Now! That's a Birthday

19Th of November is no ordinary day, Its my other halves birthday. Its that one day a part of me was created by god and conceived upon this crooked world, so that she could be all that she is today. Yes! you guessed it I haven't made such a loving opening because of how much I love her ( I do love her greatly) but its because of how terrified of her I am. Don't worry you will come to know what I mean by theses conflicting worlds I drew up for you, trust me you will come to know her today.

She is real cute and real small, she got one packaging that can deceive even the cleverest of people I know. Oh! no! I am not telling this because I am hopelessly in love with her and she apparently in her own words will love me to death, but I am telling you this so close I am to her that I know what she is. I am a happy to be small 5ft 3in guy with a 1.5in heeled Woodland shoe ( By the way me and fried has still not agreed to the exact height of the heel, He claims it to be 2inch and I as always ridiculed it, after all which guy in the right sense wears a shoe 2inches right). But to the point again, she is almost just the same. She is smart, she is cute and she is real small. Oh by the way I forgot one thing she is  a psychopath( Please don't tell her what that means).  

Now that you have come to meet her, Let me tell about her birthday and why this is a wee bit special-er that the rest of the ones we had enjoyed together. Today was one hell of a roller coaster fiasco. No! I did not take her to the amusement park, But she did have her fair of fun and bruises. Let me remind you, you are to read the story of a very special individual and the author of this blog is a very sweet young fellow who is taking for your pleasure a very brave move by writing this article without her permission.But even before I can get into the details of the birthday I have to tell you about one more thing and then I promise we will go straight to the story, no more excuses. 

So the last thing before we begin is about a special ritual practiced by some very primitive people who live in thickly populated concrete jungles under the influence of I don't know what, It is called Birthday bumps. If you have not yet heard of birthday bumps, let me tell you this Oxford dictionary would have to define its as an act of physical torture and extortion practiced by insanely sadistic friends on a persons body on his birthday, in the pretext of loving and caring for that person, when in their minds all they want is actually to beat him up. No apparent date is associated with the origin of this strange cosmopolitan ritual but it would be the same everywhere to both the practioners and the practiced upons. A typical Birthday bumps ritual starts with the cliched cutting of cake and once it is finished cut the ritual starts with the ceremonial application of cake on the birthday boy/girls face and then the viewers set the things in motion by kicking and hitting and do god knows what on the body of this poor chap.

Now! just as promised let me get down to my dear ones birthday, Being a cheeky chocolaty lover, I called her up at midnight and had already placed her gifts in her friends safe hands for giving it to her at the precise time. And by the way this time I let my mom pick up a gift for her and that was highlight of her birthday gift from my side. So as I called up and I wished I was a bit early so through the conversation I could here her friends all sing the birthday song in unison and then she cut the phone and I left for the bed. So that's when the big things happened. I should tell you uptil her birthday it was not a custom in the girls hostel to have birthday bumps but my guess is that there are quite a few people who love just too much. So while I was out this si what happened, they all ritually bet her and took her up by her legs and hands and started swinging her 21 times and I heard they got tired by the time they reached 15 and they stopped soon enough. But here is were the twist is she had a small a change of heart and decided beat all those guys who bet her on the birthday. talk about keeping tabs.

She was on a rampage until some one got the brilliant idea to run and my unyielding girl friend decided not to give up that easily and tailed her. The tailing only ended when my girlfriends was lucky enough to trip on the wet floor before catching her friends and that very friend had to take her back to her room. These thing could get much notice from even her had she not been having a tight pinching sensation on her hands then onwards. But she didn't bother she called me up again on own routine 'got to call before falling asleep' calls and she told me of all her adventures and how she enjoyed her unique birthday and by the way for the record, she did like the cake, even though she practically had to eat out of her face.

And the things went on calmly till I could see her again in the morning in our class, She was beautiful as ever but certainly not 21, she could easily pass as a 12 year old but 21 that's not a easy visualization to be made. She came in with a swollen ankle and a very bad expression of pain in her face. So, anyhow she decided to go see the doctor and I should thank my friend for popping that to her. Anyhow there she was gone again. Now this sis the better part, she went all the way to the doctor with the girl whom she was chasing around yesterday night. The doctor was quite a happy folk or may be was in a very nice mood that he was so happy to see her. Anyhow its not everyday that a birthday girl pops in with two ankles completely swollen like a pumpkin. The couple of hours she spend with doctor was so cool that at the end of the day she managed out with a free treatment, a free x-ray scan and a book signed by him as a birthday gift. He even said that had she managed to do more of some acrobatics, he could be happy to give her a bed in the hospital.

Now that's all that went bad if you do not consider the long lecture hours that we had to endure, five hours in length it was boring, really boring. But then again its her day and her birthday went in as unique as ever. I have got gifts on my birthday, I have got cards but treatment as a gift, she really nailed me to that. Anyhow I wish her a happy birthday and just if she doesn't know I wanted to say I do really love her. So Happy Birthday dear.

The Art of Savouring

If there is one thing about the subcontinent that no ever refutes, and every head nods in unison, then that got to be its rich flavours. Salivating is the one thing that foreigners and locals find hard to control when confronted by the vast variety of tastes in its arsenal. Be it the simple and humble 'dosa' or the much more intricate favours of its curries, its dishes has an unquestionable command over the tongue. As they release new shades of its taste in the mouth, we do realise that its gastronomical sensibility has no parallel. But then the bigger question arises, had we forgotten to savour it ?

Had you not enjoyed the flavours of your meal lately then probably you might have forgotten to eat it and 'gulped' it down. No! My purpose is not to point fingers at anyone, not as much as to show that the life we are living now. Which has taken from us that little what we had of our time to cherish things. On cue from what I have been telling in my post ' The little things in life, I insist that these little things in life are what will hold immense value in your withering years.

The art of savoring is not as much as an art as in the conventional sense, but it nonetheless one, a unique one at that too. Just like any other art form you would think up the art of savoring requires and artist. But unlike any other art there is, this is particularly simple to practice. We need no brushes and there is no need for a master class either all you have to have is the deliciously abundant and abundantly delicious dishes and the time and patience to savour it. The one thing that you should notice is to take care not to gulp it down by your typical impulses.

Now, to the important part, how to do it? Here I am at a loss because I don't know whether what I am going to propose is right; intact what really bothers me is whether my 'right' is the only 'right'. But nonetheless I am going to spill it out anyway, so here going my guide to the art of savoring, There are just three simple steps to it;

Step one is to take a meaningful chuck from the dish, not too small nor too big. Step two is as simple as it gets ' put it in your mouth'. Step three is where the actual savoring happens hence, it is the most important of all. The step three, fight the urge to gulp down and let the saliva get to the food completely, then you can see, rather taste its flavours melting into your mouth one after another, each triggering an unique sense and response.

Now that it is time to get into the boring epilogue, to tell the truth I am still caught up in the wines of the previous sentiment. The fact is I can tell no more on this subject that I already have, for I do not know anything more. The art of savouring is my little idea, an idea that I stumbled upon savouring my sundae and its million vibrant tastes. I say enjoy, enjoy these little things that can give your life a whole new aspect, a new perspective. After all life is too short to cry over it. When one goes to bed today, tomorrow is just a hope that we take for granted.

Love: A Search for Meanings

Love is still as strange to me as it has always been, in my many pursuits to understand it; I have only succeeded in failing again and again. There was a time that the very search for its meanings made me tangle myself in thoughts, so strange that I myself wonder how I ended up brewing these thoughts in my mind. Strange as it may be, I still search for its meanings, even when it had cost me many a things.

In and out, I went of many relationships. Some were a ship wreck from the very beginning while others just went in through a series of unexplainable and unfortunate events before it could finally settle itself into a sense of awkwardness. But, believe me when I say, ‘ Every one of those relations were a lesson learned’. I should also admit that some lessons were much more than what I could have ever bargained for. The sense of tarnish and humiliation that was inevitable, even when I have done it all to keep it afloat, now that’s a wee bit uncomforting.

I beg pardon from all the ladies that had to read these words, and I do accept that not all the women are of the nature I may be discussing. I would also assure you that I have always thought highly of women, but these are a few that I had to face in my small life. There were quite a few women in my life that had come at me in ways that I myself could have never envisioned. The fact is they had in me vested interested that either I have not seen or have cunningly enough hid from my eyes. I have to say this that second one was of higher probabilities. The way those things turned out were particularly humiliating for me for one simple fact, they were not of my doings.

Those were events good enough to make any reasonable man lose faith in love and I do consider myself a reasonable man indeed. The real thing I had no more trust in anyone any more. All that I loved turned out to be more of a wreck and less of any help. The one factor was common, the one thing I could no longer find in any of romantic relationships were ‘Romance’.

Magic do happen when we are least expecting it and it did itself to me. It took me over a dozen years and a couple dozen relationships before I could see it. There it was in all its glory presenting itself to me, an offering from the gods. May be the heavens had enough of my little whining that they finally decided to show me the way. There was a  new day break and there was this girl nothing special , nothing profound, simple and natural. I will tell you made her special, it was not me and it was not love, There do exist a thing called a good heart and I could see one for the first time. She touched me in a way none has ever had, her touch was not of lust nor licentious, but it was of care and it was of sincerity and guess what I was in love again and I still am.

It would be a lie if I say I have not thought of any other girl since her, but this is true no matter whom I saw and whom I fancied and the end of the day she was the one whom I wanted to go back to. She was the only one whom I would care to care about, other were just beautiful to watch but she was beautiful to live with. And hence here I am happily committed and no longer in futile searches of meanings of this that I now believe are meant not to be understood but to be experienced.

Post No : 50

Of all the fancy topic that ran through my mind, this one made most sense. After all it’s the 50^th post that I am publishing. So I thought away with the fancy ‘Fabulously fifty’ or the ‘Now that’s a fifty’, instead just keep it plain and simple. This may not be a great achievement in any sense, but it’s the little things that we have to reckon in any long journey. As wise men have realized ages before, it’s the journey not the destination that matters.

So what new on this 50^th post, frankly nothing. But I thought maybe we could just get to know everyone better. To look at our journey together so far has been superb. To tell the truth when I started blogging, I never imagine myself writing this. Yes, I dreamt of this, but not in the wildest dream did I have the courage to imagine this moment. The fact is that this started just a fancy and slowly and steadily it grew in my heart into a bond. I have accidently but surely discovered a true friend in it and through ‘her’ I found many a new friends, friends who like to listen to the little this in my life, The things that does not matter to anyone, Things that hardly have a real consequence that needs reckoning. But, still you managed to listen to me, cherished my little heart as it bleed out its little secrets one by one.

So in this fiftieth post I am going to tell you what made it all so. What made it all that special to me and what made me come back again and again with things that I have always feared to tell? What was that little things that convinced me that some secrets needs to be confessed and the sins need to be lifted from upon me and most importantly how much it matters to write. But to tell you another truth, writing is worthless without a worthy and appreciating audience that can listen to you, and just as you might have guessed, I am really thankful to have you all. I consider it my privilege to been able to write for you all.

Just one little more thing to say, why don’t you all tell me something that I could respond to, to converse with, make a more enjoyable crowd around us than just write and read, would you like to engage in a conversation, a conversation in a level that is stripped of all materiality. I am Rupertt wind and I thank you all for having listened and beard with me with patience and for supporting me in the many ways you have. I thank all who have read and did not read my post, all who have praised and even more the ones whose creative criticism made this go all the way from 0-50.

The Drought...

It strikes me gravely, to write such as this. This is not ability to write that I share but the inability to do so. It is no story of real drought and hunger that affect many a millions in this world. This is the story of just a single person starved on the keyboard. This is no story, in fact this is the absence of any story that I would like to share.

I must be frank, this is just a weeping. This certainly is going to be a boring piece to read. It has no happiness in it at all. No happy beginning, no happy happenings and certainly no happy endings that I know of. This is the grim story of myself and my pen, sitting together to write nothing. Its our explorations in the dark unfathomable shadows that we fear the most. If the darkness is what that scares the least, its the fearfully personal happenings that seemed to carve in the most.

Its been sometime, sometime now that the pen and paper had shown any mercy to me. No matter what I start writing I inevitably bump into that invisible wall that separates me from making any sense of what I write. Either I end up making a hash of it or even worse I end up stuck in the middle with both my pen and my mind refusing to budge a single inch. Its certainly not the lack of ideas or topics, but its the matter of the flow, no longer can I caress the piece of paper with ease and it has started to show.  All those brilliant sparks die out the miserable death leaving me to fend on my own. Talk about being ditched by myself.

I do not know how long its going to be, till I can get a hold of myself and come back to the good old times. I can but only hope that it will all be alright, Anything more is too much to ask for. One thing is certain it has came back every single time it has happened to me. May be its inside somewhere in the hiding and if I look hard enough and let myself be inspired by life around me, then certainly it would come back one day