The tragedy of expectation.

The tragedy of expectation is partly the expectation of disappointment. And yet. And yet, expectation makes room in our hearts and slyly nudges our minds. Manifesting itself in shapes we seldom recognize. Carving a space in corners we didn’t know existed within. Leaving us to grapple with its devices and deceptions. Folding little dreams in little pockets we carry on our beings. And making each of these fragile like test-tube glass. Breakable. Un-mendable. The tragedy of expectation is knowing that it creeps up, slow and low, grows steady and heavy, and grips silent and tight. Tears in the middle of the night. The tragedy is knowing it all, all along. 

Never free

Never free, ever alone.

Now, and forever more.

The rules hide,

Hold on tight.

Do all, with all your might.

Put up any fight.

It comes to naught.

In truth, you are not who you are.

Sunday OMG moment!

Wow!!!
So for the first time I am totally in love with an actor. Yes! Me!!! I never have been one for being in love with actors, or rockstars or any such stuff. My crush on an actor lasts for as long as 10 minutes post a film and then it just vanishes. Just like it had materialised. I realise that it is usually the screen character I fall in love with. Out of sight, out of mind.

But for once I am totally in love with an actor. For everything that man does and not just his roles on screen. I keep telling my girlfriends that if I see him I might just end up letting out a shriek of excitement like a mad teenager. That I might walk up to him and blabber how much I love his work and him (in no particular order!). 

My crush-affair with this man started when a fried was a trainer for the crew of the 'new' Don, I had access to some awesome footage, and I wanted to do a half-hour special behind the scenes story about the making of the film and I spoke with him on the phone. Love at first sound it was. Never had I spoken to a more polite and happy voice. I explained how I had access to the footage and what I wanted to do with it. He listened patiently and when I finished it took him a second to say 'yes' as long as we respected a certain timeline because they had a tie-up with a rival news channel. No dramas. No nonsense. No unnecessary questions. And a bye followed by a 'good luck with your story'. 

I was 23 years old then and smitten! By the man. By the voice. And eventually even more. I loved him in ZNMD and I loved him in Rock On. I hated the man he played in Luck by Chance but I loved him there too. And I LOVED him in Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. I have been gushing since I saw the film last evening. I'm in love with Farhan Akhtar!!!! All over again.

And today... he replied to my tweet! Well, it was about the movie, but still... * big wide grin * 

I guess this blog is my version of the teenage shriek! 

It can't get any worse than this!!! Can it? 

And guess what... he replied, and while I was doing my still-half-asleep (because it's Sunday. Duh!) mental chicken dance and thinking "Wow! What are the chances of that happening" my darling editor Vaishali noticed it and sent me a DM with her version of the teenage shriek "Farhan replied to your tweet! Yay!!" All this happened in under 5 minutes of me sending out the tweet. 

I guess I ain't the only one gushing and crushing. Yay for that! *winks * 

Lemons you see, they get around everywhere…

“I don’t do atta” I had proclaimed a few years ago. I still don’t . For some reason my friends found that hilarious. They still do. But over three-and-a-half years later, I came close to doing it. I had a lump of pre-prepared clay in front of me and I had to knead it till there were no air bubbles in it. So I did knead. But not atta.  Small saving graces.

I’ve been meaning to learn doing something constructive with clay for years now. I thought my first class would be learning how to make a small little cup on a wheel. And at the end of that class I’ll come home grinning with a little, badly shaped cup, all smiles and happies in place. But no. It wasn’t. It was about kneading right. And also, about making coils. It did make me happy though. But it also made me realize that I pretty much suck at making thin coils of clay or placing them in any order. But then again, the last time I played with clay I was in primary school. Plus, first class and all that jazz. It was still awesome though. And the second class was even better.

So yeah, I finally have the time to learn pottery. Never thought it would happen this way. So many plans didn’t work out and then suddenly life throws you a really raw lemon and you play with “dough”, weathering the Bombay monsoon, while you wait for it to ripen and see what to do with it. Well, in this case I could keep it basic and stick with lemonade eventually. But then, that’s boring right. I am thinking lemon cupcakes. I’ve never tried those before. But no harm in trying, right? Couldn’t get worse than this.

Now some lemons have hidden wheels and may take you far far away from where you are right now. This one might not just lead to some botched cupcakes but a move back to Delhi. Not that I am closed to that. So yeah, lemon on the side, play with the clay as the rain comes down. It has to be ripe before I can even set out a plan of action in motion.

All in a limbo. Now. Just before I make the age meter add a one after a three and a perfect repeat of where I was at just this time, just after finishing Manki’s story, four years ago. Maybe this is a sign. The first book was a story set in summer. The next is slowly kneading itself in my mind. This will be set in a space and time when the skies open up, the rains come down and wash everything around but just never the parts that we wish had been washed away.  

Lemons you see, they get around everywhere… Tiny little round buggers. Oh well! For now the kneading goes on and the lemons with their blindsiding ways wait. To strike. Lemons are them ill-timed monsters that we never want to see. Now what are the chances of that happening… 

Where do we go…

 It is a wall

Invisible

Strong

Unrelenting

I did not see

I smacked right in

It hurts

You cannot see my pain

No one can

You cannot see my blood

No one can

There is none

It is invisible

Like your wall

But I see

And I feel

And I look

I look at you beyond the wall

Disbelief

It’s wet and salty

It pours down my face

Pools in an invisible pool of emptiness and air

It’s wiping my faith

It’s wiping my strength

I clutch to the edges of love

It’s twisting and coiling

The edges are slipping

My fingers feel heavy

And so does my heart

I sink against this wall

Its cold

I can’t see

I don’t know

I don’t know anything anymore

Where do we go?

Where do we go…

You never should have loved dearest heart.

You never should have loved dearest heart.

I have but one of you.

Cracks I could have maybe mended.

But what of these shards that are now pooling around my feet?

What of my love for you as these shards cut the ground beneath me?

What of you my love? What of you?

You always knew it was too good to be true.

That feeling that made you want to burst and sing with joy inside of me?

Did I not warn you?

Go slow I said, go slow dearest heart.

I have but one of you.

You pleaded.

You reasoned.

You fought.

You won.

I soared.

I glowed.

I loved.

I loved with abandon. Like you.

I trusted and stretched my faith. Like you.

I believed. Like you.

And now I bleed. Like you.

I scream my silent screams. Like you.

I dream my broken dreams. Like you.

You never should have loved dearest heart.

I have but one of you.

I will gather you dearest heart. I will gather you.

I have but one of you.

These shards may cut my palms.

I care only for you.

I will find every shred.

I will find some glue.

It may be blue but it will be true.

But I will let this blood be on my hands dearest heart.

I will let the blood become a part of me.

Streak and congeal along the lines of my fate.

It will remind me, and you, of what you never should do.

You never should love again dearest heart.

I have but one of you.

I stay, just where I am, for now...

Watching from a distance

I smile

I pray

The curtain has risen

The moment for which a million hours were spent waiting, has come

I watch

I feel

I pray

And, I stay

Just where I am

There are plans

And then there is reality

There are ideas

And then there is action

Fire

Despair

Joy

Gratification

And sometimes, when it is all over you have to sit back and watch

Just watch

Take some time

Assimilate

Ruminate

This was not the plan

Yet so it is

So be it

The race is over

The contest begins

I cross my fingers

I watch

I smile

I pray

And I stay

Just where I am

Till the next turn on the way