Fairy Tales! You grew up on them as kids. Most kids love them, and if one had to take a guess on who’s got better choices on things, kids or adults there wouldn’t even be a debate on this issue…hehe
But then I just got thinking… as one grows up why do most people grow out of fairy tales? or why do adults start believing that fairy tales are unreal and its time to get realistic? I have never got why realism gets almost equated to accepting that life’s not so nice!
If one actually takes a look at the notion of fairy tales aren’t they the most real things in the world? They have the absolute mix of the good, bad and the ugly…the struggles and the triumphs, the king and the popper.. all of this with the ‘one big happy ending’! Isn’t that what life’s all about?
For people who may question this I would want to tell them that dude you haven’t reached your end as yet so how can you write it off? And who on this earth living any life will ever be able to deny the mixed bag that the present always is…
So except for the bit that all characters in most fairy tales are always ‘beautiful’ and ‘handsome’ and the perfect life is when the ugly becomes beautiful and the poor becomes rich…the base of most of them is about happiness isn’t it? And whether it’s the story of Cinderella or Pinocchio the point is about life may be a struggle but its got happy endings! That’s of course if you choose to ‘believe’ so. That reminds me of another thing. Most characters in fairy tales who do make it brilliantly in the end are somewhere people who believed through their story, and isn’t that an alternative to just optimistic thought? Who would debate that optimism can carry you better than pessimism in a real rut?
So yeah I tell u adults! Don’t know why they get us off track in life! lol
Not so long ago laughter – voluminous, throaty, uncontrolled – had not really been an incessant part of my life. Yes, I was happy and did have “32 sparkling teethy peals” but then HahaHeheLol would become one of my greatest friends and treasure in life only in the December of 2003.
Although it may seem fairly recent if one compares it with human lifespan, I know that the events that took place in the winter of 2003 will remain one of the most QTOLish moments of my life. Just to clarify, I was doing my masters at TISS in Bombay which doesn’t have much of a winter – so this had nothing to do with the weather.
But then it had everything to do with the spirit of Christmas. Having spent three years previously in a Catholic College that gave me the joy of being a part of all the fun and festivities, I was feeling sad about missing out on all of that in TISS. Thankfully though, the campus did have Christmas celebrations and most importantly everybody seemed tuned into the Secret Santa game. “Yippie!!”, I thought and smiled to myself. “Some things in the world continue to be sane”.
Masters in Social Work turned out to be much much harder than I had thought. Apart from tons of assignments, academic pressures and blues of being away from home, the atmosphere was extremely tumultuous. The world suddenly seemed a little too upside down for comfort (note: it already was, which is why many of us were there at TISS – ‘to change’). Each day presented a bunch of new realities that we were supposedly being trained to analyse and develop strategies for – from communities living on garbage dumps to facing an eighteen year old lecherous boy as a ‘child with rights’. By the mid of first year the meaning of ‘develop strategies for’ on campus emerged as endless nonsensical debates, generous amounts of ambiguity and extremely polar ideas. TISS at this point was like being in the company of an eclectic group of beings who’d have issues with the fact that something was a ‘non issue’. The most cliched question of the moment was always ‘But who decides?’, indicating the ever lasting ambiguity of individual freedom versus working in the interests of people. In short every single conversation would begin and end in concentric circles. Now if one adds a dollop of hostel woes, ranging from ‘smoky reeking corridors’ to ‘sleeping with bright lights and loud noises’, to this already confusing and tumultuous situation – you’d understand why I was yearning so much for a game of Secret Santa.
So on this lovely December 2003 afternoon, in a rather unpleasant DH (Dining Hall), we all had to pick small chits of paper with names of people who we were to adopt secretly – and send them gifts, goodies and letters, or torture them till Christmas eve. Soon I became a temporary mother. But then there were unfortunate souls whose names had not been picked. An ominous poster declaring their orphanhood was put up, requesting people to adopt. The idea of two children dint appeal to me, so quite frankly I still don’t know why I adopted ‘HahaHeheLol’. It just took a small suggestion from rather cute and diminutive neighbour Chandni and I had a daughter who was going through as much of a cranky bad patch as I was. Perhaps, this is what is called destiny.
Over the next few weeks, I don’t know what got into me, I sent my child loads and loads of handmade gifts with lovely handmade paper in numerous varieties. Even a small silly note would be laboriously made, I spent hours together each night getting my act to make each day special for my child. It was midnight oil burning at its best. No , this wasn’t a competition, and I dint even know ‘HahaheheLol’ – in fact we had not even exchanged pleasantries. But somehow her booming laughter, excited ‘show off of gifts’ in class, her small notes drizzled with a hundred ‘lols’ – these smaller things just made my day. This world of sheer joy, laughter and child like excitement seemed so far away from endless debates and assignments. And yet it was so truly life like and so much ‘human’ in essence.
I even sent her an embroidered handmade paper folder!!!
Neha and I got to know each other pretty well through that game and we’ve shared a lovely friendship ever since. We’re so connected that one would think that perhaps there is a mini device that aligns our wavelength and thoughts together. We go crazy over little things, laugh like raccoons over frivolous stuff, love the quaint and argue like children. The Internet’s biggest boon has been the fact that I have been able to share the same amount of space and time in spite of the distance – over email, IM or this blog. I continue to receive virtual or sms notes splattered with dozens of smileys, hahas, hehes and lols.
Thanks Neha, alias HahaheheLol, for all the laughter and joy you bring into my life.
Which is the MOST elegant walk that you have ever seen?
A few days back while I was strolling along Marine Drive, I think I saw the most elegant walk I have ever seen in my life till now….So who’s walk was it? Who was gifted with such a wonderful stride that it made me want to stop and treasure the moment? Nope it wasn’t a model….Not a young lady.. Not a cutesy toddler…Not a couple on a romantic sojourn… 🙂
More clues? It was a trio – a trio with a man in the middle, a lady holding him from the right by his arm, and another (not a lady) :D…..a man walking with his arm around this guy’s shoulder. More guesses?And no it was not a group of friends either..…have you run out of ideas?
It was a son in his late thirties, with his mother walking hand in hand like his girlfriend and his father walking like his best buddy!
How rarely do we see people who may need help with walking being escorted so beautifully and elegantly! 🙂
If I had a camera that picture would have been one of those that could hang on a wall and say a million different things each time one glanced at it! Sometimes gestures say a lot more than words and promises! It’s true – love and respect is more about how you act than what you will ever be able to say!