What to Expect when you are Expecting

Do not be amazed at the title of the blog. This has been happening with me for the past couple of days and I have been thinking of it a lot. 

 No No.....it is definitely not what you all are expecting. And that exactly is the content of the blog this time. 

 I am a firm believer in life without expectations. Have been living like that for quite some years now and the arrangement suits me just fine. The best benefit of the system is that by not expecting anything from anyone, I snatch the vice versa rights from them too. Not that it works every time but gives me an upper hand the least.  

They say Old habits die hard. This one however betrayed me in the mid life. Off late I have cravings. Cravings to expect and cravings to see them fulfilled. Needless to say it is troubling me terribly. "Aasha is the foundation for Niraasha", I am re learning the hard way now. I was infamous as someone who was happy in her own world and did not care for anything around. 

However I can justify myself very well in the wake of all these expectations. It is just so easy and tempting to expect. I expect my sister to lend a hand in household chores because of the simple reason that she lives with me. I expect my mother to give me gifts simply because she has been doing that for ages. I expect my best friends to call me every week because I call them too, I expect people to compliment me because I think I look good, I expect... and continue expecting so on and so forth. What I am trying to cover up is that my expectations are not out of the league. They are plain human, humble anticipations that certain things are meant to happen. 

Despite of all my positivity and hopefulness things are just not happening. And that is the cause of my misery. The reason for sharing this with all of you is what you are rightly expecting :) Guide me through...I want my old self back. No frills, no expectations.

By the way...before I sign out...what were you expecting from the blog :)

The Celebration called LIFE

Two very humble and interesting brothers of my race who left me thinking deep have been occupying considerable space on my think tank for the last couple of days.  

 

I was in Jaipur for some personal work last weekend when I happened to stop by at this tea vendor. I had heard a lot about his tea and early morning around 7 I decide to shake my slumber off with this acclaimed cup. I walk up to him to see a huge que of beggers and other similar beings. As I wait for my cup someone tells me it is going to take long since my tea man will serve it to his beloved people first. On seeing my baffled reaction he goes on to explain that this is his daily ritual, no matter how long the line he ensures he serves tea free of cost to each of them. WOW!!, was my instant reaction.

 

The second guy was more of a brush through. I was driving to hotel this morning when stuck in a traffic jam I notice this rugged looking man on his cycle. He had a handsfree bluetooth kind of device pluged in his ear. What caught my attention was the crutch balanced on cycle's handle through the back seat. It took me a deeper concentration to understand his so called bluetooth was a hearing aid. Wow!!, was my only reaction.

 

Since then my thoughts have been drifting to these people. However much I have tried to shoo them away they have been jostling inside me. They have been contrasting and contradicting my thought processes, my ideologies. I remember snubbing beggers and street urchins away by saying I have done my share of giving a paise to one of you. For I have always believed my money is MY MONEY. I understand charity (done mainly for tax rebate) but other then that don't see any benefit in squandering it away on people who exist a dime a dozen.

Life for me is more of a horse view (with blinders on) which has no place and time for people like the cycle man. How deeply was I irritated when he took 5 seconds extra to get moving on the signal as if the road belonged to me.

 

It's over my usual sleeping time tonight and I do not see myself falling prey to this nightly ritual today. There is too much anxiety and restlessness within me. All I can think of is the endless volley of questions to self. Am I thanking God enough for what he has given to me! Am I grateful to share it with the less fortunate! Am I actually enjoying the journey or just running to success, the parametres of which keep on changing even before I savour the last one!! Am I actually celebrating the gift of LIFE. Time for me to feed my thoughts while you out there bid a Good Night.

Of Coffee and good times

Since the last blog, a lot has changed with me, my Job, people around, my reading list, my thought process, my role models and of course my memories of good times.

I have just returned from a fantastic week in NCR. Meant to be an official trip, I sneaked out some personal time and caught up with people who mean the world to me. I developed some new role models in the profession. During this entire expedition one thing that stood steadfast by my side was my Cuppa Coffee. It changed its form and taste everyday but wherever I was it helped me bond better. My best times were spent over this mortal elixir. The most exciting and stimulating conversations that impassioned me for my current role were held over this cup. The soul baring conversations with my favorite people that brought us closer had coffee by us.

When I expand my vision and look beyond this week, I have discovered my closest friends over this addiction.

To say the least, Coffee has driven me to excellence and I attribute my obsession with success to it. It was my first cup at Barista which I could not afford and had to walk out empty handed that I resolved to turn the world around. Every time I have that feeling of pseudo pride and self glorification I visit a Barista store :). Needless to say it keeps me grounded and reminds me of my humble upbringing.

With all due respect to the cuppa and the place that it holds in my life I am soon to drive a campaign for " COFFEEING". The term encompasses all that has been shared, liked and loved over a humble cup of coffee. I am sure most of us would agree that the best memories are the ones spent gossiping with your best friend over coffee. It is the very nature of drink to awaken, incite and electrify.

Someone said - "Some things are better off rich; Coffee, cream and men".

Sharing Lives

Every morning I wake up at the whistle of a tea kettle boiling a floor above mine. I brush my teeth to the whining of a young kid next door who is being dragged to school by his parents. The sounds of showers from the neighbors help me shrug off my laziness.

Yes, this is how we end up sharing the finer aspects of our lives when we share the same buildings. Complex/ Flat culture has been growing at a rapid rate these days. Metros have found an easy and effective alternative to cramped spaces and individual safety. Flats of all shapes and prices are mushrooming in every nook and corner. People erase their bungalows to construct high rise buildings .

For someone like me who has spent her entire life in open houses with huge verandahs and lawns ahead, flats are an irritant. They seem a compromise on the liberated life I would have otherwise lived. The following is a brief snapshot of why I just condemn this culture.

7. 30 AM - I open my curtains to stare at my neighbor, preparing lunch box for her kids. Once done, her sole time pass is to pry on my coffee, breakfast, my radio, my night clothes. Enough! I draw my curtains again :(

8.30 AM - I struggle with my door locks and aunty living back door comes and sprawls on her sofa, only to observe my clothing conduct. She is also the one who has tactical  interest in my dustbin kept out every morning for garbage collection. Looks like she is prepping up for her afternoon gossip masala.

7.00 PM - I unlock my door again to the sight of same aunty spread on the sofa with a glum face. What a strategic location of the sofa. 

8.30 PM - Its time for the children to return home after their evening games. My TV is on while I do  the mise for dinner. All directions echo the characteristic sound of nagging mothers haunting their young ones either for milk or studies. I have to strain my hearing power to listen what is going on in my favorite daily soap.

10.30 PM - I am yearning to catch some good sleep and the smallie just a floor above is playing with rocks. My ceiling bangs after every regular interval of 25 seconds. Earplug Alert!

Besides these punctual headaches there are hoards of other nasty reasons why I wish for a bungalow for myself. I do not want to be an audience to a piercing, high pitched rendition of my favorite romantic number by some paunchy relic living a floor below. It is irritating to hear the maids calling out from ground zero to the top floor on how they won't be able to make it for work again because their cows are unwell.
Almost daily I resist the strong desire to go out and look for some independent stand alone house and almost daily I kill my urge. I am willing to compromise on security but space these days comes at a heavy price. The idea of sharing a joke over a cup of coffee with my best friend in a flowery lawn is a becoming a distant dream day by day.

No wonder I have started looking for space in relationships :)

SOBs of the World

S.O.B......a word very close to my heart. Some wonderful people I have known are harmlessly S.O.B.

Under ideal circumstances it would mean Self Obsessed Bastards but by the sheer virtue of it being shared by some of my close friends I would tweak it for Self Obsessed Buggers :)

Initially I was of the impression that these are few odd people just superbly impressed by their existence. It was a termite effect. As and how I ventured deep I realised they are a world in themselves. Too many of them without a cure, all shouting the same - SOS (Self obsession syndrome, pun intended).

Couple of oddities which will help you realise the victims -

• All their conversations revolve around themselves. The best part is they do not even realize this and are absolutely naive about it. Yup one of them has actually admitted that this is a god gift and they are simply doing justice to it.
• When you try sneaking in the conversation you last only for about 30 seconds or so. They do a marvellous job of capturing the entire time frame.
• You are caught unaware by the increased pangs of Jealousy and so wish that you were half as capable as them.
• All said and done you just can't help loving them. They are so admirable with their open self adulations.

The only word of caution, there are black sheeps in the pack too. Though few in number they mar the reputation of the entire fraternity with their boisterous acts of pomp and show. The best treatment is oblivion. Let them slip by unnoticed. They die their own death in the absence of air and water.

Rest, the SOBs are wonderful, god's own creatures. They are messengers in disguise preaching the world to be proud of oneself. It is two different things to feel proud and to share it with the world. Let all know the positives in order to manage perceptions better. They leave nothing to assumptions. They make the world a better place to live in by promoting a culture of openess, self awareness and acceptance.

LONG LIVE THE SOBs and BETTER THRIVE THE BREED. AMEN

The day the heart stood still

As a Human Resource person, one has the tendency to become oblivious of grievances around. After all most part of the day is consumed attending these. 




This happened to me during my first job which was in a small village. The village was pretty remote and shot to fame due to operations of this 5 star hotel. The hotel was a major source of livelihood for the villagers. 

Most part of the day was consumed in meeting people, striking chords between village panchayat and the hotel. There was a step well right opposite the hotel entrance. One fine day during my regular trip to the village I happened to locate this young boy sitting on the steps and sobbing. My first impression was to ignore and move on for he so resembled a street urchin who would have lost in the regular child fights. However on second thought I turned round and asked him casually the matter. He continued sobbing. I moved on. And then came a feeble voice, " My mother is unwell and I have no money to feed her". I think I was more moved by the puppy face than the cause. I fumbled in my pockets to give him something to buy groceries but realized I had no money. " Give him 2 plates of daal pakvaan daily and add it to my account", I shouted to the vendor who ran a eatery adjacent to the well. The boy smiled and ran away to collect his earnings for the day. 

The next day I met the boy outside the hotel. He said his mother has expressed a desire to meet me. The hurry that I am always in I waved him off saying sure. And then it became a routine for him to come daily and invite me home. I was too busy to care. After all I had done my bit of social responsibility by providing him free food. Then suddenly this boy vanished. He was no more seen around the hotel. Just to douse my curiosity I asked the eatery owner about the whereabouts of the boy. "He no longer comes to collect the food, his mother died 20 days back and there is no clue of the boy". 

I felt as if I had been stabbed in the chest. Everything stood still and all I could think of were the excited invitations for me to meet his mother. 

That day I realized some things are better late than never. We should take time out to experience the finer things in life.  More often than not we are capable of being a part of simple luxuries but we choose to ignore them. Not that after the incident I have started listening to the my heart always. I still pretend to be busy. But I have improved for sure and am on the track of becoming a better human being if nothing else. 

P.S. This post is written as a part of TBTC initative of Blog adda. 

am too busy to care, but want to do something. Jaago Re and BlogAdda.com are helping me do my bit for the society.