I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose

Here I am, where I've been

I’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.

I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose
And too much weight for walking shoes.
I could have died from being boring.
As for loneliness,
She greets me every morning.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

Here I am, where I’ve been
I’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.


At the most I'm a glare
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.

Threads that bind

The taxi driver insists he didn't take us for a ride - we insist otherwise. It's almost 4.00 a.m. and we begin to wonder if this is really worth the headache. There's a day ahead and this can't be the beginning of it. We wake up the whole household only to turn in ourselves - not many mind, but that's probably because not many are awake.

But you do wake up to the noise - both in your head and outside. You go down and survey the scene - some are there, some yet to arrive. You sit down with her and the two of you grin. It's been two months and although there's not a whole lot to catch up on, it's still good to be with her, see her run around and stir people into action.

You walk around in a daze, sleep deprived and a little hungry. Lunch will be ready soon, don't worry, she says. You know that it will be ready soon - it's always ready soon. She walks over to the balcony and yells through the grills "Ah Lalitha, cheppu" and proceeds to converse in yells and screams to the lady downstairs. Houses are practically stuck together and the neighbors can definitely hear the conversation, but no one cares. Why bother going down when your legs ache? She and I have worked out a system that works, she says. You grin and walk away - c'est la vie.

Lunch is served - it's the universal favorite - baigan.

**

You wake up less dazed but more confused - there's a lot of noise as people bustle about purposefully (or aimlessly, if you ask her). A trickle leads to a downpour that gives way to a deluge as everyone descends and total chaos reigns. Yet, in the midst of this chaos, knowing smiles are flashed, greetings exchanged, past incidents reminisced as echoes of laughter and the cacophony of noise fill the room. There is no respite from the overwhelming noise but there is an escape - perhaps into familiarity?

They crowd around the dinner table and continue animatedly in their discussions - politics, school, family gossip and relationship statuses. It's like Facebook in real time, with real people and a real conversation. The noise continues to hover around us all and as they serve the baigan on your plate, you look around and wonder - maybe this isn't a daze.

**

You have to wake up by 3.00 a.m., which inevitably means you worry about oversleeping. It's a big day, you're the center of attention and you don't want to screw it up by doing something so amateurish. Waking up on the hour, every hour can't be good, but you do it anyway - underneath that calm exterior, you're a control freak and you worry about slipping. As the hour approaches, you descend down and break a sleepy haze as people warm up to the events that are about to unfold. She's already up - has she even slept? Fresh as a daisy, but perhaps that's the adrenaline rush as the plans for the past two months come to pass. There aren't many happy faces as the pictures are snapped - but you also imagine that there aren't many happy faces in the houses stuck next to you as the band plays what can only be charitably described as a wooden elephant's trumpet. Which is accompanied by an accordion. And a dholak.  All at full pelt. And it's not yet 4.00 a.m.

You move through the day, doing as you're told because you really don't know what else to do. You don't care, but you pretend do. And for once, that's okay - not knowing and pretending to enjoy it all isn't such a big deal. Ignorance is bliss? Perhaps. You need to let go of certain things to maintain sanity.  As the smoke fills your eyes and they water, you look up to see the faces. In a bigger hall, they don't seem as many as they were at home and yet, they're all there. All of them. You stop for a second and repeat that again - They're all there. All of them.

Perhaps the second most poignant moment comes near the end when one of the elders walks up to her and confesses that this is a day he never asked for but was gifted nonetheless - seeing all the family together under one roof in happy times. Happiness is found when you least expect it. Those words stick... and stick... and are still stuck.

The most poignant moment is the 60th birthday celebrations - uncalled for, completely unexpected and surprisingly unbelievable. The  genuine emotion on display - happiness and gratitude as your uncle announces that his little brother crossed 60 (little brother - 60) - is palpable, as is the acknowledgment of past efforts in more trying circumstances, the meaning of family and the presence of friends. You go through most of your adult life wondering why they ever bothered with the bonds. As you sit down to lunch, the banana leaf spread out, you can't help but continue to wonder.... right up to the moment they serve you baigan on the white rice.

**

The city lies naked below you - lines of yellow snaking between buildings, the roads and alleys crowded with vehicles. But the crowds are far away and therefore more tolerable. It took you both two hours to make a forty minute journey but you don't mind the traffic anymore. The vista below is a picture filed away in memory only, something that you both may look back on in the future - he in quiet contemplation, you in deep thought. You both look down and you know he, like you, wishes for better times, and you know his, unlike yours, is a greater need. He looks down wistfully one last time, turns around to you and says that perhaps its time you both made it back home. They would be waiting for us. You agree and as you head back, crawling along the roads, you wish you could tell him that better times were just around the corner. But you don't, because it doesn't seem like something brand new to him - he's heard it all before. As you wash up, sit down and stare into nothing, your gaze is draw to the plate below, and the baigan on it. The grocer needs to be fired...

**

You wake up again at 4.00 a.m. - why? There's nothing to do today. As you tip-toe around the snoring bodies sprawled across the floor, you remember those who aren't there. Those too far away. Those in a better place than you are right now. And you don't remember them wistfully at all - they would've been happy to be there, but they're happier where they are.

You sit down for lunch and she serves you baigan. She has a smile on her face and she looks happy - happier than she's been in years. And so are you, just to see that infectious smile again. Your thoughts turn to leaving, but you're not running away this time. You just have nothing more to do there so it's better to be in a different place.

**

You're at the airport but you can't anymore make one of the calls you normally make. You try to call home, but the network is busy. For some reason, the combination of the two upsets you for a little while. So much for telecoms in India. You finally get through to home and for some reason it feels like you've not spoken to them or seen them in ages. Very silly really, but you felt it nonetheless. You hang up, sit back and reflect... your distant past, the recent past, the past two days.... And you ponder about the future as you sieve through your thoughts. As you land, you think - maybe you'll have McDonald's for dinner.

**

Why is it that we embrace diversity in all aspects of our lives but our relationships? Why do we seek the comfort of someone who fits our norm? Why do we believe that we know the right way forward and try to fit everything into that path - much like square pegs in round holes, only that the pegs are people, the holes are life's journey and this isn't some camping expedition? Relationships are tricky things - we expect a lot from them but we feel burdened by expectations from them. They can infuriate you like no other, driving you to tears. Yet they can also make you laugh so hard that you shed the same tears in joy. The best relationships are grounded in the unconditional acceptance of the other, regardless of the behavior on show.

It may the behavior that makes a 50-year old woman do an Elvis shuffle in a sari right in the middle of a prayer to spice things up. It could be the pranks pulled on by the daughters-in-law of the household to pretend that a 60-year old man is remarrying his wife of thirty three years again in a mock ceremony, serenading them with cheesy love songs as the "bashful bride" coyly shies away as he garlands her. It could also be that kiss on the forehead that's shared in front of everyone. Or it could be all of it mashed up as one. Seeing all that makes you realize one thing - despite the pettiness that sometimes engulfs us, despite the pain of dealing with idiosyncratic behavior, despite the untold sufferings of nights gone by, you never run away from a person you love - you run to them. You fight tooth and nail for them, sometimes to be with them, because you would want them to do the same for you when the chips are down. In the end, that's what all relationships boil down to - the ability to depend on the other come rain or sun: Reliability. Security. Stability. Something you can retreat to in silence if you want to, or take a mile-a-minute if the mood grips you. And you've seen it work - you worked for it as much as you could.

You ought to get all of that at home, but the funny thing is, not many people can really define what home is. Someone once said that home is a place where you feel safe and comfortable - it has more to do with the people there rather than the place itself. However, to place so much faith in people raises questions - they would have to be willing to assume that responsibility, to be there all the time you need them and never walk out on you. With what seems to be a shaky ground, perhaps it would be more reasonable to hypothesize a home as something you build on your own? A home is more than a place of comfort and safety - it's a haven. It's a place where you can batten down the hatches if you need to or express yourself if you feel it. It is your sanctuary - why should it be left to others to provide it? True stability, love and peace in a relationship comes from being stable, in love and at peace with yourself. There's a saying that's oft repeated "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". That could also be applied to expectations - expect of others what you would have them expect of you. Build your own home and you let those you love in - you let them redecorate the walls, color it with their touch and make them feel welcome. And do the same at theirs. Then maybe, just maybe, you find what you're looking for in others to complete you. So that you may complete them.

**
The original title of  this post was supposed to be Lawaris (meaning orphan or one without roots) - but as I wrote it, I felt more of a sense of belonging. So I went for a completely opposite title. I think it suits it better. 

 

Patience

You wish there was some way to calm your mind
Slow your heart
Take a deep breath and sigh

You wish there was some way to erase your thoughts, your emotions
Just for a little while
So that the bliss you seek, you may find

Then you wish you could undo it all again, only to restart.. Calm mind, slow heart, deep breath and clear thoughts... then bliss...

Midnight...

Jab jab dard ka baadal chhaya
Jab gham ka saya lehraaya
Jab aansoon palkon tak aaya
Jab yeh tanha dil ghabraaya
Hum ne dil ko yeh samjhaya
Dil aakhi tu kyun rota hai?
Duniya mein yun hi hota hai
Yeh jo gehre sannate hain
Waqt ne sabko hi baante hain
Thoda gham hai sabka qissa
Thodi dhoop hai sabka hissa
Aankhj teri bekaar hi nam hai
Har pal ek naya mausam hai
Kyun tu aise pal khota hai
Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai

It's hard not to pick up your phone and call when you want to...

Blue, with no cloud cover

A return to blogging after a brief hiatus (time is all about perspective – one man's brief is another's lifetime… Please, no puns on undergarments and changing time to line) is never easy. Primarily because it means returning to creativity in one of its most meaningful forms and that is something I find daunting. Not because I feel I could never do it, but because I'm afraid I cannot any longer. The creative part of my work life is limited to fancy boxes and charts on PowerPoint presentations. Poetic license is shunned, and rightly so, in favor of economy of speech and brevity of disclosure. I prefer this to jargons being bandied about, mainly because I don't get most of the them as they make no sense and the ones that I do understand are not relevant in the contexts they are used. It may be that school is not cool, but trying to be cool with "buzzwords" (say that with a French accent, it's infinitely funnier) is not the way to go either.

However, and by a curious coincidence, a recent exercise at work required me to flex the thus far hidden creative section of the grey matter, and it suffices to say that I totally stunk up the place. By virtue of being almost PowerPoint exclusive, my ability to be brief reached such new levels of efficiency that I was more adept at using 10 words to describe an event that could equally be described in 20 words. Now, this may be confusing, but I challenge you, especially those who spend their lives paraphrasing and summarizing, to engage in the exact opposite. Things that were second nature to you in high school suddenly become not so second nature – my description of the sky on a typical, non-Middle Eastern summer's day, would be "Blue, with no cloud cover". In high school, I would be encouraged to write "A clear, cloudless sky of light blue punctuated with the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves". Brevity deems that birds and trees do not explain the sky, but it also dictates that the description could be of any bloody day in the year that wasn't cloudy.

So I return to blogging in the vain attempt to reconnect with a past that allowed me to write with a semblance of creativity, certainly better than "Blue, with no cloud cover", all the while ensuring that I refrain from work related rants and exposés. The latter is easy – I think I enjoy my job sufficiently to rant in speech rather than the written word; the former, not so. However, just because it is not easy, let it not be an obstacle to the endeavor – I shall try my best to prove, that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword, punctuated with thousand-word pictures along the way (See what I did there – I replaced jargons with idioms <<insert cool look>>).

In the effort to return back to what it was, the blogging experience should be about moving forward, both in context and content. It is in the shower, the birthplace of all great and good ideas, where I've come to realize that I may have spent a significant portion of my "me-time" over the past five years looking back. I've re-read a significant number of books and re-watched a significant number of TV shows that I had already re-read and re-watched a significant number of times before. Having a personal and digital library (both books and video) has benefits, but they should come with a disclaimer. If you do not add to either, you may be left poorer for the experience. And add I shall, slowly at first and more to the books section rather than the video. I've not always been a fan of TV and it takes a good show, such as the newly commenced Newsroom with Jeff Daniel (who continues to surprise me), to really draw me to it. I hope that it remains this way. However, I hope not to return to things or experiences that are cozy to me, but make a significant move to embracing new experiences and perhaps enjoying more things in life than I've done so in the recent past.

It may be that I blog in fits and spurts, it may be that I blog regularly. I do not know, but in this case, the good thing about me not knowing is that no one else is left at the edge of a cliff. I've not written in years, so I do not think anyone has missed it. However, if you have, I sincerely thank you for your patience – I perhaps do not deserve it, but more importantly, a simple thank you may never be enough to show my gratitude.

New readers, welcome; old hands, welcome back. And if nobody reads this, I shall stoically console myself with an old Chinese saying: "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, has it really fallen?"

I usually embed lyrics in my posts – lyrics that hold meaning to me and are relevant to the topic. I cannot lay claim to the creation of the lines below; that belongs to Mr. Frank Sinatra

"Blue skies, smilin' at me

Nothin' but blues skies do I see

Bluebirds singing a song

Nothin' but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright

Never saw things goin' so right

Noticin' the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly"

Clearly, he had a better professional life than I did...

Onwards and upwards, as they say…             

Quote of the year

"It's like comparing Apples with CAMELS!"

Say it in a 60 year-old French man's voice, and you'll understand why some days are just worth it at work...

My Darling... where art thou?

As opposed to being the year of the rat, 2008 might as well be the year of the dog/bitch and every other animal that is a metaphorical representation of getting screwed over.

The Bears couldn't handle the Stearn tests of credit markets and were the first to topple over, only to be rescued by nickel-and-Dim(e)on, Jamie (no, I didn't sit down and think about that...It just came to me...). Lehman's Brothers-in-arms weren't of much help either, but Hank's a-Paul(son)-ing mistake was along the lines of a Shakespearean tragedy for the financial markets. Letting them fail could perhaps be one of the worst "let market dynamics take over" decisions that any person could ever take. Merrill's bullherd followed soon, with BofA being benevolent enough to snap up a financial monstrosity on the cheap and beef up their presence. So, from the big 5, we were left with 2 pillars standing amongst the ruins... but not for long... Goldman and Morgan have bailed out of the solely Investment Banking model, leaving a once proud industry in tatters in the space of 14 months... With due respect to the people of New Orleans, Hurricane Katrina couldn't have created as much damage.

Governments have denied recession, then, rather than acknowledging it openly, quickly did a u-turn and have decided to combat it. Funny old game, politics is. A much maligned ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer-turned PM rose to be the savior of the Eurozone for all of one week, before optimism waned and pessimism took over... and hasn't let gone still. Black gold hit the highs of the Himalayas and now is camped somewhere at the foothills of Jebal Al Dukkan (I've lived in Bahrain long enough to know its exact dimensions). Biggie sang about Mo Money, Mo Problems, but it's now a case of no money, mo problems...

So all is bad, nothing is good. We are still living, and learning, but living nonetheless. And from the ashes of this somber mood comes the following conversation (well, actually, it didn't. It happened one morning when we bother were bored, but I think I had a more dramatic version going):

Interesting tidbit when chatting with a Twenty-something-person With Interesting Trysts (TWIT) (see, I can come up with acronyms too)

TWIT: Sara Suhail has requested to add the tag:
my darling....Simmu
Would you like to approve this tag request? (Facebook talk)

me: umm...simmu?

TWIT: someone who only [Edit:a common friend] knows... why do i get all these random people sending me even more random things?

her darling

me: ...

TWIT: and it's a pic of [Edit: Another common friend] going on stage with a bunch of ladies/girls

me: ah?

TWIT: so i can't tell WHO has been tagged

me: hehe

okay

TWIT: in any case, i'm ignoring it because it'll look like simmu is *my* darling

if i accept the tag

me: LOL

:D

TWIT: what?

i'm serious

me: yes yes

i know

TWIT: i wasn't saying it to be funny

me: it just was :)

TWIT: You have ignored a photo tag of my darling....Simmu.

ugh, it looks stupid in rejection too

me: hehehehehe

i'm sorry

this is an amusing turn of conversation

Looks like it's not a cheery season in the Simmu household. Why reject the feelings of someone? I'm sure Simmu is sitting in some corner, heartbroken and wondering what to do with life now that her tag has been rejected.

In other news, following his blogpost, I decided to go check out what I would be.

Get Your Cyborg Name

Apparently, I am *clearing throat and in an Arnie impression* A TERMINATOR! Affirmative! There's a kid who needs to be saved, so I should suck my belly in, don my shades and leather jacket, commandeer a Harley, and be on my way. No Problemo!

And keeping with the movie theme, a new year is upon us, so I'll leave you with what Humphrey Bogart said to Ingrid Bergman... "Here's lookin' at you, kid"... maybe things won't be so bad after all...

Hastalavista... baby....