Blah blah

Talk and talk we do.
But how much do we really convey?

Rather, how much do we choose to convey?

I guess, most of the talk we do is hollow. Empty conversations just filled with words. To make us feel - like we have shared. Like we have lifted a load. And now we must feel lighter.

But do we really?
How many times have we talked and actually felt lighter?

We have filled our lives with things, to avoid this ever looming sense of hollowness, than to actually embrace it. For this sense, of hollowness is - who we really are.

We escape from ourselves - in our social lives, works lives, personal lives. We never have - "me time" or "I time". We don't spend time reflecting on our actions, thoughts and our inner demons. In fact , we spend time and essentially our lives being " cool " or appearing " cool ".

Is it the constant need of attention or acknowledgement?
Or is it just escapism?

I guess when we supposedly - "share" we erode/ deplete ourselves. And because we are in this constant need & race to supposedly "share" - we end up depleted, when we most need ourselves - for us.

Oil and water

I have a heart, that beats
that hops skips and jumps
at the very sight of you
that dances a little
when it's your time to come
that smiles
at how blissful our little life is

I have a heart that stops, some times
when the sunlight filters, through those honey coloured eyes
when the summer breeze, gently messes up your hair
when your lips part and you utter my name


I have a heart that silently weeps
for each day lived, is another day lost
for even an eternity with you would never be enough

I have a heart, that beats in me
to let me know -
how blessed, I am
and how wretched, time is.

IT

More often than I should, I think about it.
About, just how conveniently it would cease all my worries.
About, how going through just another day will not feel like a mammoth task.
About, how easy and peaceful it would be  
About, how this pain in my being would stop suddenly.
About, how much it would devastate my family.
About, how my breathing and beating would cease.
About, how nothing would matter. That all that mattered would be lost. Forever.

But, I carry the pieces my life and myself.
I stitch and sew.
I mend and bend.
And move, I do. Move to find what eludes me most.

And I do think about it, still, more often than I should.

The zip incident

Last Saturday, I got a beautiful red black dress.
It was the kind of dress that you look at - on the mannequin and just have to have.
I was so so keen to wear it and have it that I did not really care about the zip which was a little troublesome.
I thought for a dress as perfect as this I am sure I could put up with a troubling little zip.

Today, I decided to wear it. I put out my best pair of black leggings, matched my shoes, jacket, even decided on the perfume  - the works. After all, it was "the" dress.

After scrubbing and shining myself I slipped in the dress. I was so excited, then, started the struggle with the seemingly trivial zip problem. It moved a few inches and then it was stuck. I could not pull it up. I could not pull it down. It was stuck. I could not get out of the dress with out actually hurting myself or the dress. And the clock is ticking.

I then try waxing the zip. Tried the lead on the zip. It just would not budge.

My mind is racing with thoughts of the things lined up at work. I m very aware of the tick tock of the clock. And the stupid zip would just not budge. It was like the zip wanted to just get back at me. My mind was like:


                Panic. Panic. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
                Why did Pallav (my husband) had to leave early today?
                Oh Zip please come up. Up. Up. Up.
             
After struggling with it over 20 mins, I decided to just wear the jacket and head to work and get some help there, with the stupid zip.

I sit in the car and fire it up and I am like - Oh god what if I have an accident how will I explain the zip? What am I going to tell my manager - who is a man - oh I am sorry for being late my zip was stuck?!

I got to work safely, got help from a very kind colleague to do it up for me.

Moral of the story : Details are just as important as the package.