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Sunday, February 25, 2007

Tripping over

I don’t know if it I have flat-feet, but I seemed to have a knack since childhood to trip over when I wear flats, while I can comfortably dance around with heels that are some storeys high.
I particularly remember an incident when someone broke the orange juice bottle we had packed for a class picnic ( in Standard VI) and it was all over the floor. We had Physical Training classes that day and we were in all white uniform and white PT (canvass) shoes with flat heels. I stepped unaware of the slippery liquid on the floor before the house keeping had come to clean up the mess. I tried to balance between two desks but gave up and fell horizontally backwards.
I was embarrassed. But someone smirked . And when I stood up I saw the orange pattern on my skirt and found it quite funny. I laughed so loudly that the others were taken aback and they joined in too. My reputation for beating up guys and ominous presence as the CR ( Nickname : Hitler) was forgotten.. And it felt good.

At another instance, I was getting down from a bus near college and since I was not really apt at traveling in a public transport bus, did not know that I had to keep walking even when I got down from a moving bus to keep the inertia of motion. I had forced myself to a sudden halt and the result was disastrous. I fell with my face down and I scrapped my knees very badly, my favorite jeans got torn at the knees , the bus came to a stop and the rest of the passengers stood up to see what happened. I said I was ok coz I was afraid the bus would topple now with its raised center of gravity.

I got back to campus and tied a few safety pins to hold the tear until I got a patchwork done on my jeans . The next day I saw a lot of juniors tearing their jeans and pinning safety pins in their jeans. It became a rave!

I tripped today when I was getting back from the bank. It was embarrassing to imagine a well poised girl suddenly lying prostrate on the ground. I had scrapped my knees and skinned my palms ..but it was worth it. It isn’t how you fall, but how you get up.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Whistling in the Dark

As a kid I was afraid of being lonely in the dark. To comfort myself, I'd either sing aloud or whistle.
Was it the fear of the unknown, of being lonely without my sense of sight, or merely a survival instinct handed down by my ancestors who lurked in the darkness of caves and faced mortal perils- I'll never know. The absence of light doesn't bother me now nor does an empty house. I have evolved and so have my fears. My worst nightmares don't always witness me in a catastrophe; sometimes my close ones and specially my Dad appears to be in grave danger. Some of these ideas seem absurd in broad daylight but I wake up in the middle of the night with tears flowing down my cheeks or screaming.

The worst part is -at that time I don't have anyone to talk to about it. My own folks are in deep slumber then and people living in a different time zone are busy with their vagaries of life. You can't simply call up someone to say" Hey I had a shi**y dream.. so would care to pat my arms and wipe my tears and say 'It's OK?' " Sounds pretty stupid to me.

There might be so many out there who'd love your exquisiteness. Your beauty or grace or a certain attribute that makes them think you are special. But how many would love you even after knowing that beneath all that on the surface, you are just another "regular" person with private demons of your own. Some real. Some imaginary. Yet with a presence of their own.

Most people won't be interested to know how bad it feels to feel bad.
Love is a fallacy; I seek companionship.

When I am afraid, I might have the strength to overcome it. But I'd like to be reminded once in a while that I can whistle too.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Have a dekho: my blog turns into a book

(Tentative)Cover page of my first book.
To my readers:
Thank you for your continuing patronage.
And to those whom I had promised a copy, please e-mail me your snail mail addresses to my gmail account.

Order can be placed by email to
Title: The Day I was Proven Wrong
Author: Aparna Kar
Price : Rs.200

Sunday, February 04, 2007

What's your take?

This post was triggered by a mock interview and the question :"Quick comments on love, specially when we have Valentine's Day coming,10 days from now. "
I think it was rather disappointing when I told him " I don't believe in romantic love anymore. It is just a matter of convenience"

Let me elaborate.
The one is an over hyped concept. Nothing like that exists. That's my take. We are all trying to invent reasons to make our lives more meaningful... more purposeful..
In the end.. it's just a delusion. Or as one of my wise friends puts it " Just a decision". Yeah..maybe...a decision triggered by the thought processes in a particular time frame. At another place, another time your decision could be different. Parallel universe, multiple histories- call it whatever you may.. but think of it- what if "the one" for you never met you!!
There are so many billion people out there..what's the probability that you met the right one?
"And yet we decide on one"
Because we assign the importance to a person or an event. Itself it means nothing. And our view of "importance" is so absurdly myopic, born out of our need to make choices for survival.

Think of your existence compared to the vastness of the ever-expanding universe.
Try to imagine how scant , how important you are. And how ridiculous it is to find meaning in the modern desk jobs, material achievements, accolades etcetera etcetera.
Don't you see the inanity of your over indulgence in the accumulation of a few molecules which you call yourself- Aparna, Bryan or Zhang ?

And yet, we try to find meaning to our existence, which spans only across a blink of the universe. And we "believe" we will leave behind us a legacy - a pool of genes that will fight for its survival till Doomsday. By then they might have evolved or mutated to becomes chimps or some creature hitherto unknown to human history. But who cares? We know our days are numbered. And maybe that is why we try to give some meaning to it, feel alive, feel content.