Dreams

I always had a dream. Not in the range of Martin Luther King Jr and all, but just a dream - to be a journalist. And by God's grace, I am one now.

The other day my parents and I went out to dinner. Now, Appa has always taught me by example to be nice to the people who serve us - security guards, doormen, those at a ticket counter, it could be anyone.

We parked the car, and the security guard so courteously did his job - directed us to the parking place and did it without a grumpy face as many are wont to do when it's 10PM. What struck me was his sincerity and the fact that I could see it on his face. He was older, perhaps 40 or so, greying hair and moustache.

It struck me that he too might have had dreams.

To drive his own car rather than direct others to park theirs.

To have a relaxed dinner with his wife and kids at a restaurant.

And a million ways by which he might have wanted to achieve that dream.

I'll never know.

But it makes me so, so, very sad to think of it.

It was just a thought, impulsive and it came out of nowhere. Nowhere conscious, as far as I know.

But it struck strong enough to have stuck to my mind like a leech, and it won't let go. I don't know if it is guilt , or a desire to ease some of the sadness in the world.

I flounder with my thoughts. 

Speechless

Being sick is the worst feeling. 

I wonder how all this mucus and phlegm flows unceasingly from my nose and throat. It is quite disgusting, really.

The hardest thing for me this past week was the fact that I could not speak. 

Yes, me, who cannot keep my mouth shut for any extended period of time. 

And in a way, it helped. I realised there are a lot of things I say that need not be said.

Life can go on smoothly, even if, especially if, I don't come up with any snide remarks. 

Being speechless can be a good thing sometimes. 

Emotional policing

8.30PM on a Wednesday evening. Thiruvanmiyur Beach.

It's no longer secluded like it used to be, there are several families and groups of people all along the stretch.

So me and my boy J were sitting on the ledge talking and laughing, when we saw a beautifully red moon rising.

I love the moon. It's been a long time since I saw one rising out of the sea. I wanted a closer look. We moved to the sand.

We were there for about 10 to 15 minutes when suddenly two or three policemen come walking down the beach, pulling up all the couples. Uh oh, this could be trouble.

The fattest one says, "Thambi, inga vaa paa." So the thambi very respectfully gets up and goes, expecting a rash comment or something.

Except, the policeman goes, "How can you do something like this? Isn't it wrong? You shouldn't come to the beach like this with a girl. What will your parents think?"

And J goes, "Our parents know sir, you want me to give them a call?" One super look of shock on police uncles face. He calls me, "Nee inga vaa ma."

I get up and walk to them sans slippers and ask what seems to be the problem. He unleashes the same tactic on me, "How can you come to the beach at this time? Did you think about your parents? What are you doing here?"

And I say, "Sir, I am a reporter, and I am here with my parents knowledge. If you want, you can talk to them from my mobile directly. Is there any other problem?"

By now police uncle is fully confused. The couple next to us were thoroughly scared like he expected them to be, and he has his deputies haranguing them as he grills us. But we? He was not expecting that.

Anyway, he says we shouldn't hang around here any more since it is 'late" and we should get home safely.

As we leave the seashore, J and I wonder what these moral/emotional police would say if we tell them that we are married, since they are so shocked just by the fact that we are there and our parents know. "Enna kudumbamo idhu," must have definitely run through police uncles mind!

We decide to try that out next time.

We walk back to the ledge and continue watching the moon rise.

Just another day in paradise.

Safety precautions

Everyone likes to save their own hide. Everyone takes their own precautions.

Even if it means ignoring the fact that someone has died because of someone else's negligence.

We want to be safe. We don't want to offend.

We want to paint pretty pictures to cover up the reality.

I understand that feeling; I often ignore the reality and live in my own bubble, because I prefer it that way. Life is infinitely more easier to go through if you're wearing rose-tinted glasses. 

But the feeling extends only to what I find unpalatable, and is a personal choice.

A girl, younger than me, has died. Because she wanted to go out and have a good time. It went wrong.

What happens then? 

I crack my knuckles, put up my feet, and proceed to write about the place of her death. How many such places exist, what is present there. Not more than that. 

A puff piece.

What am I going to say, when my heart is not in it?

Pride for the day

Pride - because I had a kick-ass story in the papers today.

Not much can match the feeling of accomplishment that comes with it, knowing that one sleepless night and several unfinished conversations went into writing it. TOTALLY worth it.

The page could have been in colour though. Just saying. To whoever is in-charge of deciding that.

Other than that, uneventful day. Sort of an anti-climax really.

Went to watch Ice Age 4: Continental Drift with my boy.

Yes, I have a goofy grin on my face when I talk about him. Get over it. You also, aunty-sitting-next-to-us-who-switched-seats-when-we-held-hands. I'm not stopping you from holding your husband's hand, am I?

Also, I realised those fictional animals travel way more than I ever have in my life. Must work on that. Nowhere near ice though. Too cold; I'm the freak who gets chills if I sit in an AC room for half an hour without a shawl.

My kind would have been the first to go extinct when the earth froze over.

Daydream

In my mind's eye,

Splashes of purple, red, yellow pink, swirling around - ice candy on a summer day.

I see sand castles being built, not to last.

I hear the laughter of a man and a woman, deeply in love.

I feel the dry leaves crunch under my feet.

I touch the raindrops on the windowpane.

I smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

I yearn for what has been, and never will be again.

I hope it will, in vain.

I wake myself, and live.

Judging

I have an O.C.D when it comes to writing on the computer.

Those red, green and occasional blue lines drive me mad.

Which is why I don't understand how people can write without punctuation or paragraphs, and multiple spelling mistakes and typos. 

Yes, I am judging you.

Go edit what you wrote. 

Bye.