We Bought a Zoo

  We bought a zoo. A zoo filled with men women and yes a few animals. We are not too sure if the men need more cages or the women. Animals? No, they aren't harmful. They just need some love, loads of food and some potty training. The women, ah they need leashes to keep them tied to the corner of their cages so that they don't claw each other apart. They will growl, throw tantrums, scowl, scream and fuss about the plainness of the leash but we are giving them no choice. They need to learn how to adapt. Some women will adapt but are going to try and change the zoo but such women won't be encouraged. We like the zoo the way it is.

The men you ask? Now, they can't be leashed as they are too strong so we have to tranquillize them all the time. We can't risk broken cages, manipulations, coups, agitations and a mutiny against the zoo. How do we tranquillize you ask? Booze! Plenty of it! We add some fake ego too. Just to keep them subdued and nobody seems to complain. They are enjoying it.

The children you ask? Well they're outside the zoo in the world. Breathing without fear, living with hope, laughing aloud and being children. Careless and free. That’s how they ought to be you know. 

The Sabbatical

“Quit your job, sit at home and hunt for another one. Every part of your soul which seemed lost will come back to you. No need to hunt for it” was my brother’s response when I brought up ‘Soul Searching’.

He’s true, so true to an extent that it can be used as a ‘quotable quote’ in one of those self-healing or motivation workshops. And if these workshops need a live example, Je suis la.

So far I have searched for my soul thrice - not that my life or my visage bears any close resemblance to Voldemort who cut his soul into seven pieces and hid them in historical artefacts to remain immortal – and it was the third time that I was reassured that my soul was where it is supposed to be, right within me and not anywhere else but the three sabbaticals that I took opened my eyes wider to the world. Let me give you a very brief insight into these ‘self-imposed breaks’.

I finished b-school and I started working for a leading radio station. I had a great job, a great boss, a great pay and a great life. Two and a half years of this greatness had made me secure and confident and that’s when I decided to venture into the wild. I quit my job without having another one in hand. I desired a break and I got one much against the opinions that my family and my boss housed. I made lots of plans, executed some, failed at some yet what kept me sane was the financial planning that I was adept with. I was the ant from the ‘ant and the grasshopper’. I had stored for the rainy day and I was warm. But like any ant I was running short of my stock and I had to get back to the field. That’s when my second job happened.

I lasted there for six months. Not my fault. I went in during a time when the organisation was a little confused about the domain they had hired some of us to work for. Six months and I figured that drastic changes might shut that department forever hence I quit. There again, I had saved. I had become a robust ant.

The third job happened and I stuck around for longer i.e. 2 and a half years. My 20’s were soon depleting and the job did not help me feel secure. I had made new friends, I had evolved in tastes, I had finished a few ‘phases’, going through a few and this time around I quit as I felt I was more secure at home. I had dwelled for too long inside ‘Bane’s Pit’ and if I wouldn’t have made a jump –with or without a rope- I would have festered someday or the other. I made a jump, without a rope.

It felt great. I had come out of a muggy tunnel and the fresh air that I breathed was a harbinger or fresh hopes. I had wind beneath my wings (I still do) and I can pranced better than a deer. But prancing and flying would not help me make my ends meet. I needed a job and a secure one at that. While at the helm of making my choices to frame my future what has intrigued me is the reinforced faith in me by people I love and the absence of those who were once upon a time inseparable.

My family has always been supportive of every decision that I have taken. They know that I will find a way out of this sabbatical and I am only waiting for the right opportunity.

My friends have stood by me, encouraging me whenever I felt low, recommending companies, jobs and people. Some have gone to the extent of putting a kind word on my behalf to people who might matter the most in my job hunt.

Relatives hemmed hawed and left. I couldn’t explain what I was looking for nor did I want them to understand anything but it’s the inseparable ones that left a lasting impression on my soul.

I am no longer a part of their weekend plans nor am I on their speed dials. ‘I have been busy’ is a lame excuse I receive despite the visible display of pseudo weekend shenanigans on social networking sites. Being frugal with my expenses has earned me a ban from the pseudo (I dare to mention it twice in this paragraph) high-flying ‘yo’ kind of people who once called themselves my friends.

Peer pressure has never affected me nor have I lived my life to please anybody else. I don’t feel the necessity to harp about my weekday or weekend activities on a ‘Wall’ to make myself visible to people. This was a sabbatical which wasn’t planned for and till I find another source of income, I may not visit the usual restaurants that I frequented nor would I be seen in places where I might have to turn into the ‘Grasshopper’. But if I am being judged by these acts of mine then I must say, you’re judging too soon.

Pain beyond a point makes one immune to pain itself and I have reached a point where lightning by a passing cloud barely gives me a scratch leave alone a wound.

It is me today; it could be you tomorrow in a sabbatical. What helps is to know who your friends are and who aren’t, spring clean the phone list, check if you have compromised on your values and if you have been successful in keeping your sanity intact despite adversities and disloyalty then sit back and relax for you don’t have to search for your soul. It is there where it has to be, within.

Oh and you’ll get a job too.

Married

“Her new way of ignoring people and important issues is by burying her nose in a book”. The jibe was directed to me while I had actually buried my nose in a book. “I would have married a book if I could help it and would have been happier than your wife” was the repartee that shot out of my brain cells which eventually stayed there as I was keen upon keeping the peace and tranquillity around me intact.

True. I bury myself a lot in books these days. I quit my job a few days back and decided that I would take a week’s data break which meant no mails, no twitter, no instagram and no mindless surfing. I wanted to read. More than what I am used to. So what’s new in it you may ask but let me tell you something; when you are surrounded by people who take it upon themselves to criticize every atom of another person’s being and do not even once hesitate to harp about things which might not affect them at all and might not happen at all to begin with, you grow tired of their oration of the day to day mindless events.

I am happy with my tech break. Honestly, nothing comes out of being there on the ‘net’ all the time. It only results in battery drain of your phone and increase in data tariff. And nothing has come out of listening to mindless matters.

It is not the same with books though. Every book has a story to tell and every book lets you converse with it about the subject it is well versed at and if it is not equipped with the same within its covers (hardbound or paperback) it will stop talking to you unlike human beings who pretend to know everything and make a fool out of themselves. For instance I would prefer reading a book than talk to a cousin of mine who in sheer desperation of keeping up with the conversation announced that she loved Sharon Stone and ‘his’ acting. She meant it. Sorry Ms Stone.

Books keep you company better than some men and most women. What would you prefer, a best friend harp about her true life ‘saans bahu story’ or Candace Bushnell talking about Sex and the City with a dash of Cosmopolitan? I can walk into a coffee shop with a book for a date, sip a cuppa of cappuccino, read my heart out and walk out feeling wonderful. Now I want a man to do that to me without turning up late. Then I can consider keeping the book inside my bag.

As much as I hate to say this but books are easy to dump. I have had blind dates with books. What I mean is that I have walked into a book store, read the summary and picked it up only to discover that it hasn’t lived up to its cover. That is when I dump them, meaning I stop reading them or read them entirely for the sake of having bought it and never go back again. Like a one night stand. I reread a lot of the ones I love by the way.

I have something to talk about and it goes beyond bollywood, Hollywood, current affairs, clothes and accessories. I don’t intend to sound like a man but my conversations have gone a level above the usual. Most often dad and I talk about people, their adventures, their deeds and misdeeds and credit them for who they are or were. It definitely is better than talking only about breast implants on a leading lady and liposuction on another.

I don’t lend books. Nobody gets to take them home. To me it is as sacrilegious as sharing a loved one or a spouse. So don’t come home and ask to borrow. You will see my blunt side if you do.

I retreat to my quiet corner. I am at peace with a book. I drift to another world away from the chaotic one I live in and I successfully have the ‘my time’ everyday which most people complain of. Look, for the rest of you it need not be books. It could even be music. So spend half an hour before bed listening to a CD or radio all by yourself and you will realise you sleep a better person.

I wish I was married to a book. It would last more than the ones that happen with humans. I love them more than kindles or any other book reading device with due respect. Ten years from now if you find me dusting books in my own book store don’t be surprised. Instead, stop by, say hello, buy a book and I might give you a discount too. For you know I would not be selling books but companions who go a long way with you than many.

Love Thy Skeletons

When was the last time you arched your brows, took a deep breath and spilt some expletives from your mouth at the very sight of bigotry against you? Seems like yesterday when someone you knew tried to peek into your closet and got tempted to pull a skeleton out? It happens to all of us, to you and to me, to him and to her and to the many on the face of this earth.

Imagine walking into a restaurant and finding your foe at the next table. The first few minutes of this revelation makes both of you uncomfortable and the next thing you know is that people around the foe are giving you offensive stares victimising you perhaps for mistakes which you haven’t made. You are desperate to know what the foe has whispered into their ears. In turn, you do the same, you turn towards your friend and whisper something to him/her making your friend turn towards the infected table and cast a ‘if looks could kill,the table and its occupants would have been turned to cinders’ look.

It goes on. One waiting for the other to leave and god forbid if the two of you bump into each other again in the rest room then I can assure you that either of you is gazing at the mirror to gauge the other’s expression (in my case I always look at the clothes) to decipher the inner meaning of the ‘whisper’ that floated from ear to ear at your début earlier at the restaurant.

As long as one can talk, one will always contribute to the ever flowing fountain of rumours in the universe about anybody or anything. Rumours become hot topics for discussion when all else fails to break silence. Now you know why your parents asked you to read newspapers every day? They never ran out of topics.

Let us consider the ‘whisper’ that was born at your sighting at the restaurant by your foe. It could have ranged from ‘you know what he/she is the one who’s sleeping with him/her’ to ‘ he/she is the one who gets a promotion every year despite warming the chair’. I have only thought of two examples here. The permutations and combinations can give birth to many rumours irrespective of the necessity of its conception.

Some rumours may be true about you and some completely false. But what irks you is a fact that the creator (read foe) has many skeletons dangling in his/her closet too but his/her interest lies in yours alone. The bigotry kills. For once you feel that you don’t deserve it but in reality neither you nor I can do a thing about it.

As long as you are breathing and even after that there are going to be many who will know the true you and then the many willing to create nasty rumours about you, putting their own murky pasts at stake. What can you do about it?

Simple

Accept your weakness and your mistakes. Accept a fact that everybody on earth has contributed to their skeleton collection but hey, they are your skeletons and no one has the right to peek into your closet.

You alone hold the discretion to discuss your skeletons and if anybody who may not fall into your category of confidantes questions you about it, you have all the rights to refuse an explanation.

Accept the biggest fact of life that the world is a small place and you will bump into miscreants and offenders without any warning. Make sure you act normal as it will definitely make your foe extremely uncomfortable to stay around you. If you are not guilty of spreading a rumour about him/her and if he/she is guilty about spreading one about you then trust me the foe will panic and make a mess out of the ball that you silently sent hurling to the other side of the court.

Remember, the world has many people but the ones who care about are those who will stand by you and accept you the way you are. Just smile and walk on.