Dusty afternoon street That you can almost smell Baked grey by the sun Not that soulful warm cake smell But a dry, lifeless smell The kind that sticks to the soles of your feet And pretends to be tiredness instead When you come home after another day At that place that pays your bills That place that lets you live In this dusty tube-lit flat.
But when it rains - Something happens. Something lyrical, Magical, Sudden. That street - suddenly it smells even better than warm cakes It smells like renewed hope And the vapour of long-held secrets And it makes the feet that tread on it Dance Jump Walk with a spring That's what happens.
And when it rains - That tubelight sputters and gives up Shadows dance across your dusty flat Transformed at once To an elven nook That suddenly sprung up In the midst of this soulless city Cool, wet, green, growing Fresh, moist, new, glowing All that happens.
And the tiredness at the soles of your feet? It has long since lost the battle to rain-soaked mud That squirms its playful way in.
Every one of our lives is a damn good story. And what’s a good story without some twists and turns? If you take up a new job thinking it’s the solution to all your problems, you’re fooling yourself. Your problems will never end – not as long as you’re alive anyway. And that’s the good news. Because problems mean you get to use that wonderful brain of yours. You get to put all those fantastic skills to practise and you get to experience something you haven’t so far. Problems are how you advance – in life, your job and your relationships. Imagine if there wasn’t a single problem in your job for months. How on earth would you prove that you were capable of handling crises? On what basis would anyone ever promote you?
An easy life is for boring people. And generally, life doesn’t allow anyone to remain boring. It gives everyone a really good chance to get interesting. The day you stop expecting life to be easy is the day you decide to embrace the fact that you’re brave, resourceful and open-minded. None of those qualities would mean anything if there wasn’t a crisis or two where they came to the forefront. Enjoy the good times. But wait for the challenging times as well. Keep your metaphorical boxing gloves handy at all times because you never know when you might need them. In fact, get into the habit of predicting possible spokes in your wheel. It can be a really invigorating exercise coming up with possible problems and solutions to them. It gives you confidence because you realise – nothing is so big you can’t handle it. And no problem is so enduring that it lasts forever.
So your favourite boss quit and the new one is a monster in your eyes. So what? Tons of people face that kind of thing every day. Go make an effort to befriend the boss. Understand where they’re coming from and be their ally. If everything fails, talk to your superior. Talk to your HR person. Hell, get a new job. But don’t complain because you had to go through all of that. Everyone goes through things they don’t like or want. But sometimes, the person you are at the end of a crisis is somehow an improved version of the person you were before it.
Don’t fear the downs. Face them head on. Welcome them, even. Without them, your life would be worthy of one big monotonous yawn. And if you think there are folks who don’t have any downs, you’re wrong. Everyone does. The president of the country does. The captain of the world’s best football team does. That’s just how it is. We’re not here to have it easy. We’re here to learn. We’re here to grow. More than anything else, we’re here for an unforgettable adventure.
Expect life to get difficult now and then – though I prefer the term ‘interesting’. And life will never be able to get the better of you. Remember - the only ones with no problems are the ones who aren’t alive.
(This post was originally published at https://www.linkedin.com/today/post/article/20140702165034-47567319-stop-expecting-life-to-be-easy)
How many times have you shaken your head when someone asked you 'What should I do?' and given them an answer you thought was quite obvious? The right thing to do always seems apparent when the choice belongs to someone else. But when it comes to one's own life, the consequences of choices become alarmingly unclear.
But what if you could counsel yourself the same way that you help others out? Wouldn't it help you make faster and more accurate decisions? What if you could always give yourself the right advice without having to ask someone else?
Why it's easier to advise others
You can look at the situation objectively
You have no personal stake in the situation
You are not afraid of the consequences of making the right choice
You are unemotional about the sacrifices that might have to be made in order to opt for the best course of action
You draw from similar experiences in your own past
In our lives, we're constantly confronted by multiple options. And the possibility of missing out on something valuable in the process of taking a decision can be really worrying. There are also times when the complexity of a problem confuses us. We see no way out. But when something like that happens, do this - imagine that it's happening to someone else.
Let's take an example - perhaps, you are currently in a comfortable and reasonably rewarding job and you're only a passive job seeker. Along comes an offer that is everything you once dreamt of. The only catch is - it's at a nascent organisation that has potential but is nowhere close to your current organisation in stature. What should you do? Chances are, you'll be confused. You might feel attached to your current job. The prospect of working in a smaller organisation might scare you. Now, ask yourself what you'd advise a friend in a similar situation. Use this guide to do so:
Perform an objective analysis: List the pros and cons of both choices without being biased. What will you gain and lose in either scenario - if you take up the job and if you don't?
Take a critical look at the consequences: Of the things that you stand to gain and lose, which ones matter the most? Are you willing to compromise on them? More importantly, should you (or your hypothetical friend) be willing to comprise on them?
Put yourself in the future. Five years down the line, would you be comfortable with the choice you made? Do you see yourself making a quick ascent if you take up the new job offer? Or do you see yourself still feeling as rewarded and satisfied as you do now in your current job?
Think about similar crossroads in your own past or in the life of someone you know. Were you confronted with a similar problem in the past? What did you do then and was it the right choice? Or think about stories other people may have told you. There's a lot we can learn from others' experiences, provided we view them in the right context.
Final thoughts
Whether it's a professional or a personal crisis, the amount of information we encounter everyday ensures that we know the right thing to do in most cases. It's more a question of being unafraid and confident enough to follow your own advice. You don't really need confirmation from anyone else, although there is no harm in asking for it.
'Communicate' seems to have become everyone's favourite one-word advice. But truth is, sometimes silence really is the better option. Not the kind of heavy silence that masks grudges and causes further conflict. But rather, the kind of silence that encourages you to move on and not turn every petty disagreement into a major issue.
Communication tends to highlight a problem at hand - in fact, too much of it can create a problem where there was none. This is where it's worth going back to that old adage - choose your battles wisely. There are times when the best of us behave in a manner that may not be worthy of us. Do people have to be punished for every one of these minor faux pas? I think not.
At the workplace, voicing your displeasure too frequently can damage valuable relationships. Communicate when you need to, but don't over-communicate. Reserve the 'clearing the air' sessions for the things that really matter. And remember, in several cases, people are aware when they have rubbed you the wrong way. Chances are, they will rectify their behaviour on their own, without your having to point it out.
Bringing things out in the open magnifies their gravity. It has the potential to put people on the defensive. It can also foster hostility between the people involved.
Cases when communication may not be key:
The problem is a one-off occurrence
The problem has only a short-term impact
The problem can be dealt with actions instead of words
Think about it. Is one missing cc on an email worth a month of stilted conversations and negative synergy? Standing up for yourself is important. But so is keeping the peace.
As a side note, communicating too much can also result in your revealing more than you intended to. The office is not a place to bare your heart, irrespective of consequences. You can always choose to reveal more later - but you can never erase what has already been said/emailed/messaged. Don't withhold key information. But don't lay all your cards on the table at once. Information is power - voice it sparingly. It makes good business sense.
Oman
debunks the myth that the Arab world tends to be removed from the rest of the
world with its numerous efforts to collaborate with Asia, Europe and America.
The
old world character and immense greenery of Muscat are a pleasure to behold.
Perhaps
one of the most attractive aspects of Salalah is that it actually enjoys a
monsoon season!
These are lines from some of the numerous
articles I’ve written on Oman
and its major cities for a newspaper called Global Jobs. Over the years, I’ve
read so much about this Arabian pearl and I’ve marvelled at its unblemished
beauty in photographs. But alas, I’ve had to recreate this country in words
without ever having the privilege of experiencing it for real.
So when I needed information on what to do
and where to go while in Oman,
I had to look no further than my own inbox! Years of research on the living
conditions, culture, weather and business environment in Oman, Muscat
and Salalah lay in front of me. And to supplement that in terms of
breath-taking images and picturesque descriptions was Oman’s tourism website: http://www.omantourism.gov.om/
When I look at images of JabreenCastle
or the sun-kissed Jabal Shams, I feel as though I’ve known the hypnotic deserts
of Oman
in a previous lifetime. To quote from the Arabian nights:
And I
have regretted the separation of our companionship :: An eon, and tears
flooded my eyes
And I’ve sworn if time brought us back together :: I’ll never utter any
separation with my tongue
I imagine having been an Arabian princess,
swathed in the gorgeous harem pants and blouses that royal women were then wont
to wear. I might have gone for my morning bath at AlKasfah Spring, accompanied
by my merry companions. And then we would have submerged ourselves in its
invigorating warm water and pondered over the deeper questions of life while
gazing into its serene aquamarine depths.
At dusk, I might have sneaked into JabreenCastle for a secret rendezvous with my
Arabian lover. Masked by its majestic turrets, we might have been enthralled by
a belly dancing performance. I would have dreamt of shimmying for an adoring
audience, my pretty sequins reflecting the dancing flames of the campfire.
As a mark of rebellion against my stifling
father who asked me to stop meeting my lover, I might have trekked to Jabal
Shams or the SunMountain. I would have sought refuge in
the An Nakhr balcony, a deep ravine in the heart of the rocks. Surrounded by
these silent, sympathising bastions of time, I would have plotted escape from a
household that dared to shatter my dreams.
To allay the fears of his favourite
daughter, my father the Sultan would have taken me on a trip to Mutrah Corniche
port in Muscat.
We would have picnicked by the sea while he told me the stories behind the ancient
structures that kept us company.
In my dreams, I would fly away on a magic
carpet to the turtle reserve on the beaches extending from Ras Al Hadd to MasirahIsland. I would marvel at the intricate
detailing of the green turtle’s shell. This turtle is a rare species that
returns every year to lay eggs on the same beach where it was born decades ago.
What binds a creature so deeply to its birthplace? And was I bound to Oman in a
similar manner? I would mull over questions such as these while I snacked on
luscious Omani dates and drank Arabian wine.
An assassination attempt on my father! We
would now have to move around with a khanjar, the traditional dagger of Oman, hidden
beneath our robes. Under the guise of participating in a horse race, the favourite
sport of Omanis, we would ride far, far away from our enemies and hide at the
Strait of Hormuz. By day, we would watch the myriad birds at Birds Island and
by night, we would plot ways of extricating ourselves from this torturous
exile.
Our adventures would take us to the Akhwar
(beach lagoons) on whose banks, we would sing traditional Omani songs and recount
tales from the times when the beautiful island of Zanzibar used to be Oman’s
capital. Beneath the lagoon’s tranquil ripples, there lurked many different
kinds of fishes and secret marine denizens. The children in the family would
have a lovely time trying to coax them to the surface.
To pray for the swift defeat of our
enemies, we would pay a visit to the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque whose regal corridors
and pristine marble floors would instil a sense of faith in the Almighty. In my
prayers, I would include a line for my abandoned lover who might be languishing
in the sand dunes of Ramlat Tawq, awaiting my return.
Ramlat Tawq would be my lover’s favourite
desert with its endless stretches of undulating dunes and proximity to our
birthplace, Muscat. Unknown to me, he would go on a quest for my favourite
attar (perfume) at the Sohar Handicrafts Souq (market). Ali believes that this
perfume would bring me back to his forlorn arms.
Our reunion would finally happen in the blessed
glades of the As Saleel Nature Park. Here an Arabian gazelle would watch us
shyly while we exchanged promises to be by each other’s side for many different
lifetimes to come. We would write down our vows on parchment and bury it
beneath an acacia tree, holding nature as witness to the solemnity of our love.
If I ever had the pleasure of setting foot
on the history-laden streets of Oman, perhaps the valleys and the flamingos
would speak to me in a language I hadn’t even known I understood. Perhaps, they
would resurrect memories and impressions of bygone eras – times that my memory
was too young to remember but my soul certainly was not. Perhaps, the caves and
the canyons, so far away from the city I call home would bring me to a
different home altogether – the home I had yearned for all along.
Shukran, Indiblogger (http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=110)
and the Ministry of Tourism of the Sultanate of Oman, for allowing me the
opportunity to live a fantasy through these words. An actual trip would be the
crystallisation of a dream I have already seen, many times in my sleep.
Today, I'll tell you a story about a story. My last job was quite uninspiring and unfocussed. It left me with a lot of free time on my hand and a lot of unfulfilled ambition as well. No, my ambition had nothing to do with the corporate world. It had little to do with power and positions. What I wanted was to rework my post-graduation project - a novel I had finished in merely 21 days.
I couldn't possibly risk my bosses peering over my shoulder while I typed away on my office computer. No, I had to find a place and a medium where I could write in private - unobserved and unhindered. Back then, I owned a heavy Toshiba laptop with limited battery life. On one occasion, I managed to lug it to office and from there to my favourite cafe at High Street Phoenix - Dolce Vita. I ordered a beer and set to work on my unwieldy laptop. Alas, the battery began to run out in less than an hour. Just when I was getting into a particularly interesting scene in my story, it was time to stop. What's more, the stress of making sure I had it properly packed made me forget my USB wi-fi enabler at my table itself (I only recalled this omission later - so there was no way to get it back). In the coming days, I lost my pace further and the book remained unfinished for a simple reason - I couldn't find the right technology to write it.
Cut to June 2014. I encountered Indiblogger's new update on the ASUS Transformer Book T100. What interested me was that it came with a detachable tablet. Also, the word 'ultraportable' caught my eye. The truth is, most laptops are as unportable as desktop computers thanks to weight and battery issues. But this one promised to be better than that. I clicked on the link that took me to the product page - http://asusindia.co.in/T100/.
The first thing that caught my eye was the limited period offer - 'Buy an ASUS Transformer Book T100 and get a data 16 GB Micro SD class 10 card free'. 'That's just a gimmick to get people interested', I thought inwardly with my customary cynicism for marketing spiels. But then, I happened to watch the product video that unfolded and I found that literally every feature of the ASUS Transformer Book T100 was designed to keep me hooked even while on the move. Take a look:
Stylish and soft touch coating makes it comfortable to hold: No more grazing
my fingers or finding it uncomfortable while the laptop rests on my lap during
long journeys on the bus or train!
Switch instantly from an ultraportable laptop to a highly mobile tablet: So
once I’ve finished writing a chapter and want to take a break from writing, I
can just switch to the tablet and browse through my favourite shopping sites or
play some games while playing some groovy music.
Intel quad-core processor: One of the things that deters me from using
technology while on the move is the speed. With combined devices, often the
speed is compromised but the ASUS Transformer Book T100 promises not to
disappoint!
1366x768 display for sharp, vibrant images: What is technology worth if you
cannot capture an image of something that touches a chord and then share it
instantly with the world at large? And with the ASUS Transformer Book T100, I’d
be able to see pictures on Facebook and Flickr in the best quality possible.
Windows 8.1 with Microsoft Office 2013: What else does a writer need? Truth
be told, most often, it’s work that keeps me hooked to technology while on the
move. And with this super laptop cum tablet, I’ll have no worries about getting
work done!
11 hours battery life when web browsing: The need to check on my latest
purchases, connecting with friends on social media, sharing articles, reading
my favourite ebooks, listening to online radio – all of this keeps me hooked to
technology. But with my old laptop, I could do none of it on the move because
the battery ran out in less than an hour when unplugged! The ASUS Transformer
Book T100 is the perfect solution.
Mobile dock with 19mm travel keys for comfortable typing: No more typing the
wrong word when the train jolts or someone pushes past me. Now I can be assured
of minimal re-edits with the novel that remains unfinished!
USB 3.0 superspeed port: So I’m with a friend in the park and we’re
transferring images from her pendrive to my laptop. Alas, it takes ages to do
it and before we’re done, my laptop runs out of power. This picture could look
quite different with the the ASUS Transformer Book T100!
Dedicated reading mode: I can say goodbye to aching eyes while I read ebooks
on pale light, which hardly matches the experience of reading a real book in
well-lit surroundings. And wait, now with the ASUS Transformer Book T100, I
won’t have to save to buy a Kindle any more!
Still not convinced? Watch the video for yourself here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7NgPvQZr7A
Having read and heard so much about this seemingly wonderful product, I was
aching to hold it and see what it felt like. Luckily, the rotate button on the
website http://asusindia.co.in/T100/
allowed me to gain a 360-degree view of the laptop cum tablet. I liked the
stylish steel gray colour and the slimness of the device. Here is what it looks
like from the back:
The fact that the device comes with 32GB storage would also keep me hooked
while on the move. After all, there are movies to be watched, songs to be heard
and books to be read! And research material for my novel occupies its own sweet
space too. Frankly, by now, it had begun to feel as though it might be time to
reopen the folder that housed the chapters I had been reworking on. The device
runs on a 2GB ram, which is faster than most phones and tablets. So I could run
multiple programs on it without having the computer slow down. A 1.2 megapixel
camera ensures that if I’ve forgotten my phone at home, I can still record the
important moments of my life while on the move. And I forgot to mention the
best thing. The ASUS Transformer Book T100 is priced at just 32,999 rupees! I
know, it’s quite unbelievable. That’s less than the price of several high-end
phones! And here you don’t just get a product. You get a whole new incredibly
transformed lifestyle. Still don’t get why I’m
so wowed with the ASUS Transformer Book T100? Watch this: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVFlmlj51Ok)
I can totally imagine being one of the jet-setting folks in the video. Think
about it – this tablet weights just 550 grams! It’s going to feel really,
really light – for lack of an appropriate simile! The video says – stop for
nothing. I wish ASUS had told me that back in 2013 when I was trying to complete
that novel! But maybe just maybe, if I can get my hands on it, that novel will see the light of day after all. As a parting thanks for reading this post, I’ll leave you with yet another
wonderful video of the incredible ASUS Transformer Book T100 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UM1KH3R1IMs)
P.S.: You can find more videos and dope on this product at www.facebook.com/ASUSIndia. This post is a part of the
Indiblogger 'Time to Transform!’ contest (http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=109). What keeps you hooked on
to technology even when you're on the move? Is it playing your favourite games,
talking to friends, catching up on some work you love doing? Write a blog post
on the things that you think will keep you hooked to a "Transformed" T100 when you're on the
move. The most creative and original posts win exciting prizes.
Would you ponder so much about the meaning of life if you knew you’d be gone tomorrow? Time is directly proportional to thought, I believe. The more time we believe we have, the more energy we waste on thinking. If you knew you’d be gone tomorrow, all you’d want to do is live. But in the absence of such a pressing deadline, we keep postponing the living and we keep prioritising the mulling. It’s good to mull over things like birds and sunshine and the colour of your tea. But I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to mull over the lack of direction in your relationship or the uninspiring nature of your job. It may not be a good idea to spend precious minutes analysing the defects in your appearance and the faults in your peers. Perhaps philosophising is a purer form of thought. But it’s still not as good as running, singing or loving. It’ll never be as good as baking a cake or eating one. Sometimes when I’m working out, I’ll start to wonder what the point is if my body is going to be ashes one day anyway. Why should I invest so much time in sculpting and perfecting it? The answer is simple. Because in this moment, it feels good. It’s rewarding, exhilarating and it gives me purpose. Even if I were to be gone tomorrow, today would have all the meaning in the world. The future does not lend definition to your present moment. The present lends definition to the present moment.
Friendship was easy when we were in kindergarten - we met those kids everyday - we played, we talked and occasionally, we were invited to each other's homes. We didn't squabble over why we didn't call each other often enough or take offense over innocent remarks. Oh, we might have broken each other's toys or given each other memorable bruises but hey, all was fair in love and war.
I had a lot of friends back then. I still do. But I have no idea if they'll be my friends seven years hence - or for that matter, even seven days hence. Because it seems like no one (including me) makes an effort any more. And when we do, the chances of causing damage seem much higher than getting it right.
Friendship is easiest when you see your friend everyday - perhaps at work, the gym or at college. But when you don't, be prepared to deal with innumerable idiosyncrasies of human behaviour and psychology (yours as well as your friend's). Sometimes you'll be left wondering why they haven't kept in touch and sometimes, you'll be the one giving someone else a sleepless night. Eventually, it becomes less about enjoying good times together and more about treading on eggshells.
It's pretty hilarious how our definition of 'friend' has watered down to something like 'Yeah we hang out together. Sometimes.' It's only the dictionary that seems to believe that a friend is 'a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection'. I think, our friendships today have become trapped in the notion of being together, physically. The idea of friendships that survive the years, irrespective of distances and time is alien to us. And this is strange because technology actually makes it easier to sustain relationships. Instead, we use technology to reach out to more people and undermine older connections in pursuit of newer ones.
Recently, a study (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2534950/We-demote-old-friends-new-ones-arrive-Research-finds-natural-limit-number-people-stay-touch-with.html) showed that when we make new friends, by starting a new job or going to university, we downgrade or even drop old ones. Who makes the cut and who doesn't? Friendship seems to have become a competitive sport and more often than not, I lack the energy to play it.
Relationships are not static. They are continuously being shaped by incidents, words, shared experiences and even seemingly unrelated events in the lives of the people involved. Given this dynamic, ever-evolving and ever-mutating nature of human connections, it would be silly to expect them to remain the same, even decades down the line. But does that mean we abandon the ones that matter or allow them to fall by the wayside, simply because they aren't what we started out with? No. We redefine them.
We may dislike the pre-attached notions and implications that come with labels but labels are inevitable. In your head, you have many different boxes, each with a label like 'Best friends', 'Close friends', 'Life partner', 'Acquaintances', 'Friends at work', 'Favourite cousins' and so on. And as we move through life, we keep populating these boxes. We do, however, have to be open to the possibility of subtracting from and adding to these boxes. We also have to be open to shifting some names from one box to another. Heck, we may even have to create new boxes altogether to accommodate connections that do not fall into any of the existing mental categories.
What I'm trying to say is, people don't have to grow apart. They just need to find new ways to fit into each other's lives. Because relationships matter. They provide joy, security, conversations, adventures and ideas. They help us find our place in the world. And with every closed/failed relationship, there is a memory deficit - a void that could have been avoided if the relationship had been allowed to change shape and accepted in its new form.
Every morning, we wake up as slightly altered versions of ourselves. We also wake up with subtle rearrangements of all the important relationships that we have chosen to cultivate. And that's a good thing. Has the nature of a friendship changed? Find new ways to bond, care and add value to each other's lives. Redefine yourself and your relationships as you go, because that's the only thing that will help you cope with changing circumstances and priorities. Do not sacrifice precious connections at the altar of marriage, job shifts, movement across cities or even countries. Allow them to breathe, transform and evolve. Redefine them everyday if you will, because that's the only way you'll save them.
We're such a messed-up generation. Addicted to our cell phones, going about our lives like dissatisfied robots and never entirely sure whether we're in love with our partners or not. In fact, we may just be the most messed-up generation ever. We don't lead pre-planned lives the way our forefathers did. We wake up everyday to the threat of a world war or the destruction of the planet due to climatic reasons. We don't know where our lives are headed and we are bombarded with so many options everyday that we can never be sure we've made the right choices. We talk to people we've never met; sometimes regularly and we're often not affiliated to any one culture, philosophy or way of life. We are more exposed to ideas, books, music, movies, people and places than ever before - so much that our lives don't make sense to us any more. We have more knowledge at our fingertips than we can handle; yet the answers to questions that truly matter, elude us. We express ourselves constantly; yet we feel there's no one to listen. We're constantly multitasking - on the phone while watching television, texting while reading, listening to music while walking. Our attention is never focussed; we are always fragmented, distracted and removed from the moment. We fear very little and the word 'duty' makes no sense to us. We are free - yet we are bound by our families with their expectations from a time we haven't known and a world that makes constant demands on our time. We want to be moral; yet our rationality permits us to understand immorality. We want to be good; yet material pursuits make monsters out of us. We have resources but we are clueless about how to use them best. We have ideas but we often lack the passion to follow them through. We have to struggle for nothing - and so, nothing means much to us. We live in a world where anything is possible if you have enough money for it. We live in a world where addictions court us every step of our lives. We live in a world where, as a Facebook meme said, free wifi is easier to get than water. We do not have the crutches of religion, marital compulsion, duty or pursuits of honour. The onus of lending meaning and purpose to our lives - it's entirely on us. And the path we choose to achieve that - the sky is the limit, there too. It's exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Because with so much at stake and so much in our hands, the responsibility for both success and failure lies entirely with us. We are a generation who cannot admire a beautiful sight without wanting to capture it for posterity and then sharing it with the world - all within seconds. We are a generation who cannot feel relevant without a virtual alter ego. We are a generation who can go days without speaking to our immediate families but cannot spend more than a few moments without Internet connectivity. We are a generation of contradictions and I have no idea how we are going to extricate ourselves out of this mess.
You've done it. I've done it. We've all done it. So let's do away with the judgement and try and look at selfies as a tool for self-analysis.
The day may not be too far off when psychoanalysts ask their patients to take several selfies and then submit them for assessment.
Think about it. There are so many clues to one's personality in a selfie - the way you look at the camera, the kind of emotion you choose to portray - sensual, defiant, innocent, arrogant; the tilt of your head, the parting of your lips, the flare of your nostrils and the angle of your eyebrows.
Facial cues are not all there is to selfie-analysis. The clothes you decide to wear for this 'prescribed' photo shoot can speak volumes as well. Are they provocative or the kind that would draw minimal attention? The venue is another significant element. Do you click the selfie in a more private or a public setting?
Some of the behaviours and traits we might project through selfies are:
Attention-seeking behaviour
Self-esteem (high or low)
Happiness quotient (width and exuberance of the smile)
I suppose psychotherapists could provide their patients with a few predetermined settings and scenarios for the selfies; or other specifications that might help them assess the images better. Armed with a background knowledge of the patient's issues, the selfies should reveal more to the therapist than they would to a lay person.
The only issue here is that the treatment might work better with women as they are in general, more prone to taking selfies. And they're usually better at it too. But with women, a lot of other factors would come into play - the fact that we are more used to being objectified and also more aware of the effect our appearance can have on people and situations.
Maybe, you could take a look at your selfies yourself and see if they tell you a story you haven't entirely been aware of. Do they show you a side of your personality you never knew existed? Or a tinge of unexplainable sadness or glee?
Selfies could actually be the doorway to a lot of personal insights that were hidden to us until the widespread use of phone cameras.
I have one (ten) drink too many, black out or fall asleep, wake up with a pounding headache and a general feeling of hatred (as opposed to the previous night's benevolence) towards humanity and spend the day ruing those last few (many) drinks and my predictable lack of good sense.
Then, I decide to go on a 'detox'. 'Never' is not something I'm brave enough to aim for even in my hangover-ridden state. So I opt for a week-long detox. Assume that this resolve is made on Monday morning.
Monday night. My will stands strong. I go home after work, without as much as a nod of acknowledgement to my favourite Old Monk.
Tuesday dawns, bright and guilt-free. When I get off from work, I find a mischievous thought straying into my mind - 'Just one beer', the thought says. 'One beer at Marine Drive would feel so good and hey, beer has less than five per cent alcohol!' But I ask the thought to go take its wily suggestions elsewhere. I go home once again, alcohol-free. I'm so proud I feel like I've contributed to saving humanity (and maybe I have, considering the things I'm capable of doing when drunk).
Ah, Wednesday. Now that's a tricky day. Because I get off from work early. And that usually means a movie or drinks and dinner with a friend. The evening loses considerable sheen without coke and rum to look forward to.
6 PM. The moment of decision looms nearer and nearer. That stray thought has now multiplied by a million. And all of them have only one thing to say - 'One drink won't hurt!'. My friend compounds matters by slyly suggesting a beer. He knows that's my weakness. One beer. Because of the five per cent alcohol escape clause. And because it lasts longer than a drink.
There is a moment - one moment - when the situation can go either way and then I collapse on the wrong side of the cliff. I give in. That sip of beer goes in - cold, flavourful and oh so satisfying. And I forget about that Sunday night. I forget about my resolve. None of it makes sense. Except the fact that beer by the sea, with a friend in tow is one of the best small pleasures that life has to offer.
Sigh. And that's how it ends. Every damn time.
My resolve never did stand a chance before the lure of light-headed, carefree happiness, otherwise known as alcohol.
It's better that we don't talk about the days following Wednesdays because I'm sure you can guess what happens. One beer turns into two and sometimes joins hands with chocolatey Old Monk. And every successive drink pushes my moral resolve a little further to the door, until it's out altogether. I watch my resolve sigh resignedly and wave me a forlorn goodbye, while I sip away like there's no tomorrow.
By the way, if you're reading this today, it's Tuesday now. So you know what stage I'm at. That's right. No drinking this week. I swear!
The other day, mom brought a book on gratitude from our local library. The author suggested starting every day by expressing gratitude for everything that's good in your life. I ran through the list mentally and thought I'd be done within seconds. :P But then, when I actually sat down to do the exercise, something magical and heartbreaking happened. The list was endless. I began with myself and then the things and people that populated my life. Then I realised it didn't end there. I had to include all the films I had seen, all the songs I had heard, all the books I had read, all the paintings I had set my eyes upon, all the trees whose breeze I had been cooled by, all the birds I had waved at in the sky. What's more, I even had to include the films I would see, the songs I would hear, the books I would read and the paintings I would gaze at, in future. There was no limit to the things I could be thankful for. And the bounty was more than I could bear. We don't really understand how blessed we are until we start measuring our wealth and our happiness by experiences rather than possessions. Because when it comes to the experience of the sea or the sun, the beggar on the street is as blessed as the CEO in his ivory tower. And I imagine, if we really could recall glimpses from our past lives, we'd recall faces and smiles and sensations; rather than the expensive cars we owned or the couches we sat on. How silly it is to even entertain thoughts of poverty or inadequacy when we have all these senses, capable of absorbing so much beauty. And how silly it is to be scared or to ever allow yourself to be miserable when the next smile is only a sunset or an embrace away.
The seconds turned into minutes and the minutes walked past, but I remained seated there in my veranda, cross-legged and teary-eyed, while dawn smiled indulgently, caressing my skin with her sun-warmed finger tips. If you're reading this, I suggest you perform the gratitude exercise too. You might be surprised with how much there is, to be thankful for. And then you feel so wealthy, so full and so gifted that you wonder how your frail human body will be able to bear it. Unimaginable that the whole world should be at your feet; that an ocean of books and music and dance should await your eyes and ears. Unimaginable that within this one tiny life, there is so much to be lived. Unimaginable that we still have words like 'boredom' in the dictionary.
There's a demon in me And he loves to caress unsuspecting strangers Stretching out his claws, scouring for blood And if he finds it, he wants more And then I know I'm done for And so is the unsuspecting stranger And so they all run away from me Screaming for their precious lives While the demon and I We sigh In unison Lonely forever But together in our bloodthirst Sometimes he goes to sleep For a day or two Or even weeks or months And then I manage to lure a stranger into my life I manage to be familiar with someone for once And then the demon awakens As I'd always known he would And again he runs Again I scream for him to stay But the only one who stays Is my demon.
Amaan and Ayaan Ali Khan at Kala Ghoda Arts Festival, 2014 (By Ankita Shreeram)
The trees have ears too. They grow attentive, when there's something magical in the air. Like the sound of the sarod. And the tabla keeping pace with it. And the cheers of an adoring audience. Some of whom are hearing these instruments for the first time. And some for the millionth. For some, it's the first time their soul has been touched this lovingly. For others, it's like coming home. But for all, it's something more sublime than the everyday living experience. Something that transcends daily trivialities and makes that moment the only one that matters. Something that makes the hair on their arms stand to attention (perhaps they have ears too) and the moisture collect in their eyes in a way that's neither happy nor sad. What the moisture does is to make you feel connected to your own life force. Most times, I feel like I'm leading a stranger's life - performing actions on autopilot while my true essence lies restlessly elsewhere. But back there on the steps of Asiatic Library, with Amaan and Ayaan Ali Khan performing for me in flesh and blood, I didn't feel that way. My fingers strummed the air as though they'd always been familiar with the movement of the sarod. It seems almost impossible to believe that this music did not always exist. That someone actually crafted the instrument and divined the ragas. Because why else would my body, mind and soul recognise and sway along with it as though re-igniting a friendship forged through the ages? The trees maintained an unearthly stillness, even in the cajoling breeze. Even the light of the setting sun seemed muted, as though paying homage to the magnificence of the sarod and the tabla. And I felt timeless. Ageless. Care-less. For once, everything made sense. Everything was perfect. Nothing was amiss. The ever nagging doubts and fears at the back of my mind lay subdued. And nothing could have convinced me that the feeling wouldn't last. I'm convinced afresh now as I write, with Amjad Ali Khan infusing magic into my ears. What is time after all but the space between two strums of a sarod or a sitar? Eternity lives on, in the endless alchemy of a single note of music.
Courtesy: QuotesEverlasting (licensed under Creative Commons)
Call me boring but I like routine. I like stability. I thrive on seeing the same faces and hearing the same well-loved voices everyday. My favourite sliver of the sea and my standard order at the cafe I've always cherished - they bring me peace. They bring me comfort and a smile that never lets me down.
I like waking up in the morning, knowing exactly what I can look forward to; the familiar streets that I will tread on and the well-memorised routes I will take to reach my destination. The assurance of having a job and a home waiting for me everyday; of a life I have created consciously (with a little help from others, and lady luck) - they help me sleep at night. They make me express gratitude every morning when I wake up, to the ray of sunshine that filters into the room with precisely the same slant everyday.
I like the hypnotic lull of my similar days; the way I can sink into them without a care. I like how I can float along on their security, while my mind explores uncharted territories. Because if both my body and my mind are cast adrift - I will be too lost. I will be too busy trying to forge a new way to enjoy the strangeness and the newness. Adventure should come in the right doses; like surprise shots of tequila. Too much of it and you may not be entirely sure of who you are - when you look into the mirror.
I feel the need to speak up for monotony because too much is made of excitement, wildness and free-spiritedness. And too little is made of the charm of things one can rely upon to lift one's spirits. Yes, nothing lasts forever, and that's all the more reason to value and nurture the people and experiences we do have access to. Waking up in a different place every day of your life will eventually tire your spirit. Because you need time for things to sink in deep. You need time for love to grow on you. You need time, for things to mean something to you.
I like being anchored because there's only so much change one's spirit can take; only so many spins one can regain balance from. I like it because only then do foreign shores seem truly alluring. Only then do alien lives and sights and sounds excite me with their intoxicating unfamiliarity. I like it because intoxication is good only in short bursts - make it perennial and your mind will ail.
I like routine because without it, travelling wouldn't seem as magical as it does on those rare moments that I'm able to get away and take a few greedy sips from the sea of adventure. I like it because only then do I appreciate the times when life takes an unpredictable turn; when a chance occurrence brings me face-to-face with sweet chaos.
I like routine because this life is not that long and I'd rather see a face I love every single day than a million faces that I might never learn to love.
Courtesy: Afiler (Licensed under Creative Commons)
The wayside was littered with dreams I'd once dreamt And with versions of myself that I'd hoped to be "What is this place?" I asked the listening air "It's the place you've all along refused to see."
It was the place of lives un-lived & desires un-done Of people I'd never met & parties I'd never gone to Of friends I'd never made & sentences I'd never said Of poems I'd never written & feelings I'd suppressed.
Their only raison d'etre was to be trapped in my memory Or rather in the cobwebby corridors of my unwritten history "This place needs a good sweep," my invisible friend said The one I thought I'd left behind in the veranda of my childhood But dusk came by & I remained standing in the company of what wasn't meant to be I remained mesmerised by the thought of setting them free.
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