The puzzle of the unnecessary middle

Compromise, meeting midway, give and take, adjustment: all words associated with, among many other things, relationships. As much as it seems paramount, maybe because of all the psychobabble around it, this idea of giving in to the point that you don't lose yourself, is it really necessary?

Picture it, in a tangible sense.

A line with a definitive start and end will have a middle, but just close your eyes and imagine something. Likely, it's difficult to picture the start and end because the thought is an abstraction. You define the start and end in some random manner, without being able to pinpoint accurately. So how do you find the middle?

Now, think about this in the context of relationships.

When and why did a relationship start? Can you actually put a date to it, even though there might be a legal date? More importantly, why did it start? Was it the spontaneity? Was it the 'off-the-beaten-path' approach to life? Was it just one thing or many? Can they be quantified or brought within a boundary in their entirety? If they can't, then how can a midpoint be calculated, especially when it's two sets of 'whys' that need to be understood and explained?

So then, is there a need for a middle?

Can there not be just a whole? One that does away with the arrogance of a left or a right, that demands that there be a middle. A nebulous composition of thoughts, ideas, opinions and everything else.

A whole that can possibly explain much more than a middle can.

Where the heart is...

What is home?

It's fond memories. It's a good mental space. It's what you think of when you're feeling down and out. It's also what you think of when you feel thrilled to bits! It's your past but not necessarily your present or your future. But it's still home.

Madras was her home. No, not Chennai. Madras. Is there a difference? Yes! Especially for those who don't live there any more or haven't lived there for awhile, the difference is huge. Chennai doesn't roll off the tongue as easily as does Madras. It sounds a tad pretentious and it's just not....Madras! That's all.

As adamant as she was about calling her home Madras, she was equally adamant all her life that Madras was her only 'home'. No other place that she had lived in and loved could become home.

Until quite recently when she realised and accepted that it's OK to have more than one home.

Home is the present and the future. Home is fondness. Home is memories. Home is love. And to be corny, home is where the heart is.

And her heart was firmly planted in more than one place.

Just do it

When something's that close, how do you feel when it doesn't go your way?

Do you try to forget the very few moments where you could've done something different or do you relive the many that set you apart? Do you worry that you might not get another shot or are you pleased about how you performed? Do you think of the many that write you off or the few that really believe? Do you wish you could do it again or do you just do it?

Just do it. Please. 

The little red soldier

A giant brown thing was blocking his way. Annoyed, he looked up at it. It seemed like it had no beginning and no ending. It was just huge! He made his way down what seemed like an infinite path. It took him some time but he eventually got to a corner. He could only make a left turn and so he did.

Another infinite stretch of brown greeted him. So he continued trudging along. He walked and walked but had to make a sudden stop. There was something bright red in his way. It seemed different from the brown...a bit soft and juicy, maybe. He tried to climb over it but slipped. Finally, he managed to sneak into a teeny weeny gap and continued his walk...but not for long.

A pale green thing blocked his path next followed shortly by a yellowish-orangish smelly thing. As he went closer to inspect it, the giant brown thing moved! As it seemed to lift off suddenly like a helicopter would, a few little brown pieces fell down. One piece would've landed on him had he not jumped to the side in the nick of time. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and was trying to figure out his next move when the brown thing landed again right next to him...with one small difference.

It had a little curve near where he stood. A small indent that altered the shape...and consequently his path.

Curious, but also scared, he walked slowly into the curve. To his surprise, he found someone just like him, albeit a bit bigger, standing there. They gave each other a once-over and then the bigger of the two smiled and said, “This whole wheat bread is simply divine but the cheddar cheese stinks and the tomatoes and cucumber are soggy”!

Just A day

There's mother's day, father's day and every other family member's day.
There's valentines day, friendship day and even hugs day.
There's national secretary's day and international fruit day.
There's earth day, water day and plant a tree day.

I bet you can think up something, type it up in google and find a day for it. So I thought and I typed. And I was sure that I was the smart one.

"Nothing day"!

Alas, there are smarter people than me and they've taken that day too!

There's been an all fools' day since forever. Is there a who's had the last laugh day?

The forgetful mind

Transience - we all know about it, especially in the context of our lives. Yet, when death comes, it catches us off guard, almost all the time. We immediately think of 'what could've been', 'what we should've done', 'what we would've done only if'...and so on.

And then we move on to 'what we ought to do in the future' and promise ourselves that we will do it. Without fail.

Maybe that's just natural human thought process...the quick move from emotions to actions. Maybe it's our way of dealing with the suddenness and the finality of it all. Maybe it's simply a way to block out the pain or postpone it to a future date.

If only we remembered what was really important.
If only we remembered feeling helpless.
If only we remembered why we left things unexpressed.
If only we remembered all that we felt.

If only we remembered the emotions as we began the actions.

Goodbye to a friend

It had only been a short while that they had known him, maybe 8 months at best. Their interactions weren't lengthy either. The exchanges were mostly filled with the innocence of childish banter and the tolerance and understanding of age. She felt that both young and old looked forward to that brief, not so frequent exchange. It seemed to bring them momentary happiness.

Until one day when he was no more.

She had to answer some tough questions from the young. How, when, where, what and so on. They surprised her with their understanding. And with their affection. She didn't think they would make so much sense of it and be so in tune with others feelings and emotions. But they were, each in their own way. One, just sensitive and the other, mostly curious but glaringly honest.

That's the thing with children. It's hard to know the depth of what they understand-about people, situations and just life even. She was caught off-guard but in a good way.

She hoped that their sensitivity, curiosity and honesty would remain with them life-long. Who said those things are only reserved for children?

A Princess's new clothes!

"Tell your daughter she's a warrior, detective, leader, athletic, determined, curious, free-spirited..." read a quote on Facebook. The title of the image? 10+ alternatives to calling your daughter a princess.

This hit home immediately for two reasons. One, her daughter hated the word princess and any association to it and two, she herself, having been a tad tomboyish, had always been anti-princessy. The quote made her wonder what exactly it was that she didn't like about the concept of princesses. Was it the frilly dresses, the many hues of pink, the sparkles, the tiaras, the concept of having to always look well put-together? Or was it all of it?

She, like all other kids her age, had read fairy tales galore growing up. Princesses stuck in a tall tower, princes on steeds coming to the rescue and then living happily ever after...those types of stories. And even ones such as The Little Mermaid, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Snow White and so on but one thing that struck her was that these characters weren't classified into the Princesses 'bucket' then as they are nowadays.

The marketing geniuses putting their spin on simple characters who were cool, spunky, creative and what not. Maybe it was Disney who began this grouping...she wasn't sure. She had always wondered why there weren't new-age princesses who wore jeans, tees, caps, played sports and slapped boys on the back. Maybe there were movies made about girls who were like that, except they weren't called princesses.

She wondered if her daughter wondered the same.

Genetics is an interesting subject. Like there is for appearance and for characteristics, is there a genetic code for attitudes or does a child learn by simple observations and interactions with their peers, family and society? Hmm...interesting. Wouldn't that mean that a part of what our 'princesses' learn about being a princess comes from us and the surrounding that we expose them to?It isn't just words we say from quotes on Facebook, is it?

She wished that life were simpler. She wished that the world wasn't so filled with the norm. She wished that it wasn't so hard to explain that it was OK to be different.

Maybe she would write about a jeans-clad, spunky, cool, sporty, creative, kind, affectionate, helpful, free-spirited leader...called Princess...just to shake things up a bit, you know?

Size doesn't matter!

Yeah, that's right. It might be small, it might seem not-so-powerful, it might seem a pushover but it's bright, slick and packs a punch! Like a wise person said, "It's not the size that counts, it's the spirit"!

Here's to good times, independence and freedom. On long drives, I mean ;).

article 4 - seles stabbing 20 years ago

article 4 for sportskeeda