“It was impossible to get a conversation going; everybody was talking too much.”

When you are aware of the story of a movie or a book, what makes you still want to see it or read it? It’s not about the ending or the story because you already know it. It’s about what happens to whom and how it all comes about. It is to appreciate the characters you come to know and delight in the plot's unfolding. It’s the journey that’s exciting, because we are always aware of the destination.

That is why when my husband asks me something, I tend to get bogged down in detail as I want him to experience first-hand what I went though. I always explained to him that this tendency was exclusive to those who read and write and generally deal with words, as I find that the book-centric people like me are very descriptive.

 To which he huffs, "All you women talk a lot!" And it's an anathema to me, when he finds cohorts to support him in this theory, who nod and generalize that they suffer from 'talkative-wife' ailment too. How they delightedly discuss who suffers more, as if that would win them an award of some kind!

Unfortunately, how wrong I was! I have, very recently, come to the awful conclusion that every myth, saying, test results and rumor about women being too talkative is true. No, I’m not doing the ‘same side goal’ as my cousin would put it, but simply stating a fact. I see that all my friends and every other woman I know, cannot go from point A to B without making a pit stop at E, J and P, and they don’t even bother to bypass Z!

So, instead of shrugging off or rolling my eyes when love of my life interrupts with, "Get to the point already!", I will revel in the fact that it's the privilege and prerogative of a woman to talk and say "Well, listen then!" :D

to know...

To begin and to know
  That it will end,
To hurt and to know
  That you will mend,
To see and to know
  That you will perceive,
To ask and to know
  That you will receive,
To do and to know
  That you will reap,
To breath and to know
  That you will sleep,
.....if only life's uncertianities to go away...

Writing posts are hard, but poems are easy...:D

The truth about dads and moms...

                                                                
The reason for the lack of posts recently and the root-cause of this post, rest solely on the shoulders of my wonderful dad. While visiting me, he realized that his daughter, upon her ascendancy to adulthood, has forgotten some of his teachings.

Thus he decided to refurbish his currently-rusted and recently- underused parenting skills.

One of his missions was to get me to pray mom-ishtyle. My rituals include a quick word with God whenever life starts acting-up and heart-felt thanks when life behaves. My mom's everyday prayers are not simply light-the-lamps-bow-and-pray routine. They are elaborate and extensive (not to mention time-consuming). Dad wanted the whole nine yards, just like my mom does.

So, mostly to get my daughter to pray and less-ly to humor him, I set everything up. With my daughter sitting next to me on the mat, my dad and I started with a very old, very long Tamil prayer song. As we sung in perfect harmony, it brought back childhood memories rushing.

Time for some truth- I don't know the middle section of this song. Never got around learning it. As we approached that section, fearing scoldings of the forgotten times, I slowed down, then stopped to let my dad carry the song over.

To my utter surprise my dad stopped at the exact same stanza and looked at me expectantly. And then both of us broke into loud guffaws totally ludicrous for the solemn  prayer times!

That's when it registered that he never knew those stanzas too! And that my dear friends, is why I didn't learn them!

Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,

I haven't penned a poem in about six years now- but this one has been clappiting around in my head for the past few days - I had to pen it down...err, type it out, I mean. 

Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
All around the town,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Walking up and down,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Heart's light & singing,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Arms waving & swinging,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Eyes wide with wonder,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Innocence that endears,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Smile that is infectious,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
My dear child so precious!

of breakups, breakdowns and breakthoughs...

Breakups- from old habits: In spite of a sane and sensible mind with good instincts, and ridiculously busy schedule requiring skipping food, shower and what-not, I tend to agree with self-motivated plans made by self-serving people. I have learned to say no. A firm one. Thus successfully breaking up from self-sabotaging impulse to say yes to everyone and their plans.

Breakdowns- needs and wants. My much (ab)used car has finally had a prim and proper breakdown. We were accustomed to placating ourselves with the fact that we need two cars. Turns out, we can manage pretty well on a single one, if need be.

Breakthroughs- a silent one. This one is about a friend who doesn't believe in the breakthrough that has been quietly and unobtrusively happening in her life. I know, but I will wait until you share with me. You see a small ray now- that means there is a crack. The breakthrough will follow. Patience, my friend.

'Yush, yush, of course!'

Bird season, fishing season...I wish there was a hunt the idiots season, so I can go shoot them. Metaphorically, of course. I like things just right and when they are mis-stated, under-stated or over-stated, I'm miffed enough, and dumb enough to try and fix it. There is nothing wrong with that notion per se, it's how you apply it, is where the thorn is.

When some obnoxious/ conceited/ narcissistic person goes on about what ever it is that they deem important, we have to invariably suffer them. But when they utter something astoundingly senseless, my hackles rise up. So, what to do? Stay and let them speak? Scoot rather than listen? Or pretend to swoon, and with hope by-pass the whole shenanigan?

I'm predisposed to speak. I politely set them straight. But lately (with the advent of internet, I must add), the ignorance level has reached way high. One would think that information at finger-tips would make one smarter. One would be wrong!

I have, I'm happy to say, discovered a smarter way - say 'yush, yush, of course. As they blithely go on, I get my kicks. The secret happiness in letting an insensitive person talk on, instead of stopping, explaining and correcting them! The 'yush, yush' in that case is impish fun.

Do you talk... to yourself?!

The exquisite women dressed up in shimmering and sparking gowns, gliding down the runway, rather than do something as ignoble and mundane as walking. The stage, the lights, the crowd, the cheers! A young girl watching the television with such yearning as she imagined herself in the beauty pageant, standing beside those women. For a brief moment, she clothed herself in silk and spot-light, wore the crown and adulation.

Her fumbling fingers found poise as the remote morphed into a mike. The words formed and took flight as she answered the judges’ question. She looked pleasantly confused when the tiara was placed on her. Then she smiled blindingly, shed a tear and.... came crashing down to earth with embarrassment as she found her neighbor standing in her doorway, looking aghast at her. As if she had gone nuts!

The girl was merely fanciful, she wasn't stupid. She knew there a snowball's chance in hell that she would actually walk down that runway - she was average at her best. But, desires and dreams do not know that, do they? She gave the intrusive neighbor a sheepish smile. It is what it is!

Well, that was me a dozen years ago. And one would think that as I grow, I would grow out of the deplorable habit of talking to myself. Instead, it seems that I have fostered a childhood habit to significant and embarrassing proportions! Have you met me? If you haven't, let me enlighten you- I never do anything in half-measures. Talking, not as in mumbling something under the breath to oneself, or even quietly in your head. Talking, as in out aloud. In third person.

I'm sure everyone has lovely conversations in their head. How else can you decide whether to smack or hit your spouse?! That is not interesting. Things get heated up when you voice the conversations aloud. I yell at myself when I do something particularly dumb - like accidentally delete something. And if my colleague walks in while I'm in full form, raging at my stupidity, then it's time for another talking-to about propriety when they leave.

I'm indebted to myself for giving up the fanciful notions at least. The talking has been reduced to occasions that merit it- dumbness, stupidity, and impulsiveness are my triggers. Next time you see me gesticulating emphatically, you would know why!