A 3rd 'person' view of me...

She's scared of the lizard. Again. 

I know she is not the sort to scare easy, but lizards somehow get to her. Horror stories, horror movies - those she gobbles up. She's a Poe fan; she still keeps his books on her bedside table. She doesn't read them as often now, but she holds on to them. Relics from her childhood - the memory of a story perhaps... or a feeling. Oh, she's full of feelings, this one.

Laughter. Her sense of humor is dark but she has an easy smile - one that she offers up readily and with no hesitation. I've heard everyone tell her this. And a deep voice that feels incongruous in such a small frame. Her friends get to hear her laugh and often say it sounds like a donkey braying. It's definitely not pretty. Only those who love her get to hear her truly chortle with laughter. I've heard it and it's... interesting. It goes on and on like an ECG machine spilling out its graphs: troughing when she's out of breath, cresting when she is reminded of whatever it was that tickled her. Endless.

Labor. I know she loves her work and works hard at whatever she does. I sense that it is important to her - gaining respect and being known for what she does. She'll spend hours if she has a tricky problem to solve and that is the part that bores me the most. Loss. Like all of us here on this blue dot, she is defined by loss. I see it in her eyes when she thinks no one is watching, staring into her favorite whiskey. Reading connects her to the universe - similar griefs, same tribulations. Reading reminds her of the loves she lost and writing brings them back. And so it goes on and on. 

Love sustains her. Her partner of 19 years is the source of her energies, her confidante, her partner in crime. Her relationships with her mother, her sisters, her friends clearly mean a lot to her. I like hearing her talk to the maid, the gardener - she is funny. Well, at least she tries to elicit a chuckle. I can't chuckle too much since it is out of character for me. So I remain stoic. 

She loves the sea; hates the rains.

She loves eating; will do anything to not-cook.

She loves partying; but will not stay out beyond 12 am.

She loves reading. If anyone disturbs her, she turns feral (I seen it).

She loves samosas, hates mangoes. Yes, I almost abandoned her at this point. 

She loves snakes and hates lizards. 

She's a weird thing but I guess it is alright for now. For me, this is a temporary thing and she is good company; so I guess I will have to make do. I do wish she were a bit less 'shouty' about lizards. I know she is not afraid of ghosts though. One stormy night, I looked in on her to check if she was okay. And I could have sworn she saw me and smiled. 

An ode to Haikus

I love Haikus.

First of all, the name itself. Look at it! --> #Haiku. Rolls off your tongue in a rush. How captivating!

Writing is so often like sculpting.  It starts as a mere wisp of an idea. A word you read, maybe. Something you said to your best friend. Or something that the coffee dregs in your mug looked like today. Anything. It takes hold then; slowly mutating in your mind's recesses into something beautiful. Or ugly. Or grey. Or plastic. Anything you want it to be. That's the fun, isn't it? It expands, taking on this amorphous life of its own.

Like you, I've often penned my thoughts in prose, verse, staccato sentences. Then stood back to look at it with tilted head. Like a sculptor would, or a painter. More like a sculptor though. That's what you do with your words. With a #haiku. You gently coax them into behaving under your fingers. A little pressure here, smooth it out there. Or if it's stone, you chisel at them  Shape here, crude and hoarse there. It's yours. It's also completely his who reads. Or hers. Or its. Everyone's and noone's.

I talk like I'm a sculptor. I've never held clay in my hand, or stone to chip away at. But I have sculpted. For you.

Crossroads
I've waited for him
Here, at the crossroads of life
For centuries now
Mephistopheles
The gravel under my feet
Now is an hourglass.

The waif
Alone she sat there
On the top of the mountain,
Seeing the shepherds
Whistle tunes of joy
As they headed home at dusk.
And darkness took her

The red pill
In the dark he waits
Watching his thoughts take root and
A forest is born.

Alone she wandered
In the woods not knowing why.
But knowing she should.

Until she met him.
The white knight who smiled & said
"Are you ready, Alice?"

In her destiny
Was to wander forever
His forest of thoughts

Ten minutes

Ten minutes. I have ten minutes before S picks me up for lunch. I've had a mad morning of back-to-back meetings already. I have a mad rush of meetings after lunch also. 

10 minutes for myself out of 960 waking minutes? That's 1.04%! The rest a flurry of pulsating relationships and a blur of demanding work. 

You do the math. 

In my last meeting, something very different happened. Someone asked me to draw three circles - one representing my work, one representing my relationships, and one representing myself. Guess which was smallest?

So my mantra now is: Expand the circle.. 

I miss.....

What I am missing RIGHT NOW (if you are in this list, and you see your name, AND you don't call me, you will bite your tongue today) 

•  someone who is very very far away (in miles) but very close (to my heart). She talks non stop but talks right to your heart. Talk of the town, queen of hearts... I am sure she is making 'ripples' where she is.
  
•  someone who 'deserted' my ilk (that's the single/unmarried ilk btw) very recently. I feel I have no sense of direction without her. Plus she does not come online (hmphh)
  
•  OK. This someone is very astute. I miss her barbs and comments. I love her for her '6 min wedding ceremony.' (Why was I counting? hmmm). I like to say she 'ripped the bandaid off' very quickly :). But I do miss her... 
  
• I miss my father. He is miles away too. It is weird. I know I am like him. I recognize his likeness in the way I behave. I believe I understand him more as I understand myself more. 
  
• I miss bicycles
  
• I miss Physics
  
• I miss having crushes. I do. I do.  :D
  
• I miss my brown jacket. (BTW, if my 'brown jacket' is reading this, I'd really really appreciate a call)
  
• I miss my 'brother when he was 4.' (He is now 19!)
  
• I miss a friend from my childhood. Ringlets of curly hair (why did you straighten them?!)  framing her face. Dimples.... (Hey, isn't there a nursery rhyme describing you?). She's a great fan of Aishwarya Rai (Why, why, why?!)
  
• I miss going to my dad's office and gawking at the computer
  
• I miss NOT having a cellphone (cheee)
  
• And how can you miss someone when they are right beside you? (How how how?!) :(

<3