Ostrich to Pheonix

I am no footballer, but love the idea of playing the sport. I tried twice, both times have left me with pain that left me disabled and in pain, for a while. The last attempt at the sport has left me limping, and the toe hurts. A yelp is heard leaving my lips time to time. Many concerned souls have warned me to stay off the field and many others smile at my plight. I won't deny the magnitude of pain, it is definitely a deterrent currently to many other activities. On the other hand this not the only fall I have had.

Some falls have nothing to do with sports. There are just those ridiculous phases that loom on ones head where absolutely nothing goes right. Everything one touches seems to crumble to pieces and all one can see ahead is hopeless despair and loss of any logic in life. In such moments, the only thing that seems sensible is to hide behind the blankets of self pity and fear of next failure. At this moment, one can only wish that burying one's head would render him invisible to the world, but all it feels like is an ostrich that has left its rear exposed to the world.

When I think back on my best days at this moment, I smile at myself, because after all the fear and tension, I am still here. The world has not ended, let me correct that, a figment of the world has ended, that moment has passed. I have learnt something from that moment. I have learnt that things will be fine, all I have to do is pick myself out of the thick blanket and face the next day. One day at a time I picked my battles, till I won my first victory, and then another and another. Then I turned the tides. 

The magic hardly happened when I won my battles, the magic happened when I decided to stop hiding. Yes, I am an ostrich, an awkward, clumsy and stupid one at that. I am not here to listen to anyone's opinion of me especially today. If you chose today to judge me then it is your reckoning, and let me assure you, it is a bad one. The reason I am standing on my feet today is because I have a fire in me, it feels like last of embers today, but great fires start with little sparks. I will find my spark. I will not sleep and fade into the depth of nothingness. I will rise to be my best, and then, will be better than that. 

Yes, that is the fire that needs to be kindled at all times, every time I have made the mistake of letting the fire die, I have found myself in darkness. Every time I have fallen, I have found new strength to rise and be better than what I was. I am an awkward ostrich, but I am one of a kind. I have in me a fire that will make me a phoenix.

Before I start to fly, I rest today. I will gather my strength. Today I have determination in my eyes, and the embers in my heart. Today I heal.

Pan of dreams

On a rare occasion, when you foresee an increase in your capacity, your dreams and desires scale up to fill your capacity. Just a little extra money in my pocket that I wished to spend on something that I never had made me look at new possibilities in life. I walked thorough the shopping streets and other than the usual hustle bustle of clothes and accessories that a woman's heart so desires; I started looking at other possibilities. Here, my mind fought a battle; on one side stood logic and reason, and on the other stood the dream of something new and exciting. I found myself considering two contrasting options, a pen drive I much need on one hand; and this beautiful, elegant deep royal blue non-stick pan on the other.

For someone with no kitchen, and no true patience to cook with love for all around me; a pan seemed rather indulging. I wondered why it is that I suddenly thought pan was so interesting. I have always loved a beautiful, well stocked kitchen, with a sense of homeliness and character. I like cooking, I sing as I cook, I like the way the seemingly simple ingredients transform into something cohesive and smell of memories and new experiences. They excite all senses, and all this happens right in front of your eyes, like true magic that in some way is influenced by you. I think this dream to cook for the cooking's sake sparked this desire to buy the pan. The pan was less of an object and more of a representation of a dream of what a little more with pan could be.

A pen drive was on the other hand more practical. I work on many machines, with a rather vagabond attitude to machines. I love the cloud, that is the most sensible of inventions that is brought with the internet. However, practicality is associated with drabness, it cannot be ignored; but, when the mind has decided to dwell upon a dream, especially one that can be conjured in that pan, arguments of practicality seem futile. A dream is always so, it tries to push the limits of reality. A dream demands one to give up logic and practicality and look at what can be. A dream is a like a version of future that is in your hands to be shaped into existence. A power of what can be in one's hand now. How can one deny acknowledging a dream? Denying the existence of a dream is to deny the possibility that oneself can be more than what one is today. If so, how can I deny what a better tomorrow can be?

This was after all, my share of extra money, that I set aside to treat myself. There cannot be a better treat than to see a figment of a beautiful tomorrow sitting on my shelf and knowing that somehow I am taking a step towards it everyday. It would make me smile, to look at that blue pan, sitting and smiling back at me. Teasing me, treating me to dream more, strive more and live a little more. So, I dropped the sober practicality of a pen drive and chose the royal blue pan. As I walked all the way back from this expedition I smiled to myself from time to time, because what my shopping bag now was not a insignificant article, but a dream of something new to come. Now this pan sits on my shelf, with space for more dreams like a potter's wheel next to it. It also has a sign on it with date, and it reads "The beginning of a pan of dreams".

I am a pickle

Have you a memory of the best summer food from childhood? It could be your favorite ice cream or mom's preparation of your favorite curry. Here is another task for you, why don't you describe how the best memory of this tasted? Yes, not the food itself, but in your memory what taste did that summer leave? Food itself seems to be composed of just salt, sweet, spices and sour tastes, but the sensation created is undefinable.
I can never do justice by describing my favorite pickle as spicy, "mangoey", spicy with flavors of  red chilly, specifically of the Guntoor variety of chilies with the characteristic pungency. Here is a better description, my favorite pickle tastes like the summer warm air, with the taste of clay from the clay pot it was stored and marinated in. It has the warmth of my mother's hands and the aroma of the secret spices she always uses. That is befitting description, but is is something you can't think of at all.
This is the problem with definitions. The desire to bin experiences and characteristics into specific words that are universal dilutes the feelings and the character into something vague and ordinary. As much as I would say it is true for food, it is true for people as well. It is so common for us to label people as timid, uncouth, smart etc., just to make life more tangible that we fail to enjoy the idiosyncrasies and the variety around us.
We do it to ourselves too. We think of the way we want to be perceived by others. I think I am smart, confident, attractive and a ordinary person (I have much to say about ordinary in my next post), but I am not. At times I am stupid, timid, unkempt, and a complete bag of crazy. What I truly am is everything and nothing. I am all the characteristics and none of what I thought I was. 
Every time I try to define myself, I discover the definition is far from the real truth. I don't see why it is not true for others. I think a person is. Yes, a person just is. A person is not a combination of features, but an experience for me, a variety in my classified mundane day and a warm memory of a good day with the person.
That is why I think I am just me. If you still insist on defining me, then define me as summer mango pickle. Because, that is who I am on my best day. Tangy, warm, spicy and an interesting summer mango pickle.

The first - the start

It's one of those deceptively simple questions, that when you open your mouth to answer, meets with silence as an answer. "Who are you?". I can tell you my name, but that is just a sequence of sounds that others use to identify you from the rest. I could tell you my profession, but that is just a series of coincidences and effort. Right now, right here, I am.  In every sense of the word I am a wanderer and an observer. I wander, but in search of something special in everything mundane. I observe what just is, as is, nothing more and nothing less.
On the other hand, what I am writing in these pages are not observations. Observations  anyone can make, but I am making an attempt to articulate the experience of things. They are often so difficult to describe as words belittle the true sense of these experiences. What are these experiences you ask. They are nothing special at all, just everyday things, but the little actions and gestures that have more to them when compared to their simple appearances. This is the shreekiness that I have.
If you have ever hesitated from a new experience, then you will understand what I am talking about in the pages to follow. The rest will just be learning to live all over again, but this time I will be staying awake and paying attention to the details that I never felt before, because maybe I was too busy to observe.
I hope through these pages, I learn what a beautiful experience it is to be alive with all the senses active and mind in its own space, and thoughts experiencing the shreekiness. Hope you enjoy the journey too.