"The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education. "

~

Albert Einstein


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 #StoryOfMyLife!

~

MS

Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me!

This one goes out to commemorate the day I resumed writing after an inexplicable sabbatical of a period so long that I am not at all proud to admit. It was a strange concoction of a sudden rush of emotions and months of pent up feelings that led to the restoration of something that best defines me. I had created this blog, if I may say so, in the year 2009 because I had felt the need to express myself. The only way I thought I could do it best was by writing. Quite unfortunately I failed to honour my appointments with this blog and did not write a meaningful word for three full years until this day exactly an year ago. 

I drew my inspiration from my pets - Leo and Snow. My comeback posts were dedicated to my babies. It did not take me long to realise what I had given up for so long.  It is true that most of times we do not realise the true worth of something until it is not with us anymore. Unknowingly, I had been stifling my thoughts and impeding the reach of my mind. For the first time I told my parents and sister about this hobby of mine. They were pleasantly surprised, I was glad to note. The icing on the cake was the appreciation that came from my father. I have no words to express what I felt when he said he was proud of me. As it happens, when the heart is full your eyes overflow. So did mine.

Eventually, I shed my inhibitions and began to share my work. I received encouragement from those who read what I wrote. I thank each and every reader for strengthening my passion, and the will to go on. If not for you I would not be able to claim to have been an active blogger for an year now.  The blog is only a means though, it is the ability of penning down thoughts that is the cause of my jubilation.  I may actually never be able to thank my readers enough, but I hope they get the gist of my sentiments. Technically, now is the time for new year wishes here; I don't follow convention, do what my heart says because that's how I like it!

Cheers to the joy of writing!
~

A Prick in the Toe

They loved their days with the flip-flops. Some days the zephyr ran through the toes, the dust settled on them. On others the heat parched their skin, the sun gave them a tan. Each toe was on its own and yet with the foot. Happy, content, aloof. Then there came a day when they all had to slip into a prim formal shoe instead of their usual flip-flops that they were so accustomed to by now. It took them a while to fit in well, but once they did they were all set to walk confidently. 

A little way down the lane they felt it for the first time. It did not seem to be a problem then. Ignoring it, they moved on. But the prick in the toe continued to grow with every passing moment. The foot smarted painfully with every step it took. The day was a long and tiring one. By the end of it, it was a task for them to hold on together without wincing. The first sign of relief came close and they finally crawled out of the shoe. A gush of fresh air lent them some respite, but it was not long lived. For then the realisation dawned upon. The prick was caused by a nail, wildly overgrown. It had dealt a deep puncture on it's neighbouring toe. The days with the tidy shoes were far from gone. They'd come again, and they'd be aplenty. There would be no avoiding those long tiring days. As the injured toe - despondent with pain - trembled helplessly, it was decided that the time had come to trim the nail. Trimmed though it was, the damage was done. The hapless dactyl lived with a cicatrice for as long as it did.

We all have that wild overgrowth in our lives. It is happy-go-lucky in the flip flops but pricks us bad in the formal shoe. It is when we look at the larger picture that we know that the ability of the foot cannot be sacrificed for the whims of a toe. The sooner it is trimmed, the lesser is the agony endured; because much as we'd like, we cannot suit up in flip flops for life.

~

My Pebble & Me

You could be justified in calling it the yearning of a lifetime. Pretty much so. But I'm not sure if you'd understand it fully. It came into my life at a stage when I did not want, but needed it to. I remember our first meeting. We exchanged just a couple of sentences and then it was off, only to return with joy into my life in a little while. It took me some time to realise that I had found a pebble in the midst of sand. But I needed no expert to tell me how precious it was. It was my friend, accomplice, confidante. My little sister away from home. A refuge, and an essential part of my life. I woke up to its sound in the morning, and mine was the last good night it heard before going to bed. We giggled, we gossiped. We cried, we cared. We shared, we loved. Life became so wonderful that it began to seem too good to be true. Maybe it was. For the pebble got washed away with the sands one day. They say times change, people too. Sadly, I saw it happen. I do wonder sometimes, did the pebble roll away willingly? Perhaps it did. Maybe I could have done something about it. Truth was I couldn't have. It was neither captive, nor did I own it. You don't do all this to someone you love. I wish something could turn back the dials of the clock and give me a little more time with it. I often see it nestling with the sands these days, getting washed at the shore, soaking the sun - lying there as if that is where it was meant to be. I feel abandoned, to say the least. It was betrayal at its worst. I miss my pebble nevertheless, and hate the sands. Loathe the waves that took it away from me. But no dials will turn back and bring back that what was. Someday if the pebble looks back, it'll see me right where it left me. In that corridor where we laughed till we wept. Still wiping a tear.
~

Diana

"... After a 30-minute burial service, the mourners left Diana, alone on the isolated island as she had been alone in life."
~
Sarah Bradford, Diana

Every once in a while there comes along a book that manages to stir your soul. I read one recently that touched my heart. Besides the fact that I towed the book around for months before I could finally finish it, there were a lot more reasons why Diana by Sarah Bradford endeared itself to me.

Sarah Bradford, 8th Viscountess Bangor has done a remarkable job chronicling the short-lived yet awe-inspiring life of Lady Diana. The contents of the biography are well researched and put forth in as disinterested a manner as can be humanly possible by a biographer. The greatest of stories can be ruined if the writer does not execute effectively. In the case of Diana, the life of Di was in safe hands. The author opens with a detailed mapping of Lady Diana's family tree - both maternal and paternal. From a pure genealogical point of view this could well be the most interesting part of the biography. Lady Diana was born with a rare gene pool; her ancestors consisting of children of two kings, a duke and a saint. Her father was the 7th Earl Spencer. Her maternal ties made her related to George Washington, in addition to a few more American relations. Her father's second marriage to Raine Legg made Barbara Cartland (Diana's favourite author) her step-grandmother. At the time of her birth she was the 11th cousin to the heir apparent - Prince Charles.

At the tender age of 19, Lady Diana Spencer got married to the Prince of Wales, and gave birth to the next-in-line to the throne within an year of her marriage. These are mere statistics, however. What Sarah Bradford brings to you with her felicity of words is the true picture behind the canvas of an apparent fairy-tale. Diana's entire life can be summarised as a quest for love, from her family, husband, friends and in-laws. A quest in which she was more often than not unsuccessful.

Having been brought up in a broken home, Diana grew up with a lot of insecurities. She had hoped that marriage would bring some stability in her life but that was not to be. She faced innumerable difficulties in her married life, until she got divorced and even after.

Camilla Parker-Bowles had convinced Prince Charles to marry Diana because it looked like they could manipulate her and have their way around without any protestations. Little did they know that Princess Di would not let them have it all so easily. Diana's individual popularity and appeal became a threat to the royal family and pro-Diana, anti-Diana camps emerged in the households. Charles was, personally, extremely envious of her popularity over his own and drifted away from her instead of helping her cope with her depression and self destructive behaviour. The Queen's stance regarding all the injustice meted out to Diana and to her problems was rather aloof.

Post natal depression, infidelity, bad mouthing, conspiracies, betrayal, condescension, eating disorders, suicidal tendencies - she faced them all. Diana may have been a lost teenager without a mentor when she entered the royal family, and obviously did not know how to cope with the magnitude of her role as the future Queen. However, she had a kind heart and she worked with true zeal and earnest for causes that she believed in - leprosy, AIDS, impoverished destitutes, elimination of land mines, to name a few. What is commendable is the fact that Diana was not just a pretty face in the royal family who could claim to have dispensed with her duties after having given birth to the future king of England. She reached out and became the people's Princess. Her warmth and caring nature struck people as out of the world. Her charm never failed. Despite her personal hardships, she never neglected the causes she was associated with. She was aware of her status and celebrity, and used them to garner attention and funds for these social causes world over. She won hearts wherever she went. She took lessons from her personal suffering and reached out to aide those who were suffering from depression and bulimia.

Diana was an exceptional mother in the royal household, the only one of her kind. She was aware of the stark difference in status of both her sons that would emerge once William became the King and preemptively laid a sound and mature foundation in their upbringing. She wanted her children to grow in a 'real' world and not in a royal silo. She treated her sons in as 'normal' a way as she could. These were the things missing from the upbringing philosophy of her husband. She may have had an untimely demise but she left behind her legacy with her children. 

Diana meandered in search for true love, seeking a normal simple married life after being abandoned by her husband. Ms Bradford lays out all her (futile) attempts at seeking love, including the one that she died with, without mincing words. Diana however, even after the divorce, always harboured love for Charles. Quite sadly, she never found long lasting love with any man, her husband or otherwise. She was always battling emotional loneliness, which grew when her sons went to boarding school.

Diana was a self conscious woman, who played with the media, and sometimes into their stratagems, to seek sympathy and build a positive self image. She was cursed with the need for constant approval. She feared rejection, and was highly insecure. As a result she found it hard to trust people, and instances of her extreme reactions on the basis of suspicions were aplenty. She never forgave disloyalty. The reasons for her behaviour were deep rooted in the treatment she received from the people she loved and trusted in the initial phase of her life. She remained isolated at the time of death and even during the funeral. Had it not been for the public uproar, she would not have been given a state funeral. The royal family was taken aback at the profound grief expressed by people all over the world at the demise of their beloved Princess Di and the growing dissent against the royal family for their unfeeling attitude toward her death.

The biography of Lady Diana Spencer is worth a read because it shows us the tenacity and endurance of who was doubtlessly one of the most beautiful women in the 20th century. It takes a brave-heart to turn against the oldest monarchy in the world and stand for what you believe in, to stand for what you are and yet not lose the kindness and warmth in your heart. Sarah Bradford uses her language elegantly and with sophistication. The narration of the life and times of Princess Diana is done in a manner so graceful, forthright, poignant and succinct that it is nearly impossible for you not to be moved. A life that lasted only 39 years and left people with so much to remember and talk about.

~

On a Certain Lady at Court

It is assumed that Alexander Pope wrote the following poem for a certain Catherine Howard, one of Queen Caroline's waiting-women and later the Countess of Suffolk. This is construed as his expression of the lady's numerous qualities and the way she shunned his praises and consequent advances toward her. My own understanding was rather different, and I probably like it better that way. The verses describe the image of a perfect woman, and an embodiment of an ideal human being. Not dissecting it too much. Sharing it because it struck a chord somewhere.

ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT

I know a thing that's most uncommon;

(Envy, be silent and attend!)

I know a reasonable woman,

Handsome and witty, yet a friend.

Not warp'd by passion, aw'd by rumour;

Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly;

An equal mixture of good-humour

And sensible soft melancholy.

'Has she no faults then (Envy says), Sir?'

Yes, she has one, I must aver:

When all the world conspires to praise her,

The woman's deaf, and does not hear.

~

Alexander Pope

Random It Is

In their constant quest to grab attention, marketers have been known to resort to various tactics. One of them is devising catchy brand names. One day, as I glanced through the aisles of a supermarket (will not name) a series of apparently innovative and seemingly interesting brand names caught my attention. It was the detergent section. After the Henkos, Ariels, Prils and other biggies came a few not so well known ones - these were manufactured by the company that owns the supermarket in question. The eye-catching names were: Mopz - the phenoyl, Scrubz - the utensil detergent gel, Floorz - some floor cleaning agent. Excruciatingly creative.

Bemused at this, I thought about the unrestrained use of the letter 'Z' these days. "Hellozzzz" and the likes. Annoying to the core, but they seem to have caught up with the times, and left me feeling quite uneasy. Nevertheless, my curiosity led me to look up the words that end with the letter Z and are really a part of the English language; eventually I did find a whole bunch of them. In the process I also realised that some brand names really had a meaning. Quite a welcome surprise, should I say! Thank you Mopz and Scrubz and Floorz for enlightening me. So far I could only think of 'zig zag', 'zip-zam-zoom', 'bar-mitzvah' and a little more (being modest here of course) when it came to the utility of the last letter of the English alphabet.

The curious minds reading this can access the list of these holy wordzz here!

~

Somewhere In a Parallel Universe

"Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high."
~
William Goldman, The Princess Bride

Can you spot the lonely soul that moves in the throngs? It is out there for everyone to see, yet for no one to notice. It lives with everybody around, yet does not. If you peer into its eyes you'd know. But it never lets you. It was an involuntary infliction; it is now a vicious circle. The soul was left desolate by someone it loved. Now it wards off everyone who could love it, and more so everyone who it could love back. For once bitten is twice shy and so the lonely soul  keeps away even a little shard that could reach its vulnerability. Its only weapon is the façade it maintains to shield its private world. That façade of unwavering fortitude, the imperturbable sang froid, that stoic visage. It's been so long that it is now adept at concealing that tumultuous whirlpool within. From insomnia to hypersomnia, binge eating to bulimia nervosa, nothing provides it the least quantum of solace. Homeless in its own heart, it continues to seek a haven in a world that, it seems, will never be its own again.

~