Pain, how I know it

Today the pain is bad again. I have been through this before but that was long back. I thought I had conquered it. But no, it is as vulnerable, as fragile as a ligament, needs to be tended for life. I was trying the hit formula - pain shared is pain halved. To my dismay it doubled up, all those memories came flooding back. Endless nights of pillow sobbing, days of brooding, I thought had cured me of the ill. But no, it was always there, waiting for me to get weak.

I never talked of it because I thought it was silly to bring it up again and again. I was assured with years of endurance I had become emotionally and physically strong. Now when I look back I think confrontation would not have been a bad idea. It could have been a outlet for all that is simmering in. One major reason why I could not encroach the territory was I felt weak and timid. I was afraid I would relent and portray myself as a looser. I was wrong. Draining the dirt out is a viable option always.

Pain can be all sorts and colors. Emotional, physical, mental, all increasingly worse. They are differentiated by the cure, physical pain can be cured. Emotional needs you to cure it. It is more a matter of trial and error. Not necessary one tip fits all.

I am still lurking without success. The pain of letting go is scariest. Even the happy memories will make you sad. All one can do is keep evading till time shadows it. Ridding oneself of Pain is a lifetime engagement.

Nonetheless I am not a quitter either.

Dum Maro Dum

*** - gritty movie
Well...I do not have a reason why one should go and watch this thriller drama infused with hints of Indian melodrama. 

I was more drawn by the imposing Rana Daggubati and the sizzling item number. I came out of the theatre more glossy, glitzy and edgy. The movie held me back for the entire duration. The screenplay was definitely not a award winner. Despite the loose strings the actors managed to hold it there. Abhishek Bachchan suits in the role of a cop on a mission of cleaning Goa, Rana, the idealist Indian hero, who plays a singer in the movie, Bips does not have much to do but manages to impress, the heart goes out to Pratiek Babbar who has been trapped by the drug mafia and is on the verge of loosing his girlfriend and family.

The sun kissed beaches of Goa have been depicted as the hub of narcotics. Rohan Sippy has well captured the essence of national Party capital. The dialogues are snappy and the music hummable.

The movie is fit for people looking for a escape from the daily frenzy and wanting to just DUM MARO DUM.

Memoirs of a distressed soul

Since the last few days I have been planning to write my next blog. I was tied up not with the demands of business, rather to the current frame of my mind.  How I recalled the subject of this blog is an interesting story. I was chatting to an old friend in the morning. She brought up the subject of memory lapse saying this morning she was about to put lipstick in her eyes.

You guessed it right!!! Off late I have taken on to forgetting. I pick up an idea only to forget it in seconds. The spell is causing me a lot of troubles and is a source of embarassement in many a situations.

Just today I wore my chappals on my business suit and walked till the parking. It was only when I kick started my bike that I realised my blunder. By the time I went up again and reached office I was late for my meeting. I was mortified to hear my boss ask What was it that I forgot this day.

I can also attribute my latest mania to the company of humans surrounding me. While writing the blog I thought it would take the lime light off me if I include the anecdotes of my friends as well. I turned to two of my 'friends in need' to bail me out. Now it would not be out of order to mention that these women have always proved handy in saving my distressed soul. I wrote to both of them to narrate similar incidents. Here I am waiting and waiting without any reply. I pick up my phone and take them to task for delaying the reply. To much of my chagrin one of them admits to have had ample of such situations but now she has simply forgotten about them. And the other even better forgot to check her inbox post the beep.

The ailment is taking me places- I have been forgetting important dates (including my sister's bday), appointments (one to the doctor for the same not ruled out), routine chores (as daily as eating lunch, brushing teeth and the worst wearing shirt under my coat).

I have tried all advices made to me right from eating almonds to concentrating on a point on the wall opposite my chair. Yeah.....that was the weirdest of all and my team next door thought I had forgotten to move. I know you are having a hearty laugh at the cost of a poor me, but mind it, some of the celebrated glitterati knew the same pain. Albert Einstien is well renowned for his forgetfulness. He would forget umbrellas, dates and many more. Marlyn Monroe, the heartthrob, would forget her lines, schedules, even her love intrests at times. The reads have been enough to console and raise my bruised spirit. Forgetting the trivia gives one more brain space for logic and rationale.

However one interesting thing that has happened to me amidst all this forgetting business is.......is.........is..........err....ummmm.....guess I will mention it in the next blog.

Sshhhh, please don't tell anyone I again forgot.

No lights, no camera....all action

Last few days were big time action for me on all fronts.

For those who follow the news channels, there was a spark in the sauna of my hotel which fired big time sarkari halla. Hotel was sealed for 2 days. We were all out enjoying the Indian victory of the cup that counts. Readers need not be amazed at my indifference, I was always sure of hotel coming back with a bang......gave me the much needed break in between.

The hotel opened with the big shots of area office paying a flying visit, an enquiry of a hotel colleague calling some unknown girl at midnight from the hotel landline and an accident of a fellow colleague. Too much happening within days. No wonder we are planning a pooja to settle our planetary confusions ;). Amidst all this, one person who failed to sympathize with my back to back schedule was my mother. She could not have chosen a better time to line up two prospective grooms for her daughter.  As is true of all mothers they pick up timings with sigma precision. The will constantly nag you till such time as you either select or reject the prospects.

Make a choice, O Mortal, for thy cord is attached to thy mother. What options do you have.....jobs may be countless but not the other way round. As is expected of all obedient girls I still found time to stand all questions which are the plight of a girl my age. Note few of them along with my answers

• What are your expectations of a life partner? I am expecting a Richard Gere in BMW, if you are not, F*** off. But all I utter is no expectations, they ruin the joy. Nonsenssee
• What do you do if you see me with a girl after marriage? Bullshit.......you will keep searching me for a answer. I choose to say.....I will wait for you to tell me, I am not the type.
• Do you expect gifts on all silly occasions? Are you doubtful of me being a girl......I already have my list ready. I plead...no no they are all waste of money, I prefer saving them for future. (there is no future without a gift)
• This is the wierdest of all....how many pair of sandals do you have? Oh.....just one and that is the truth. I am waiting for money inflow from the other side to fill my cupboard geeee.

All this and many more. I am now a certified champ of " How to get a no from a husband you don't want".

Through the entire saga of drama one good thing I managed was ' F.A.L.T.U.' A film that deals with a cliche subject but a novel execution. Some fresh faces and refreshing music. I loved it to the core. The climax seemed a little too abrupt with the education minister announcing the recognition of Fakirchand and lakirchand trust university at a college function. When did the Indian bureaucracy become that magnanimous and effecient. Probably I was contrasting it with the sarkari bugger who tore my hotel's fire license amidst much of media frenzy to the endless chorus of 'ENCORE'. It was akin to Poonam pandey strip act post the world cup. No one ever got to saw it. It took us two days and countless pair of Bata shoes to get it back. Of course did not get to see a single media coverage of the hotel being reopened. Probably the media was on a long break post the barrage of negative publicity they honored us with on the short ' short circuit' in the Sauna.

I care two hoots......am too busy singing

' Aaltu jalal tu, ayi bala ko taal tu'

tension vension chod de bachcha,

ho ja fully FALTU'