In Memoriam: The Girl with the Pearl Smile

There was this girl we all knew. Or at least we thought we did. She was sweetness and light, sugar and spice, all things nice. Really. She drove the boys crazy with her feminine charm and glam all the while seeming like she had no clue about it. Girls just loved her and wanted to protect and mother her. She had this big kind heart-rarely speaking an ill word about anyone. She had a depth and sensibility and a disapproval of shallowness that wasn't instantly obvious. She danced, she sang-the sweetest voice you would ever hear. She had these big innocent eyes, soft cascading long hair and dewy skin. She made you think of early spring - pastels, soft winds and summer on its way. She loved the sensitive heroes of new Hindi cinema, loved songs 'Stereo Love', 'Tera Hone Laga Hoon', and 'With You'. She loved love.

Evidently, she had a winter within her too. She kept to herself, storing thoughts and feelings in inner lockers for not even her closest friends to know. People would reach out but she was private. Her emotions and her thoughts were her own. She would spend time with her friends, hours over coffee, music, movies, jokes, celebrity gossip. She would listen and soak in those of others' but no one get any closer to her. She had intense romantic thoughts, posted messages and pondered over life-openly, yet solitarily. Each one of us has an inaccessible zone, right? An area cordoned off from public viewing. We shouldn't be intrusive. We stuck our heads around the corner, hollered offers of being right there in case she needed us and backed off. And suddenly, when we weren't looking, she just upped and left. Without a clue. Without a warning. Leaving us questioning our own values formed on privacy, friendship. Retracing our steps to before that fateful night. Hadn't we tried? How close was too close? Could we have 'saved' her?

Questions, hypothetical, rhetorical questions ring out. In the company of friends and also when we're alone. Thinking back to times when we've all felt helpless and sad in the bottom of the well. Times when we've wanted to hurt ourselves physically and hurt those around us emotionally, just because we have so much heavy sorrow that we cannot lift out of our hearts. Times when friends have consciously or inadvertently stuck out a hand and pulled us back into the blindingly beautiful life-this form that we're supposed to fill out, living through the boxes, filling in the blanks and maybe drawing in the margins, too.

Maybe we aren't supposed to leave our friends be. Maybe we're meant to grab them, shake them, make them believe that life is worth living for-that no matter what happens, however humiliating, frustrating, depressing, if they just lean on us a bit longer, it'll be okay. The clouds won't part and the fog won't lift immediately, but just wait it out and see. Fight those dark forces who don't deserve a nanosecond of your time and see. There's so much ache out there, but there's so much thrill too.

Our 'Golden Girl' has gone away. When she was here, she taught us about beauty and grace. With her passing, perhaps, we should learn to not hold back. To love and be loved, to hold hands, hold out and hold on.

The way he made us feel

There are some things in life that you take for granted: oxygen, the Pyramids of Egypt and Michael Jackson.

Symbols of culture are meant to last forever, irrespective of the fact whether they are made of marble, stone or flesh and blood. They are compasses around which we function. A comfort to us through jokes and references. It's enough to know that they are there. It’s taken for granted that they’ll live forever, larger than life.
I remember the 4 year old me watching my older friends handling a precious copy of the 'Dangerous' album. I stared back at those famous eyes on the cover, wanting to be let into this seemingly prohibited adult world of pop music, wanting to be released from nursery rhymes. And soon enough, I was.

For 8 year old me, Michael Jackson was MTV and MTV was Michael Jackson. Sure, there was Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Puff Daddy (way before he changed into P.Diddy) etc. But there was no one BIGGER than the soft-spoken, twirling dervish with the fascinating music videos. He was not only the best dancer I had ever seen, or the singer of the relentlessly catchy songs but he was also THE definition of the music video.

It was not just the combination of phenomenal talent and charming personality. He was an assurance of the fact that something extraordinary existed beyond the uncomplicated beauty of movie stars or the pure and simple talent of other musicians. Michael Jackson pushed the boundaries of our senses, leaving us awestruck. That was true entertainment-where our questions were silenced and our senses surrendered.

We borrowed our icons from generations past. Elvis was far too gone for us to call him our own. Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain and Freddie Mercury far too ghost-like to be missed. Our idols were young and full of life, Michael Jackson being the embodiment of energy.

Our generation is one that took things for granted. We were convinced of our immortality-the generation of living in the moment, of Eminem's offensive lyrics and Paris Hilton's frivolity.

Now, we come face to face with our fragile humanness. The person who seemed to live forever, who seemed to live it all, has moved beyond his physical state.

His extraordinary life and aura make his existence seem almost mythical. The controversies and stories that surrounded him earned him reactions from ridicule and disgust to sympathy for the child-man who was most probably just misunderstood.

As the music channels flood us with images of the energetic young Michael dancing like there was no tomorrow or urging us to make a change, as fans across the globe shed tears and make shrines for the King of Pop, as music legends grieve and as music lovers vow to not mourn him but celebrate the existence of such an icon amongst us, one wishes that MJ would see the love that we have for him and know how much he meant to us, the generation whom he shaped.

Was he a child prodigy teaching us 'ABC', a teen dance icon who warned us against 'Billie Jean' or the King of Pop who was one of the few who successfully used music to 'Heal the world'? Whatever hat he donned, all we now have is the burning memory of a mythical legend who rocked our world in more ways than he ever imagined.

:(

My best friend is leaving.

I'm not going to be able to see him everyday, fight with him through nasty messages over the phone, have him rifle through my wardrobe to pick out my clothes for fancy occasions, watch him spend hours collaborating with my mother to torture my existence through nagging, be the cause for my overweight through unnecessary consumption, not reply to my senti messages, sit in the front seat and pretend he is a human GPRS, be demanding when I'm drifting, make me jealous by hanging out with other people, exasperate me with his indecisive shopping, chatter with me nineteen to the dozen even though he's the quiet one, make hilarious jokes with the most stoic expressions, honour me with the privilege of being his secret diary and basically be my the boon and bane of my existence.

How do you tell someone that they've changed your life?

How do you take back all the mean words you've ever said? How do you explain that all the times you fought and all the times you kept away was because you cared? How do you convince them that though you may have a lot of important people in your life, there are some people who just cannot be replaced? There are only some people who can be a built-in brother, sister, best friend, what have you. Who fit like a glove. There are only some people you can hate to love and hate to hate. There are only some people who can turn your life upside down and walk right back in and continue in the same cycle but it just does not make a difference because you're so comfortable. How do you go back in time to pay more attention, be more patient, listen and just absorb?

How do you say goodbye?

He's going back to where he came from. He's going back to where he's supposed to be. But why do you sometimes feel that three years are equivalent to a whole lifetime?

Because those three years are when you grow up. Those three years are when you need someone beside you to define you when you're blurred, take a crayon and colour your greys, stir you when you're dormant, challenge you when you want to give up, aggravate you when you're dull. Make you fight till you feel alive.

Maybe there's a long way to go. There's e-mail and mobile phones (thank you, technology) and other things which might be invented. There'll be visits.

I guess the problem lies in not seeing the end till it comes. You live life in the moment and you miss the big STOP sign ahead.

I can't formulate the words right. My theory was that we don't say goodbyes. But this is something internal. It's a goodbye to life as it was. A change in the way life has been. But change is supposed to be good, right?

Sometimes it doesn't feel good.

Exhale. It'll be okay.

My friend, all I can say is:

I don't want to start saying mushy things (oh, hello, wake up call, I've said ENOUGH in the above paragraphs) so I'll just tell you to LEAVE NOW before we start our usual boxing round. I'm sure (okay, I HOPE) we won't be doing any of that over long-distance. We'll be meeting (or have met) loads of interesting people who will change our lives more than we can imagine. We will find shoulders to cry on and signposts that direct us. But I'll remember the three years. Where we attempted to grow up and instead tumbled (a lot). It was comical and painful, riding that skateboard.

But it was a lot easier with you being the elbow pads.

(Cornyyyyyyy! But true)

Broken strings

In the beginning of this year, we lost one of our classmates.

Today, on the last day of college, as we stood teary-eyed, taking pictures while our professors surprised us with cake, reaching out to one another in a kind of desperation, a kind of wistfulness of having wasted three years of not getting to know each other better, today we lost a junior of ours to another bike accident.

It doesn't feel like so long ago when our classmate passed away. I still remember the disbelief and shock. The fact that someone you took for granted, who was supposed to be part of the background picture , familiar and present is never going to be seen again. It hits you that you should've waved at him when you had the chance. You could've spared a second of a 'Hello'. Isn't it strange that you end up having a lot to say when you realise you can't say it?

When someone you know leaves the face of the earth, you expect the earth to stop turning atleast for a bit. You expect the news to talk about him, you expect life to take a pause. When your world has a lost its sense of normalcy, how does it continue for everyone else? Shouldn't it take on a shade of grey? Is it inappropriate to think of exams, food and routine? Everything seems much more cloudier.

But the world continues to turn. And you, the one who's been left behind, have to turn along with it.

It's easy to say 'Be strong, move on'. You will, eventually. But how does that assuage the pain?

You will have to remember that while you shed tears and lament the cutting short of a young life, he is on another plane right now. He is tranquil and he is far from suffering and all the bondages of the human body. He is free.

It doesn't help your loneliness and the sense of absence that you feel. But do not mourn for him, for his loss. Because he is beyond any definition of loss. Beyond all these boundaries and barriers that condition our fragile existence that we take so seriously. He is with the true reality now and we continue in the illusion, till the time we join him.

And as abstract as I sound, it does make me feel better.

A Quick Word

From MADness (http://madcampaign.blogspot.com/) to supposed masti, it is no wonder that I haven't stepped ashore Estarra in a while.
The MAD (Make A Difference) campaign gave me purpose, albeit a little delayed, much after everyone was marching around being useful.Indifference among the youth is the heart of all the social diseases we face today. However,it took Rabbi's 'Bilquis' to get me passionate about a cause that is very much etched in my heart. Honestly, I cannot listen to that song without feeling goosebumps . "Jinhe naaz hai hind par woh kahaan the?" (Where were those who had pride in India?)
It seems like a distant memory now. Performing short street presentations and staging an accident to portray how Naveen died due to negligence. All in all, the campaign was full throttle, passionate and we gave it our all.
Immediately after that, my fellow mad hatters and I set off on our much-debated tour (Wayanad, Coorg and Mysore). The beautiful locales proved to be a setting for many adolescent ego skirmishes. However, I must say that Wayanad was lovely. Mysore was interesting as well. My dear friend Aeroplane managed to convince all of us that he was having a past life regression when we visited the Wodayar palace. Indeed, one of the kings did bear a slight resemblance to Aeroplane! However, all kingly duties were not as fresh in his mind as the thought of 3000 concubines...
Moving on!
It was a fun time (my highlight was floating along the Pookot Lake while the other 3 peddled on as I shouted out instructions acting like a commanding officer) but it was not the holiday I desperately crave. Lazing around with absolutely nothing to do but gape at the beauty of nature. But ah, who am I to complain? Something is better than nothing! And travel definitely broadens the mind...it certainly did to mine!

Lazy Don't Save Me

It's all cloudy. I'm picturing a desolate beach(the white sand variety) under green palms( do those exist?) swaying under a tempestuous breeze to the sound of the waves.
According to K, I shall find this in Kerala. In all probability, yes. But I'm highly sceptical owing to my memory of the place my Mum dragged me to 3 years ago. It was hot and we spent all the time temple-hopping (which was not as bad as I thought it would be. Except for the time I stepped into fresh cowdung and had to wipe it off with newspapers and grass. Repeat after finicky-me, EW.)
So, well, basically I never got to experience desolate beaches of any kind, kathakali dances, boathouses (though we did get to boat on the Vembanad Lake) or those other 'God's own country' things which I drool over in travel advertising features. It was a learning experience, though and made me realise how much of a city slicker I am. It didn't manage to make me to feel any connection with my so-called Malayali blood (does it exist if you don't believe its existence?) But it was good. Remind me to tell you about it, some other, more proactive time.
Well, I hope I encounter some of those dreamy imageries when we go on our class excursion at the end of this month. (It aches to think Naveen won't be there with us. It's so strange how life has to move on. Sigh.)
Back to my dreamy state of existence. It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, almost Sunday-like, but only with a vague expectation of activity. I wonder if I will ever get up to it. Have been dreaming of long TV hours with a mug of cold coffee (No one makes the way I LOVE it like Mum does)
Have an exam on Monday-Mass Communication Theories. (Honestly, it's more interesting than it sounds). Got a pile of notes to rifle through. But all I want to do is dream of picture-postcard beach and listen to the alt songs under the playlist I titled 'Moments' in my iTunes. Listening to Rabbi's new album now. Nowhere as great as his debut album, but appropriate for my current mood.
Oh, did I tell you about the Strings concert I went for last Saturday? It was absolutely beautiful. Sure, Parikrama was great ( I especially loved their own comp 'Am I Dreaming?'. Man I wish I could get my hands on that song) but when Strings came on, they brought such a precious, positive energy to the atmosphere. I totally lost myself there. The music, the lyrics, the melody and the sweetness in their performance. Just thinking about it makes me smile. I've always been in love with their songs 'Sirkiye yeh pahar' and 'Anjaane' (have mentioned the lyrics in my previous blog post of favourite lyrics) but their new one 'Koi Aaney Wala Hai' is adorable as well. I love the lyrics. It's about expecting an angel. And they depict that in the video too, with John Abraham as an angel. Ha ha ha. But I prefer imagining it in my own way. Bilal (oh he's so cute!) and Faisal(oh he's so sweet!) are angels enough.
Well, I'm going off for now before I ramble any further. This has been a long, aimless one-sided conversation (oh God!! That reminds me of the criticisms of the dominant paradigm of Development Communication. Don't. Even. Go. There. My exam's over today and I don't wanna think about it all over again. Though it is highly interesting...google it if you're interested. I taught 4 different people about it, including myself and my mandatory student, J.)
OK. BYE FOR NOW. (Someone gag me!)

Lessons from a young life cut short

He was young. His hair was long, he wore his jeans baggy and had his own distinct style. He kept to himself most of the time but was close to his bunch of friends.I never got the chance to know him. He passed away last night.

Perhaps it was in his destiny. Perhaps it was a tragic, tragic twist of fate. But the fact is, it shouldn't have happened. He wasn't ready for it. We weren't ready for it. From what I could tell, he loved life and had immense expectations from it. He wasn't the kind of person who picked fights. He was ever polite and wished me for my birthday even though I had forgotten his. I don't think he ever felt that life was pointless...like I often do.

Yet he is gone and I am here, writing about him- a young life unfairly cut short, just at the very edge of unlimited possibilities. It pains me even though I never really knew him. Perhaps it pains me THAT I never really knew him.

I really hope you're happy up there, wearing your sunglasses and riding your bike. I hope you're smiling down on us as all of us, your numerous friends and family members cry and attempt to digest the fact that though your body is gone, you are fully alive in spirit. You've demonstrated the transience of life, how utterly unpredictable it can be. You've told us that we're bigger than this body which we exercise and nourish and worship. You've taught us to love one another because we never know when we might see each other again. I wish you hadn't had to leave for us to learn this lesson.