding him goodbye, she packed her heart along with her bags and flew where her wings took her. He picked up the pieces of his heart and tried to put it in one piece. Like it or not, he had to live with it. And so he did.

priorities2

She thought it was for the best.  Then why does that lone tear drop make way from her eyes every night as the silence in her apartment engulfs her? Will time change it all? Or will love triumph it all? The one question that none of us have an answer to. Life makes us do a lot of things. In the end, all that matters are our priorities. That set right, they won’t give you regrets. They might give you scars in the passing but not lasting regrets!

Until later 🙂

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