You are at the risk of entering my world as I see it. Any resemblance to people or situations to the real world is coincidental. The names and characters are fictional and the fiction posts are a mere fantasy of my whim. This is a make-believe world of my complex mind and while I try not to be offensive, if the content is too strong, please do not continue reading the post.

Jul 14, 2016

Witnessing the Blackswan

Aye! I did! I surely did! Metaphorically, at least! It took me a while to process it, embrace it and perhaps form an explanation about it.

Wimbledon 2016 semi-finals between mortal and God seemed to have shocked the expectations of every one, particularly since the said mortal was ordinary in the finals. So, having seen God losing the plot when he served a double fault, yeah! I have to say, I saw the unpredictable, unforeseen, unimaginable event in the history of said God and that is such a rare and freak occurrence, that it compelled me to say that I have seen a black swan!

I thought Roger Federer will cruise to the title. But that did not happen. He is quickly losing his God Persona, but tennis has become more fun now. Watching him play and toy and raise the bar beyond the opponents comprehension when needed, made him the God of Tennis. And now, these youngsters are envisioning his play and matching his greatness with grit, yet he still seemed to have something up his sleeve, until recently. Now, the tricks seem to have gotten a little old.

Raonic played brilliant tennis. He was positive, pushed Federer all over the court, had awesome second serve and finally, just believed he could win. It showed in the game. Federer, on the other hand, seemed to struggle to find the right gear for the match.

I enjoyed the hither-tither of the ball all over the court, particularly Federer’s returns and Raonic placements. For a moment there, I was just enjoying the game. Is that not what sport is supposed to do? To help you enjoy the battle of stalwarts, stepping up their game with every shot and like the fierce warriors they are, never giving up and toiling on, putting up a performance that is laudable even for an amateur sports buff. And they gave that in plenty to me. But, in the fourth set, Federer did the unthinkable. I was thinking this would go to a tie break, both holding their respective serves. But Federer and double fault – two words as unlikely an event as him not winning a single game in a match and it all ended there, for me.

Post-match, my husband and I were arguing, his prediction that Raonic looks more positive irked me to enough to banish him from the living room. In hindsight, I should have saved my heartache and just watched something else, but then, I would have missed the metaphorical Black Swan! I hope I won’t have to watch another!!

Mar 19, 2016

Goodbye Granma!!

March 19, 2016.

There are moments in life where logic has no meaning. And one such moments is death, the absolute certainty of it and the finality of it.

Gran ma passed away on March 19, 2016. And when I heard the news, the despair was all consuming. At that point, it was not about coping or standing strong, it was about mourning the loss of a person who had a significant impact on my life. 

Right at this moment, twelve days after her demise, I am not really sure if I processed the pain. I feel a bit numb, with my brain functioning on and off. I keep going back to seeing her in the ice box, the look of peace on her face, one I had not seen, even in her sleep in as long as I remember. Death has finally given her peace, that which eluded her for quite sometime. While she rests in peace, her loved ones are dangling between relief and sorrow. One moment, it is a relief that her suffering is done and the other moment, is about questioning the sanity of that thought. The first couple of days have been overwhelming, the thought of not having a loved one around. After that, it was coping with the reality, accepting it and finding ways to overcome the despair that wants to drown me.

Every person has a different way of coping. I tend to relive the emotion that threatens to cripple me, over and over again, until I am numb. I get on with my day, focusing on what needs to be done, moving from one task to another, ignoring the longing for a quiet place to wallow. Most of the time, I cope quite well, but sometimes, I feel like I am standing on the precipice of a bottomless abyss. I stare at it long enough with no thought or feeling. It is like time has come to a standstill. I feel the conversations bouncing off me and the monotonous drone of everyday hustle in the background. And then, I realize the need to hold on to the sanity in me, and force myself to participate, to feel.

I should have been used to accepting death, having watched enough loved ones embrace it, to understand that death is as much a part of life as life itself. Yet, every loss brings the feelings of despair anew and threatens to whirl me like a tornado. For now, I cannot seem to overcome the grief. Amidst all the distractions, it hovers in the background, ready to pounce on me.

I would like to think that she has not suffered a lot of pain, for she did not complain about any. For over a period of ten years, she endured the loss of husband and son, both the losses depleting her and the rest of the family, the joy of a fully functioning family. While the loss of husband is acceptable, the loss of son has pushed her through unspeakable agony. She endured the suffering silently, losing one sense after the other - the sense of taste, the sense of hearing, the sense of clear sight and yet, she pushed for seven years, before the body finally gave up.

For me, watching her wither away was difficult to accept. She brought me up. She picked me up from school and endured my tantrums for silly nothings on our way home. She, who fed me sweet rotis before my evening hours of play and cooked my favorite foods, most of the time I turned up to see her, could not eat a whole meal in over two years and could not savor a meal for over three years. It was a slow, painful slip into a life of an invalid and watching her embrace death was crippling and relieving at the same time. While I can accept the death and even welcome it, the grief that accompanied it was like a blow to the shins. It is an extremely painful experience. Time will heal the grief, but the memory of the pain will remain.

Goodbye grand ma, rest in peace!! I love you very very much. Though your physical presence is no longer there, you are very much a part of me. I will miss you, very much.

Jul 12, 2015

Wimbledon 2015 - Men's final

Novak Djokovic, the defending champion beats Roger Federer 7-6, 6-7, 6-4, 6-3, and slams his dream of eighth Wimbledon title to grass (pun intended). What a match it was? Watching Novak play was absolutely thrilling. And watching Federer, it looked like even God tends to bow to mortals once in a while. But, seriously, how good was Novak?

Roger Federer, in this Wimbledon has not been his usual self. His backhands have found the nets more often than not, his aces were not as recurrent as they once were and though he volleyed quite a lot, his lazy elegance was not as eloquent as it once had been. Yet, he still conquered the court and stole people’s heart. His semifinals win against Andy Murray was vintage Federer.

If people had their say on the Centre Court, for the final, the match would have gone well into the fifth set with Federer claiming his eighth Wimbledon title. But alas, Novak Djokovic ruled the court! He played aggressively, not budging an inch and his base line play was ferocious. He created unforced errors and played blistering shots that had no answers in Federer’s vast repertoire. He produced winners at his will, to combat from the corner he was backed into and Federer had to bow, despite his valiant effort.

Federer had his moments too. The way he set Djokovic up to claim the second set tie breaker was awesome. His aces were a treat to the eye, but his cross court winners stole my heart. Though I was supporting Djokovic, I could not help but applaud Federer’s every point. Federer, in his unassuming self is easy to adore and his game demands respect, from the audience and the opponent. And even at his worst, he still produces the master stokes. But, his brilliance was insufficient. At 33, his game is still solid, he still is playing awesome rallies, yet, when the younger opponent with his ferocious returns intends to reign, he just had to accept that his best was insufficient.

But, I find it hard to say it was Federer at his best in the final. Federer, who could break any opponents serve with ease was fighting to hold on to his serve, not a common occurrence. He who could produce drop volleys and blistering back hands, could only find net at the moment it mattered. He who could read the opponent like a book and change tactics at will, could do nothing but push on for just one more game. All this culminated his dream of creating history. Whether he wins another Wimbledon or not, he still is the unconquered king of the hearts of all the Centre Court audience.

And Novak Djokovic, overcame the pressure of playing a maestro in front of an un-supporting audience and produced a game of deeper depth with such aplomb, that it was clear who the winner was, the moment he took the first set. It was only a matter of time when the errors of the opponent were too many, and his returns were too good to play. His first serves were tight, his returns were ruthless, his break points were spectacular, his drop volleys stunning and his rallies heartwarming. He raised his game with every stroke, he demanded nothing but brilliance as counter-attack. He stood tall to produce breathtaking tennis and took the maestro on his backcourt and owned it. It was difficult to not fawn at his display of aggression and smile at him eating the grass off centre court after winning. If his shout of victory was anything to go by, there is more of that yet to come!!

I enjoyed this Wimbledon immensely!! And this era, where there is a champion in every second name of the game, it sure is a golden era for tennis... Looking forward to the US Open :)

Jul 7, 2015

I will find a way...

I am not in the right frame of mind, at this very moment. My body is weak, my defenses are low, physically, I am exhausted and mentally, I don't seem to have the strength to wake up the next day. When I sleep, I wonder if I can wake up tomorrow and more importantly, if I want to wake up tomorrow. When I wake up, I wonder how I intend to get through the day and when the night befalls, I am thankful for the days closure. It is easy to give up, to close my eyes to the world and let myself wallow. And because it is easy, I need to fight, to push. I am trying, but for one moment, just one moment, I want to succumb, to weep, to mourn. Yet, I cannot seem to find that solace that grants me that freedom of expression. A good cry may help, but that is not my way. I cannot seem to find tears for pain that cuts too deep. I cry for silly things, I cry when I am angry, but when my heart feels like it is about to rip itself out, how can few tears assuage its feeling? Tears cannot make me forget, that moment of joy. And the pain I feel, cannot help me climb the boulder that is planted in the midst of my path. Yet, I need to find a way. I need to overcome the grief that wants to push me beneath. I need to find a way around it.

Grief is such a funny thing. It disappears in company, it wanders down the street when you are focused on something, it buries itself under a blanket when you take a nap, it sits on a chair with its reading glasses when you are working... it bides its time and comes back with a whip, ready to lash at you and even though you are prepared, the pain is just unbearable. How can it not be? You ignored it for the  better part of the day and it wants its vengeance. And just like a trained body, you get used to the ache and that is when it starts to numb. And until that moment, one just has to cope. And I am trying. A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to one of my colleague giving a passionate dialogue of living in the moment. For a moment there, I wondered, how can you live in a moment, when all the moments of the past up until that very moment contributed to that moment. It is not easy. Today, I seem to be embracing it, for that momentary relief, to live in the now. Is this one way of coping up? I don't know. What I know, right now, is that, however impossible and improbable life seems to be, it will get better. It will get easier. And I will find a way, to move on.

I will find a way...

Jun 28, 2015

Where do I belong?

I was looking through some old snaps, old pals, old places, places I have been to, old memories. I make myself sound old, I feel it in my bones too, that I am just a step away from being a battered old ram! But these old memories did bring in a sense of accomplishment and joy. They brought a sense of satisfaction and experience. They also brought a heavy heart. I was looking through the albums, living through the memory each snap unfolded, the moment captured in its rapture. Some made me sad, some made me smile, some made me laugh and some filled me with satisfaction. Overall, it was a good positive vibe. Yet, this question of where I belong, popped into my head, making me pause mid way through, making me go beyond the superficial. Do I belong here, among the lifeless stuffed toys that I hugged for the picture? Do I belong here, the composed smile that did not reach my eyes? Do I belong here, the careless swing in my body, standing on my tip toes, in the middle of no where?

I always felt myself to be a misfit, going through the drill of life, sometimes forced to and sometimes by choice, sometimes unyielding, sometimes convinced, most of the time just letting things roll. But there were those moments of peace, those that made life tolerable. There is a face inside my heart that has a perennial smirk and it has a voice that has a sarcastic bite to it, that gives its two cents every turn. Yet, despite that voice, I manage to be sane, participating in life, supposedly living it. Question is, where am I living it? Inside my head or outside? I search as much for the right questions as I search for answers. I search for both questions and answers inside me. It sounds totally insane, yet, there is no cosmic space from which I can get the answers, right? I have to trust the instinct or my ability to think and come up with the answers that will make some sense to me.

I wish I could say I belong to myself. I wish I could say I have a home. I wish I could say I have a heart. But there is this voice inside me that is bellowing at the top of its voice, LIE, LIE, LIE. The lies one tells themselves, that they are happy being who they are, silently cursing every waking minute that its another treacherous ordeal to go through the day. The lies one tells to convince oneself that happiness is in themselves, that they do not require anyone else to get through life, yet winding up in misery, hurling through the nightmares, curling into a ball, fighting the urge to free themselves of whatever it is that holds them, be it a person or a thing or an emotion. The lies they tell themselves that they love, looking at a face they care nothing for, yet living through the moment, afraid that they would be found out. The lies they tell themselves that they are alright, when they are seething with maddening rage at the pointless pain they go through, physical or emotional. LIES, LIES, LIES... all lies, every word, act, face, a lie. White lies, black lies, all lies. Is that where I belong? To a lie? Have I become what I strenuously tried to not become, a two-faced dirty hypocrite? I do not wish to seek an answer to that question, yet the question lurks in the corner of my mind, probing me to find an answer. Where do I belong??