Perception

Every person knows me differently.
Some think I am a sweetheart – the nicest person they know
Some think I am so mean that they make faces at me and go.
There are some who look forward to meeting me
There are others who’d rather not see me.
To some, I am spontaneous, impulsive, happy and bright
Some others, they say they haven’t seen a girl more uptight.

Every person knows me differently.
Some say my life is similar to theirs
Some say they count me in their prayers.
Some shower me with attention, some idolize
Some feign incomprehension, some criticize.
Some think I’m a Punjabi, hence very strong
Some know that the stereotype is so very wrong.

You know me like a mother knows her child.
Not strong or weak, not good or bad,
Not beautiful or ugly, not happy or sad.
You know me, simply, as yours - a part of you.
Like there is nothing unknown between me and you.
You know me like the sea knows the sand.
You know me like the back of your hand.

With you, I don’t have to be any person in particular.
I can be a headstrong feminist with progressive views,
Or I can be a princess who needs to buy too many shoes.
I can be dirty and disgusting; or I can be sexy and clean.
I can behave however I want – decent or outright mean.
I could smile like a doe or I could frown like a monkey
You will still caress my cheek and tell me I am pretty.

It is not easy to be with you - I have to be myself.
All that practice of having to live up to expectations,
Being nice with the nice ones; smart with the sly ones
Pretense comes easier to me than just letting myself be.
When you walk towards me, it is the reason I can’t breathe.
Because standing across you, I am nobody else, but me.
With your unflinching gaze – there is nothing you don’t see.

Emotions come crashing in bursts of hysteria and madness.
As though a massive dam guarding my energies was just bombed,
Every bone in me knows - for this breakdown my heart had yearned.
As my tears surreptitiously seep through the fibers in your jacket,
They seem to dissolve my ego - that cheap, sugar-coated packet.
The feeble walls that hold my pretentiously steadfast resolves
Crumble and tumble, leaving me no choice but to face my flaws.

Each time you amble into my safe-house, you make room inside.
You de-clutter, you sanitize and you clear it up for good measure.
That’s not all. Each time, you leave behind a sparkly new treasure.
You pin-point, you nit-pick, you taunt, you laugh and you tease
And in a fit of giggles, I bask in the attention as you try to appease.
My heart still stops in that moment; but from then on, it is quite easy
I am finding myself with you because that’s who you want me to be.

 

Meeting the Other Woman

See :)

Got published in Tamarind Rice

I performed this also,

at Poetry on the Big Mic Vol 29

Tell me what you think!

 

Also, someone marked my last post "indifferent". Who are you? Come forward.

 

-Wannabe Wayfarer

Inspire

“We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.”
Words of Winston Churchill. They summarize my enriching experience on 23rd November, 2012. Thanks to Deloitte’s CSR initiative - Impact Day.

Within months after I joined Deloitte, I had heard much animated talks about our annual “Impact Day” – stories of the ones gone by and plans for the upcoming one. The excitement was infectious. I just couldn’t wait to experience it myself. Finally in November, my inbox flashed the official e-mail inviting us to be a part of something as big as this. Ideas were sought from all of us. This was our chance to make a difference – in not just others’ but also our own lives. When the projects were shortlisted, they were all so good; I couldn’t decide which one to register for. I chose “Inspire”. Why? Truth be told, because I like painting walls. I don’t really like children so I think it was solely for the chance to paint an entire balwadi (children’s home).

We had pre-project meetings just like we have pre-engagement briefings at work. Our team brainstormed on how we would spend the day with the kids and in what way could we leave a lasting impact on their imaginative minds. Finally it was decided that we would conduct three workshops – glass painting, paper quilling and paper-bag making. Responsibilities were allocated; our Deloitte t-shirts were handed out. I was already feeling pumped up. Needless to say, all the logistics went smoothly.

Where did we go to on that bright morning? Ramakrishna Sarada Samiti, Sion. RKS started by providing free medical service to the poor slum dwellers of the area in 1968. At that time, they had neither funds nor land. 1974 saw the construction of its present building, which now provides free health care for all, vocational training to women, basic education and other activities such as dance, art and music classes to children up to the age of thirteen. We met Mr. Raghu Pilaka, a chartered accountant by profession, who whole-heartedly devotes his time to the NGO. His wife, Mrs. Vidya - a wonderful lady and an architect by profession - too, shares his ideals. They both welcomed us warmly, thanking us (Deloitte) for our generous contribution while I shyly smiled, unable to say anything. 

As soon as we entered Little Lamps, the balwadi, I was reminded of my own pre-school; and how much I loved it. It was no different for those children over there. They much prefer spending their entire day at RKS rather than at their homes. We had walked in in the middle of a drawing class. The young lad teaching the kids is also from the same slum area, a very talented artist, and is aspiring to get admission at JJ College of Arts. Looking at his painting that adorned a wall of the dispensary, I think he is deserving of that opportunity. RKS is making sure he does.

We started almost immediately after a quick breakfast of idli-chutney. Most of the men took up the task of painting the periphery. Those of us who were more creatively-inclined chose to paint rainbows, birds, butterflies, trees, geometric shapes (and all things bright and beautiful) on the walls inside. The JJ-aspirant helped us a lot. After three hours of paint-splashing, frenzied picture-clicking and exhausting running-around, we took a break for lunch. The children were astonishingly well-mannered and comfortably jovial with us. Once well-fed, our energy levels doubled up (and yet, didn’t match those of the power-packed kids). We made a huge wall-poster with all the drawings that they made in class. Here’s what it looked like:

The fun had only just begun. We sat together for a quick round of introductions, to break the ice and open up before we commenced the workshops. And guess what? I learned the bharatnatyam namaskara, thanks to this beautiful eleven-year old girl, who also gave me a wonderful “thankyou” card at the end of the day (I did NOT cry. Shut up!). From budding choreographers to potential artists, the energy of the troop overwhelmed me. The workshops were a huge hit with them. Their innocent smiles and infectious giggles made it difficult for me not to like them. Much to my own surprise (and shock), I had befriended most of them by the end of the day. But no, I did not get even slightly emotional when one of them asked, “Didi, when will you come back?” True to its title, this project inspired me to be as selfless as Mr. and Mrs. Pilaka; and as happy, imaginative and energetic as all those "little lamps".

I am going to make some furniture out of waste paper this Sunday with them. After all, I did promise the little girl that I would return soon.

More pictures here.

Blessed with small joys,

Wannabe Wayfarer.

My Induction (to Social Networking)

Like the blogosphere, I’m new to twitter. And thinking to myself, why didn’t I join this earlier? Sometimes, however, constant re-tweets - from celebs and regulars alike - endorsing other users or funny quote handles, seeking more followers, etc. gets really annoying. And, it’s creepy (also a little curious, I admit) when some porn star follows you on twitter the very first day you join. But I’m new. I’m beginning to learn to block, trend and sieve only that what interests me. Notwithstanding, Twitter, like Wordpress and Blogspot, is abundant with interesting stuff. So many amazingly talented people in the world! I’m intimidated, and inspired. This week was a complete data overload on my tiny brain. I have been introduced to a dozen of refreshing blogs and this blog-reading is pretty addictive, I must say. So obsessed was I that I did not study a word for my B.Com exam (not that I would have anyway but it’s nice to have something else to blame that on instead of just my lack of interest). But, by midnight tonight, brain server crashed. Everything I read became one unending string of incomprehensible letters and similar sounding words and ideas. My eye capillaries are on the verge of bursting too, probably. So I think I’m going to take it slow now. Back off a little. Maybe study for these exams.

The highlight of my three-day presence on Twitter – http://55words.blogspot.in/2012/03/theme-10-skyscrapers.html (I'm @hersheyka) Okay, it’s not a big deal but, I’m vain that way.

I have a few people to thank for supporting and orchestrating my presence here. You're reading this post. Thank you :)

Signing off,

Wannabe Wayfarer.

(Side Note to my one regular not-so-anonymous follower who religiously marks my every post “indifferent”: Still a wannabe I be. xD)