ON MEN. .. AND THEIR NICE QUIRKS

While I have been receiving quite a bit of feedback on last night's article about men and their quirks; a large number did admit to whatever was written but also justified that women have their minus points too. Totally agree. Just like there's yin for yang, and black for white, men have some nice and great things about them too. And no this isnt some feel good article for those who felt sore about yesterday's piece. It is simply reflections put down in words.

Having studied in an all girls college for my graduation I was honestly very anxious about leaving home to do my MBA in a co ed. I have heard lot of girls say from time to time that a college is no fun without boys, but believe me we never felt the vacant space in my graduation college. Sure there was nobody to oggle and make comments about, but back then life was about literature, lots of college fests and what not. Well my entry into MBA was made even more controversial with the presence of my baby sister. We have a good 15 year age gap between us, and more often than not, she gets mistaken for my daughter, especially when she is on my lap. Not surprising then that Naveen, one of my best pals today was all praise for my 'husband's' liberal attitude in letting me study further. For the next two years at MBA, I was often teased to bits about the age gap but all in good humour.

The thing about studying with so many guys is that you get to learn quite a bit about them. Some things you appreciate and some you dont. Some guys you can identify with and some just go over your head. If my understanding about guys is right, then I must say that mostly they are good and quick judges about character. Of girls in particular. They know who are the ones you cant mess around with, who are the ones you can make a pal for life, who are the ones who just want a good time, and so on. I wasnt sure which category I wanted to fall into myself. While I didnt want any guy to think that he could play around with me, I didnt want to appear a snooty and a stuck up character either. I must say that the guy friends I found and made, are friends for life. And it is to them, that this 'list of good quirks is dedicated to-

1) Guys make good pals. They really do. They know just what to say ( mostly) and how to say it. Sometimes they can give you really great solutions to a problem, just when you need it. And if they are in the right mood, they are great listeners too.

2) Guys are likely to help you out more than other girls. Everytime I needed help with my studies it was my guy pals who let me know they were there if I needed them. I can think of countless times, the bengali gang sat down to explain finance to me, because everything flew successfully over my head in class. And they did the explaining with utmost patience.

3) Most guys are straight and to the point. Which is great, because if they say you are looking good, it means you are looking good. Unless that compliment was from a person who is interested in you, in which event, he has more things on his mind.

4) Guys are great to hang out with. A night out with the guys means lots of fun, without the malicious or bitchy gossip. Its booze, great food, music and general chit chat tempered with plenty of jokes, which makes the night unforgettable.

5) Guys love food. Which is great because he is likely to share some with you or let you order your own, if you two are meeting for a chat.

6) They want to appear like they have the answers to everything but they do worry about getting the details right. A guy can never be assured enough. Did you like that dress he got you? I mean you reay did like it right? You will wear it right? If a guy is into you, he will really think hard about what to get you. And if you didnt like what he got you, trust me, he will notice that too.

7) Most guys love having a girl for a friend too. Not all guys look at girls like they are temples of walking sex, you know. Lots of them know how to earn a girl's respect just by being themselves, and enjoy spending time with their girl- friends too.

8) Guys will stick up for you. Whether its bitching happening behind your back, or some comment that is really unworthy of you, a true guy pal will always stand by you.

9) They dont mind lending you money now and then. Which is great, because if you run out of dough for that burger, chances are that your guy pals will step in to do the needful. And most of them dont exactly wait to get the loan back either, as long as its not running into a few thousands.

10) They are protective about girls. If you are a bit worried about getting home past 1:00 am, a guy pal will be more than glad to escort you wherever you want. In fact many times you wont even need to ask.

So there's 9 reasons to make a nice guy your pal. Am sure there are more, but I put down the best things about them. This is my way of saying thank you to my guy pals out there. They know who they are. :-)

ON MEN...AND THEIR QUIRKS.

Men. Cant do with them and cant really do without them. Who really wants to climb a ladder just to change that lightbulb? After all, you may just chip away a little of that 100 buck manicured nail in doing so. I am yet to meet a guy who wasnt a walking primate of paradoxes. Nothing is ever good enough for them. If dinner was good enough, well it wasnt as great as the last time. You look nice in that dress but you looked even better in that short black one. After 26 years of keen observation, here's how you should expect them to really think-

1) His mother is mostly always going to be woman number 1. But theres hope for you if she used to be a psychopath or had some other offtrack problems. If not, resigning yourself to the fact that he will forever compare you to her mentally, and while he may not take a ticking from you, is likely to tuck his tail between his legs should his mother give him a dose; is something you need to accept. And if she is a great cook according to him, then its time to raid your mum's cupboards for those dusty old cookbooks.

2) Men want you to be pretty. But not thaaaat pretty. While arm candy enhances his position among other males, too much arm candy means that he will probably have to put up with other men oggling at you. You may be Sharon Stone, but your man will still not like that.

3) He will go the distance for you everytime. As long as you are dating. So enjoy those moments when he pulls out a chair for you and you think he is the sweetest man on the earth, coz, very soon a bored faced waiter will be doing you the honours.

4) He can do sadly only one thing at a time. While God gave us women the ability to do say 5 things altogether, men can do just one thing at a time. So if you gave him the task to fold the clothes and listen to you talk, well baby, its the clothes and not you who probably has his attention.

5) He wants you to be dependent on him but not too dependent. Men for some tweaked out reason love a woman counting on them for the smallest of things. If you didnt notice, all men come with invisible feathers that need to be ruffled now and then. The only problem being that if you do rely on him for the smallest of things everytime, he then calls you a drag.

6) No matter even if a man has 20 kids, if he sees a goodlooking woman, he will s t a r e. He just will. Your pinches and grumps arent going to drag his eyes away from the hourglass figure. But that also doesnt mean that you have to become a sex bomb just so that his eyes stay glued on to you forever. I bet you even Liv Tyler's man looks around occasionally.

7) He actually wants you to cook. A man who says that he is fine with getting food from that lousy chinese joint every night is probably lying. There is truthfully no better and faster way to a man's heart than through his stomach.

8) Men dream of the ultimate woman. One who is good enough to take home to mama, and who is sexy enough to hide under the bed. One who can bear his kids and still wear a 28 inch pair of shorts. One who will flirt with him but be the perfect daughter in law when his folks are around.

Like I said. Men. Cant do with them. Yet cant really do without them.

God. Some search for him all their lives. Few others know him intimately. Still few others are misled into doing wrong deeds which they feel justify the Almighty. Many others deny him. Still many others think that belief in God makes you a weaker human being. To each his own way of thinking. But the ones my heart goes out too arent the ones who deny God, but the ones who genuinely want to find him and still get misled. Enter the world of cults.

Cults have been around for centuries. Whether the word applies to music or beliefs, it is generally agreed that cult followers tilt towards extremes. Modern day life with its advances and temptations have in a way given rise to more cults all across the world. Even more intriguing are the cult figures or idols who claim not only supernatural powers but also claim that they hold the keys to heaven. Whether it was David Koresh, Warren Jeffs or Tamotsu Kin, each took advantage of the Christian belief that Christ would come again. It is truly scary to see the fervour with which people flocked to hear their messages and were willing to leave everything they had to join the 'spiritual camp'. Heaven is a word almost everybody is fascinated with. You probably cant see the place alive, but everybody has their own notions about it. Some feel heaven is on earth, some others claim you can find it in cocaine, and if you truly focus- even in chocolate. Not surprising then that priests in England, once upon a time, sucessfully intimidated the poor sections of society by telling them that if they truly wanted a place in heaven, they would have to buy it. Thus simony was born. People spent their whole lives trying to buy their own spots in heaven. The priests had a fabulous time with the money that came pouring in, till Martin Luther, spoiled their fun.

Everybody wants happiness, and some are willing to pay a dangerous price for it too. Free sex, child marriages, unwanted pregnancies, unwanted babies, rape, incest, polygamy, strict daily routines, and plenty of brainwash are just a few things modern day cults have to offer. The hardest hit are always the women and children with both expected to give in to slavish obedience. Saying no to rape isnt even an option. It is after all a 'spiritual 'experience. You would think that getting out of such a cult is easy. Well it isnt. The few lucky ones who do escape often have to resort to changing their identities frequently, living out of a suitcase and always living in fear- mainly because other cult members often hunt out such people. Moreover, it is the mental trauma that victims suffer lifelong that haunts them the most. The memories you want to forget are the ones that keep coming back. Some even go back to the same cult they once ran away from, simply because they couldnt fit in with the rest of the world.

In the end, it is we who decide and choose our idols. If we are willing to give up what matters most and live lives according to anothers dictate, then wouldnt it be right to say that we are willing to search for God, come what may. Then why is it that some find God so easily, and yet others die in doing so?

On poetry. Why it began. How it began.

These days I dread telling people, I write poetry. They give me this look of oh another lovesick nutcase, talking about the birds and the trees. Then I in an attempt to clarify, tell them, that I write dark poetry. Dark poetry? whats that? We have heard about love poetry, sad poetry, childrens poetry whats dark poetry? oooh I get it, you talk about death. Euh no, its not always about death. Oh so its sometimes about death. Maybe sometimes, but its more reflective about life and situations on the whole. At the end of the conversation, when I look at the person's face, I know they didnt understand a single word I said. The whole conversation would have been a lot different had I said i write novels.. ooh novels, now how different are novels from each other right? But poetry. Poetry always gets a different set of expressions and thoughts solely reserved for it.

So why poetry? It started when I was in school. My grandfather gifted me this lovely pink and white notebook. I had no clue what to do with it, and my mom told me in this jovial mood- why dont you write a poem. Did she really have any clue what poetry was all about? I bet not. That statement had more to do with her- I am feeling sleepy. Why dont you do anything to stay out of my way? And thats how it began. With my first poem titled- A Little Market in Space. Why such an out of the planet topic? I dont know. I dont even remember the lines, all I do recall is that each line rhymed perfectly with the next. Thats what poetry meant to me when I was 8 years old- a bunch of lines with the last words rhyming perfectly.

I wasnt the only one who discovered amateur poetry. So did a few other classmates. It soon turned into a kind of competition of see I wrote this poem, what did you write? We barely even understood what we had written, but we were all quick to praise. Thinking I had some major inborn talent to write which nobody else possessed I ventured into writing songs for the movies. If you take your favourite song, cut out the singer and the music, and look at only the lyrics, you will see that its probably nothing so out of this world. They are lines anybody could have written, its nearly always the music that makes a song so great. As a 9 year old, you tend to have mountains of confidence in your ability to do anything and everything. You can always do it better.

I stopped writing poetry for a few years after that. And took it up sometime as a teenager. Things had changed. It wasnt about rhyming any more. It was suddenly about NOT rhyming. So then started a series of poems on all sorts of topics purposely steering away from the usual cold-bold, make-take endings. In a bid to imitate the great poets, I wrote some poems on nature too. It didnt come to me easily at all, it felt living in a neighbour's house. I wasnt home yet.

My first brush with dark poetry came through Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. I still remember reading a poem by Hughes called- Hawk Roosting. There was this sinister element, a rather cold vibe, and a very dark feel to the whole poem. I liked it. What a change from the poems I had always read about daffodils, the solitary reaper and dover beach. That was when I began to personally talk through my poems- my emotions, my understanding of situations and so on.

The web offers one of the best platforms to learn and get feedback. I signed up with a site called thoughtcafe, which closed down soon after. But this site is important to me, because I met other dark poetry writers and learnt a lot. Soon I started posting at arcanum.com, and now I do so at darc( dreamers and rainbow chasers). Meeting poets from all across the world, each with their own stories, has been amazing. The way they weave their lives into poetry is beautiful. Poets get influenced by things that happen around them, it could be anything- politics, a walk, a fight, history, whatever... A poet who says he doesnt have his personal favourites is 90% lying. I have mine too. My top favourite is On Auschwitz ( written after reading Anne Franks Diary), the second would be Jesus vs Lucifer ( which seems to be a fav among my family and friends) and the third would have to be every other poem I have written.(:-) )

I love looking back at my earliest poem books. From class 5 onwards, how my handwriting has changed. If I ever doubt that I matured at all, I only have to read the pages to see how thought after thought has been laid down differently. I am no longer ashamed of my first poem. It started a different wave of thought, which I hope never dries up. I like to think that in the darkness I found my light.

Last night my baby decided that he probably wasnt living up to the common belief that babies dont really have a sleep pattern until they are 6 months old; and so chose to scream the place down in the middle of the night. Now, if you are a parent and a sound sleeper like me, then you are possibly familiar with this conversation:-

( baby crying loudly)
My ears- some baby is crying.
My brain- I know some baby is crying. And it aint my baby. Why doesnt the bloody kid stop? Where the hell is the mother?

( baby cries more loudly this time)

My brain- This is all just a dream and will go away. In 2 minutes.

( Two minutes being over, the baby is now resorting to howling its tiny lungs out)

My conscience- I think you better open your eyes. 90% it could be your baby screaming.

And so I open my eyes. What have I? My hungry little boy has chosen the other alternative of cramming all four of his tiny digits into his mouth and is still howling. Needless to say, my night of sleep had been successfully buried.

How do babies know? For instance, you are about to put that first piece of cheesecake into your mouth when the first wail echoes. Or, you are even about to sit down and have dinner when the baby begins his crying? I find myself talking to the mice running around in my tummy more than to my baby. Truth of the matter is, its just a vicious circle. Our kids make our lives miserable when they are babies, and we get to return the favour when they get older. Come 13, and the revenge only gets better. And when they are forced to stay up and cram for their nonsensical exams, I am going to enjoy telling them- Sweetheart, enjoy your sleepless night. You gave me so many before..

One look at my baby who is fast asleep now ( yes after he ruined my sleep, and spoke with the fan for 2 hours), and all thoughts of future revenge are slowly evaporating. Even the wildest and brattiest baby punk on this planet will still manage to look like an innocent angel when fast asleep. As for me. I checked my eyes in the mirror today. Mother Nature put her stamp of motherhood on me again- that probably is the best explanation for my dark circle.

Aloha

So, welcome to my not the first blog. I have had three blogs in the last few years, and this is my fourth. Lets say that my first three were victims of my inability to remember some important things- such as where did I keep my cupboard key, and where is that all important file. In this case- what the heck is my password. So now you know why number four was born.

A lot has changed since the last time I wrote. I have a bonny cute little brat who has me firmly wrapped around his smile. And, I, the person who needed absolute quiet to start my machine of imagination, and who also needed two hands to type ( doesnt everybody?), has learnt to make room for a few changes- as I type this, dinner is bubbling on the stove, the maid is slopping water all over the floor, the fan is whistling his own tune and my neighbours kid is bawling her head off in Japanese. Add to this, that Iam typing out my entry with 2 digits while my son sleeps in my other arm. Kudos to me...:-)

Am going to put my son down in his cradle now, and in the 2 seconds he will take to scream, am going to switch off the stove, before the red spicy beef turns into black, spicy beef.. and I will be back tomorrow....