Emotional Baggage

It’s been a week since I posted anything. After my secret desire of CSK winning the IPL 2010 coming true yesterday, I wanted to blog about it, but thought it best to leave it to my expert friends Vasant and Rajesh. So now having a lot of different options, I thought of taking a leaf out of my old book. This was something I wrote a few months back (Don’t ask y!). I don’t know how I wrote it. The words just came, and surprisingly I finished it within an hour or so (with a few small changes the next day). I have tried writing something to this effect for a many number of times since then, but couldn’t. And now I have stopped trying after realizing that this was just a rush of words contributing to my feelings. This was more emotion than anything else (like talent?).

When I think about it now, I am able to imagine the same old sari hanging outside Tulsi silks for almost 2 years, a rusty Fiat car standing outside the garage shop, all those cars left in parking lots, even people who are still waiting for prmotions and appraisals, to name a few, crying out for help with these words. So without further ado, after tossing coins and tossing the idea in my head a number of times (believe me you!) whether to share it or not, here it is.

I AM THAT THING ON THE SHELF

I will wait.
I will wait, till someone comes, and hope that someone will like me.
Want me, have a need for me in his life.
Someone I see who will appreciate my beauty and sense of style.
Though I haven’t much I have enough for the right “one”.

People come, see me, like me but want something else.
I am too good for some and some are no good for me.
I am too costly and worthy to the deserving and worthless to the undeserving.

Oh god! Give me a sign - but you give me those.
Show me a path – but you show me many.
Then, what more could I possibly want?
What more could I possibly expect?

Do I want you to guide his hands to me?
Do I expect you to shift those wandering eyes to me?
Do I need you to put that love for me in his heart?

Though I want to say yes, I can’t. Though I want to say “aye” I stop myself.
I have my pride.
Though you made me right you made me wait.
The journey of my life has been slow, tedious and tiring.
What is my achievement?
How many know me?

I have been here from the day of my creation, a layer of dust on me.
People write their name on it, like it, wipe it, and leave me to gather new.
I have been new but now I am old.
I have been in the same place for years.

My master sees me, takes pity on me and lets me be in the same old place.
He has faith in me. Or is it in you? Or is it in the “one”?
I know not.
He carefully takes care of me lest I be hurt.

But one day I will make him proud and be on my way.
Until then I stay here.

Yes, I am that thing on the shelf and I will wait…

Smart Solution!

We had three palm trees in our street and it became our identity inspite of the addresses and plot/door numbers that every house had. From cylinder delivery walahs to postmen, everyone knew of our street as "anda moonu pana maram irukira theru thane ma?” We even gave our addresses to auto rickshaw drivers using them,” Our house is the second one or third one to the left/right of those palm trees”.

But as luck would have it the Panchayat people brought those trees down as they continuously interfered with the power lines. Now the dilemma was that we lost the easy identification to our street. So during the usual conference of all the aunties at 7 pm (the time with no serials on Sun TV) under the lamp post, the agenda was about the very missing dear palm trees. Gone were the scary reminders of snakes hanging from them, one aunty was already missing the "nongu" that we all had during summer , and the other was obviously missing the little shade those trees provided for her husband's bike in the afternoon, when he came for lunch. "Now we will always have to count the number of streets running across and tell everybody so that they would be able to reach our homes, che thalaivali” went one, while the aunty with the longest hair was also thinking on the same lines of how to tell the address from now on.

Just then our neighbour's daughter, a cutie pie, said “Amma why don’t we put a board here saying, “This is the place where there were three palm trees previously” and now we’ll tell our address to everybody using the board, how simple no?” and she ran away clutching her doll humming her favourite actor Vijay’s song from a new movie. "What an idea" said an aunty in the orange sari, "Adra sakkai" went one, but before they all could do “wah wah’s” for the girl someone realized that the time was 8’o clock, the time for one of the favourite serials of everyone present, and so they dispersed with a mental note to meet again tomorrow under another lamp post perhaps, but on the street where there could almost be a board saying, “This is the place where there were three palm trees previously”.

A smart solution hmmm!

Why?

Yep this is the name I've chosen for my first write up- Why? (ஏன் இந்த கேள்வி இங்கு கேட்காத வாழ்கை இல்லை). So, I asked myself the same question –why? And the answer I got was- why not? Therefore, now I must get busy typing.

It’s been half an hour since I typed the first few lines and am still… not… busy… typing.

Another four minutes have passed (Are yaar! I could have prepared my favourite instant noodles and devoured it by this time). Still nothing...

If this is how I am going to be blogging then ho gaya!

Shortest duration of a blog on the net- World record. (Ok, Limca book of records? Alright, at least Coca cola? Thumbs up - yeah that should do it. Thumbs up book of records)

How do you people manage? – I ask those bloggers who blog continuously with sense in every word they write. Hats off, ribbons off and wigs off – as applicable.

So you see, the least I could do was to pick the name right. There would be traces of thought (or thoughts as the name goes) in what I write and if you can pick that up, then you are my “bestest” friend (sounds like one of those forwarded msgs na?)

See, this is why I never started writing because once I start I can never stop and when I get to my point in the end (though I usually never do. Actually... ok ok ...)

So whether the name is right or wrong, or I should have named the blog as “Musings of the confused” or “I am not responsible for you wasting your time” or any other, this is my blog and thank you for reading it, taking your time and loads of patience (though I haven’t much...)

Now I know you would be asking the same question Why? (why did I read this? Why o God why? – now that’s up to you… )

Somehow I am reminded of that dialogue by Chatur in 3 Idiots- “Ek din tum ro oge aur mein hansunga --gi I mean hansungi"… ha ha ha……………………………………………