I am not someone who interacts with strangers online. I don't feel the need to make friends from all over the world unless I have met them...physically!
Day before yesterday though I had a long and very interesting conversation with someone from half way across the world. Someone I didn't know. Some one I still don't know how I got in touch with! The conversation and the thoughts that came after made me wonder about this strange phenomena that happens between people. A complete stranger that you feel so comfortable that you are willing to spill your deepest secrets and stand naked with out being fearing judgement. Maybe its knowing the other person isn't going to ask, or maybe because they are in the same position as you are...trepidation accompanied by a strange intimacy. Maybe because you cannot guess what they are thinking. You can never be sure whether you're saying the right thing so you wait with bated breathe, ready to justify, ignore, snub or accept what the other has to say. Then a positive response comes a long and your heart beats just a little bit faster and you think of the next thing to say. It has nothing to do with confidence...it's not about waiting for approval...it feels like a new opening, a new blossoming of yourself if you will.
You look forward to the next conversation and long for it when it doesn't happen. Then you wonder if it meant the same to them as it did you, and if you said something or were misunderstood.
And then you wait..
Another conversation and another and another till the stranger becomes a friend...or you discover youre incompatible even though the first conversation felt 'magical'.
...then maybe you meet another stranger!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Another Pournami...
Standing in line waiting for a red thread to be tied around my wrist I wonder about what it is that pulls people here.
Yes the temple is beautiful, and yes the deity is a wonder to gaze upon but so many people patiently waiting in line and doing anything that is required just to be allowed in to be a part of the experience.
All my questions and floating ideas are answered by the immense emotional reaction I have to the goddess. Tears flow down my face without my feeling any single identifiable emotion. Just the immensity of it.
All around me people smile,they cry, they close their eyes, they stare, they fidget.
The dancers make their offerings of movement. Between each section the the bhairaginis deck the goddess in calming sandalwood, smother her in butter, make her bridaly shy in haldi and vibrant and fiery in kumkum.
The aarti is taken to each person almost individually. Even so people stretch and reach out to receive a tangible expression of her care and blessing, something they can relate to. Something that they can see. Something that she probably couldn't care less about.
A feeling of having met someone with whom I share a close personal relationship instigates me to join the long line of people who go to receive the kumkum and then to bow down to her. Walking out of the shrine I see her army and her pamper-ers waiting to take her out in procession. The moon in full bloom seems to have a facade of calm, pregnant with excitement underneath. I share the excitement...and the facade of calm as I make my way to watch her woo her other half.
I smile as I realise, I've been a part of this process before but every time it feels new. Every time I feel like a mother, sister, daughter and lover.
Yes the temple is beautiful, and yes the deity is a wonder to gaze upon but so many people patiently waiting in line and doing anything that is required just to be allowed in to be a part of the experience.
All my questions and floating ideas are answered by the immense emotional reaction I have to the goddess. Tears flow down my face without my feeling any single identifiable emotion. Just the immensity of it.
All around me people smile,they cry, they close their eyes, they stare, they fidget.
The dancers make their offerings of movement. Between each section the the bhairaginis deck the goddess in calming sandalwood, smother her in butter, make her bridaly shy in haldi and vibrant and fiery in kumkum.
The aarti is taken to each person almost individually. Even so people stretch and reach out to receive a tangible expression of her care and blessing, something they can relate to. Something that they can see. Something that she probably couldn't care less about.
A feeling of having met someone with whom I share a close personal relationship instigates me to join the long line of people who go to receive the kumkum and then to bow down to her. Walking out of the shrine I see her army and her pamper-ers waiting to take her out in procession. The moon in full bloom seems to have a facade of calm, pregnant with excitement underneath. I share the excitement...and the facade of calm as I make my way to watch her woo her other half.
I smile as I realise, I've been a part of this process before but every time it feels new. Every time I feel like a mother, sister, daughter and lover.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Birth of a Goddess
Have you ever been witness to the birth of a goddess?
I mean a real live one...with ten hands and everything?
I have.
She was beautiful.
She's a little sensitive...she needs to be pampered and o my when she's happy...!
The whole world would be yours if she wished it!
But she knows that you can't handle the world so gives you a little... just the right amount that you can handle.
Have you ever been witness to the birth of a goddess?
I have.
Have you seen her woo her lover?
Oh! you missed the way she wooed him.
The static and unwooable one.
Yes, she wooed him with her spearmen and fire.
With her bells and handmaiden.
But the most beautiful was when she wooed him with her grace.
Have you ever been witness to the birth of a goddess?
I have.
I mean a real live one...with ten hands and everything?
I have.
She was beautiful.
She's a little sensitive...she needs to be pampered and o my when she's happy...!
The whole world would be yours if she wished it!
But she knows that you can't handle the world so gives you a little... just the right amount that you can handle.
Have you ever been witness to the birth of a goddess?
I have.
Have you seen her woo her lover?
Oh! you missed the way she wooed him.
The static and unwooable one.
Yes, she wooed him with her spearmen and fire.
With her bells and handmaiden.
But the most beautiful was when she wooed him with her grace.
Have you ever been witness to the birth of a goddess?
I have.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
New Found Love
I hate the cold. Sitting in blistering Chennai I don’t like when the fan or air-con is on “too high”. I like when a little bit of physical exercise is performed, a feeling that one is about to sweat almost instantaneously occurs. Being from a college where if you don’t sweat like it’s just rained when you’re dancing, you haven’t done enough, it’s hard not to look forward to the feeling. When I visit a hill station in India (Ooty) I refuse to step out in the evening for a walk cause it’s “too cold.”
I travelled to London. Dreading the cold more than ever as my previous experience had taught me to do. I landed at Heathrow not knowing who was to pick me up or where I was going. There are advantages to having a father like mine, eg: I never have to worry about things like this. I have one coat which is more spring-ish than winter-ish. I wrap myself up nice and tight and brace myself for the cold. I got what I expected. The freezing ‘breeze’ that elicits the phrase ‘nice autumn day’ from any Englishman.
Over the next week I saw all the various clothing and feeding styles that come about because of the cold. I felt the brisk morning air as it filled me up with an urge to go out and do something while still begging me to stay in bed. Hot chocolate didn’t make me feel like I was about to cook my innards and wool tights allowed me to wear short clothes without making me self conscious. I got to wear tiny heeled boots -- which were admittedly not made for the winter, but were nice all the same. I got to buy formal woolen pants that I wore when I went into the House of Lords to hear a lecture on sustainability. I got to walk up and down Oxford Street looking at sweaters and jackets and boots and all sorts of other winter ‘requirements’ for women in the sunny but cold weather. I got hailed on while checking out a restaurant and then got to sit in a warm toasty bar while munching on massive amounts of spaghetti as it rained on the world. I got to hang out with friends and have supposedly intellectual or heart to heart conversations about anything and everything under the sun. I learned that grey clothing was not for the people who had no imagination and that there were a thousand different shades of it that could be made to look rather nice!
It is true that more than half the reason for my new-found love for the weather was due to the fashion possibilities that made my head spin. But there is that other significant portion that allowed me to enjoy coming back to a cozy warm house at the end of a fun and tiring night. The joy of drinking hot chocolate and tea at anytime of the day or night to keep warm. Going to a dinner in a silk sari and have people ask if you aren’t cold at all cause they haven’t ever worn silk in the winter without the accompaniment of wool.
My love affair with London was originally in my head. Now it’s a real live feeling. I’m sitting at the airport ready to go back to my own home and my brand new car, but I miss London already!
I travelled to London. Dreading the cold more than ever as my previous experience had taught me to do. I landed at Heathrow not knowing who was to pick me up or where I was going. There are advantages to having a father like mine, eg: I never have to worry about things like this. I have one coat which is more spring-ish than winter-ish. I wrap myself up nice and tight and brace myself for the cold. I got what I expected. The freezing ‘breeze’ that elicits the phrase ‘nice autumn day’ from any Englishman.
Over the next week I saw all the various clothing and feeding styles that come about because of the cold. I felt the brisk morning air as it filled me up with an urge to go out and do something while still begging me to stay in bed. Hot chocolate didn’t make me feel like I was about to cook my innards and wool tights allowed me to wear short clothes without making me self conscious. I got to wear tiny heeled boots -- which were admittedly not made for the winter, but were nice all the same. I got to buy formal woolen pants that I wore when I went into the House of Lords to hear a lecture on sustainability. I got to walk up and down Oxford Street looking at sweaters and jackets and boots and all sorts of other winter ‘requirements’ for women in the sunny but cold weather. I got hailed on while checking out a restaurant and then got to sit in a warm toasty bar while munching on massive amounts of spaghetti as it rained on the world. I got to hang out with friends and have supposedly intellectual or heart to heart conversations about anything and everything under the sun. I learned that grey clothing was not for the people who had no imagination and that there were a thousand different shades of it that could be made to look rather nice!
It is true that more than half the reason for my new-found love for the weather was due to the fashion possibilities that made my head spin. But there is that other significant portion that allowed me to enjoy coming back to a cozy warm house at the end of a fun and tiring night. The joy of drinking hot chocolate and tea at anytime of the day or night to keep warm. Going to a dinner in a silk sari and have people ask if you aren’t cold at all cause they haven’t ever worn silk in the winter without the accompaniment of wool.
My love affair with London was originally in my head. Now it’s a real live feeling. I’m sitting at the airport ready to go back to my own home and my brand new car, but I miss London already!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
An Uneducated Insight on "Educated" Educators:
My experience with a some of my educators has been somewhat of a disaster at times. I often meet educators who believe themselves to have a distinguished knowledge of their subject. This is just my observation on the conversation or "discussion" process that usually takes place with me!
A lot of people who have a certain book knowledge of philosophy or the arts tend to mix only with people who agree with them. I find that they very successfully confuse the people that they converse with , with such dexterity an almost always refuse to see the other side of the story. The people who engaged the so called educator in such conversation are also people who wish they had a certain expertise on the subject but usually don't. So if you are ever faced with such a person see if your conversation flows the same as mine usually do.
Point out to this "humble, honest" educator your little confusion with the flow of their logic in the form of a question. A genuine question, not one of those smart-alec ones. Ask them honestly why a particular point isn't contradictory. Preferably use an example that comes to mind, or something that was part of a previous conversation.
Watch as they deny the possibility of your example and then continue to replace it with an absurd example of which you obviously have no knowledge. In fact you probably haven't heard of anything remotely close to the example in your life. See them accuse you of assuming unecessary things and simultaneously assume that the example that you used is something you strongly believe in, or is the way you think (it doesn't matter whether you use an example pro mass murder or pro a repeat of WW2). As they tell you not to have a n inflexible view on the topic, they seem to develop impossibly inflexible ideas about you and your "way of life."
At this point when you desperately try to stop the conversation that has already skewed completely out of focus from spiraling out of control, see them look at it as a sign of defeat. Finally in desperation to save your sanity and in an effort to let people keep their opinions without having to explain them to you, when you try and abort the conversation altogether see them take it on as a personal insult, a symbol of your ignorance and disrespect for not only them but also their haloed subject!
The fact that the person doesn't know you or any of your views or ideas or opinions about anything at all will make no difference whatsoever. And trust me when I say try as you might for as long as you know them and are forced to be in that student-educator relationship you cannot change that opinion.
A lot of people who have a certain book knowledge of philosophy or the arts tend to mix only with people who agree with them. I find that they very successfully confuse the people that they converse with , with such dexterity an almost always refuse to see the other side of the story. The people who engaged the so called educator in such conversation are also people who wish they had a certain expertise on the subject but usually don't. So if you are ever faced with such a person see if your conversation flows the same as mine usually do.
Point out to this "humble, honest" educator your little confusion with the flow of their logic in the form of a question. A genuine question, not one of those smart-alec ones. Ask them honestly why a particular point isn't contradictory. Preferably use an example that comes to mind, or something that was part of a previous conversation.
Watch as they deny the possibility of your example and then continue to replace it with an absurd example of which you obviously have no knowledge. In fact you probably haven't heard of anything remotely close to the example in your life. See them accuse you of assuming unecessary things and simultaneously assume that the example that you used is something you strongly believe in, or is the way you think (it doesn't matter whether you use an example pro mass murder or pro a repeat of WW2). As they tell you not to have a n inflexible view on the topic, they seem to develop impossibly inflexible ideas about you and your "way of life."
At this point when you desperately try to stop the conversation that has already skewed completely out of focus from spiraling out of control, see them look at it as a sign of defeat. Finally in desperation to save your sanity and in an effort to let people keep their opinions without having to explain them to you, when you try and abort the conversation altogether see them take it on as a personal insult, a symbol of your ignorance and disrespect for not only them but also their haloed subject!
The fact that the person doesn't know you or any of your views or ideas or opinions about anything at all will make no difference whatsoever. And trust me when I say try as you might for as long as you know them and are forced to be in that student-educator relationship you cannot change that opinion.
Monday, September 20, 2010
So now I write...
I never thought I would be one to blog. All the people crowding this open space with their whinging and whining about how sad their life is, or how significant it became cause they finally heard the words "I love you" directed at them. You know the kind I mean. I thought of it as a complete and utter waste of time.
But here I am, post Harvard-Summer School experience and have decided that I need to start writing now. And what better way to improve the way I write than to open it out to the public so they can make all their nasty, nice or half-hearted agreements.
Now I just need to find something to write about!
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