ssoggo's Posterous

Just this morning, I was told that I am finally complicated enough that I can start my very own show, ‘Coffee With Peridot’. So Khandu, this is for you, just so you know how badly my show would run if I took up your recommendation...!

‘Coz the first thing I’d talk about is my sister getting engaged! YEAY! I'm so happy! Because finally, FINALLY, I get to pull her leg, and she cannot do a thing about it…!

And one of my cousins’ engaged too. And another just got married this Thursday. Another’s getting engaged next month. A fourth gave birth to her first child, a beautiful baby boy just last Sunday…!

And if you think that is hectic, what're you going to say when I tell you that I've finally got a job at a sane company? No more 50 year old colleagues! No more being the youngest employee with no one to talk to!

I’m moving out – tomorrow – flying off to a real job in a proper MNC, with a good JD!!! All you poor people who’ve had to bear my whining the last couple years, you’re free! No more whining!! (at least for the next couple months :P)

So yes, feeling a bit left out to be the only unhitched cousin in the entire extended family, but it’s alright. I’ve got a sister to torture, two cousins to back me up after her and a whole new avenue to look out at…

And of course, Bhai, my newest brother-in-law! Oh, is he sweet! Of course, I’m sure that’s only to get my sister on his good side (Just kidding Bhai! :P)! It is simply beautiful when I’m talking about the pounding going on above-stairs (there’s some renovation work going on) and suddenly my sister brings up her new fiancé, totally unrelated might they be!

New love, I tell you… Sigh!

So all in all, life’s good. It can (and will) get better, but for now, to have a good job in hand (FINALLY!!!), a newly engaged sister (and to get her to blush so prettily!), and an elder brother figure who, for the first time in my life, offered to beat up someone who made me upset!

Aah… Life’s good when it’s all figured out, flop though my morning coffee show would be!

She made me stay abed for days on nigh when I was unwell. But when she took a major fall and was all trussed up in bandages and cream, she tottered up early in the morning to the kitchen. When asked why, she told us her daughter was getting late for office and if not for her, would leave on an empty stomach. She is my mother.

She scolded me when I complained of a stomach bug to her on a holiday trip. I was branded an unsavory person who knew not how to control her food urges and caused everyone trouble when attacked by acidity. A couple of days later she caught the bug and couldn’t walk for a week. That was five years ago and she still can’t forgive herself for her comments. She is my mother.

I was a teenager in the throes of adolescence. I came home hours after curfew was set. The shouting match which ensued was loud and fierce. She had to turn away with a frown on her face. The tears which shimmered in her eyes then, rise up still when the day is mentioned. She is my mother.

My elder sister had come first not only in her class, but in the entire grade. I had scraped a bare eleventh in my class. The teachers all praised her and looked down their noses at me. Fellow students clapped her shoulder and bestowed perfunctory smiles at me. Relatives called to congratulate her and didn’t bother to speak to me. I felt my confidence slither low and blamed myself for all my follies. But when She congratulated my sister and bought her a gift, she made sure I had one too. She is my mother.

The teacher had called her in to class. I had lost my homework for the umpteenth time and they knew not what to do with me. I was named a Problem Child, and the Principal shook his head gravely at me. But She combed my hair the next day as she prepared me for school and tied a pretty band around my ponytail. She told me to face up to those who looked down at me and prove to them that I was worthy. She is my mother.

I was in college and in the depth of depression. Nothing was going my way, and only hurt was imminent. I was blundering about and losing all things I deemed important for me. In the midst of my Crisis, I was called home from college because it was close-by and she had a lesion on her leg which needed to be treated. Her leg hurt and she could barely stand. While at the doctor’s, the only solution to my depression seemed to me in the form of a particular snack. That snack took on the form of every little and big thing that caused me pain. Everybody else called me selfish when I wished to have the snack. But She made me drive down to the snack-bar and buy the snack for myself on the way home from the doctor’s. She is my mother.

She’s strict and unemotional and fussy and points out all the little flaws in me at every opportunity.

She’s warm and brave and strong and protects me from all those who dare to pick at the slightest of my flaws.

She is my mother.

The Anna Hazare Movement

If you think Govt = corruption, you are a part of it
If you want a developed India, you are a part of it
If you have ever had to pay a bribe, you are a part of it

'Coz we aren't BJP, or Congress, or Political..

We Are Indian..!

Free Anna Hazare!
http://www.avaaz.org/en/free_anna_fb/97.php?cl_tta_sign=8c1c9d8385f1d754115470601adc9317

So I'm sitting there all quiet like. Not a peep or a twitch. Cocooned so beautifically in my warm cave. And then I'm gourged out. Ripped cruelly by long talons and dug up from plateaus so silent..!

You won't believe the places where I've been dug up at! Bus stations and train bogeys and schoolrooms and cinema theaters. Waiting for your mate? Dig me out! Stuck at a traffic signal? Stick that finger into your nose! That book you're reading getting too monotonous? What're you waiting for? Pull me out!

And those historical ruins where I end up! Under the writing desk, edges of the bus seat, last pages of the notebook, and my personal horror, the caverns of the mouth..! Even bring rolled into a tiny sphere and flicked into nothingness beats that last one.

You know what irks me bad? When you have a really bad cold. You sniff and you sneeze all day and that thin cotton hanky you varry gets fated to have me blown into it. And then you peek into that little piece of cloth every single time. Why do you have to pull a face when you do that? I mean, you KNOW what you're gonna find already, and you still look just to make a face.

Like what did you expect to see? Diamonds?

It's really unfair, you know? Why this cruel treatment to me? Do you treat my cousins that way? Oh no, the Earwax gets the special treatment. A soft bud to coax him out and then straight into the bin so he can start his own life. No public birthings for him. No stick-on-the-wall or horr0or creature stories of that one!

But me, you've made into the Bogieman. The Bogieman, for God's sake? Did your creativity have to die off just then? Why couldn't I get a name just a bit more glamorous, huh? Something like the Snot Monster or Sticky Star would have been just fine.

And then you rub in salt by making me out to be some kind of a psychopath out to get children who don't eat their vegetables and stay up too late. Who cares if they don't sleep? I certainly do not, thank you very much. So I'd be grateful if you'd stop inventing the stuff of nightmares out of me.

Especially when I put MY kids to sleep by putting in them the fear of itsy bitsy baby fingers digging out naughty nose boogies from runny caves straight into kiddie mouths.

YOU'RE the stuff of OUR nightmares!

You, and the nicknames your kind give us. 'Jungle King' one babe in squeaky shoes called me! I nearly fainted out of her nose. And then of course, her mom had to have me blown out of her nose and into a silky hanky. And then open the hanky to peer at me.

One of these days, I'm going to learn to metamorphose into diamonds.

A dark sky envelops the horizon. Brilliant stars pierce the cloudy realms in the churn. The rush of air outside my speeding coach drowns out most sounds from the surrounds.

A mewling from a baby drifts through the darkness. The soft notes of a lullaby which follows brings on the sting of tears.

So close yet so far, the last step forward too heavy. A coach full of hearts, and not one of those hearts belongs to me. A city bustling with spirits, not one aligned to mine.

To whom do I belong? Where is my Jar of Hearts? Hundreds of radiant minds I’ve met since I first drew breath, and how many of those do I remember now?

There is this part of me which is always waiting. Waiting in the quiet, waiting for rejection. For I know not whom to trust. Or on whom to rely.

Each to-day I meet new persons, so similar to yester-day. And all so wonderful, all so happy and gay. All so kind and all nice they say.

And sadly yester-day, some of them simply wore masks. And left me blind to see through the colourful sketches drawn on. And to-day is no different, for I know not to find the mask, to tear it off.

So how do I collect my Jar of Hearts, how do I let loose my kite? How do I know whom to trust. Or on whom to rely.

I stand alone. I know none to be with me. I remember faces flying past my mind’s eye. Memory fails when I look for those who never made me cry. And still I pull forward, for to stand still is to be left behind.

Yet to cling is to know that I stand weak. How much longer can I hold on? How do I know I won’t be left  behind? How do I risk my heart out there with those unkind?

How do I believe? How many do I search ‘till I fill my Jar of Hearts? For I know not whom to trust. Or on whom to rely.

All I know is that the sky is dark pierced with brilliant stars. And I wander alone with my Jar of Hearts. I stumble, I fall, but I'll play my part.

So long as I have my Jar of Hearts.

I’m going to be rich! Yes, rich! And not in petty thousands, but millions! Ha!

But shush! It’s a secret… My business partner can't have me divulge information on how I got the money he’s going to bestow on me. But you know me. I can’t shut up about such things, can I?

It's a totally ooh-la-la story, a much-heard-of spam come alive! How? Well, I received a secret (very secret!) email from Dissue M Koromah the son of a late Seirra leonian Colenel, matthin Koromah who died many years ago when the revolutionary united front rebels(Blah, blah, blah) attacked his residence in Makeni Sierraleon (And yes, has anybody heard of this place? I would be obliged to know the country of my benefactor).

Mr. K wishes to bequeath me with 8.5 Million US Dollars! His dearly departed father made a fortune in diamonds (imagine!) and now the kindly disposed Mr. K wishes to share the bounty. And wonder of wonders! A lucky draw of email ids drew me!

I’d always known ssoggo was going to serve me! Pooh on you, all of you who asked me what it ever meant!

I am now officially retiring from my boring, old, day-job. I won’t have the time. I have been, after all, given the great responsibility of identifying the business into which Mr. K and I are to invest the vast moneys…

And of course, Mr. K has so very generously offered me 10% as starting commission to generate the wardrobes required for this new lifestyle!

The only hitch, ahem (and this is super, super, SUPER secret), I have to deposit a sum of Rs 100 000 in his bank account first. After all, when Mr. K is willing to share millions in dollars, he needs to know I won’t run off with it!

I’m off now. I have to send a reply via email to Mr. K, and then a trip to the bank!

Urgently.

He needs that one hundred thousand in his bank account immediately to know my id is not dormant!

So, all ye lesser mortals, take care! I’ll try not to forget you when I become the millionaire I always knew I was destined to be!

Some time back I received an email forward extolling the virtues of the Quarter-life Crisis. Such a comforting thought it was, to know that I’m not the only one suffering out here in this woebegone world, and yet, I would have preferred to be the odd one out!

But what do I call it when I find the most beautiful pair of slippers in a showroom one fine evening, costing only about half of a ten thousand? When the allure of crystalline heels and strappy boot flaps on discount becomes too hard to resist? And when I remember that it’s not Papa dearest who’s gonna be making the payment, but me, and so I turn away?

What do I call it when I change not one, not two but three jobs in two years? When I find out after being stuck in a job I intensely dislike that I made a mistake in choosing the money and not the profile? When I think about myself twenty years ago, and what I am now was not at all what I had in mind then?

Is it still a mid-life crisis when I step into the beauty parlor with a beautiful mane and step out with a shorn pate-like stilt of hair? When I step into the parlor the next day to turn the slick look into wild curls? And when I return the day after to get it all cut off, and the receptionist simpers about what an excellent customer I am?

I met a friend the other day at the mall, and the poor soul was burdened with little nieces and nephews, all screaming their heads off. Was it still a crisis that she had the authority to herd them back home safely, but not the authority to keep them in line with a raised voice? When passers-by smirked that the woman did not know how to keep her children in check?

A single day trip out of station gets you thinking on finances. And being stranded with an over-the-head billed credit card and an empty debit card is no joke I tell you! Three servicing trips for one motorbike in one month, an entire month’s pay gone in seconds as you pay overdue bills, an entire year’s saving struck down by a single trip to the beautiful, beautiful boutique!

Life is no longer about heartbreaks, or wanting to meet someone decent, or falling in love with infinite number of people anymore. It’s about just settling down, wherever you are, pushing roots into the soil and creating an ambiance of being at home. Your home. And your life partner can come along and join you after this is done.

Or you’re already married to the guy of your dreams and it’s about making sure you have support from him so that you can give support in return. You don’t care about whirlwind romances or romantic candle lights anymore because you now know it’s the small gestures which count. A hand-held walk down a busy street means much more than a boring dinner breathing in candle fumes.

You have your set of principles and your life should run according to them, and then something comes up and your whole world starts to fall about your ears. And you go running home to lick your wounds in peace and you realize that sometimes it’s easier to just live and let live. And at others, it’s important to stick to your values and beliefs. And you have no idea how to define these two times from each other.

You miss your friends, but on the crazy time this world runs on, you have no space to keep in touch. And when you do, you are insecure about your place in their lives because you’ve been so far away from them for so long now. And at the end of the whole perplexing, baffling confusion, you stop for a second and think that maybe your friend is going through the same conflict.

And you’re looking to get a job which you think would suit you, but either the pay is really bad, or the profile is not open, or you don’t have enough years of experience for it. And you rant and rave at God that He’s ruining your life, and that He doesn’t care and that you hate Him. And God in His great wisdom, ignores your outburst and goes on, knowing that in twenty years you’re gonna be glad things were the way they are now.

Is this still quarter-life crisis? Or maybe it’s past quarter-century of your life crisis. I’ve crossed twenty-five, and I can’t seem to find a steady rock on which to place my foot. Everything is rolling downhill and no ropes dangle about me to pull me up.

Life is scary, and the only comfort I find is in the confines of my newest dress. Sure, it cost me a pretty penny, but the embrace of the soft silk and the outrageous cut of the fabric is sweeter than the sweetest energy drink in the whole product line!

I received a lovely SMS today evening.. I thought I just had to share it here!

Some Very Logical Statements:

1. Make peace with your PAST so it doesn't spoil your PRESENT (Ahem.. You know those... Just, ahem...)

2. What OTHERS think about YOU is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!! (Boy, do I need to start applying this to myself!)

3. Time heals almost everything... Just give Time some time (Yeah, brought the proverbial tear to my eye too)

4. No one is responsible for your happiness except You yourself (Makes a nice change from all those silly ones which blame you for your unhappiness, doesn't it?)

5. Don't compare your life with that of others'; You have no idea of what their journey is all about (I find this a bit hard to accept and agree to when I see EASY LUCK in some people's lives, and some real HARD LUCK in others'...)

6. STOP thinking so much! It's alright not to know all the answers (Yes, this one's for you DD Cheque! :])

7. SMILE! You don't own ALL the problems in the world.. (Yeah, only about 99% of them :P)

8. There is much to be learnt for a pair of walking legs; The foot that's at the front knows no FALSE EGO (they called it pride, but I think these words are better suited) and the foot that's at the back knows no SHAME. THEY BOTH KNOW THEIR SITUATION WILL CHANGE!

Lovely statements, aren't they? And very intriguingly inspiring, yet humbling...

Thanks AP!

You made us laugh, you made us cry. With every breath we took, you made us alive!

Your wit and your cynicism, they were your tools.

Never was there a class you did not let us leave feeling rue.

But the load of work, the assignments and the 3AM deadlines, these were part and parcel of what made us fall in such admiration of you…

By breaking every conventional standard the way of life you did prove!

You shaped each of us into what we are today, you were the guiding hand in many of our lives.

I owe my first job to you Sir, my first top gradesheet, my first re-confidence, my first… For you today my heart cries…

Did you know, Sir, when each of us needed to feel special?

Was that why you had each of us singled out to mark us in your way so real?

Your Mirchi-sms will always stay with us, the after-class sessions many shared with you…

There is much each of us to you holds due.

I can see you shaking your head from up there now, smiling at all your students, indulgent of those who shed tears.

What else can I say, Sir? What else can I do? You were taken away much too soon, much too fast, much too early, and we’ll always miss you.

Thank you for being there and making such a big difference to our lives!

Rest in peace Sir!

Here’s to the undying spirit, the never tiring enthusiasm, the unselfish friendship, the remarkable humor and as V.S. put it, the 64-year-old guy who had multiple 25-year-olds drooling over him…!!