Things I learnt today

• It's perfectly alright to snooze your alarm and sleep those few extra minutes, snuggled in your blanket, in a dreamy state...that is your time for wishful thinking. 

• What's more alright (is that grammatically correct?) is to stop and catch a few precious minutes of the movie 'UP' even in the mad morning rush. 

• You are allowed to curse and crib about your job...but if you look closely, you will find small fulfilling joys that make things better.

• Make friends at work place. Find at least that one person who you don't have to be competitive with...coffee times can be so much fun (or in my case, gossip-er).

• Be friends with your boss...if he/she is worth the effort. That is a lot of time saved from bitchy office politics and mindless ego hassles.

• Own up a mistake. But don't run to someone for help. Roll up your sleeves and get the goddamn thing going. Sometimes just putting up a fight more than makes up for the mistake.

• Don't work till late hours. No matter how much you love your job, leave when it's time. As someone wise (That would be you, Sunil) once told me, "Working late every night may fetch you a promotion...but is that worth 365 beautiful sunsets?"

• Catch up with a long-lost friend. Not online. Call. Talk. Listen to their stories. You will be surprised how happy that leaves you.

• Complete that one task you promised yourself before sleeping. Then high-five yourself while grinning shamelessly.

Under the spell

Ever felt this inexplicable joy when you listen to this old favourite song of yours...after ages?

You know the words...by your heart and soul. you probably lived those lyrics in some lifetime. 

But you don't rush. not even in your mind. you wait. like slow-burning passion awaiting climax.
 
The strings don't strum music here...they tug at your heart.

Every note is a long-lost friend, whom you meet at the corner turn of melody.
  
Your heart doesn't sing along. it simply listens. and revels, soaking the mist of music.

Liberation of a very different sort...such is the bondage of music.

The Beginning

It's late in the night and I am contemplating another cup of coffee.

  

Lots of catching up to do - reading my must-visit blogs. I started with Thought Catalog. Don't judge me here. I am in that phase, where every heart-broken story on Thought Catalog seems to be written just for me. And every writer there seems to be nursing a recent heart break. So you see, that place feels like a club I belong to :)

Talking about backlogs - many a posts are pending. So here's what I am planning to do. I will grab that cup of coffee and start blogging.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I was watching Grey's Anatomy tonight [yes, I am in that phase.] where Meredith mentioned that one of the patients may be suffering from Cardiac Tamponade. The term seemed familiar. Quite familiar. Something I had read about. Wikipedia-ed. And suddenly my last 2 months flashed in front of my eyes.

I was home for Dassehra and the first day of my holiday promised home-cooked yummy-ness and endless laziness. Instead, I found my mum intermittently cribbing about some weird noises in her abdomen/ chest [she couldn't pinpoint it then] while blaming it on indigestion soon thereafter. A Doctor's wife and a Science teacher herself, she thought all she needed was a little rest. 

Little did we know then. Three hours and a visit to our friendly, neighbourhood Hospital's Cardiac Department later, she was diagnosed with Pericardial Effusion. From making pohe for breakfast to Pericardial Effusion by 1 pm.  That was the fastest, rudest shock ever. [For those interested in details - she had around 30 ml fluid around her heart.] It's moments like these that teach you the definition of Helplessness.

Within 5 minutes of knowing the words, I had read up the wiki link [that's where I first met Mr. Cardiac Tamponade] and felt stupidly prepared to brace myself for what was going to come. Information does that to you....But no matter how much you grow up and how much ever information you gather, how do you prepare yourself to face your own mother's frightened face?

But prepare, we did. If I have learnt anything from my old lady, was that the 'prepare for the worst and hope for the best' adage still holds ground. Tests and tests we sat through. And we talked. About silly little things. About health and family. About relationships. Some of the best conversations. Not in our drawing room, but in a hospital's patient waiting area.

Information. A little of it - gives you facts, neither insights nor any possibilities. 

But too much of it - makes you rush ahead of yourself, with mind-numbing what-ifs and what-nots - and that was the case with my dad. He went silent - mulling over the cause of PE and calling up his friends for consults. That was a week of utter turmoil.

And then, exactly a week later, my mum had to take the Cardiac CT. The test that was supposed to tell it all. Grim: yes, shit-scared: more so. That was the first time my mum broke down. Anticipation can be quite agonizing, but finally came the test results - the cardiac CT eliminated all the scary possibilities of PE leaving behind the inexplicably simple and yet highly possible viral infection which may have caused the inflammation and hence the fluid around the heart. So, yeah, a viral infection caused all that! Can you believe it?? It was a viral infection - that stupid little thing that must have gone unnoticed and blew up into so much trouble. Viral infection - which btw, is treatable, quite easily, actually. So yeah - viral infection- something that I have come to love ever since!! [Compared to all the sickening possibilities - I take this Viral Infection with much love.Thankyouverymuch]
 
Mum was ordered a month's complete rest and heavy medication. But that's a breeze as compared to the other possibilities! The other possibilities - things that I don't even wish to write down out here. They make me feel grateful today as my mother is back to being hale and hearty. After this biggest scare in my life so far, relief seems like an understatement. Smiles are treasured. And probably for the first time ever, care has been worded out in my family. Heck, I am even planning to say 'I love you' to my parents, one of these days :P

So yeah...it has been a roller-coaster ride. Every day, since then, has been one of cautious looking-over-the-shoulder. It took me 2 months to finally accept and write about it. But gratitude - just like grief, needs to be expressed.

So, Thank You!
Rutuja

The year that was...

Come December, and it's funny how I find myself in a retrospective mood already. The log book for 2012 almost coming to an end. But I have accounts to be settled. So much to say, even though I know it wont get me any answers.

I didn't blog much this year. And most of it was anyway too sad for me to keep returning on my previous blog. So here is me. Trying to make a head start once again. Start out fresh. But not without settling a few scores with 2012.

Dear 2012,

You were mean. And harsh. You snatched away two of my people this year, none of whom deserved to leave so soon. I shall remember you for a lot of things, but mostly this. For being one of the cruelest years ever.

You were a teacher to me. And may I add, a very tough one at that. You ensured a lot of quick learning from me with very little scope for re-tests.

You were my reality check. I started 2012 with Bambi-like twinkle in my eyes [or may be it was just wanderlust from my Europe trip], but you grounded me back to reality. You crushed a few of my plans and a whole lot of dreams.

But having said that...

You brought me unexpected joys. Friends who showed up least expected. With warm food and warmer hearts. Rented apartments that soon became home. Laughter that brought tears and tears that I can now smile back on.

You taught me to love people. Irrespective of the vast differences we shared. You taught me to love my parents again. And see them in a whole different light. As people, not parents.

And finally, you showed me that a little self belief can really take me places. That I need to trust myself before anyone else. Love myself, more than anyone else. That words like - dream, hope and belief - don't just make good poetry. And that it's not selfish to watch out for oneself every once in a while.

You were such a weird year 2012. I can't look back fondly at you but I can't help thank you for the tough lessons and much growing up that I have experienced.

Looking forward to a very different 2013. I hope you shall oblige much.

Love,

Rutuja

Packing life in cartons..yet again!

Come this weekend and life as I know shall never be the same again.

In a few days I move into a one BHK apartment [rented ofcourse] and for the first time after moving to the new city almost 1.5 years ago, I shall be truly independent. Sharing a place with flat-mates was fun...more like a hostel with a canteen attached for a midnight maggi session where you never feel the burden of responsibilities.

However, renting a place all by oneself seems like a big deal. Rent, maintenance, maid, electricity, gas, cable, internet - just a few deductibles one needs to remember each month. Simply to survive! I already shudder at the thought of having to keep the laundry bag empty and the fridge full at all times [probability of the reverse is always higher]. I already need to buy stuff like bed, cupboard, TV, refrigerator and a gas stove. yeah, did I mention the apartment is unfurnished? But I kind of like it that way. It's better to have no furniture than being stuck with the bad one.

So let me describe you my cute little place. It's got an L shaped drawing room, a perfect square of a bedroom, a washroom that's just the right size, a narrow rectangular kitchenette and a lovely balcony that runs along the bedroom and kitchen space. That's it...All mine! :)

Oh! Did I mention it's on the sixth floor and gets some seriously lovely breeze in the evening? 

Curtains, carpets, cushions...all in the colour scheme!! The mind is already drawing endless shopping lists. Want to buy a fridge? 165 or 220 litres? Single/double door? Frost/de-frost? Which brand? Which model? What guarantee? Phew!! So many decisions...and I haven't even come to the colours yet!

Whatever said and done...I know I await this experience. I feel almost ready jumping into this role of being super-independent. From where I am looking, it seems pretty well-timed and well-transitioned. But one can never be too sure, right?  

Packing my life, yet again, in bags & cartons, I can't help but feel like a nomad, who is just a bit too eager to make every place her own. 

Wish me luck,

Cheers.

A love like that...[II]

She was such a goon growing up. Beat many a boys in her school corridor. Once, she even slapped a senior on the school-bus back home [In her defense, he was sitting in HER seat!] She loved to argue and considered herself quite good at verbal duels. 

Times changed. She didn't. Soon she was in college. Her long tresses cut short. Boy-cut was what they called it. Collared half-sleeved shirts and a ragged pair of jeans. And the boy-cut. Almost a boy, you see. Strangely enough, she now made great friends with the guys. They no longer feared her. She was one of them. She laughed at their jokes about other girls and even added her own witty one-liners. They came to her on days of journal submission. They rallied around campaigning for her during college elections. and as weird as it may sound - they cared for her - like a buddy, in a brotherly sort of way - the girl, with the boy-cut.

Times changed again [how irritating is that!] And yet again, she didn't. There she was working in the corporate world. Cut-throat competition. Who knew being a bully at school would come to so much use later in life! She loved the aggression. The dominant streak that gets passed off as leadership qualities. And once again she became the 'man on the team'. Gym buddy. Smoke buddy. Booze buddy. They ranted about their girlfriends, she listened. They raved about their trophy wives and she listened. She smiled. She understood - something that always surprised the guys.

Times changed quickly thereafter. Her long tresses grew back. Her dark eyes shone when she laughed. She was suddenly noticeable. Second and third glances [and accompanied male attention] became a part of her life. A girl friend gifted a kaajal pencil and insisted she try on some. That day she became aware of the magic of kohl eyes. People seemed nicer, friendlier and worse, no one wanted to fight with her any more. No more verbal duels. No intelligent [or even lame] arguments.

And one day, she met him. He was smart and funny. Sensible with questionable sensitivity. But there was a spark between the two. He wasn't at his best behaviour with her. He didn't think twice before saying things on his mind. He didn't even offer her the last piece of the pastry..instead eyed hers hungrily. He didn't open doors or pull chairs for her. And he never, ever carried her laptop that she chugged around everywhere. He just walked beside hers, hands in pocket. Sometimes slowing down a step or two to match her speed. He didn't ask her how the day went by. He probably read it on her face. And he always, always started the conversation with the lamest of his jokes.

Times changed yet again. Thankfully, they both didn't. They still walk side by side, carrying their own baggage. No favours on each other. And yet they know when the other is tired. He still doesn't treat her 'like a lady'. But she knows he is the one coz he treats her the way she always wanted to be treated - a girl with a boy-cut.

A love like that [I] here