A lot of us in this world have similar ideals. It's about how we live and approach them that makes each of us different, I guess.

YAAY!

I just had to say it here (where I wouldn't have to look at likes and/or questions/speculations).

So, YAAY, again! It's been a hard day's/months' night!! :) I'm positive I've stuck the rightfully earned right chord.

Hopscotch

Shake your hair, girl, with your ponytail
as the fingers of the boy deftly play the keys from the piano of Burmese wood in the rich living room.

As the walls resonate you both, don't ever let it falter.

I'm paying through my nose for having been unilateral about my ways. Learned tough lessons, have I. Boy, going to be extremely wary hereupon, am I.

Mein lakh jatan kar haari
Lakh jatan kar haar rahi!

Sitaare waalon raatein har gayi kya?
Meri Chand mar gayi kya?

J.A.P.

There's going to be time.

A picnic will be packed.
Montauk will be visited.
Dinner will be had
by the lighthouse.

None will be around.
But starfishes, turtles, pebbles, sand, and shells.

A seashell would be placed
Next to the right ear --
"Are the waves of the sea faster than their sound in the conch?"
Questions not answered,
Stars all over,
J.A.P. with hair parted from the side,
performing poems of poets on the beach.
Surreal and weathered,
A night of wonder.

Rhetoric II: Factiousness

If one were to assess the proactive Vs. reactive pie of one's life or immediate environment, the former is sure to hold just a minuscule portion of the pie.

Don't you see it?

• You have a valuable (fact) suggestion to make, there are 10,000 people who disagree and bring their own barefooted experience and then you end up responding to each of that (or you don't)
• You are in a tense situation, and there is at least one person who is there to intimidate and make you seem like a hopeless defensive (or you don't) 
• You're being assessed for a subject/at work, and then you have one, two or three other heads who decide how to weigh you over the others, if they don't 'feel' you deserve a good score or you're not the ideal fit, you end up having to do all things possible to prove a point (or you don't)
• If the clients are not happy, you take reactionary measures to straighten things up and can't show them what else you can do (or you don't)

E'en while being proactive, there are so many blocks that you end up being reactive along that way, too!

Can't you break away from the crap that's doled out to you each day? Why, why, is it so hard for someone to try and show others what they can be? What's the idea behind dominating someone or a situation, anyway? Taking the lead is different, but dominating?

I'm no saint, yes, I've unconsciously made these mistakes as the 'thems' I refer to, too - with the same unconscious or unintended insensitivity they are allowed (note - yes, I am being defensive; makes you happy?). But at least my heart bleeds that I slipped from listening to my humane self unlike some others.

Isn't this why there is so much oppression/suppression around - some party thinks they own the stick? Is it something about the way the third planet in the Universe functions or the curse that the human existence is? Urgh.

And then, at the end of it all, you are expected to be mentally strong as what Hercules or some such heroic figure might have been physically or staid.

Okay, if you were thinking that I'm "misrepresenting facts" or being "biased" - well, I am, I admit. It's because I've been wounded and I am reacting to it. Pent up anger. You see what happens - makes people clumsy or rebel, yeah?

I don't know what else to say now. I'm just tired of saying, "There will be time." I'm cynical, finally. 

Feng Shui

It is one of those evenings. Pavithra clad in her dainty saree waits, as usual, for her husband by the window of her bungalow. And as she hears a bike approaching with a "thud, thud, thud," she quickly gets off the chair, checks to see if the pleats on her saree fall well, adjusts the pallu, and swiftly walks to open the front door.

As she helps him with the groceries he bought on his way back home, her eyes speak the language of her thawing heart and his of a spent soul at work. If there were other people around, they would have said "Touchwood" and a silent prayer for the strength of their unspoken bond.

She has her patchy days at work, he strives too much, they saw an innocent person lie dead, close by, very close by to their home just a few days ago, he had the electricity and phone bills to pay off, she had to transfer money into their joint savings account the first of every month (for their future), the house maid has gone on maternity leave, his parents have gone on a vacation to European grasslands while hers are busy visiting temples across the South of India and Pavithra and her husband had their own individual collection of books waiting to be read along with the several movies she had stacked up.

It doesn't matter.

Like a whiff of air from nowhere meets another, these instances move away from the four walls of the cosy home as the two sit down with a bowl of rich and creamy tomato soup each by the dining table made of solid Burmese wood, sharing their thoughts, laughs, silences, hopes, fears, and pauses over the last few minutes, as usual, of each day.

They don't matter, do they?

Violin.

It's like the poem written on a balmy and silent monsoon night under a lamp post while the old man wearing his twenty year old spectacles looks into you; deep into your eyes.