Thursday 19 December 2013

The Greatest Love Story Ever



"Ours is undoubtedly the greatest love story, Everrr and One day he will see it too!!! ", chirped away this friend I know and adore. Months have passed since she has been sharing regular,live updates of her unrequited love story with me and well as all unrequited love stories go, her's too have had its fair share of the awful and sad parts. What made it worse was that inspite of her regular attempts to pursue (and hence the persistent admonishing from me) she wasn't getting any closer,or better at getting her happy ending. 
Yeah, its sad, but if we push aside the emotions and its tragedic proportions for a moment, her story fits your normal; run of the mill-happening-everywhere-scenario right? Well. In my opinion, what sets her/them apart in this case; is that even at their lowest of low points right now, and, if i may add, a particularly ugly turn, she still choose to believe, that her's is the greatest love story ever. And gosh! the sad drawl and belief she says it with!!! On any other day, this comment would have been swiftly followed with a head slap, square in her face along with exasperated comments from me.But today, I was ppreoccupied making doodles in my notebook and staring vacantly at the doodly circles, lost in my own thing, when i heard her say this. 

After months of hearing her crib,contemplate, plan and pray for Mr.Punk (more like Mr.Junk if yu ask me :/), his time around, I chose to reserve my comments and playful attempts at cheering her up. Instead, I looked up. Stared at her for a second and then another.  And then yet another. Then gave up with an exasperated (and maybe a little exaggerated head shake) and smiled to myself muttering, 'Bloody lovers'. *facepalm*

Apart from my rhetoric reaction to her very usual action, it really got me to thinking.  Doesn't any and every good love story draw sighs and harrumphs over its twist and turns? The classic girl next door love story, the esoteric older woman-younger man or vice-versa. While there are quite a few that don’t comfortably fit the norms(same sex love stories), conversely, also prevalent, are the (preferred) ones with the happy endings, which if i may add, seem as slight as the dandelion—a sunny flowering, a puffball dispersed on a breeze. Ethereal and beautiful. :) Does these microscopic detailing's befit its fate on the love-greatness scale? Just because the guy in question (lets call him Mr. X) chose to stamp on and huff away from the affection that the girl-in-question had to offer, why should it make her love story any less amazing? Hence, even though she infuriates me sometimes with her seeming disegard for everything except Mr. X, Hats off to her dedication to him mahn.  And why not? Why does every love story, befitting to be re-told with fanfare and an air of victorious exuberance,only be the ones with happy endings? Why can't Glorious tales of royal and brutal rejection be a really great story worth being experienced?

Infact, whatever little/much we know about love is through watching the love/hate stories spanning our families as a kid..and the major lessons that started straight from middle school(and how :O ) till date. While in some Love stories, i see butterflies falling for homebodies, others involve dreamers head over heels with realists. Some have more at stake than a trip to the altar and don’t always end up happily. Some invoke the archetypes of myth and fairy tale, diving into the deeper imaginative realms of high Romanticism, a movement enamored of mystery and nature untamed. Others are live examples of the literary “romance,” scarcely true but then again happening all around nevertheless...one that combines adventure, idealism, and courtly love. Some people have one where their love takes them on a journey where desire is set against duty, and where love alters destiny (aww *pout*).
So then,i wonder, among the plethora of real life tales of love, both in the making and diminishing , that we see, hear, feel all around us,which is the greatest love story of all?  Which is the greatest love story ever told? Does one measure it by the amount of time it lasts or by the degree of intensity at its peak?  Do the ones that experienced bigger obstacles or overcame longer distances stake a greater precedence over more of happy memories and lesser climaxes? 

Maybe it isn't really about the relatable-ness other's can or cannot feel.
Maybe there are no 'original' nor 'trite' love story. 
Maybe it isn't about the circumstances at all.
Maybe it isn't about the comparable-ness either.Whether its between people or in some instances, one with God. 
Maybe i am using too many "maybe's ". Am i? Okay, don't answer that.

But what i am trying to say is, maybe there isn't a single greatest love story. 
There are NO rules which makes any love story good, bad, a success or a failure..in whatever form, shapes or sizes. 
Whichever circumstances. 

Maybe the greatest love story is simply the  one you own.

Needless to say, I smiled pensively and suggested a walk to the newly opened dessert place nearby. After all there's nothing like  Winter-Icecream-love to go with Musings.

Sunday 15 December 2013

The Traveller's Itch



By no means involving scratching of any sort, i am referring to the hypothetical condition that both affects and fuels a wanderer's soul. The traveller's itch (or as i like to call it, the Cant-Sit-Still Syndrome is an actual condition and can be incredibly devastating. And by that, i mean BOTH incredible AND devastating. Incredible memories and Devastating financial repurcussions. It has affected millions of people before and after me and as a classic example of " been there, suffered that " by your's truly, i guess the only probable cure, is to succumb to it and indulge in travel's of varying magnitude and duration. Infact it's the lifestyle of my Dreams.
Scratch it and it will scratch you right back

Places i want to go, apart from Vatican City , Istanbul and Antartica
Tokyo- CHECK!
My once-every-2-month traveller's itch struck again two days back. Of course, as expected, coming back from Hampi and Coimbatore had left me with a sense of restlessness. It's hard to go from everyday being an absolute adventure, full of new words and people, to something a little bit more routine. But it's all about perspective. Because a few weeks ago I found myself lost in my hometown, Kolkata and I could have very well been in a foreign city, I was so lost. This one particular street with tree's forming a canopy that i came across was so effin beautiful that I stopped and took a picture. Amazing ! Because this was the Kolkata I grew up in yet there's so much of it I have yet to see. My whole life, and yet, this little street I'd never registered in my memory. Or maybe, living away for the greater part of 4 years is what it took for me to notice these things. It's as if you have to leave in order to come home and see what's really there.


Over the last few year's, I'v wandered through culturally intense and rich places like Amritsar, Kathmandu, Pokhara, Benaras, greater parts of Japan and lately, Hampi. But the Insane desire to keep exploring never goes. Infact  i vow to live by the ocean someday.It's so easy to picture myself running on the beach with my cute dog and getting home just in time for breakfast after an early morning surf session.Yep, that sounds ideal!

 One of my very favorite songs -- Anchor by Mindy Gledhill -- has a line that says "I am nearly world renowned / As a restless soul who always skips town" and the first time I heard that line it struck a chord deep within my heart. It definitely spoke to me. As cheesy, and pun-ny as it sounds. I am a restless soul. That's the truth.


Discover yourself as you discover the world :)

However, this time around the itch resurfaced in the single most inconvenient time, where it became the background ( in cant-miss-it-RED-hues) of my current end semester examinations (drat!). I am NOT good at holding back hence, I find myself talking to my conscience every now and then, explaining why i cant take off right now. Why i cant just stand someplace wildly beautiful or charmingly desolate in awe, in wonder as i wander. 
I throw questions at myself and answer them right back, until i go tired and postpone the idea of just packing up and leaving. After all, I approach the end of my postgraduation and for all i know, academic life. I am (Read: Supposedly) in a season of transition, a time of learning, growing  and preparation. I'm not sure what for exactly (23 and clueless, yep that's me :D), but I just know that this is a vital phase that would decide my future. 

With such idealist line of thought on loop, I once again placate my heart to hold on and stay put..Stay put for a few more days before i can get back to photography, tasting varied cuisines, trekking, laying on beaches, eating chocolate and drinking copious amounts of red wine *sigh*. 

Till then, in-between, this is what keeps me going on
Google : For places i can fuck off to next
Coffee : While i Google and ogle.
Books. All kinds. All topics. All the books.
Family guy: happen's to be my TV fix as of late. On repeat. Every night as you fall asleep.
Gratitude: And expressing it.
Writing letters: The good, old-fashioned, stick a stamp on it, push it through the mail slot kind.
Music. As often as you can. As loud as plausible. Singing along. Old school ,Old Classics (Spare me the new crap that is being dished out lately.

Though the temporary distraction does the trick at times, i do know that the itch is here to stay. And honestly, I am quite thankful for it 
#continuousloop-ItchandScratch


Saturday 7 December 2013

For the Love of Tiara and Smith&Wesson - Part 2


                                                 





Though the Tiara fetish hasn't diminished by any means, another, albeit an unrealistic one (so people say) has firmly laid its roots in my head. This brings me to my other love. The .22 mag 9mm Smith&Wesson



As the word 'fetish' implies, the subject of fetish need not have practical or sensible undertones. Yet, I do have my reasons for its acquisition. Apart from the obvious empowering and

sexy-to-hoot factor,it boils down to three groups of problems: safety concerns, instructional difficulties, and emotional considerations. Of these, safety is the most important (and most often overlooked) aspect. And i admit, these considerations did catalyze a certain sense of intimidation as to how I would go about achieving the seemingly tall order of pointers. But, once the myth surrounding how 'petite girls like myself  cant take the recoil of the gun', was busted, I was ALL up and about googling it, self educating my self about the calibers and specifications that are available out there.

The initial search itself made it clear to me that, contrary to popular belief, a woman’s physical size (or lack of it) has VERY LITTLE to do with which caliber will be best for her.


So basically, tiny little women with great big grins on their faces , have been known to hammer away with full-powered “manly” guns, while conversely, inumerous instances of sturdy-looking Amazon-woman types wincing from what can be considered to be a mild recoil, have also existed. It is ony the Size of the firearm that does matter.  For instance, a gun that fit the hand of that sassy hunky badass protagonist I saw on television quite well, might fit MY hands like socks on a rooster.


Anyway, so ever since i checked the 'Physical Barrier as a deterrent' off my 'Reasons-to-NOT-think-about-firearms' motion, I have wanted a .22 mag Smith&Wesson.

More than ever, for more than a year now . Yet it's the one thing i can't really include in my "Shopping" list. All i COULD do was choose and figure it in the top five of my "Someday" list.

But even choosing it does not come easy nor random by any means. When a gal tries on wedding dresses, they’re ALL pretty, and white, and they make you look like a princess. But there’s ONE that causes light to shine down from Heaven and the angels start singing and you know that its THE ONE.

Same thing happens with guns! They’re all kinda cool looking…they go *bang* when you pull the trigger, but every now and then you’ll run across one that makes you shoot straighter and gives you that feeling of an angelic choir in full “Laaaaaa!”

When that happens…..GET THAT GUN!!! Or, Specifically,  in my case, Get THIS BABAY!


http://www.smith-wesson.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/Product4_750001_750051_765962_-1_775662_775655_757896_ProductDisplayErrorView_Y





:)
SOMEDAY.

P.s- My ultimate fantasy Selfie has me in my whole "Canvas-Shoes-Sparkly Tiara-Striker-fired 9 mm Smith & Wesson M&P Shield-in-a-custommade-holdster" Glory , living the secure and armed lifestyle.



So colour me Pretty
In shades of the Moon and the Sun
Picture me perfect
Armed with a Tiara and a Gun

Never saw me as a gunslinger girl, now did you

Among the Cutesy Pink Gloss and All
Well,prepare to change what you thought you knew
Cuz, dang, You dint know me at all.

For theLove of Tiara's and Smith&Wesson's - Part 1

I have possessed four of them so far, at different ages, gifted by different people, and with different sensibilities involved, but every single one of them, have made me feel like an heiress every single time i have got'em. 
Yes, Heiress :) - The kinds who acquires it when inheriting isn't an option :P


TIARA #1

ICKY-POO
Self Acquired
From a railway station i believe, where my impatient eye caught its cheap plastic chin-sty glint and pointed at it with my chubby fingers, mumbling -  "Muje Chaiye".
 My folks were in their - "say no- then negotiate" phase (which they never really seemed to outgrow till date), so quite a bit of drama, and 25 bucks later, i finally got my hands on it and clutched it as if my life depended on it.
The ULTIMATE  three way Tiara, it was. No wonder i was totally kicked about it.
A Click of a button and it lit up with snazzy burst of Loud blinky colors while "kambakq ishq hai jo" gave it the final touch of crass royalty. I named it Icky Poo and loved it to death.


Its was like living the Tiara Dream :D



The dream did not last long. It lived it's last magical moments at some kiddy party(most probably mine :P) where a bunch of annoying kids took it upon themselves to use it to push prod and eventually break it, much to my teary attempts which ended with me furiously bawling (yes, i cry when i am wayy to pissed). I have looked for a similiar thing since then, but couldnt find anything quite like my Jhingalala Icky-Poo Tiara.




TIARA #2

3rd MONTHIVERSARY (YEP, I NAMED IT ON THE OCCASION)


Was from a someone i was dating. So,one day he randomly crept behind me, covered my eyes with the palm of his hand, and in complete Bollywood ishtyle, intertwined a bunch of Balloons and a smallish dirty looking box in my open hands. A sucker for surprises, I was smilling like a nincompoop, anticipating all sorts of things that it might have. He had me beaming gleefully at the Balloons itself, until my eyes almost popped off at the shiny piece of prettiness that the box held. Yes, i got the crazies. No, He dint look surprised. In fact he had a satisfied expression, as he looked on at me acting like a loony 5 year old mad clown while over the next 15 minutes i took regular turns in jumping about the entire place, wearing it the whole time and humming lightly to sitting quietly in awe at what had just happened.





Much later, I found it hurt all over (read : snapped into two) as i unpacked after our shifting and fould it in a very precarious state. 2 Cellotape bundles and lots of disgruntled comments from me later, i salvaged what i could, keeping a mental note of carrying it on myself if i ever shifted houses again. 

My exquisite Princess-Crown
It still reminds me of that day.
It still makes me smile.



TIARA # 3

PRINCESSA
My adorable Sister, gifted me this tiny tiara crown that was so beautiful that I almost cried, first emotionally and subsequently due to the sudden realization that i now possesed an absurd no. of tiara's for a 20-something Science Graduate. Needless to say the latter reason wore off in minutes.
I wore it on my away-from-home-in-a-distant-land Birthday in Japan.


My Tiara crown with my Magic (I got proof, so non-believers, you can suck it) Wand.





Jealous Much? :D



TIARA # 4

BABEL


Handmade, with pearls and patience and love by two of my awesome Friends.

Gifted on my Birthday this year. It came with a Delish cake and everything. Made me go into a verbal diarrhea of "wtf, this cant be handmade"  in amazement until i realized it was all mine, and that was all that mattered. WOOHOOO it was SO sassy and elegant in all its pearly white glory :) Ofcorse it brought out the retard kid in me. Yet again.


One of the best Gift ever. Pearly and Priceless.










I still have it and it figures, along with my wand ofcourse, in my things-il-grab-in-case-of-a-fire-list! 



Yep. I am cheesy and i know it . LOL



But no matter how much i love myself in the whole Tiara glory, for me, the ULTIMATE Princess-de-elegante will always remain Princess D. Nobody could carry the tiara off quite like her. Maybe because Both were equally equisite and therefore complementary to each other.





                                           Amen to your Immortal Beauty

                                                                 
                                             
For the love of Tiara's, Wand and Smith&Wesson's - Part 1..... To Be Continued

Thursday 5 December 2013

The Totally Unscientific Chronicles of Systemic Memory Relapse and associated Maddening Disorders






We all have had them. One time or another.

The bad timing case.
No,i am not talking about situations where trite  lines like "its just bad timing-if its meant to be it will eventually be"  are cited, a saying to which i would personally love to retort with a smirk and a "please shove it up your ass" if i ever hear it. 
I am talking about instances where our choice puts the other options totally out of the picture. No option of "may eventually be" or feeble "what ifs".


So we choose, because what we have and what we now want to include don’t perfectly align at that time.(*eyeroll* stupid strategy )Choose, NOT because we would rather lose in a cause now that could someday triumph than to triumph in a cause that we know will someday fail, but simply because we don't want to take a leap of faith.


Then, if the cons outweigh the pro’s of our micro-scrutiny of the entire situation, we cop out. Step back.  Play safe. And we justify our choices while we play safe. We build up walls. Higher.  Stronger over time. Till it convinces us that it is high enough to block that path. And we sit complacently for awhile, satisfied in our warped view of how things will be forgotten and we will let go of it.  And they eventually do. They are replaced, by everyday. Life, as we know it, gets in the way and hurls other major turning points as we move on and stock up on fresh memories along its course. And soon the wall becomes so blurry that we don’t even see it anymore. Atleast that’s how it was for me.

Then.


One day.


One piece of long forgotten piece of paper.

One random song.
A small inanimate thing I had tucked away.
One glance at the vaguely familiar area.

Just ONE of the above.
And BOOM.
That does it.


Moments of pure, unadulterated, unrationalized maddening urge.

Instantaneous.
Systemic.


And there it looms. Darker than before.  That wall I had built. The wall that had blurred away to obscurity till that very moment. That wall. 

Crumbling unabashedly, unapologetic and involuntarily. Paving way for a flood of memories. Memories  I thought i had tucked away to oblivion . And yet here they come, getting under my skin, piercing through every molecule of my being , stirring up all the moments right till the build up of the climax of that chapter of life. The maddening blast from the past catalyzes the rude wake up call – that I had let go… while vestigially holding on.


Now that the wall has crumbled, this time how does this end?

Is it the end? 
Or the right time?

And if it is… Is there a right time to undo the wrong things for the right one?