Happiness

As fleeting and transient happiness is we keep chasing after her. (Yes I think happiness is a woman)
She is like a flirtatious beauty who revels in the constant and incessant attentions of her suitors. She is irresistible. She is easy on the eyes but quick on her feet.

And when we reach out to grab her, hold her, make her our own she just slips away....... Then she turns around and gives you this triumphant smile.

Sometimes she spends a little longer with you but it is guaranteed that she will leave.

Faithful to no one.... Possessed by no one..... Belonging to no one...... Coveted by all..... She loves making her suitors pine for her and miserable without her.

Her greatest pleasure is to see us in agony


Well, that's my theory.

Random musings

A troubled mind finds no rest........ It's true I can testify to that. No matter what you do, whatever distractions you opt for it just doesn't work.

There you are sitting in your little corner, miserable over nothing ( you realise that in hindsight apparently). You try to shake it off. Splurge on ice cream and chocolates, seek the company of friends, go ahead and do something really stupid and regrettable. But it changes nothing.

Only makes it worse.

Hey how do I just wait here and repeat to myself, 'This too shall pass'

Can't it pass a little faster?

Time will heal. (I sincerely hope so)

It's been a while now. Things have changed. Circumstances. Addresses. Friends. Confidantes.
I feel like I have a new lease on life. A second chance. A new beginning.

And yet you are not a part of it. And you probably never will. It's hard. Staying away. Living without you. But I must.

Because life goes on.

Selfish interests????

I hate change. I like the things the way they are. So long as they are the way I want them to be. But they are never so. So i want things to change. But let this be noted I hate change.

Have I gone insane? Or was I always insane. I think I am going into those moods again. But really if you think about it I would probably make sense. Ifyou care to listen that is. And pay some attention.

I was accused of writing to please. Of trying hard to write. Well, I just write when I am too overwhelmed or when I have an impulse to. Sometimes, ok maybe most times it's crap, (I personally wouldn't like to call it so..... mediocre... I think we could go with mediocre). But I like it.

And yes I like it when people say they liked my post or liked a phrase I coined. It's nice. I am writing to be read. But more so I am writing for myself. Because I like it. I enjoy it.

Is there anything wrong with that?

"I wanna paint"

The magic that a brush can wield is just amazing. Lifelike scenes, the breathtaking portrayal of every human emotion. Every muscle that expands or constricts. It captures everything.
Just one look at the picture makes such a deep impact. One can identify the mood, imagine the situation, spin a story around the picture, do so many magical things. One can let oneself be sucked into a Wonderland. Get lost in that frozen moment.
A moment gone by is saved for a long long long time by the magical brush in the hands of a gifted artist. Till nature, of course, wields her destructive wand. Nothing lasts forever right.

And so you return from Wonderland. You withdraw from that picture and you say,"I wanna paint".

I want my Innocence back!

That's right. I want it back. I wasn't ready when you took it away. You didn't give me the time to think of the consequences. You were like the devil in Bedazzled. Promised me wonderful things, showed me the wildest sights and you told me that all I see could be mine. All I want. In the measure I want.

You lied.

And now I am miserable. I wish I had never met you. Never set sight on you. You were my death knell.
It is all flashing before me. The intoxication. The joyride. Self destruction. My uncertain, unsteady steps along your path.

Here I am now, broken, bruised, vulnerable, miserable.
Give me back those days when just going to the zoo was like the coolest thing ever and the trip made me the happiest kid on earth. Those uncomplicated, carefree, wonderful, beautiful days. Give me back me minus all the bad memories, the terrible mistakes, the foolish decisions and the ugly people.
Just give me back my innocence. Please.

Confessions

I wouldn't really call them confessions. More like confiding in someone. You tell them about your life, your secret affairs, you reveal that part of you which is safely hidden away from the world.

While narrating the memories, some forbidden, some bittersweet, some painful you relive them, recount them, experience them again and you are surprised to find that those memories matter. Slowly you peel off every layer and you show forth yourself to this person. At times, you yourself cannot recognise this person that emerges through the narration of your experiences.

And then you realise that you cease to be acquaintances. You are friends now.

Thank you for confiding in me. Friend.

Oral fixation

I love Shakira. I think she is gorgeous. Oozes sex appeal and is a great dancer, not to mention a talented singer as well and yet inspite of all this she seems to be highly affected or shall I say disturbed by a particular attribute of hers.
She has been obsessing over it in so many of her songs. "My breasts are small and humble so you don't confuse them with mountains". Also "Next to her cheap Silicone I look minimal. That's why in your eyes I am invisible".
Is she pointing it out herself so that she does not feel humiliated when someone else does or is she trying to make a statement. "Hey! I don't care. I am tiny. Big deal". But the very fact that she mentions it over and over means she cares. A lot.
Why do we waste our time trying to please men? Or get their attention, affection, devotion? End of the day do they really make us feel good? Or loved, wanted, beautiful, precious, anything positive at all? And if they do, for how long? Do we somehow always end up feeling shortchanged?
We are troubled, anxious, conscious of each and every flaw in ourselves. Be it physical, emotional, anything. Why do we constantly flog ourselves over them?
One thing I like about men is that they come to terms with their flaws. Actually love themselves for their flaws. Flaunt them. They are proud of them. They even hone them. They make them sharper, crueller, more hurtful.
And hell we love them for that. That is what draws us to them. The BAD BOY! Just like iron nails are drawn to a magnet. There is nothing the nails can do to resist the pull. The only choice is to give in, let go and to be drawn.
Point is men are just as confused and disillusioned and vulnerable as we are. They just don't kill themselves for being so.
Your flaws are what make you you. Each of your quirks, your idiosyncrasies define you. Make you stand apart, make you different from the sea of humanity inhabiting the earth. Change the things you can if they bother you or others too much. But essentially be yourself.

So all you Shakiras don't waste your time mulling over some unchangeable, inconsequential, pointless, meaningless, unimportant flaws of your own and stop trying to become another person in order to please the current man in your life. Instead indulge yourself, take pride in yourself, be your own biggest fan and you'll realise that you don't need a man to make you feel wonderful

Disappeared?

I have been meaning to write for quite a few days now. Quite a few thoughts entered my mind and well, each of them left when they didn't get their deserved attention! As always time didn't stop. So many days have gone by and I haven't written anything.
Suddenly, a feeling of dread has gripped me
What if I lose the ability to write?
There are a few things that are very important to me.
One of them being being able to write whatever's on my mind. My dreams, my fancies, my stories, the wanderings of my mind, the people I come across, the people I create. I want to write about it all.
And what if some day I can't? Panic!

Idle mind devil's workshop??

That's how the wise men put it. All my writing skills seem to come into action only during absolutely jobless times. I withdraw into a little corner of my mind, shut myself out to the others, to the painful world, to strained relations, to heartache, activities, duties, responsibilities and just unwind in my personal space.
When my mind is at rest or is struggling to hold onto something good and positive I let my thoughts wander, wherever they please. Into forbidden lands, unchartered territories, to places my life will probably never take me.
And during these wanderings I say to myself that it will all be better someday and life has something nice in store for me. It may not happen today, may not tomorrow either but it will someday.
Then I picture myself happy and I see in my mind's eye that all is well.


But my greatest fear is that a day will come when I am too busy to be there for myself. What will happen then?

Blank

Sometimes one just sits there staring at the wall (here the computer) waiting for this spark, this inspiration or a divine revelation, or a stroke of creative genius but all one draws is a blank.
And it takes superhuman strength to not succumb to the feeling of lethargy and unproductiveness.
All I can think of to motivate me is 'How dull it is to rust unburnished, not in use'

But then again I'm no Ulysses

Firsts..........

What is it that's so magical about firsts? Your first paycheck, the first kiss, first bike, first love, all firsts. They make you smile, make your hair stand on end, make you feel like you are at the right place, at the right time. (I don't know about you but that's something that very rarely happens to me)
It feels like the whole universe just came together and chose to make you happy. Out of the blue. You are just sitting there and boom!!!! something wonderful, unexpected, something absolutely and totally beyond words happens.
Hmmmmmm all you can do is smile. Till your face hurts.

Hey do tell me about any of your such moments.

Parents love

Is it possible to just keep loving a person? Through all their ups and downs, changes in loyalties, in attitudes, in behaviour, in nature? Somehow parents find it in themselves to do that.
You could be a compulsive liar, a kleptomaniac, an arrogant, indignant one, you could be discovered in the middle of the night in the company of the opposite sex in your room, you could get yourself pregnant, you could be a rapist, a murderer, a "pussy whipped" (I quote a dear, silver tongued, very vociferous, articulate and cogent friend) husband, you could have a thousand affairs, you could be the worst person alive and yet they would continue to love you, to feel for you, to pray for you, to accept you, to want to reform you.
The Holy Bible says,"A man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife and the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh." Matthew Ch 19 Vs 5 and 6.
So once we're married we owe the people who conceived us, bore us, made us, nurtured us, provided us with a comfortable life and opportunities nothing. We just shake the dust off our hinds, put our arms around our life partner and walk away! To our own world, one without the interference and the nuisance and the unsolicited yet freely given guidance from parents. How come we can't tolerate their shortcomings? But they accept every flaw, every despisable, loathsome characteristic of ours. How selfish, ungrateful and cruel can we get?

The scenario is no different for unmarried ones. We want our freedom. We want to be left alone. We feel stifled and claustrophobic under the wings of our makers. We loathe them, disrespect them, disobey them, hurt them, insult them, criticise them, bad mouth them. We want to be on our own. Making our own mistakes, choices, paving our own way. Without them.

And yet they just keep on loving us.

Sometimes I wonder why do couples trade in their happiness, freedom life to devote their entire lives, every breathing moment for the care, development and well being of their own children. Only to be rejected and discarded when they require the same care and love and affection. My parents chose to have me. And to keep me. For that I am grateful.

Mommy, Papa I love you. I am sorry for letting you down in the past. I hope someday I make you proud. And you can hold your head high and say,"That's my daughter!"

Happy birthday mommy. (I know this entry is two days after your birthday) but I want to wish you all the same.
Thank you for everything. For protecting me, for nagging me endlessly (IT would be nice if we could reduce the dosage though!). For just being there. Always.

What is most amazing is knowing that I can count on you forever and no matter what I do or what I become you would still want me.

Thank you Mommy!

What are the properties of man?

No this post is not some sorta male bashing. (Though there are quite a few who deserve that right now!) I mean properties of mankind. Remember Science class? Let's see.

• Can think.
• Speaks languages. (Hey maybe animals do too. Lions in the Gir probably speak differently from those in Africa)
• Covers body with man made things. (Not all do that. Hi Janet Jackson, Jessica Simpson)
• Invents machines in order to lessen own workload.
• Wages wars.

But if you were to ask me I would say
Is self-destructive.... Look at everyone. Each of us is bent upon destroying ourselves, maybe physically through cigarettes, drugs, alcohol or an unhealthy lifestyle or by burning ourselves out through overwork, overworrying, trying too hard too please or destroying ourselves emotionally by either being the culprit or the victim, by playing dangerous mind games, by allowing significant others walk all over us or walking all over them ourselves, by being over critical of ourselves and others or by just not caring about ourselves or others. We abuse ourselves. Physically, mentally, psychologically, spiritually.
The means vary. But the result is the same.
We are driving at a 150 miles per hour on a road that ends in a deep ravine towards a sure death.
Each us wants to push our limits. We crave for excitement. To live it up. Dangerously. For some the limits are a mug of beer. For some its tattoos. Women. Men. Success. Money. Fame. Pain.

Every dam thing we do. Every choice we make we are somehow destroying ourselves. Or helping others destroy themselves.

You know what else man is? Man is both ductile and malleable.
Just like metals...
Others have taught us to walk, to talk, to write, to think (not really but kinda), have moulded us, shaped us into being the persons we are. Have you ever played with babies? It's so much fun to bend them in every possible way and see their "I am loving this" smile. But seriously, our parents, teachers, other influences have shaped us. Not one person but many people have made significant contributions to who we are.
And O boy can we withstand pressure???
Every step of our lives we have had problems, hard times, tough situations, struggles, turmoils and we live past it don't we? We have grown because of these. Grown bitter maybe, but it has made a difference.
Do you see where I am going here? And well some of us break once in a while but so do metals!
Each of us has a threshold of pain, of being able to withstand tough times even good times, to withstand bad relationships, betrayal, failure, indifference.

Beyond that we will break

Change- I resolve

We all play the blame game all the time. It's one of my favourites. I keep attributing my woes to others.
That changes from today.
I take full responsibility for what I am, who I am and what I have done in the past.
Yes I am selfish and yes I am hurtful and arrogant and irresponsible and I have erred.
I have not been a good daughter. Far from it. I have been the cause for a lot of worry, suffering, anxiety.

I resolve to change.
Times change, people do, relationships too, so must I for the better. As difficult as that's going to be its gotta be done.

The farce that is human relations

I've always prided myself on the fact that I speak whatever's on my mind. Noone else seems to like that particular quality of mine. Especially those who have been on the receiving end of my not so pleasant free speaking.

More importantly I hate those people who are so sweet on the surface and they're probably thinking "I wish someone would just kill her". They tell you stories of their childhood and then they tell the significant person in your life how terrible a person you are. In your absence of course.

One can cope with an enemy as long as he or she is before one. But how does one fight guerrilla warfare?

An enemy that attacks you when you are weakest. When you least expect it. And destroys what is most precious to you. Destroys that which is your strength.

And an enemy, who then in broad daylight claims to be your friend. If not friend, your well wisher.

These entangled human relations get to you. What do you do when your own blood turns against you?

Nobody is making a claim here that you are the most perfect individual that ever walked this earth. But you are most certainly not the worst.

In time, gradually one learns to recognise the farce that is human relations

Choices are mere illusions

Choices are mere illusions. A helpless hapless individual. Somehow everyone else decides the course of your life for you. You are unmanageable, they say. We cant trust you they say. You can't look after yourself. You're not responsible enough.
You need to make a career. You need to become someone.
Do all this but don't get out of the house. Don't meet people. Stay away from fun. We would like it best if we knew for sure your miserable. Don't even think of falling in love.

You are too opinionated. Difficult to handle. To control. You have too short a fuse. Do something about that temper of yours. You make it difficult for people to love you, to trust you, to be with you.

Never mind all this. Are you not aware of the fact I will see no logic? You will have to live according to our traditions.

If I am half as bad as you make me out to be then I am a hazard to myself. Get me away from me. Tear me apart. Make me your little prized possession. That mute, lifeless doll.
Finally when you think I am ripe and ready give me off to some inebriated, chauvinistic, desperate, well oiled, well lubricated, thriving on pornography, disgusting pervert. For the rest of my miserable life I will be miserable in his arms. Or at his feet.

Teenage angst

As a teenager: I wanna live life my way.

Parents reply with: You will do as we say

In your twenties now: I can do as I please. You can't tell me what to do anymore. I can make my choices and my mistakes myself now. And learn on my own.

Parents: O no you won't. Where did you get such an idea from? I (parents are one entity right) shall decide what you do, who you will marry and then after marriage your husband will decide what is best for you. I will decide because I know better and I have more experience. I am wise. I do not let emotions control my actions. I think ahead and, most importantly, I want the best for you.

Twenty something retorts: Don't you think it's time I learn things myself? You wish the best for me. I am aware of that. But somewhere I need to learn to survive outside this cocoon of your shelter. Your care. Your love.
I need to breathe as a seperate person.
I need to cut the umbilical cord.
Maybe I will mess things up. Maybe I will be a failure. But the mess, the failure will be mine. All mine.

Isn't my life my own?

Am I to blame?

Enveloped in grief I am.
An awful truth I have learnt.
An innocent child I was born.
But the stars said I was a murderer.
I brought with me the death of the older one.
Was I an ill omen, an evil one, an ogbanje?

I am guilty of a crime I did not commit.
I did nothing. Yet it is my fault.

I brought it with my birth.
I write this for myself.
Cause noone else would understand.

Thank God I do not believe in the signs of the stars and prophecies of the zodiac !

And yet I ask myself......
Am I to blame?

Get off that ass!

Time is slipping, pressure is mounting, stakes are on the upward trend, the fever is building, tension, apprehension and fear have surrounded me. And yet I ain't doing nothing.

What does it take for man (In this case woman) to get off his (her) ass and get cracking, get working and achieving.
Motivation I have. Knowledge about the benefits and the pay offs, I have that too. Calibre, well I'm quite certain that there is enough evidence of the presence, although maybe slight of that too.

I tried that scaring myself into work deal. Failed!
The carrot before the bunny trick. Nope. Nothing.
Everyone's doing it. Your the only one who isn't!!!!!
Dam I'm thick.

Well I'm at my wits end. At a loss for words, breath, anger, peak of frustration, motivation, threat.
And yet, here I am just where I started.

Time is slipping.......... I'm doomed!

Journey

Just like a leaf that is lifted up by the wind and taken to new, unfamiliar, unfathomed places am I. For the leaf the world was the tree and the ground below and the sky above. But now it learns there's more. A lot more.
In the same way for me my world was the sweet little city I lived in. But now after having lived away I know otherwise.
People have come into my life. I have made friends, found a mentor, a teacher, a confidante, an advisor, an entertainer, a support system, a source of strength, a best friend, actually a few best friends. I have made discoveries about myself.

But the time has come for the wind to come lift me up and take me to a new world.
I am torn between my attachments and the adventure that awaits. I find it hard to let go.

But I do know that I will take them with me wherever life takes me. They will always remain close to me. As they are now a part of me!

Beautiful notes!

I lost myself in the notes of the violinist in church today. He has a gift. He can move you. Can pierce through that hardened, much abused, distorted, mutilated, maligned, twisted, sinful, lost soul and touch the dying good in you.
At the cost of sounding cliched and being laughed at and ridiculed and belittled I must say that I felt like this little lost creature, terribly afraid and ashamed because she had been bad and had strayed away and done exactly what she had been taught not to. I felt like this clueless tiny speck who wanted to get back home but didn't know how. I was a shadow that had lost its body. I was tired and hungry and thirsty. And I thought I was going to fall when I heard those BEAUTIFUL NOTES!
They said to me, "All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you."
Those notes seemed to embrace me and say, "Hey! No matter what I will always love you. It wasn't for nothing that I died on that cross. It was for you."

I felt joy, I felt peace, I felt special, I felt Safe.

I'm the King of the Jungle

After three years in Bangalore I finally went to the Banerghatta National Park. Luckily for me a friend of mine had an especially good friend who was a vet with the lion and tiger rescue centre. So, being the privileged ones we got to play with tiger cubs! The most adorable, gorgeous tiger cubs I have ever set sight on. (Not like i've seen any before, but i'm sure even if I do I'll like these more)
Once they were let out of the cage and we were safely out of the mother's reach, we threw ourselves upon the striped creatures. They whimpered and scratched and expressed their absolute displeasure and sufferance to be in the hands of man about whom mother had warned them.
The nicest half an hour ever for us and pure torture for them.
Then we saw the mighty lions and tigers, each of them looking at us warily. We saw the catwalk of a magnificent, young, beautiful, royal, vain tigress who seemed to be showing herself off to us, for us to admire and adore. We saw a lioness in heat driving the lions around her crazy. (How typical of females!) We were just mute spectators marvelling at these predators, experiencing awe, fear and a kind of reverance even though they were not in the wild and we were safe. But how do you escape those piercing eyes!
And then this lion gives out the most ferocious roar I have ever heard. Seemed to me like he was saying, "I maybe in a cage but Im still the lion around here. If you dont watch out ill bite your head off".

blue.....bitter......broken

I searched the depths of my soul
to learn what makes me whole

In all my life I see
the moments empty, painful, lonely and a desolate me

Why can't I remember the happy days,
the smiles, the laughs and the carefree ways?

I have long stopped looking in the mirror
afraid to see what will look back at me, the terror!

I am hanging onto the very last threads
of faith, of hope, of tolerance! I am in shreds

Why this anguish, this bitterness, this despair?
Am I now, beyond repair?

Identity

An important assignment has lately been playing on my mind. Universal birth registration. A piece of paper that tells me and the world who I am, gives me my identity.
My parents being the good citizens that they are have registered my date, place, circumstances of birth and that parchment very dutifully mentions the names of these two wonderful people who brought me into this world.
Then how come I still don't know who I am, where I belong or what i deserve!

I have before me an ocean of choices. But I am hopelessly and it seems to me irrevocably and irredeemably lost. I envy those times when you just had a couple of options to choose from. As frustrations on the job are guaranteed anyways I'd rather get it done with sooner!
The guillotine has to chop my head off. Why delay? (What a happy thought!)

So let me back back to those nagging questions.
Who am I? Where am I headed?

Things to do

I've just got to do these!!!!!!

• Win an argument against my brother
• Beat up any smart alec who thinks he has free access to body (HOW DARE HE think he can touch me on the street/ public spots if he so wishes.) The nerve!!!!!!!
• Write a best seller
• Travel
• Learn to salsa and play a musical instrument too
• While we're at it I also wanna belly dance to 'whenever wherever'
• Live a year in some remote, beautiful, heavenly locale tucked safely away from the sight of relatives, friends or acquaintances on my own terms doing whatI please
• Shop for 24 hours non stop
• Marry Johny Depp!!!!!!!!!

Imagination, desire, want

Imagination, desire, want
A really adorable speaker mentioned these words at a seminar today and it got me thinking (on a tangent to the point that he was making, but in my case that is usually how it goes). Ahem! Getting back to my thoughts.
Do we live through our existence or exist through our life on this earth by just stretching, chasing or fulfilling our imagination, our desires and our wants? Our life force, the fuel that keeps us going in this mad rush or this acute, agonising, most times exasperating need to achieve, to get somewhere, to say something profound or do something brilliant, or memorable or commendable.
I, for sure, want to wake up every morning and have my creative juices flowing, and work towards getting all that I desire. Use my imagination to earn myself a good life, be a great daughter and a fantastic lover and in good time a super mom!
Hey we all have to have something to live for right?

Trigger

Why is genius born from tragedy and talent honed by suffering? Be it a son falling from the 53rd floor that gives birth to Tears inHeaven. Or the memory of a critical father or one who entered the room at night with dark intentions.
Can't masterpieces be born from happiness? Not pain. Not anguish. Not substance. Not terror. Not tragedy.

Holiday!

O god this is no write up about that ghastly movie, which goes by the same name, that’s doing the rounds these days. Some of my friends and I went on a holiday recently. We were a group that came together to make a movie. And this holiday was a celebration of its completion.

And what a holiday! Sun, beaches, amazing food, a hottie who distracted us no end and who was a treat to sore eyes and a sky that was crowded with stars. If that’s not enough for you add a couple of fire dancers, bonfires and o so adorable dolphins!!!!

It was a respite from reality. And I have brought back proof of my affair with the sun in the western sky in terms of a terrible tan!

Floating in the sea with the sun caressing you, hurting you being the harsh lover that he is and you just laying there with not a care in the world, soaking him up.

Now that’s a holiday!

Irrevocable acts of indiscretion

• When you tell someone exactly what you think of them, their haircut, their dress, their love interest, their food or their child. Or their weight.
• When what’s on your mind in on your lips without any censorship.
• When you let someone know how much they mean to you.
• When you let a girl in on your deepest, darkest secrets and tell her to keep mum about it.
• When you call an old flame (it saw a bitter end) and you say to him amidst tears, and snivelling and gasps for breath, “I didn’t know who else to call”.
• When you tell a friend, his/her current is too good for him/her.
• Your in a relationship and you tell the other exactly what you feel all the time.
• You tell a friend who's had a bitter break up and who is still hung up on the ex, "He has found someone else".
  
• You’ve been going out for seven days and you tell him what your kids will look like.
• When you decide to make your mom your best friend and in your enthusiasm, you tell her about your amorous deeds or worse still, you tell her what you want to do if let loose on your current interest.

dismal story

Anamika

Once in a while one is overcome by some thought, some urge which distracts you no end, threatens to incapacitate you until you give in. Well, I am now overcome by this sudden urge to write. That having said the next thought is…. well what do I write. Should it be a story on the lines of the musk deer that went looking all over the wild for the source of that heavenly scent, throws himself off a cliff only to find in his dying moments that it was emanating from him all along? Or should it be the story of a naïve little girl who lives in the hope of finding love, if such a thing exists?

When one is not so confident about oneself and one’s abilities, one seeks a definition of self from the opinions of others. This in most cases is disastrous as in the case of Anamika.

The highly impressionable Anamika was greatly enamoured and inspired by the movie, ‘Pretty Woman’. She imagined herself to be the beautiful Julia Roberts, a victim of cruel circumstances, compelled to do shameful deeds so as to survive, and yet not losing the beauty of her soul, only to be saved by a handsome Richard Gere who looks past her actions and her status in society. She felt that he was made only to hold her in his arms and to love her. Forever.

Anamika pined for such love and for her handsome young prince. But for the moment she had to discover herself. She came from a wonderful family, one of achievers with a staunch faith in God. Each of them knew what they wanted and worked to get it and, needless to say, got it, except for poor little Anamika. She was better than average in most things though not the best at any. She was intelligent but no genius. She was attractive too but no Helen. And she was acutely conscious of these facts. She constantly looked within herself to find that single unique characteristic that made her special, that made her her. As she couldn’t find the answer herself she began to look elsewhere, wherever there appeared a glimmer of hope that she might find it. In the process she learnt a lot about others, about different people.

First and foremost she realised that men sought convenience. Always. She held it against them, initially. But then she understood that that is how they are. They always say and do things that are most convenient to them. Not necessarily intentionally. At least not with the motive to hurt. But if at this moment it is convenient for them to love you, they will. The instant it is not they won’t.

As for women, they seek acceptance and security. And they are naïve enough to forgo their self esteem, their values and all that is dear to them if there is even a remote possibility of finding them. As years passed and she grew in experience Anamika became disillusioned with life. She saw around her people constantly making compromises, making the best of what they have. She saw people change. She saw relationships change. She discovered the impermanence of everything. And it dawned on her that there is no handsome prince. No perfect love. No blind and complete acceptance of one another. No happily ever after.

There is only hope. Hope that somehow life will turn out to be not so bad.