Saturday, September 4, 2010

I AM A TCK

You must be wondering what TCK stands for. Well read on and you'll know.


Without meaning to brag, i would say im quite different from many people.
  • Ive lived 17 years of my life as an NRI.
  • Im rather biased toward foreign maal, read: chocolates, soaps, Mountain Dew, chips, Pizza Hut Pizzas, the roads, traffic.
  • For me, India is a novelty, and only after 8 yrs of being in Mumbai, can i call it home. I must be one of the few Non-Mumbaiites who can call Mumbai home.
  • I rely more on friends, than on relatives.(where were they when we needed them)
  • The Aamchi community is something of a novelty for me.
  • I have a zillion friends ranging from Indians, to Pakistanis, to Lebanese, to Srilankans.
  • I can differentiate between life here and life there in a neutral manner, and though Oman wins almost all the accolades, I would never wanna stay there again. 
TCK is third culture/transculture Kid.
Definition: Someone who, as a child, has spent a significant period of time in one or more culture(s) other than his or her own, thus integrating elements of those cultures, and their own birth culture, into a third culture.

helpless...

a myriad colours burst in her face
a myriad emotions cloud her mind.

as the world spins around,
she flails her arms

searching for someone,
something, to hold on to

Friday, August 20, 2010

hope...

I had written this quite a few months ago and just found it in my drafts.....
posting it so that no thought, emotion or feeling of mine gets lost in the myriad complications of life



so many things i don't want u to be

so many things u are

so many things u want me to be

so many things im not. 


so much to change

so much to sacrifice...

nothing is as we want

there always is a price


where does this all end?

when do we call the quits?

how can we live and love?

how can we believe in us?


as life moves on and hopes and aspirations build

along comes fear, and pain and joy

hope warms the ice cold heart


i look toward what we may be tomorrow

i hope to see what we are today

the future looks far away and dim

but i hope that things are how we want them to be

Thursday, August 19, 2010

in a boat, by DH Lawrence

From Amores, (1916).




See the stars, love,

In the water much clearer and brighter

Than those above us, and whiter,

Like nenuphars.



Star-shadows shine, love,

How many stars in your bowl?

How many shadows in your soul,

Only mine, love, mine?



When I move the oars, love,

See how the stars are tossed,

Distorted, the brightest lost.

So that bright one of yours, love.



The poor waters spill

The stars, waters broken, forsaken.

The heavens are not shaken, you say, love,

Its stars stand still.



There, did you see

That spark fly up at us; even

Stars are not safe in heaven.

What of yours, then, love, yours?



What then, love, if soon

Your light be tossed over a wave?

Will you count the darkness a grave,

And swoon, love, swoon?

Monday, July 19, 2010

as things crash down on me,
i feel bereft...the loss is unbearable..
all i had was trust, all it was was faith...
was it that easy to break?
was it that easy to take for granted?
was that all my feelings meant to you?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


Religion---one of the most controversial subjects that has been subjected to heated debates over and over the years…
There are god-fearing people, there are atheists, and then there are agnostics. I wouldn’t know which category I come under, but I sure do know what I feel about religion. Religion, to me, is personal, intimate. It’s a one-to-one relationship with God. It’s more intimate than the love for your partner or for your child. It’s an unwavering faith in the Almighty, the shoulder to lean on when in need, the one to look up to when lost, and the one to rejoice with and thank when satisfied.
Many a word has been said about religion and about the various religions that the population of the world shares. Despite being one of the most controversial and, albeit, touchy topics ever discussed, I shall nonetheless exercise my right of speech to express my feelings and maybe a dash of cynicism toward religion.
God, for me, is ONE…Although by religion I am a Hindu, I have no qualms in entering a church, a mosque, a dargah, or a temple, be it Jain or otherwise. For me, to be one with God is to be able to connect with Him one a one-on-one basis. As for the rites and rituals that are associated with this entity, I believe that they are mere formalities. However, I do feel that the various rules imposed on us, don’t lie, don’t drink, don’t murder, don’t steal falana falana, are imposed to protect us from the worst sides of ourselves. But not everyone follows this; that doesn’t mean that they are condemned to hell. I’m sure they are, but the worst hell is your conscience or, worse, karma, or the fruits that it begets. And such hell is deserved only by those who in a conscious frame of mind indulge in acts that harm others. What you do to urself, is your problem.
I would like to call myself a person free from the hackles of religion, but I know that somewhere I am bound…bound by my upbringing, that has been instilled and laced with religion and the dependency, less the fear, on God. As a child, I was enchanted with tales of Krishna, the Mahabharatha is one of my favorite epics. I used to light God’s lamp every day. When I came to Mumbai, Ganapati, being by “favorite” god, I used to visit the Siddhivinayak temple on a regular basis. However, somewhere down the line, life got busy and I stopped going. But, does that mean I lost my faith in god? I have made so many mistakes in life, which one of us hasn’t, but never have I felt lost simply because despite my unfortunate circumstances or bad luck with certain situations, I have managed to come out of it.
The same was with churches. One of my favorite churches is the Convent of Jesus and Mary. Its one of the most beautiful churches ive been to and the peace that it gives me is indescribable.
Religion, since time immemorial, has tried to hold on to its devotees, whether it’s the fanatics, the fundamentalists, or the passivists. However, in the bargain it has ensured that its subjects have become so insecure such that for them to accept someone else without the tag of religion is impossible. To do that, would be to go against their religion, their god. But which god, assuming that there is more than one god, has propagated violence through religion? It is the religious heads that encourage this more often than not, using subtle means of blackmail. It’s possible that the sense of power that goes with the job is reiterated and fed at every instance that an individual follows or obeys.
Where does all this stop? It stops when we use the brains that god has endowed us with, the intelligence that we have striven to sharpen. It stops when we stop trying to connect with god through another person and look inside our heart.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

.....

i wished for u upon a shooting star,
knelt at the aisle and there u are....

sometimes i wondered what you did to deserve me,
sometimes it seemed we were tad too early...

there have been times i've felt all wrong
and u've come and put me all right

and when i felt ur all but gone
and cried myself to sleep at night

u came along and proved us wrong,
things were as they'd been all along

and now its just u and me,
sitting together probably under a tree

watching a sunset at the beach,
never too far, never out of reach

the bonds all strong
as we move along

through ten million days
of the future we make

and all i can think of is that shooting star
and the aisle that I knelt in those days so far

Saturday, May 15, 2010

confusion

Ever since I was old enough to understand what I really wanted to become in life, I remember having wanted to be a psychologist. Contrary to the "I want to be a doctor/teacher when I grow up" dreams, I knew that talking to people, helping people was what I wanted. I was in the eighth standard, with no knowledge whatsoever about psychology, its status in India, etc, etc. I got into Speech and Hearing Therapy thinking that I would make do with even a smattering of psychology. But, for a gamut of reasons, that didn’t work out, and I got the biggest opportunity to pursue my dream. This time, I wasn’t going to screw up. After dragging Amma through all the possible colleges (or rather Amma dragging me), I got into JaiHind College, one of the reputed South Mumbai colleges.

Come the final exams of my second year at college and Annu passed away. I was jerked out of my complacency overnight and thrown into the real world; I became responsible; no more could I have fun and not give a damn about anything even fairly important. Amma and I stayed together and I was in the Third year—juggling cooking, studying, taking tuitions. In the summer, I got the opportunity to work at an esteemed psychiatric clinic, and one of the clinical psychologists there became my role model. Soon, I knew that this was what I wanted to do—clinical psychology. I put in all my efforts into studying for my finals, while battling with typhoid and chicken pox, and I survived. The next step was to get into university and Mumbai University was my goal, but I had no guarantee of getting into Clinical and opted for SNDT University in the bargain.

To support myself, I started working part-time as a copyeditor at a company and attended college, took tuitions and went nuts, in every sense. Anyway, my MA has been more of a joke than a Master’s degree, and I’m now so disillusioned with the field that I cannot consider working here. With half-baked knowledge, not an ounce of skill, I’m expected to go out into that world and influence the life of another individual. I had built a rosy picture of the psychiatric world on the basis of my internship placement, and boy, am I glad that I got to see the real world.

So, now it’s a tug of war between psychology and editing—a field in which I have found that I have a fair amount of talent—where I’m getting the opportunity to establish myself into the editing world. I’m on either side of the rope, or maybe, I am the rope that’s being tugged…
I’m lost, I don’t know whether I should be something within the field I chose and which is my passion—oh, yes! I still love psychology but something for the subject has died ever since I’ve seen its status in India and how backward and unethical we are—or to get into the publishing world and if all goes well, make a name for myself and a different career. 

Sunday, April 4, 2010

failure

I've had my share of failure. Not one but many. And as i failed each time, i would withdraw further, cringe and give up. Life had become a constant...my thoughts justified each other. Id lay in bed at night, thinking, wondering, cursing myself for not having the guts to face failure, for not having the guts to be who i was, to be ME.

For me, escapism was the way out...
the door was open, the feet ready to walk out. but the mind was fickle, diffident, changing the moment it was made up....

those days were agony, that time was tortuous and not because of my experiences--those paled in comparison to my thoughts.
I was faithless. I dint have faith in God, in my family, in myself...

The mind is a funny entity. it can torture u no end, but can fool u into believing that all is well....

slowly and steadily i picked up the pieces, learnt from my mistakes, reined my mind in.
gradually i grew out of the shell i had hidden inside, broke open barriers and as i lifted my face up to the sky and the sun's rays shone down on me...i was a new person

I cant say that i left that failure behind, but i kept it in mind, it was always my driving force...to succeed to not be who i used to be. to remain ME.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

trapped

The view was obscured by bars
His little fists held on for dear life
The free bird was caged again

As he looked out, he could hear the laughter and sound of children playing
Tears streaming down his cheeks, he wondered why he was here,
Why was he trapped again?
All he wanted was to go, fly away
Away from the life he was born with

Tear-streaked, his sobs were relentless
He trudged slowly back to his iron bed,
Head bowed, feet dragging, a look of defeat
The very image of hopelessness