I am muddled in the head...

It is yet another day, and no, I am not one to live life as if it were a dreary chore.
But I am muddled in the head...so much so, that I don't know what am I to do, whether I should speak to people, if I must do what I want or what I am expected to be doing.

My head is whirring with a thousand (perhaps that is an understatement of sorts) thoughts...about life, and death, and the futility of it all.
About relationships (of any kind and form), about work, about anything and everything that qualifies for 'anything' in this life. And then there is the 'next'...

Like the past two posts, this too goes live sans proof reading...my head and mind, both refuse their office.
If you are reading this, perhaps you understand or have been through such a phase yourselves. If you have not, you just might some day...i find myself ending up 'searching' for ways to cheer up on the WWW. My head is clouded, perhaps shrouded...I feel I am lost.

Here's to everything and anything that qualifies as a confounding factor in life, everyone and anyone who has ever been confounded ( more often than not) by life, death, and everything in between...

It is this whiz and whirr I hear,
It is not my mind, or head; It is just Fear;
I do not even know if it is so, for fears don't baseless-ly show.

I am shocked and shut,
Too tired to think, I say;
I am confused and confounded by Life, and Death, and everything in between,
Too numbed and muted by it, those and them; too lost in translation.

There is this uneasy gloom that o'erhangs,
As if there is something abrew...I am inert, to everything and everyone,
'Ere long, I hope it will melt away or is that making a wish too soon?

I feel this heaviness weigh me down,
I can feel it as I would an iron slab o'er me.
I lose a beat or two every now and then, and I also lose some peaceful sleep.

Quietened me all this has,
For I know not where to begin,
All my irrational acts I think,
Are a mechanism to just coax me to break this jinx.

Yet, here I am,
All confused and confounded;
Yet, here I am,
All the more dumb-founded.

As I pen this little piece, I hope it all ends,
As I share with you my thoughts,
I hope I don't turn insane;

I'm sighing and breathing heavily,
Yes, that I just did.
As long as , these tricks, just loosen the lid.
I wish to shed a tear or two,perhaps to make myself feel at ease.

This sense o'er-hanging my heart must be sent packing with haste,
I look forward to sunny days and not let this Life go waste;
Here's Hope and a prayer for peace to my mind,
All I know is that my Maker is rather kind;
He will tighten the hold only as much as I can bear,
For as they say, "If He has put you in it, He will see you're out of there!"

For They Were There...

Here's to 22 May, 2010!!!
And to 'Them'!!

I was scared, nay, petrified. I would perspire at the very thought of it. The minute I stepped close to one, my heart skipped not one, but 75 beats a minute. I would look, and stare at them, as they surfaced, and then vanished, moved either up and up or down and down. Ceaseless. That motion had me on the edge. All exercises to bring on the 'calm', failed! Big time!!

I remember creating quite a mess for those who tried I get the hang of them. Unabashedly, I would tell them that they would only end up making a fool of themselves and the entire effort would embarrass them in the bargain.

When I entered spaces and facilities that would qualify as little less than high rises, I would scurry to spot fire exits and elevators. I would excuse myself and run on the hunt. I would cite excuses to the tune of 'being health conscious' (yes, I can almost hear some of you grimace and sneer ;) ... so hush, hush!!). I would even quote the last deadly encounter I had with them...almost 10 years back.

One day, I found myself desperately seeking the fire exits, so much so, that my younger brother patted my back with a congratulatory pat, and said, "now that's what we call 'survival instinct!'
Nay. I was not embarrassed, for I was sure I could never ever do it again.

I was so very petrified of getting onto escalators.
Then came the 22nd of May, 2010.

Three of my pals from college and I went gallivanting. Agenda: to loaf around. We stepped into a shopping mall and my heart started racing. While the rest of them headed towards the escalators in the basement, I ran to the nearest fire exit.
They were sweet enough to follow suit and climb the stairs with me.
Each time they obliged. At times they waited while I hunted for exits and elevators, and then waited until we got the chance to step into a relatively empty one. Soon, 'twas time to return.

No, they said, they would not let me run to look for fire exits or elevators now. My heart stopped beating and I looked as if I was freshly out of some high end sauna. I coaxed them with my smile first and then cajoled them with a thousand 'please-s' and more.

No. They were not going to listen. Not today. I had to do it they said. My usual reasoning that they would waste their time and I would embarrass them, took me no where today. They were simply not going to listen to any of my pleadings.

I remember their words, "we can wait for you Vasu, for an hour, for two...even more. Today, however, you have to step onto it!"
"You must conquer this fear". Nay. I did not give in. I did not budge. We stood their. five minutes passed, and then ten. It was soon twenty minutes of pleadings and encouragement...and then thirty. People passed by, watching in amazement, for each time I would step closer to the escalator and then inch backwards. After uncountable "please excuse me-s", and constant you-can-do-it encouragement from the trio, I stepped close to it again. Then ran right back.

It was an hour later that they said, "okay, let us make a deal...one of us steps onto it before you, and one after. One will be right next to you, holding your hand." Again, we stepped closer to it, one of them stepped onto it. I shied yet again.

Finally, they said, "what are you afraid of?". "Of falling and tripping onto it," said I.
"We will not let you fall. One in front of you , one behind, and one by your side. We say step, and you just step. Don't fail us then. Again, we will not let you fall, Vasu", said they.
Finally, all said, " trust us. We will not let you fall.".

The last of their so many words got me thinking. Here were three friends, who had been patient long enough. If that day, I would not have stepped onto it, they would not have said any thing. Yet, I would have lost. This struggle against myself, and the fear of escalators. Also, some amount of respect in my own eyes.

One stepped. The one next to me held onto my hand. "Step", said the friend, and I did. I lost a beat, and while the third stepped after us, I felt comforted, and reassured. It was a moment of mixed emotions. Of having conquered this ten-year-long fear, of being blessed with friends so patient and kind, and of the knowledge of being in safe company. Then there was this feeling of , "what a fool I had been all of these years.

They then made me practise. Twice and then thrice, and finally a fourth time, before we left for home. They 'yay-ed' me throughout. They patted me on the back. They celebrated my little victory. I can never ever forget the alertness with which each would be perceptive the minute I would step onto the escalator, for they knew, that I was scared.

I am no longer scared of getting onto one. Albeit holding hands. Yet, there always is a first time...and always a first step. Thanks to the trio! I feel so precious and blessed!!

P.S.: Could not help keeping this one short. They merit the details. :)

Support @ SUPPORT

Office apart, I took to volunteering in a big way. I would offer to help other teams at official events, and also for varied social causes. I even enrolled myself to teach at a Non Government Organization (NGO) for kids and young boys. These were cheerful kids, aged 6-15, who were at one point, addicted to drugs or were victims of child abuse. Pained with their suffering, I thought it a noble deed to be able to utilize my education to this great purpose. I would go there on Saturdays for two hours and teach English to them. They were all a happy and enthusiastic lot.
They would call me “teacher” , “sister”, or even “miss” at times. It was a complete pleasure to be able to teach them. I felt privileged to be amidst them. They were such wonderful people.
We celebrated all festivals and big days with them. They would draw cards for us on all occasions, be it New Year or Teacher’s day. I specially remember the Republic Day celebrations at SUPPORT.

Joy is not in things, it is in us! The Republic Day Celebrations at this noble initiative resounded this belief. The children, eyes brimming with hope and happiness, were all set for the day. We could feel their zeal the moment we stepped into the hall. The ceremony commenced with the unfurling of our Tricolour...complete with a salute to the flag, followed by the National Anthem. Inspirational group songs and speeches by the children were praised by all present. The way the ceremony was conducted was commendable.
Eager hands deftly filled in colours in the Tricolour during “Flag Making”. We had organized games for them. “Passing the Parcel”, “Antakshari”, “Chinese Whispers”, “Fire on the Mountain”, and “Talent Show”...all saw enthusiastic faces that lit up with beautiful smiles. Prizes were awarded to the winners of each activity.

Their mischievous moods took the better of them and they danced...to the sound of music...and the rhythm of their hearts! It was sheer joy for us to be a part of the celebrations. That day I realised, it is not we, who lend them a helping hand, but they, who make a difference to our otherwise dreary lives.
Along with English, we also taught these sweet children many more things like, Vedic Mathematics which involved active participation from the kids as they were eager to know the shortcuts to solve tough problems. There were also computer assignments like making tables and drawings which enhanced enthusiasm in the kids.

I still remember the “mask-painting” competition and the “dramatics” event I had organized for them.
They surrounded me, eager little eyes and faces. Ready to paint and show their creativity. They painted lovely and brilliant colored masks. They jumped to show me what and how much had they done. They would scream enthusiastically and peep into their neighbour’s drawing book.
The dramatics event was welcomed with great fan fare. They rehearsed their parts rather well. Not one of them forgot their dialogues. They rendered the script and play more humourous than any playwright could have done, by their sheer simplicity and sense of humour.

During the prize distribution ceremony, when each one stood up on the stage to receive their prize, they waved to me, and smiled till the time they came off the stage. Each one would turn back and look at me and smile while they stepped onto the stage. Oh! It meant everything to me. I felt blessed.
It was their faces and voices that stoked me to get out of the privileged comforts of my home and get on the train to "Santacruz" every Saturday.

I remember the sad look on their faces the day I told them I was leaving. I still have those beautiful cards and painted masks with me. The quiz competition that they asked me to conduct on my last day there was a memorable one. Some asked me to give them pencils, while some others, the notebooks I had as a keepsake! They were such emotional and sweet people. GOD, please give them all that they want off life. Bless them and protect them from this big, bad world. They too are Your children.