Control. Freak.

I am the least controlling person I have ever known. Just saying.

(This non-controlling attitude applies to everyone except my kids. Where my kids are concerned, I am very directive and downright bossy.)

I accept other people for what they are. Even if I don’t like them or what they do much, I don’t try to change them. I don’t even give them “feedback” because this much overused corporate concept implies that you know better or are superior to the person opposite you. If the person is not there specifically to learn from me and has not explicitly sought feedback, I keep my mouth shut.

If I have opinions that differ vastly from another person’s, I state my thoughts only if I think it is necessary, like if I am asked about it or if we are having a discussion on the topic. But if I feel the other person is just being himself/herself, I let them be what they are, as is their right.

I accommodate people in my life rather easily. I keep some parts to myself, some time, some activities, but I allow people to mingle with the rest of me. As a child, I knew no boundaries between myself and others, and sometimes I feel that state of mind lingers even now in some ways. As a result, I don’t insist people do things the way I do. If it inconveniences me, I mostly take it in my stride. I don’t mind if I have to work a little harder to find things or do chores. I even don’t mind if I have to change my habits to accommodate habits of others.

If I must change someone or something, I do it with actions - by showing how I like it done, but without much pomp and show. And if they don’t get it despite that, I move on. I rarely find myself using harsh words to get things done my way.

I know all this sounds very self-promoting. Why am I indulging in all this self-praise? Because there is a flip side to this way of being, and it’s frustrating, to put it mildly.

Just because I don’t enforce any rules on them, people start to think I am myself undisciplined. Just because I am not confrontational, people think I have no opinions of my own and need to be educated. Just because I make efforts to accommodate people, they think they are unobtrusive. I have people lecturing me about things I have meditated upon for years. I have people trying to mold me out of the form I have spent years creating for myself. I have people thinking they need to fill my ocean because they see it as a void.

Hell, just because I am not controlling, people want to control me! 

Desert Rose

When you, a seeker of gardens, come across a desert, you can walk away and pledge never to return. When you, a lover of flowers, can't find any in the sand, you can walk away and seek greener lands. But when the desert is yours, a primal land, and you love flowers and seek gardens, then even as if you find greener places and even as your eyes feast on pretty flowers, the memory of the desert will haunt you and dry you out. The only way for you, born of the desert, seeker of flowers and gardens, is to water that desert for as long as it takes to green. And if it so happens that only one shoot sprouts, then the only way for you is to make yourself so expansive, so receptive, so gracious, that even that little shoot gives you the shade of a huge tree.

And you can rest, finally. Or not.

Are You Ready?

Are you ready, Ms. Cynic
To drop all notions
of how meaningless love is
and what's the most it can mean to someone?

Are you geared

To accept that there are people

and things about them

That you, Ms. Know All,  just can’t comprehend?

Are you prepared, Ms. Prudent

To let go of this stuff, this self

you hold on so tightly to

As if all of your insignificant life depended on it?

Are you willing, Ms. Self Control

To at least imagine 

Madness as a possible way of life

And a valid reason to die?

Are you ready, Ms. Been There Done That

To accept, at least to yourself,

That you haven't been everywhere 

And haven't done it all as yet? 

13 Years Ago

First, an honest admission. I struggled to write this post, which is sort of against my blogging principles. I believe that if something is not ready to be out on the blog, then it should stay where it belongs- inside. But certain dates are special and they deserve a gift of a post. So, here is one for a very special day.

Today, 13 years ago, I became single. All paper and court work for the divorce was done by proxy in Delhi while I was in Singapore, and it so happens that I didn't know that it was all over on that particular day. My brother had sent me an email informing me gently that I was a free bird, but I did not see his email until the next day. So, I spent the day as any other day, miserable as was usual in those days, but clueless about the momentous event happening back in Delhi.

A very good friend once told me about his theory about how long it takes for a person to get over a divorce- half the number of years you had been married! Imran, it didn't take 8 years, more like 5, but the warning was very useful, and much needed. But so much else happened in these years that I had no warning of.

In the last 13 years, I truly became the person I am proud of being. I always knew I was no weakling, but the extent of my strength became visible only after I had to live my life by my own with none of the support I had always taken (and was given) for granted, such as family, friends and money. I always took motherhood seriously and knew what type of mother I wanted to be, but an understanding of what parenting really is dawned on me only after I became a single parent. I always had a seeking spirit, but it became laser focused only after I was left with nothing but unanswered questions.

For all this, I am grateful to the event that took place this day 13 years ago- I am who and where I am today because of what and where I was on this day 13 years ago. For all this, I am grateful to the man whose heartlessness of those days almost seems benevolent today.

Today, I want to thank him for forcing me to see and be myself as I really am, stripped of all pretense and pseudo identities. I want to thank him for freeing me from ties that were knotted up too early, too badly and in all the wrong places. I want to thank him for handing me an empty life that I could fill with wondrous second chances. And mostly, I want to thank him for this precious gift of total freedom and self discovery.

Finally, though I had trouble starting to write this post, it soon got easier and easier, and the end result is something I will cherish forever. On some days, principles can go (beep) themselves.

http://accidentalceostrategicmom.blogspot.in/2012/06/being-single.html
http://accidentalceostrategicmom.blogspot.in/2010/12/old-poem-speaking-truly.html

Sharp Edged Differences

I have been wanting to write this post for some time now, but was hesitant for several reasons. For one, I didn't want to sound like some pretentious NRI. I also didn't want to pass shallow judgment and opinions on something profound and beyond my understanding. But then, this is what I feel deeply and if I don't write about what I feel, who will?

I moved back to India after living in Singapore for 13 years. This is not a very long period of time by any standards, and so I didn't expect to have any adjustment problems. I thought I knew what to expect and how to deal with it. I certainly didn't expect to be shocked by poverty of any sort. But strangely I was.

The first time it hit me was in March, when I paid my maid's first salary and then went to buy Anakin's dog food the very next day. Instead of converting the cost of dog food into dollars and thinking it was not that bad (as was my habit with every expense in the early days), I was struck by its comparison with Asha's salary. The price of a bag of Anakin's food, which would last him less than 20 days, was more than Asha's entire month's salary! I was so taken aback that, no kidding, I didn't buy dog food that day or ever since. Anakin has been eating rotis and rice and stuff since then. And the bhukkad loves his new diet.

The next time it hit me was when someone mentioned a mortgage payment they had to make to the bank urgently to avoid losing their land. That very day, disgusted with my iPhone camera's behavior, I had checked the price of the latest smart phones in the market. The price of the phone I was considering was more than the mortgage payment that was going to cost this poor family their only asset and push them into a spiral of poverty. Needless to say, I am back at forgiving and loving my old iPhone.

Now, this difference between the haves and have-nots should be familiar to an Indian who has lived most of her life in India, you would say. Yes, I would think so too, but it does bother me a lot and all the time. I often wonder why I wasn't bothered by these differences in Singapore. After all, some of our favorite meals in fancy Singaporean restaurants would cost a lot, often more than Mallika's salary.

I don't have a concrete clear answer, but have some inkling. In Singapore, even the poorest had a decent house to live in- IMO that's the first barrier taken down. But more importantly, they had aspirations to do better and had a fair chance to do so if they worked really hard. And people like Mallika, who didn't earn a lot by Singapore standards, were still able to save enough to make a difference in their families' lives back home. There were differences between the rich and the regular folks there too, but there was a constant fight against these differences. There were dreams and hopes for change someday.

Here, there is a certain docile acceptance of this difference. It is a fact that the two people I mentioned above would not at all be shocked by the differences in our standards of living/spending. They accept it as given. It is OK here for someone to spend on a phone as much as you would earn in a year. It is OK for someone to spend on weekly grocery shopping what you would spend on yours in six months. It is OK because rich are rich and poor are poor and that's acceptable to them.

Maybe it's this OK business that I am not OK with. Maybe it is this soft acceptance that feels like a sharp edged knife. 

The Secret of Sad Songs

There is something therapeutic about sad songs, I have always known that. Once, when I was recovering from a relationship that never took off except in my head, I healed myself with Talat Mahmood's sad songs, a singer I had never before, or after, heard with so much attention. I heard the songs so often that I had memorized the lyrics of each one of them. Even now, I have a soft spot for each of his songs, even though I can't listen to them more than once.

Recently, I met a person who said that he heard only sad songs for over two years after his marriage failed. He couldn't bear to hear any other type of music. Now he has switched back to romantic songs and has no interest in songs that were his friends for years. No rewards for guessing why.

But why are sad songs therapeutic? Of course, one of the reasons is that they resonate with one's state of mind. But I think they do more than that. Grief is one emotion that needs articulation before it can be accepted and absorbed, but it's hard to articulate when you are gasping for breath. Listening to sad songs is like having someone else articulate your grief, someone way more articulate than you. Personally, as someone who reads and writes poetry, it is like finding a poem that tells my story almost as if the poet knew me intimately.

And there is another thing- sad songs allow you to explore your grief from many angles and expose it so much that there is no hidden pain left inside undiscovered, no chance of your being surprised or hurt by a sentiment out of the blue.

Sad songs exhaust your grief. That's their secret, and magic!

Not today

Maybe one day

I will not laugh so much 

at the crass one-liners you tell and retell a hundred times,

But not today. 

Maybe one day

I will be distracted

when you lay bare the secrets of your simple life,

But not today. 

Maybe one day

No magic will happen

when your rough hands touch mine,

But not today. 

Maybe one day

I will be tired

of your untiring youth darling,

But not today.

Maybe one day

I will not want to be loved 

the uncomplicated full-on way that you love me,

But not today.

Maybe one day

I will want to claim my life back from you
for myself or for someone else,
But not today.
Just not today.