My mum’s favourite lines

Carefully picked from my mum's repository. My reactions to all these would vary from defiant stare to tearful sob to indifferent eye-roll.

• I think we got the wrong baby home from the hospital.
• Did I bring you up to think and act like THIS?
• Where did I go wrong with you?
• Why of all the girls in the world are only YOU like this?
•  I think this is God’s way of testing me.
• I need strength.
• No sane mother will put up with all this.
• May be I did a lot of paavam in my previous jhanmam.
• You are old enough. You are not a child anymore.
• Look at your hair.
• Are you going out wearing THAT???
• Did you look at the mirror?
• You need more clothes?? No, seriously?
• Don’t you have anything else to wear? (the answer will trigger the previous line. Vicious circle)
• I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. Tell me again. Why?
• Are you mad? You need to meet a shrink.

But her favourit-est one, whatever said and done:

I have the best daughter in the whole world!!!! :D

Aww. Love you ma :-)

       

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind

Random stuff that has been swirling around my head past few days.

A woman can intuitively sense it when her man means what he says, when he doesn’t. When he lies and when he is faithful. When he ‘goes into his cave’ and when he wants to talk. But why, why can’t a woman just KNOW for sure that it would click with someone when she sees him for the first time? We can’t go wrong with the secondary aspects. But we stumble so much when it the primary aspect in question.

Why is it that the closer we get, the more we fight? Differences that never mattered get highlighted. Trivial things achieve volcanic proportions. Why is it that people act cool with everything in the beginning- and then all of a sudden, have a problem with the same issues?

Why can’t men say what they have in their mind? And then there are all these jokes about how a woman means yes when she says no, and says no when she means yes. The biggest joke of all is a man who has a song in his heart and cannot bring himself to sing it. Sometimes he might hum it and give us hope. But there it ends.

Why is it drilled into our head that it is the man who has to say it and never the woman? Why can’t we bring ourselves to change it?

What is the best thing that can happen to you?

Why can’t we bring ourselves to be happy with what we have? Why do have to keep wishing for more? Screw motivational theories. Where did all the “self-motivation is the way” go?

Why is it that the greatest happiness comes from the smallest things?

Why is it that the most unachievable things seem so important..and once you do reach them- they seem so banal?

“Dissatisfaction is the nature of existence. Unanswered questions are the only answers.”- Karan Bajaj, Keep off the grass (highly recommended)

Sigh.

Bleeding Blue?

     During some moments when there is time aplenty for retrospection and reminiscence, I get into flashback mode to my school and college days. A major chunk of both involved athletics/volley ball/foot ball practice, and playing a multitude of other games like basket ball, kho-kho, kabbadi, tennicoit, badminton (and TT at which I failed miserably- blame it on the miniscule balls), throwball, hand ball..on and on.

     What I remember vividly of these sessions is- more than anything, the adrenaline rush that a competitive event gave me. Though it was remarkably lesser during a team event like volley ball or football, it cannot be wholly discounted either. I remember my first goal (aHA!) and most of my in-the-field mishaps. Silly, but costly errors. Costly enough to lose the match. But yeah, they say- participation is the word. Blah blah.

     I remember better events that required individual participation. Athletics for example. I was not a serious participant though, but with all the playfulness, reaching the inter-zone and state levels was not really bad. And I loved the sprint events. They would be over before you bat an eyelid. But ofcourse- the stress that you underwent till the “GO” or gun shot was a sort of pained-pleasure. You needed it to give you the winning boost. And when you ran- nothing would sound in your ears. The only thing in sight would be the finish line. And you would hear yells and and vague people calling your name, but it simply wouldn’t register. And in the end- win or loss- it would be on my head. Because nobody but I worked for it, and nobody but I deserved it. This seems acceptable doesn’t it?

     

     Two days back, the Indian cricket team brought the World cup home. Brilliant job! Excellent display of team spirit. Some clear and cool headed captaincy by Dhoni. Applaud worthy. I shouldn’t comment- because I did not watch a single ball or run. I constructively spent time catching up on my reading. And anyway I had not the least feeling of missing the happenings because my Facebook homepage was filled with second by second updates of the match. Everybody- I mean, EVERYBODY had an opinion about the match. Everybody was obligated to give their EXPERT (?) comments on the happenings. Everybody felt they were duty bound to curse/condemn players who gave away runs/missed a catch/played crappy cricket. Seriously- how much more personal could this get?!!

     I understand the familial ties that bind the game to every single Indian- in India and abroad. But- yeah, there’s always a BUT, how mad could things get? Apparently, a spectator had a heart attack in the stadium and collapsed when a player get out- the news was hushed for fear that it might eclipse the victory, I heard that Barack Obama wondered aloud what magic the game held that every time India played one, his country’s productivity sank by 5%. Emotions raged wild- so wild that on the day of the Indo-Pak match, I was glared at for having worn green! And people were so vehemently Anti-Pakistan..you would wonder if Education DID solve any problems! But there you go. And from what I know- somebody prove me wrong, if I am, Players don’t give a damn if you yell for them or not. They would be too involved in the game to even hear you, and if they do, it might probably cause a dent in their concentration. We make them gods. We hike their market prices. We SET their market rates more like. They play to earn their living. We watch them play- and lose ours. (I know enough people who went on Loss-of-Pay leaves when India played). Who loses? No answer. But who gains? I will say nothing.

     God knows how much profit Nike made with Their “I Bleed Blue” campaign.(Thanks Sid for that line of thought!)