Language: Enabler or Barrier?

Its been long since I wrote anything: lack of time, lack of inspiration- the list of excuses is non-exhaustive.

This morning I woke up after a very comfortable sleep that lasted about 14 hours. I woke up fresh, happy, relaxed and with absolutely nothing to do. I switched on my laptop and went to my favorite online movie streaming site. I was browsing through when I saw a thumbnail for a movie titled, 'Instructions Not Included'.

I figured it must be along the lines of 'Three Men and a Baby' and decided 'What the heck? Not like I have anything better to do!'. The movie started and the opening credits rolled in... in Spanish. 

Within the first 10 minutes I realized, this was all en Espanol! The 11th minute, however, they introduced a cute little half-American baby. And thus, starts the story of a care-free rake and his daughter, who changed him for the better within 7 years that he raised her. There were a few lines spoken in English and few words of Spanish that I understood- but as I sat through the movie for those 120 minutes, the language barrier didn't seem to matter. 

I laughed, I cried and I even found myself hoping the ugly custody battle between the male protagonist of the movie and the then-hippie blood mother of the child, would end in a 'Happily-ever-after' of sorts. It didn't (I'm not big on spoilers). And as the closing credits rolled in, I found myself thinking 'Did I just sit through a movie I had no chance of understanding and understood it better than words could have let on?'

I, at 26, realized that emotions go beyond words. We spend all our lives waiting to hear the perfect words, reacting at words that make us uncomfortable and ever so often, forget to feel the feelings the words were meant to communicate. We overlook small gestures but hang on to every word anyone says to us. It doesn't matter what someone says to us- their actions speak louder than words. So, the next time, my boyfriend forgets to say 'I Love You', I'll remember to think of the love he shows me through each minute of every day.

Broken Ressurection

Masochism. A condition under which one enjoys being inflicted with pain. Does this mean that everyone who dares to love, be burnt and love again is a masochist?

When does anyone know when to stop throwing themselves into fire? Are we all superheroes in disguise? What makes us come back for more? Why do we risk being bruised?

Save yourselves. Fuck love. It fucks you over. Be sane, not a masochist.

Monogamous Cheaters

Through my most recent experience with a man, I have now come to believe the one thing most women are in denial about: "All Men Cheat". Now you might think I'm overreacting. But I have facts to back it up. I have not come across one man who does not cheat! NOT ONE! It is strange really. The men in my family, the male friends, the boyfriends. Maybe one of you in denial who is reading this is thinking "You just haven't met the right sort of men". Not true. I have met all kinds of men- straight, gay, rich, not-so-rich, smart, dolts, some even great men.

Men have it wired into their DNAs. They just need to sink their teeth in the neighbour's Creme Brulee. They have to touch (and quite necessarily sleep with) everything they see. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that there might not be that rare exception to this rule, but you will find that those are few and far apart.

As a close friend of mine told me once, "Kanika, it's not like I enjoy causing the heartache. I just need a change!" Change, testing waters, or just high levels of testosterone, it feels like the women are getting the shit end of the deal. Mostly, anyway.

Besides, I was reading this on the internet. It was supposed to be a "Fun and Interesting Fact"- "3% of all mammals are monogamous". Who's to say that humans are included within the 3%? (Not to sound ultra-feminist) Men or women? What can anyone do to live a happy life filled with love?

The answer would be either of the two: Live in Denial. Or accept that "All Men Cheat". The only difference would be the time within which the only consequence would be realized, i.e. heartache.

Potentials and The One

This past month has left me thinking. About a lot of things. Specifically speaking, it's got me thinking about relationships; once bright potentials, now mere reminders of failures. I realized that I have a pattern. I am basically dating the same guy but he just looks different (sort of) each time.

I've also come to realize that inspite of all the versions of the same man that I've been with, there has been only one man. The One That Got Away. I'm still holding onto him. Maybe he is who I keep looking for in all of these other men. Spontaneous, funny, caring, considerate, awesome kissers, good listeners. It all makes perfect sense! I couldn't be with him because he had to go home, miles away from me. I never did see him again.

I tried to forget The One That Got Away by moving on to Eye Candy. He worked with me, and I noticed him a year after The One That Got Away went away. It was good with Eye Candy while it lasted. I wasn't too big on sleeping around within a few days of being together. Barring that, it had a great start. And then I got ignored and mistreated. Turns out, I wasn't the only one who thought he was Eye Candy. His other girlfriend did too!

His friend turned out to be The Knight In The Shining Armour. We got really close as friends. He was hilarious, didn't care too much for planning ahead, was always there to listen to me vent. We had the best times habing out together. Just us buddies. And then we realized that we couldn't hold up the platonic front anymore. So, the sex started. And so did the drifting apart/ alienation bit.

Now, I'm back to the point where I'm persistently thinking about The One That Got Away. Two years later, here I am. Still where he left me. Just a lot more burnt and in a dire need of his healing touch. Waiting for him to come back and put an end to this self-inflicting misery I keep putting myself through. Hoping he would. Soon...

The Moment

It's funny how people can be rather hypocritical! 'Live for the moment!' and 'Plan ahead...' are often statements you hear the same person saying. Where does that leave the person who is being told this? In a state of utter bloody confusion. That's where. So, this blog goes out to those who have been extremely muddled up in their state of mind.

I do not preach what I don't practice. So, rest assured that all of this comes from experience. After a certain age I adopted the practice of 'living for the moment'. I wasn't taught or talked into it but it just came ever-so-naturally to me. It cuts a whole lot of stress, makes everything easier. Here's the trick, its relatively easy- almost like cognitive reform- change how you think. Think about 'the here' and 'the now'. Things just fall into place as you proceed further.

I can't think of a time when this practice has let me down. Of course, there are some long-term repercussions involved, but there always is an option. ALWAYS. For instance, I came down with a major viral flu and I couldn't attend my classes. I had the options of either staying back and resting it away or attending college and playing it safe with my attendance. Had I chosen the latter, the flu would have gotten worse- overall efficiency decreased and down the drain. The need of the hour was to stay back and relax. I might regret it with bad attendance but atleast I was much better. What I'm trying to get at with this very feeble example is that not thinking ahead helps.

Most of you might disagree with me, but try thinking about it: spontaneous plans are always much more fun; on the spot descisions are often better than thinking about something through for days; and you end up living. So, LIVE people, not by the calenders and planners, but by the moment. I call it the 'Art of Living'. Cheers!

The Reason.

Over the past few months, I have come across one question continuously. I don't know why everyone has started asking this question but it seems like it's a given that the question must be asked this time of the year. And I was quite obviously ignorant of this. Now, I know.

Having lived two decades of my life, it's quite disturbing to be asked the reason for my life. And it's even more disturbing when I didn't have an appropriate answer to it. What is it that I was really living for? What does anyone live on for? Thinking about it, immortality is out of the question and rightly so- someone has to die sometime, right? So, we're all basically living to die.

It's funny how I'm working my backside off with my education just so I can take all of my degrees to the grave with me. Better still, I'm going to leave behind all the materialistic possessions, all of my relationships, everthing that I would have ever worked for. All gone. Just like that.

Yet when I was asked this question, I sought to escapism. As many of you will too. I chose not to think about it. I mean, who's got the time, right? But I urge you to think about it. Maybe you've got the answer. In which case, I would urge you to tell me about it so that I would know too. Makes sense? I'm sure it doesn't. But what is anyone going to do about it, right?