The Middle Ground

Emotional Abuse is real and it's debilitating effects can go unnoticed for several decades. Emotional invalidation and manipulation by parents and primary care-givers are of the worst kind for they are often worded as if they are meant for your benefit and well-being. You'll know one day and this knowing will be painful and require time - you'll know by the kind of partners you attract in romantic contexts, your own poor health choices, the weariness caused by a perpetual rebellion, when you are constantly exhausted by all the mental work you take on behalf of people who should care but don't, when during major events of illness or change you reguarly find yourself managing alone, if you are in a state of discomfort when your parents are around alternating between over-doing and exhaustion, you'll know you haven't been loved the way you should have. Emotional abuse by parents can particularly be very confusing for children because of the inherent nature of ...

You are the manifestation of Awareness in the physical world. Thank you for existing. For being the canvas that holds my hurts, griefs, agonies and humiliations - I went around the world and came back with a pen in my hand for connection with you. I build this bridge word by word between 'us' - Allow me to be without agenda. As the non-judging, all accepting silent witness of grief, hurt and transformation - as the eternal kindness - I declare that this is what I have been seeking in all experiences. In your kind allowance - my voice finds it's most honest expression - that I long to unite with your sombre serenity the pangs of incompleteness that echo in my heart. Everyone had their agendas - I had mine too. I kept the same needs for approval, acceptance, validation in front of my friends, colleagues and audience. I seek and find it here. In the blank pages of this journal my longing and seeking find peace.

Sometimes poems about rebellion, equality, unrequited love and freedom are not enough. Kundera's lightness of being, Murakami's nostalgia, Auden's lament about unrequited love, Cohen's blues about infidelity and lust are all glorious but the gentle rains outside remain aloof.  The winds seem to object strongly : “These feelings have been felt, written about , and enacted upon stage till death!” Occasionally the leaves of the peepul plead to be written about : “You’ve seen us dance therefore you must write about what we made you feel!” One sultry afternoon after a short, unexpected shower the koel croons one of its original numbers, clearly approving of the respite that the cool breeze brings. They all seem to whisper, “Write about the things that really matter!” The most exquisite tapestry created by the vermillion Gulmohar petals invite me back to the carefree times of laid back picnics spread on blue chequered cloth with wicker baskets full of jam, sandwiches, scones ...

If you are me, you are not a morning person. As soon as you open your eyes in the morning, into your head come rushing the events of the previous night in most spectacular detail, then the events of the past week, followed by those of last 5 years, and finally your whole life — all crunched into a script that you are not interested in reading, delivered so abruptly and so unforgivingly as if there was no other way to orient you and set context. As you calm down and make yourself a cup of tea, all you want to do is dodge but fail, then block and say, “ I know this already, just let me be”. You gradually warm yourself up with light exercise and tune into Guided Meditation with Deepak hoping you’ll glide into the day smoothly, knowing all the while that you are not prepared for the harsh sunlight of the post- breakfast till lunch time period. Each day as the sun sets, he returns your superpowers that he takes without your permission every morning — as the moon rises, the muse returns coax...

This post is about a companion in my adventures - easy and daunting, my steed in mucky terrains and smooth, a reliable friend who sometimes remorselessly burns a hole in my pocket - my car, Abhimanyu . As I sit down to collect my thoughts, I smile at the fond memories of the time we spent in each other’s company. 2 years ago, I had enrolled for driving lessons at a local driving school who would take me through the process of obtaining an Indian drivers license along with fixed real -time driving kms/hours. I attended the classes quite regularly - with the instructor beside - the clutch, brake and accelarator shared amicably between us. Sure the car moved along the lanes slowly, and stopped rightly at the signals, but could I drive a car on my own ? I brought this point up during a conversation with the branch manager of my bank who is also a friend - she suggested that it helps greatly if you can practice on your own car everyday for some time. That really set the gears of ...

The following is a list of human activities infinitely more cruel and harmful than drawing cartoons or being satirical. These however have nothing in common with what any self-stylized godman, priest or prophet or seer has ever prohibited. Not so surprisingly, these have also not been mentioned in any religious texts. 1) deforestation 2) dumping toxic chemical waste into natural water bodies 3) sweeping seabeds clean while killing million fishes and destroying aquatic ecosystems 4) hunting tigers, whales, dolphins for trade and fun 5) killing animals for food 6) circumscision - because the creator made you with foreskin and you obviously know better 7) killing fellow humans - because thats what you do when you are angry and you are always angry 8) evading taxes - because you owe nothing to the government and your country for your identity 9) hoarding wealth while millions starve 10) abducting and raping women and children 11) exploiting the less mightier through ...

My quest for love is like my longing for sunshine on a day when the sky is overcast with grey clouds and the rain lashes against the windows.  You've left taking with yourself everything that was sacred between us. My Mosul is destroyed, Houla and Herat lie massacred inside me.  I wake up in the middle of the day when the sun will be gone soon.The birds are thirsty and tired from gathering food. The flowers frown at the scorching heat. The sun soon goes away taking with him the flowers and their fragrance, the birds and their chirping, the light and all the glory. They leave me alone in the fog of infinite loneliness to fight with the demons of solitude.  My sighs are still empty, our pipe dreams have turned into stars that light up the velvet night sky. A nail bitten from your little finger seems to have magically flown off to become the moon. The nights of longing remain painful, on the other side of my bed lies the Sahara with its merciless magnif...

Fact : the 'Zero' was invented by Aryabhatta, an Indian mathematician. Up until quite recently this used to be my favorite Indian contribution to the evolution of the human thought. But in the aftermath of the global financial crisis, as I look back at everything that led to the present economic condition of the world, (in which war is a legitimate revenue-generating economic activity, tax-havens have illustrious names of politicians and artists associated with them, as banks still continue to pay 'billions' as regulatory fines), I find this fascinating invention at fault for the human condition called greed. But on further ruminating, this conclusion seems too simplistic. Could it be possible that in the grimy process of systematically looting and methodically killing each other (while believing that shallow, deprecating sarcasm and humour directed at ourselves would somehow justify our actions) we completely misunderstood the zero ? In any case, there co...

Today I decide to break the silence on something that I've been carrying around for 4 years now. I could let this reside within the deep recesses on my heart-mind space without probing it and gently allowing it to turn into other beautiful possibilities. Or I could bring this very personal account to the open in an attempt to trigger introspection in the light of toxic conversations in the name of righteousness, that are steering the national dialogue of our country. If you decide to go ahead and read this - my only request to you is to Look, to simply Look without biases, at the emotions and feelings that this piece triggers through your heart-mind. Whatever arises is allowed, valid and accepted. The hero in this story has a charismatic personality, is well-read about current affairs, fiercely independent, extremely strongly opinionated, has a dry, sarcastic, witty, often mean sense of humour. He hardly ever appreciates anyone in conversations instead is quick to re...

The strangest thing happened today. Although, this blog has in no way been an account of daily experiences - this incident deserves special attention. A medium sized cockroach climbed on my bed and was scurrying towards me. I brushed it so it fell on the floor. I am normally kind towards insects, I have many times picked the carcasses of moths and butterflies on pavements and construction sites and buried them under a tree. It could have been the same with the cockroach had it scampered away on its own course. But our man fell on his back. I watched on as it struggled to get back up on its feet but did nothing to help him. I was genuinely curious to see what would happen. For the next couple of minutes, it would wiggle and twist its body frantically for a while and then pause as if to regain some of its energy before trying again. Clearly it was in a state of panic. The floor was slippery and there wasn't a wall or the leg of a furniture in its vicinity to help him. I mar...

So that I remember later and can refer to it whenever required. On being asked to step up to the next level of accumulating possessions and becoming  another corporate carbon copy, I turned them down. I moved out of the organisation. I sent the parents packing homewards. I didn’t feel like I was ready. My spirit had given up, I felt so exhausted. I was tired of waiting - for things to be simpler, for natural awesomeness to be, for me not having to convince another why they should invest their time, energy and money on me. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I suddenly felt misunderstood by my family - Everybody was moving around with their own agenda built around their fragile ideas about security - financial, emotional, psychological and physical. Security is extremely essential for me too except for the little bit where we aren’t living authentically - doing what we really like to do, being relaxed and thereby kind, easy-going, humorous and there by automatic...

If you are me, you are not a morning person. As soon as you open your eyes in the morning, into your head come rushing the events of the previous night in most spectacular detail, then the events of the past week, followed by those of last 5 years, and finally your whole life — all crunched into a script that you are not interested in reading, delivered so abruptly and so unforgivingly as if there was no other way to orient you and set context. As you calm down and make yourself a cup of tea, all you want to do is dodge but fail, then block and say, “ I know this already, just let me be” . You gradually warm yourself up with light exercise and tune into Guided Meditation with Deepak hoping you’ll glide into the day smoothly, knowing all the while that you are not prepared for the harsh sunlight of the post- breakfast till lunch time period. Each day as the sun sets, he returns your superpowers that he takes without your permission every morning — as the moon rises, the muse...

A is also for Anxiety. And Alive. A is also for Abundance and Absolute I grew up in a family, where my anxiety before examinations was misinterpreted as conscientious. My parents unknowingly enabled it by removing a lot of tasks from my plate so that I could focus all my mental energies intensely on one complex problem in academics and take it to its solution. To exacerbate the problem, my efforts, tears and nights of anguish were rewarded by my teachers and university examination boards with good grades, trophies and certificates. All this meant that, nothing needed to change. No matter the what the difficulty of the challenge, the joy after said accomplishment was short-lived , if any. A solemn celebratory dinner with the family without much fanfare. My practical parents, considered it boastful to speak highly of their children’s victories. Of course, I did not pay much attention to these ‘trivi al’ absurdities - as long as my brain was able to process what was being taught in cla...