Moving on...

Was reading a movie review of "Ranjhaana", a love story set in Varanasi. I haven't seen the movie yet, probably will this week.

This note is however inspired by the movie review I read here. I quote a line from the review which caught my attention,

"Lesson#8 : “Nobody really moves on in life: This is because of the simple reason that a person molds you into a new being when you are with them. So when they move out of your world, they take away that part of you with them and it never comes back leaving you void from within and too exhausted to walk on the same path again."

I agree in parts - yes, we change with every relationship. We become something which is us plus something when we are in a relationship. This is true for all relationships, in my view. We are different with a parent, different with a son, different with a friend, different with a sibling and so on. I would go so far as to say that we have different selves that manifest themselves, depending upon whom we are with. And in a love relationship, we are completely transformed. We may sometimes not even recognize the self that we become when we fall in love.

However, this post is not about love, but about moving on, having been in love. I disagree that one does not move on. Yes, we never become that person that we were when we were in love. But we do fall in love again, and though we don't become the previous-person-who-was-in-love-with-the-previous-love-interest, we morph into a different human with the person we now have fallen in love with. Yes, every death of selves that we face hurts, hurts really really bad. But we can and are capable of creating new selves even out of the debris that is left behind. For many of us, the debris is small, so some of us can rebuild from it with some help from the discarded self. For some of us, the debris is large, but if we love ourselves well enough to piece together the debris and the smaller self, we can even glue together a bigger self from the experience.

Notwithstanding the moving on, I do think there is always this "what if" question that plays out in in the minds of the "Mover" and the "Movee" - for want of better words. I think both of them, the Mover and the Movee, wrestle with the "what-if" in their post breakup times. Several times. Regardless of who initiated the break up. The mover will wonder what if she hadn't moved on to look for something better, could she have been happier? Was she is the reason, or was it that the movee did not love enough and hence gave up the pursuit so soon. The movee on the other hand, may wonder if the mover was indeed the best, and whether maybe the movee is better off without her. He may also wonder on the reasons why he gave up pursuit when he did. Was it because she really wasn't quite "the" person? Was his pursuit an exercise of being in love for the sake of being in love? Invariably, after several years after the love episode, the mover and the movee will wonder what they saw in the other that caused the affair. Was the other person even worthy of the love? Was it because the person was ready for love at that particular point and the other person happened to be there, and hence love occurred, much like the bards Midsummer Nights Dream. It may happen that they want to fall in love all over again with the same person! (And that what I guess the Reviewer of Ranjhaana was talking about)

However, such what-if reveries would also largely depend upon the manner of the breakup itself, from the time event when the breakup begins, and then the event itself, followed by the process of moving-on. Ah, but thats perhaps for another post!

Whom Not to Befriend

Some may call me prejudiced, but these words come from experience. Been-there-done-that-was-hurt-never-repaired.

Never to befriend ones tailor/seamstress/neighbourhood boutique's owner
Never to befriend ones beautician/hairdresser/masseuse
Never to befriend ones personal trainer/personal coach/yoga teacher

For all the above, you are a customer/client first, and a friend later. Also, they make themselves interesting to others by telling stories about their customers/clients and boasting about their confidence in them. Your confidences may well become the next most interesting story they share with others. Beware.

Never befriend your banker/lawyer
Never befriend a insecure jealous woman's husband
Never befriend your childs best friend

For all the above, your right place in their life is not as a friend. You are best where you are - at a arms length.

Never befriend your boss's boss
Never befriend your boss's wife/husband
Never befriend your boss's other subordinates

For all the above, your relationship with your boss will be the primary link, and any of these relationships will cause undue stress /impact on the boss relationship.

Goddess or Slut

Sometimes I wish I could be a wild slut than be your goddess.

Placing me on a pedestal binds me strong. Your look of adoration eats into my heart. How can you expect me to be perfect? I am not a goddess. but a woman, wild and wanton. I have my desires, and just like everyone else, I would like to attain them, means be damned.

But you....... You stop me. With your steadfast belief in my integrity and my sense of fair play. Your eyes are guileless, open and honest, with all your faults bared to me. You place your secrets on my feet, and burden me with your innocence and trust. I am your goddess, you tell me, and add that you, your secrets, your ambitions, your insecurities are safe with me. You add, I will never hurt you. You say, I will take care of you. You say, you trust me of being incapable of doing wrong. You ask favours of me and I give. You ask for help and I provide. Because I am your goddess and your goddess will always take care of you. Your goddess always puts you first, and can never do wrong.

You move away, your eyes still full with that worshipful look. Oh, if only you knew how that look makes me grit my teeth...

What if I told you that there are wicked thoughts in my head at times? What if I told you that I am tired of harbouring your needs and putting them before mine? What if I told you that when I see your secrets, they remind me of my own - pathetic, both. What if I told you that I am sick of helping you, because I would rather help myself first. What if I spilled my guts, your secrets, my sins, your ambitions and shred my robes and ran naked down on the street, dropping my beatific smile? What if I devoured children and bedded strangers in throes of lust?

Would you love me still? Would you worship me still? Would you want to hold me still?

Would you? Would you?

The Measure of Things

Despite my rant about money, I cannot but acknowledge that money is the most convenient and the most obvious measure for worldly success.

Just like marks (read grades) are the measure for intelligence. Just like the duration of a marriage is a measure for the love between the couple. Just like the beauty of a woman is measured by the number of men who desire her. Just like the worth of a painter is measured by the price his work commands.

If there were no readymade measures to assess the chaotic world that we live in, how would simple minded folks ever get by?

Measures are a necessary evil alright. But there are things beyond measure, where the human capacity to measure becomes subjective, and depends upon the viewers perspective. And often times, the measure that the world provides, such as money, grades etc falls short, woefully short. Thats just me, I guess. For most others, what the world provides as measures is good enough.

It is not the worlds fault that I have a wacky perspective of things. I am a dork. And I shall continue being so. And will continue paying a price for being so.

Dork. Dork. Dork.

Entitled to a Woman

(Image from the Internet)

Over the past weeks, I have met several young people of both genders, none of them married. I met some of them with their parents, who worry incessantly about finding the right life partner for their offspring. This is so typically Indian. Education, marriage and sometimes even a home, Indian parents want to do it all for their children, sometimes even at the cost of their own well-being and material pleasure.

I understand where these parents come from, though I do not like it. Afterall, I am one of them too. However, this note is not from the viewpoint of the parents, but from the young people's.

Young girls really really chafe about the fact that the men they would marry, as arranged by their parents, would be on the basis of the young man's education, the economic status of their home, the status in the society and so on. Not on the basis of whether they find these men attractive, like minded-ness etc, and sometimes even without these two qualities. The way the girl feels about the boy she would sleep with, and spend the rest of her life with, is expected to evolve - positively - post marriage.

On the other hand, young men feel no such trepidation. Young men, if they have been lucky enough to be born to affluent parents who have managed to give them good education and a good home, feel almost entitled to any girl their parents line up for them. It does not even OCCUR to them that the young girl, who is trading in her life, may not like him. And he does not care. He assumes that she would like him, and in most cases, love him. However, he would make no effort whatsoever to be worthy of her love. The reason for this is the fact that young boys in India have no clue how to behave with a girl. Also, this mechanism of parents arranging for the girls, makes it very convenient to ignore this touchy feelie territory. So, he sits back, and either chooses/rejects the girls his parents line up for him. He is entitled to his wife. Afterall, he is a male.

The arranged marriage relationship, no wonder, seems so awful to most young girls. The girls of the current generation - and truth be told, even the previous ones - do not like men who feel "entitled" to them. They would like to be woo-ed, won over, charmed and all the romantic things that their sensuous nature demands.

The Indian society, however, is not equipped to create such boys/men. And indian women have no alternative other than indian men in their geographies. No wonder, the indian marriage events are so huge, with parents creating a big smoke cover, to hide the inconvenient truth from the bride. Once married, the great indian system also provides no real exits for the girl. She is the one who will carry the burden of making the marriage work, ensuring all the needs of her husband are taken care of, his relationships are in place, and so is his house and children. The indian male focusses on being the provider, and nothing else. In case she fails to make the marriage work, she would be ostracized forever by the society. It really does not matter that her husband is a drunkard, or a insensitive lout, or simply someone who she cannot get along with, she is expected to carry the yoke without a murmur, as divorce is a ugly ugly word. The man, on the other hand, stands effortlessly on his impregnable citadel of patriarchy, and enjoys his entitlement of this woman he has married. Without making any effort to be the man of his bride would like him to be, and to treat her the way she would like to be treated. In most cases, the man would not have spared a single brain cycle on thinking about what his wife wants.

This entitlement system sucks.

The Sixth Sense

It seems to me that I lack one of the essential senses that is needed in the modern world to survive and thrive - a sixth sense of sorts. Of Money.

I am unable to sense how much does something costs, in terms of money. Unable to sense the value of something, in terms of money. I can only sense the pleasure/loss/pain from my five sensory senses and my emotions, which was probably adequate in some antiquated time, when money was not currency for every worldly thing.

Money by itself gives me no pleasure. Nor does losing it give me a sense of pain. What matters to me is the way I get pleasure when I buy an experience through money, or face pain by an emotional hurt when either a experience is denied to me since I did not have money, or the distress I feel when I am cheated out of it by someone I loved and trusted. When I cause someone else's money to be lost or used, either due to my bad advice or judgement, I feel an enormous amount of guilt though. None of that happens when I am blow up or gamble away my own money. It is as if I excuse myself with impunity of the bad decisions/judgement I make on money which is my own. I don't give myself the same immunity of excuse when dealing with others money. It is almost the other way around with people.

I do know what money means, but in abstract terms, not in visceral ones. Coming as I do from a "marwadi" family, my non-visceral understanding of money is a severe disadvantage. Everyone I meet professionally, expects me to be well versed with money matters. Specially my own, and also specifically so since I am an entrepreneur, supposedly someone who only credo is making money. I am an entrepreneur alright, but my credo is my work, my vision of what I am trying to create, my art if one can call it that - and I wish to make money through that. Not by any other means, but in the only way I respect of making money, by creating an artistic value, by creating something that is beautiful and functional both. I am idealistic enough (foolish enough, I call that in moments of sanity) to believe that money will come, if I create some experience that appeals to at least one of the senses for my potential customers and clients. Money by itself is not the end, the enhanced experience that I create for my customers and clients is. The only reward that I crave for.

I have often been cheated by fellow professionals and so called business partners, who assume that I must have taken care of my money first and foremost. They assume a certain money sense in me, and with impunity cheat me out of money that I trust with them. They assume that I would have gotten value out of them before I give money to them. Not so. I normally give money for value that I expect in the future. I have no other protection against thievery, other than a child like faith that the person I trust will abide by the emotion of trust I have placed with him. Consequently, I lose not only my money, but my trust and emotions as well. Its happened to me several times, this brazen misappropriation of my trust. Unfortunately, despite trying, I am not able to have a adequate perspective about money.

When others give me money for whatever reason, it weighs me down, and binds my soul. I am wary about accepting dinner invites, gifts from people, and even taking money for work rendered. I feel indebted to people who give me money - earned, reciprocated, bestowed, inherited - the reason for my having taken the money does not matter. In most cases, I have earned it. But still, if someone has given me money, I feel indebted to him/her for life. I then work my darndest to repay the debt, but though the money is perhaps paid back in full measure, I can't get over the feeling of being indebted. I can try gifting stuff back, inviting people over and over again to pay back their food debt, give stuff to them that I love and cannot bear to part with in desperation of the debt I feel, sometimes even money that I cannot afford to give - but there is no escaping from the feeling. I feel weighed down. Forever.

On the other hand, I hold no such expectations when I give money. That is given in love, with hope and with trust. In fact, I have issues in making people do things for tasks I have given money for. I find my employees cheating me, my maids cheating me, my partners pilfering money from customer accounts, and though all of this makes me really mad, I do not find that morally reprehensible, which it is.

I am just plain weird about money.

Nation of Pretenders

India is a nation of pretenders. Make Belief folks. Who go through life playing a role. Showing themselves to be something to the world which they are not. Focusing on the showing, rather than the doing.

Leaders who pretend to govern - but in reality, only interested in stuffing their own pockets with public money.

Students who pretend to learn - but in reality, only interested in passing the exam and getting a certificate which says they have learnt.

Workers pretending to work - but in reality, only marking time till the time-to-go-home bell chimes

Musicians pretending to make music - but in reality, only repeating their pitiful horde of 10 tunes

Fathers pretending to be caregivers - but in reality, only controlling their wife and children like chattels

Software developers pretending to be skilled - but in reality, only building their CV and not their skill set

Entrepreneurs pretending to run businesses - but in reality, only using their connections and greasing palms to get business

Women pretending to be equal partners - but in reality, refusing to part with a single penny to run the household

Actors pretending to be artists - but in reality, being just pretty faces with no capability to emote


As it is said in Hindi - Haathi ke danth, khane ke aur, aur dikhane ke aur. Pretenders - so many of them! Yes, there are a few genuine folks, but they are so so few, lamentably so.