Hoarder!

Happiness is a myth that was invented to make us buy!


I and my true friends feel a ‘happy’ rush seeing the first hoarding calling out SALE! Yet as I put the word happy under the saintly quotes I was in for a surprise. Instead of a seraphic happy angel, I saw a greedy devil looking back at me. Oh! We were unscrupulous believers to fall for the myth and now we walk home with lighter wallets and baggages of things we wanted and not quite wanted.

I am a greedy hoarder. And over the years I just feel that the things I hoard has grown leaps and bound. Back in the monsoon season in Nainital I was all eyes for the dark green ferns. Walking along I used to scan through the green outgrowth looking for a leaf I didn’t have in my collection. There were those artistically shaped fern leaves, which ingeniously had a brown powdery substance on the backside. It almost worked as a carbon sheet and you could stamp the pattern of the leaf on your hand :) The leafy skeletons(jackfruit leaves) buried under the stones was valuable treasure to me.

The acorns were another favourite of mine. Perhaps there were the monkeys, birds, squirrels and me vying for them. Well I couldn’t climb on an oak tree unlike my competitors so I had to scout the ground beneath the tree to collect them. I collected the pretty luscious green ones and then the shiny brown dried acorns as well. I have already mentioned the wood roses in my previous blog so I’ll give it a miss this time.

Let’s move on to stones. The most beautiful collection I have is the scaled golden stones I picked up from my maternal grandmothers orchids in the hills of Paharpani. Imagine the mud glistening golden in the sun. From the glistening golden to the sublime whites from some rivers bed I had them all. The perfectly round, and then the perfectly flat all made it to my collection. Very close to the stone collection I had the shell collection. Picked up from the shores of Kanyakumari and Kovalam, then some kind soul got me a handful from mandarmuni as well. For every shell I had, I had a story about its colour and texture.

All these stories sound so quaint today. I don’t scan the grounds, the grass, and the trees around me anymore. I have found a substitute today for my hoarding happiness, I scan the stores! And come the sale season I’m on my way.. Hey I’ve become this materialistic hoarding woman..:(

A thing for swings…

I trust a hemp rope as much as I trust the rusty iron chain when it comes to swings.  I don’t discriminate between a wooden, a plastic or even a rubber tire seat when it comes to swings. I just have a thing for swings. I’ll bribe away the kids or may be even shoo them away if they make me wait too long for my turn.

On a little windy evening, watch the dancing shadows of the dusk swing into night.  The receding shadows at their elusive best! I love the highs and I love the lows. I know the tricks too well; I’ll throw myself forward I’ll pull myself behind. It’s just a matter of time, when I begin to hear the sound of my hair playing in the wind-(I’d shampoo my hair any day if there’s a swing in the itinerary!). It’s lovely gazing at the night sky, leisurely swinging and spying on the stars above.  You might never reach them but there’s no stopping you from trying so here I tug the ropes more briskly taking my swing still higher above.

On a lazy afternoon, putting my swing under a shady tree, I like to swing gently with a gossipy partner.  It’s fun to start with small talk and then muse philosophically but it’s equally convenient vice-versa. It’s all the more special if someone buys you an ice-cream and then you relish it on a swing. (All the above events are no figments of imagination they bear close resemblance to few eventful days in other wise mundane life.)

I caught on the ‘swinging  bliss’ in Kolkata. How I miss the park nearby my apartment where I’ve spent countless evening with my roomies and close friends. Then there were the innumerable fairs year long in some or the other parts of the city, and the biggest draw-yes the swings! Bizarre swings, some made your head spin, the others had some serious momentum issues but I’m willing to forgive that all as long as I get to scream and shout with friends.  I have managed two swinging evenings in Hyderabad so far. I was fortunate to have a swinging morning in garden city Bangalore while on a weekend trip.  I’m surprised at how vividly I remember each of the days. Perhaps my childhood is swinging back again for all the days that swung past without a swing. 

Take a bow..

Reclined on my chair with ease I take in the last scene.  Of all the suspense, drama tension built over the course it is now time for all the pieces to fall in place.  The lost lamb will finally head home. .The wronged will get their rightful place under the sun... There will be manna for the hungry soul.  Maybe a reunion for the star crossed lovers. There is this comfort in the knowledge that ‘this’ would be the end. You may choose to appreciate or disagree but the end is inevitable. It is time for the curtains to gently fall down.

Walking down one wintery December evening I felt the same peace. I made my peace with the year that was just heading to its end. I could recall places and people who came into my life with this New Year. I felt tender warmth towards all the new faces that had turned familiar and known during the course of this year. I tried to fathom my own impressions of this new city, I moved into. And with a generous gesture smiled for everything ‘new’ 2010 had ushered into my life.

The wintery chill was also walking along and so was also the recollection of all the failures, heartbreaks and set breaks. I glanced gloomily at the distant light slowly fading in the wintery fog. I recalled all the friends I left behind as I strode past them. The reasons for which ranged from being genuine to silly or simple incomprehensible.

The curtains then finally fall; they have the finality of the end as meditated by the director. All the characters come forward join hands and take a solemn bow as they try to read the applause. But in life as a New Year rolls in, it is the hope of new beginnings which is more emphatic. I thought of giving a nostalgic bow to things, places, people I had left behind but still I hope that it is not the final bow and our paths will cross again. I would revisit the city which somehow feels so familiar in all its idiosyncrasies, incongruities! Yes Kolkata it was.  But alas this era that I lived in the city will have to take a bow...it can never be the same again. I wouldn't say so for the estranged people in my life. I may not retreat to make amends as yet but I would still reserve the bow. I would still hope that we warmly shake hands again and laugh aloud unhindered. Well some material possessions will have to take a bow or perhaps a handing over to younger siblings.

It is interesting how we measure life with the years we lived. How the moving hands of the clock one day suddenly fill us up with newer aspirations and the calendar graciously takes a bow.

Woods..

I thought of redesigning the front end of my blog when I came across this template that has all wooden boards.. My creative-aesthetic sense drew parallel with the Blog title ‘Musings of a DriftWood’ and here I am with the new background graphics.Well the ‘wood’ connection went a bit deeper and I sat recollecting all the poetic renditions which had the wood playing in its backdrop, So here came Robert Frost musing,

’The woods are lovely dark and deep

But I have promises to keep…

And miles to go before I sleep..’

I have heard these lines like innumerable times all through school-college farewells and I have them written in some school days slam-book as well. Then there are Byron’s lines,

’There is pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore

There is society, where non intrudes

By the deep sea, and the music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more’

Not to be left behind, Wordsworth paid the following tribute,

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can..

I’m sure many more minstrel tributes exist for Mr. Woods. But none so charming as the ‘Touch-Wood’ charm. My sister and I had a ritual back in schooldays. On the way to our school there was this ‘Pangar’ tree(botanical name (Aesculus indica)). It had a slight curvy trunk and you could hinge your school bag on it and rest for a while. With light shoulders I always enjoyed gazing up at its lofty branches. For no apparent reason my sister and I named it as the lucky tree and every morning we did our ritualistic ‘touch-wood’ for a lucky day. More so fervently if we had a test or exam scheduled.

I have a little wooden treasure from college-days as well. So here goes another ‘wood-story’. We had this little quadrangle beside the Dean’s office. The authorities did not think kindly of it and the tree was cut. I cannot explain my affinity for it but I picked up a little stalk of the fallen tree and pocketed it. Later I discovered another ‘tree-loving’ friend of mine carrying another little stalk. Well this ‘tree-lover’ friend of mine even had a crush pet-named ‘tree’.. we often stalked 'the tree', despite his knowledge!

At times I feel like an old lady with lots of stories and perhaps with just a wooden walking stick missing..Before i put in more ideas into your head.. its adieu now

Of Stilettos And Metaphors..

Life is but a dew drop, A Fragile Dew Drop on its Perilous way..


A ‘Fragile Dew Drop’ precariously balanced on the edge of the leaf blade glistening as the sunrays pass across its suspended weight. Why did this metaphor put a smile on my face?

Mundane tasks of life include buying groceries. And it was just another day, when I was duty bound to carry the groceries for the week. Yet standing by the side of the road I was thinking of the metaphor. I was dressed in office formals, brown trousers a pullover in a slightly rounded shade of maroon-red but what made me stand tall was a dainty pair of cream-brown stilettos. And what a day to be caught on the wrong foot with the little rain, rushing traffic and the ordeal of crossing the road to buy the groceries. I stood there on one side of the road and the store stood on the opposite. My immediate mission was to maneuver through the wild rush of traffic with the splattering rain balancing my umbrella and my heels and reach the store. Yet I stood there listening to the splattering rain and the swishing-vrooming bikes and cars smiling inwardly at my predicament. I was looking at the lights, the shadows, and the sounds all rushing past me, tearing through the rain drops. Disturbing my reverie, old Mr. Prudence queried “Why the trouble of ‘the balancing act’ in a pair of heels?” Always ready to argue his case, today he slyly tries to make his point by asking an innocent, ‘Why?’ He had a little irritated look, having borne the click-clack of my heels on the marbled floor through the day and now the near ‘sinking feeling’ as I stood on loose moist mud on the side of the road. Can I think of something intelligent in my defense? I turn my gaze to the approaching vehicles, and after doing a quick math, I stride across. Deftly I balance, I walk, I run and reach the other end. Miss vanity gives a flushed smile (intelligent defense)! I stand on the divider; I have another road to cross before I make it to the store. After another little pause I am again briskly walking tall across the road and into the store.
I always wonder standing on the billing counter why do I have to shop as if there is to be no tomorrow. And why don’t I realize the bigger the bags get, the heavier they are to carry! Late realization and here I am again running, hopping maneuvering through the traffic. I walk balancing myself on a pair of heels with an umbrella and now with two additional bags of grocery as well. The road to my home is stony and uneven, so I am again routing-rerouting, meandering, tip-toeing my way through. It’s not a cake walk I know nor is life. A metaphor again!

When you want something badly enough..

It’s the last lap. You have tided past all the initial hiccups and there you are very close to the judgment day. It is the place from where success is closest and the farthest as well. You feel weak in the knees, a slight shiver running down your spine. The hands feel cold really cold but your cheeks are flushed. You try to keep your breathing smooth but there is anticipation oozing out of every pore.

You think of all the times you were close but still not close enough to call ‘success’ your own. You missed by a hairs breadth perhaps but the ghostly shadows of the failure has grown long over the ages and it looms large.

Numerous times you sit down and try to weigh the stakes. At times you picture yourself happily beaming; at times you draw a gloomy sad figure. Still you try to give yourself heart. You know you want it, really badly. It’s just that you don’t know if you would finally make it through this time. I am scared myself, I can think of all the times I have faltered at the last step. Perhaps today I am better groomed to take that last step and perhaps may be still I’m half baked in ways. Who is to judge? Wish it were me!

Well it happens you win some you lose some. Some loses make you come back with more character for the next bout and some you quit and bow out. For the ones you come back again, your own aspirations are bigger. You want it your way this time. Well for all the lofty ideals that others may preach, there is at least some truth somewhere. The fight is always with your own self, the competition is always with you. Losing heart is never an option.

I may choose to fight this battle one last time but still I have made my choice to fight and I will put a good fight, better that what I did the previous time but still at the end its life.. it will go on.. May be I will have my way or I will still have to fight my way back again. But there will always be a battle to wage, a dear wish to be filled.

And the road diverged..

This blog entry is again a later recollection to ‘words-said/unsaid’ about the same emotion when we ignore and later confront.

And the road diverged..

With eyes closed you almost glided through the smooth road.. You trusted the road, It went straight as far as you wished to see. There were no split second decisions to be taken, no immediate choices to be made. You could just live in the moment and put all the decisions that had to be made to some later date way ahead in future. A non eventful regular life, you wake up have breakfast while browsing through the newspaper with some music to give you company and then head off to office where again you have the leisure to refresh Facebook after every 10 minutes. Take a leisurely lunch, an evening break and then the customary mails at the end of the day to call it EOB. All the while you’re head is as light as a feather. Sometimes you resent this lightness terming it as dreary and boring existence but so it goes for a while..

And then when you open your eyes, you realize you’d long exhausted the straight patch, you were vacillating at the crossroads for a while now buying time. There is no escape now..

Then there you are weighing your choices, trying to strike a balance between the expectations of others and your claim on your aspirations. All the decisions that you had been postponing to a later date, creep out from their hideous disguise. All the existential questions, where you stand, where you are heading to start making noises. You see your friends reaching the various social and personal milestones and you realize you have a lot of catching up to do. But first you think why -why everyone is in this hurry to seek change..!  There is this whole baggage of unanswered questions.

It happens once in a while with me when my head goes completely blank, I refuse to talk or discuss with people, I just pull up my blanket and lie gazing with dim lights. I fear for things that stand unresolved, I hate myself for procrastinating so long. I try to reason with myself trying to convince my other self to be gentle and not so demanding. I make up a list of things I thought to attempt and somehow quit them even before the word ‘go’ or someway midway, I reprimand myself. It’s a pitiful state, when I falter under my own scrutiny for the decisions I made or the ones that I haven’t yet.

I go through such confusing phases often, I know of my friends who go through similar phases once in a while. A call at some odd hour and a familiar voice sounding all sullen and crying out his/her woes. Perhaps its all a part of growing and living, the brief periods of dazed ignorance, the sudden awakening, the loss of faith and then somehow we manage to find some hope. We manage to choose a road, again take a leap of faith again… 

why...

100's of why....running here and there in thoughts...cant understand..cant ignore them..every why leads to another why...