Tuesday, August 05, 2008

The Chronicles of BW- Part 1

BW decided that it was time for some soul searching. Ever since her entry into the real world so to speak she had been riddled with AOL banners, power yoga techniques, meditation pamphlets, reiki, kundalini, you name it. So she set out on a journey to discover the deeper meaning of "life". Not that she had much of a life anyway, or so said some equally lifeless colleagues.
So she bought a Ferrari , since that showed that you were serious, it was like an induction of sorts. Since a journey it would have to be, to attain the elusive nirvana. After all it did one good to mix business with pleasure. Till she morphed into a saint-with-a-ferrari , she might as well make the most of it.
So the third dimension it was and Pratchett's discworld seemed the obvious starting point. It was a world where unreality was its one reality, the rest were just figments of one's imagination.
So Death was companionable, witches were friendly guardians though slightly coarse and satire was king. “Such was life”, thought BW. A sense of unreality was exactly what one needed to try out the most bizarre. Here at last one could become oneself or one’s vision of oneself at least.
So she rented a cottage, kept cats, danced with witches at moonlight and made tea 5 times a day. And waited for realization to set in. She would be free at last, and at peace, no strings attached.
Days passed and yet she felt nothing. She did feel a vast void welling up inside her. But nothing else.
She slept in one morning, and when she woke up the sun was in her eyes, its rays sharp and she felt a spasm of irritation. And she realized what she had been missing.
She felt the heat of the sun coarse through her, and went to the garden and plucked out the roses feeling their silken touch against her skin, and pricked herself with the thorns, oozing blood and welcoming the pain. She bathed in icy water and shed hot tears. The tears were real, as were the roses, the sun was real because of the heat, and she was real because she could emote and feel again. Joys, sorrow, pain, happiness, fear, anger made her what she was, her ability to think, feel, reflect and smile were her own, they were unique to her. She couldn’t do without a life which did not stir them to some degree. Without them she had as much personality as those rapidly wilting rose petals.
So she decided on the next fad. After all philanthropy had many takers and what could be better than helping the underprovided little kids. Why she could even adopt a few after she was sufficiently famous.
So she plunged into the good works, cried buckets at her first encounter with misery and set about her duties zealously, and it must be admitted a tad self righteously. She was vociferous about their rights and their privileges and would tell anyone who listened how rewarding it was.
But days passed and her unhappiness grew. For how could she admit to herself that their unhappiness no longer moved her, that she was hard hearted enough to become immune to it.
Familiarity kills emotions. Familiarity leads to numbness. Or was it just a sense of belonging since you could never pity anything you were a part of?
There would be feelings if there was love in the first place. In this case there was none.
So what was the solution? To find something you truly loved, something which would stir your emotions to the right degree, something you would never get tired of? And then you would find your calling, your own personal Nirvava. Till then you would keep looking.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

The Chronicles Of BW-Preface

So BW stepped out of her fairy tale land and into our world of dark knights and kung-fu pandas( ok this is a serious identity crisis). It is a world where Joker surpasses Batman (though I still maintain that Christian Bale was my draw) and Kismat Konnection manages to rake in moolah ( or so Google News would have me believe). But seriously what were they thinking!!Given my attraction for inane films I was drawn like a bored fly to a pot of honey. So I was able to witness first hand the actress-who-should-be-the-mom working on her sex appeal(??) to seduce the actor-who-should-be the-son. Wild hairdos dont work( though the collection of hair slides is another story), pious than thou , helping the aged, the mother teresa of the NRI image doesnt work (the aged themselves get on ones nerves, they are like the Chopra kids, I have spoken about that species at length in previous posts) And so the director had to resort to the totally believable plot of her being the guy's lucky charm to help us understand why he falls for her.
Lucky charmer (heh) does have a purpose in life quite apart from being the arm-candy-cum-mascot of the failed hero. In fact she has too many of them. She divides her time between caring for the aged homeless and relaxes by waving to the remaining on solitary beaches , presumably to include them in her ever encompassing frame (..of love of course what did you think ?) , romancing the first bf and running protest marches, romancing the second bf and slapping the first..
Such is the scintillating storyline..But it is didactic too and before we leave we have one of the aged beach wavers espousing the cause of not just the profit motive in business (CSR anyone??)..I mean talk about insights..This is one community-love story..
But we digress..when dont I??
So back to BW ..but thats another story..