Love is textual, not actual.

A wise man named Confucius once asked ' Can there be a love that does not make demands on its object'? Unconditional love is often epitomized by maternal love but every time that a mother makes a sacrifice for her child, does it not reduce the love that she displays for her own self, her own needs, interests or ambitions? Or is love only a gesture that we bestow upon others and not so much upon our own selves? The truth is Love is textual, not actual - text being a representation of a written (or unwritten) language; a reference point to define the abstract, illusionary, contradictory and rather subjective concept of love. A definition for love always tends to precede its actuality so that it can exist as a valid and comprehensible concept.

Biological texts view love to be an animalistic drive, similar to hunger or thirst.They view it as a function to keep human beings together against menaces and facilitate the continuation of the species. Psychological texts, on the other hand, view it as a social and cultural phenomenon and hence regard it as an explicit human attribute. From a cultural or social viewpoint, love again has a plethora of definitions. While Western love encourages the emotion to blossom from a very young age, does not differentiate it from lust and indicates it to be rather impulsive and individualistic, Oriental or Eastern love is all about wisdom, maturity, restraint and the importance of an emotional connect over physical intimacy.

If love was indeed actual, why would we need the words on a marriage certificate to validate its existence between a man and a woman? You may have heard the story of a man who was deeply in love and happily married, but turn the page and see that his wife probably wasn't.Why would the numbers printed on the currency notes of a man's bank account or the letters next to his name - Phd, MBA, CFA, MBBS increase his chances to win his lady's heart? Why does beauty allow love to bloom faster than 'ugliness'? Probably because generations of text has spoon-fed us into loving the wealthy and the familiar, as opposed to the poor and the bizarre.

We feel the need to reach out for an Archies greeting card or celebrate a commercially driven Valentine's day or send a rather long and verbose SMS forward to express our deepest feelings of romantic love. But next time take care to actually read the message before hitting the send button or else you could land up with a text like ' I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here'. Where would we be without Walt Disney's fairytales, Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet or even the country of France and its language French - considered to be the language of love. Because let's face it, if you have to seduce a stranger with your words, a French phrase may serve you better than a Bhojpuri pick up line.

Political texts also have a role to play in defining love. While political manifestos of ruling parties in certain African/Middle eastern countries consider homosexuality as a criminal activity punishable by death, in India we have actually taken a step forward to frame a Constitutional Act to recognize homosexual love. So next time I'm wondering 'does he love me? does he love me not?' I'll just pick up the Indian Constitution because apparently it contains great love advice. When it comes to religious texts, Meerabai's devotion towards Lord Krishna is considered ideal but when a fundamentalist hijacks a plane and flies it into a government building, taking his own life and the lives of thousand others - we strongly condemn it. But if his religious text tells him that the love for his God is greater than the love for his own life or those of his fellow beings, do we call him a terrorist or the most ardent lover that the world has ever seen? Such confusion would probably not arise if love was indeed actual, and not textual.

The Great Indian Family love has for generations led us to deny the abuse that runs in Indian families - whether it's domestic violence, child abuse, honor killing, female foeticide or marital rape. The popular retaliation against such claims is that such evils are concentrated mainly in the poor and illiterate families due to lack of awareness and knowledge. Then the assumption clearly is that it is education and literacy that teaches us how to love and respect - thereby proving again that love is textual and not actual.

Does true love or friendship lie in forgiving or forgetting or in getting hot blooded revenge to teach the straying lover the lesson of a lifetime, all for the greater cause of love. We've all grown up hearing the phrase ' If you love someone, set them free, they come back then they are yours, if not then they were never yours to begin with' - what if we start a Facebook petition demanding that 'if you love someone,set them free and if they come back, set them on fire' because what were they thinking, leaving in the first place?! This campaign would probably see the next few generations sharpening their 'Uma Thurman Kill Bill' claws even before they were born.

'Love is the wisdom of the fool and the folly of the wise' - a curious puzzle with a new piece being added every day to the jumble. In such a situation, we have forgotten to close our eyes and reach for what is inside and instead have allowed ourselves to be increasingly hypnotized by the popular campaign of love that is incessantly preached by society and commerce.All in the form of text of course, to influence and mould our emotions even before the first heartbeat is taken. The time has arrived for us to read less, listen less and follow less - all we need is to think more, write more, ask more, live more and hopefully, love a lot more.

The Solo Office Luncheon Adventure

Tight deadlines, fluctuating schedules, sudden hanger pangs, lunch bags packed with home cooked food,  diverse preferences, colleagues scattered all over a ginormous campus and a host of other factors have contributed to my recent mastery of the art of a Solo Office Lunch.  A taboo subject with most people (especially ladies), I seem to have crossed the barrier of ‘staring hard at cellphone screen while eating in order to appear busy’ and confidently arrived at ‘taking a table bang in the middle of the food court so as to shamelessly observe the multitudes while chomping on a chicken bone loudly’. While I am incredibly proud of my progress, I still succumb to the temptation of treating the event as a chore that needs to be hurriedly completed. And that is where I disappoint myself - for food has always been a leisure activity for me and the presence of company, or lack thereof, should not prove to be a dominating damper on my culinary entertainment.

So today, I decided to push the envelope. Instead of purchasing a coupon from a regular counter, occupying the nearest available seat and eating an often eaten meal, I decided to have a Solo Lunch in grand style.  I had skipped breakfast and was incredible hungry and a monotonous lunch would not satisfy me today. So I decided to go in for the capital treatment believing it would not turn into capital punishment.

Rajdhani is a fancy vegetarian chain of restaurants and due to its brand name, it has been given a special seating section in our food court - cordoned off with blue ribbons, special steel crockery (a huge plate with six bowls and a glass), table napkins, an elegant counter to make an exorbitant payment and a group of waiters to serve and observe you. It is the ideal place for large team lunches or romantic dates in the middle of an otherwise noisy and stampede prone food court. Today I was ready to challenge my own inhibitions and sample the reputed cuisine and make a celebration out of an ordinary Solo Lunch. Needless to say I received a wide array of responses, which are worth sharing with all of you :)

Partial Deafness Syndrome – This is usually exhibited by the maitre ‘d/restaurant manager the moment you enter and ask ‘Do you serve lunch for one person?’. Rest assured, he has heard you clearly the first time around. Yet he will always feel the need to ask you to repeat yourself. This is either meant to tickle his invisible funnybone or satiate his incredulous disbelief.

The Giggles – This sound will accompany you all the way to the seating table and will emanate from the adolescent male staff who have never seen a lady willingly eat alone. The giggles increase when the head waiter is trying to figure out how to seat the lady honorably at a table meant for six.

The Sympathy Stare – This expression is found on the ageing staff members or usually the chef’s team – they attribute this situation to some misfortune in the lady’s previous life and take it upon themselves to compensate for her assumed loneliness by stuffing her with enough food, capable of making a buffalo explode.

The Serving Enthusiasm syndrome – How many waiters would it take to serve 1 lady who has a normal appetite and eats at a not too fast pace? You think the answer would be 1 but you would change your mind when you see the number of helping hands hovering around the table. This is due to the staff;s mental tendency of ‘hey there’s something a little bizarre happening at my boring workplace today and I want to be close to the action’. Irritating? Not at all. In fact the Serving Enthusiasm syndrome often contributes to the lady getting a taste of ‘Minor Celebrity in Spotlight’ syndrome.

The ‘Have No Real Purpose’ Stare – This will commence once the lady starts eating and will continue throughout the meal. After a point of time, the source of the staring has also forgotten why he is staring since the event has become progressively boring. But the law of inertia affects us all and what we start, we often find impossible to stop.

The Embarrassed Acquaintance – This phenomenon is almost always a lucky/unlucky coincidence. The moment you decide to have a solo lunch in peace and style, someone you know will land up at the same venue with a group of friends. What follows is a big wave from your end (a greeting, not an invitation) and a very embarrassed look from the other end – this look is usually a combination of embarrassment (do I actually know this weirdo) and pity (hey maybe I should check up on her tomorrow so that she doesn’t need to eat a sorry lunch alone). Either way, it always puts the lady at ease because the embarrassment burden has now shifted. You are now no longer the most embarrassed and conscious person at the venue.

Admiring Envinions – This can originate from any gender and though rare, it is a tremendous boost to the self-esteem. During the course of your Solo Lunch, you will receive a few admiring/envious stares from people who have often dreamt of a grand lunch alone but have never found the confidence to implement their unfulfilled dream. Smile back at these people because you are their inspiration now.

The Unexpected Phone Call – If you are wallowing in self pity and are desperately waiting for the phone to ring, it never will. Just sit back and relax and enjoy your meal – remember that you deserve a nice lunch without getting affected by public judgment and prying eyes. The moment you start easing into the activity, your phone screen may light up and bring a smile to your face. Either it’s a call from a loved one far away or your colleague at her office desk, determined to eat a solo snack in the privacy of her own cubicle due to lack of company as well. The last leg of your culinary journey receives an unexpected twist when you can tempt her to join you thereby saving a fellow member from an unsatisfactory meal. Life is unpredictable!

At the end of this rather amusing journey, I achieved what I originally set out to do. I had a fantastic meal, savored some new cuisine, enjoyed 30 minutes of peace in an otherwise stressful day and came back to my desk recharged and happy.  And to top it all, I was thoroughly entertained! Now compare this to ‘grabbing hold of some cheap company for the sake of a public appearance and spending your hard earned lunch break in totally misery as your companion eats your brain alive with mindless chatter’ – and you will also learn to embrace and love the concept of the Solo Office Lunch.

Disclaimer – This article is not meant to indicate that only male staff members/passerby s will exhibit above reactions. Women stare harder, sometimes without blinking, for longer stretches of time.

Eyes

A dark winter evening
the chill in the air
made more ominous
by the stern silhouette
of the looming mountains
standing like comrades
arm in arm
I am unable to decipher
where one mountain ends and the other begins
the fog drawing a blindfold over my eyes
yet I keep staring
and the mountains blink first
A blink here, two blinks there
I avert my gaze accordingly
following the trail of winks
but then there are too many
and I give up
and surrender to the spectacle
a panorama of golden eyes embedded
in the mountains' chest
Vehicles makes their way through the hilly roads
swerving, turning
flashing their headlights
to avert disaster
signalling to their fellow drivers
You are not alone
in tonight's tumultuous journey
we will all conquer the mountains
one meter at a time
headlights, indicators
yellow car lamps
but all I can see are the mountains
and their eyes
looking at me
Blinking, whispering. 

The Seagull and the Turtle

A love story of the ocean

Rinsed by sea spray and white surf

Fuelled by sunlight warming the blue waters

Music created by the clattering sea shells

The seagull, beautiful and majestic

Born to be free

Flying to exotic shores

Addicted to speed, to solitude

A life filled with adventure but an empty heart

Until it meets the turtle

Swimming just below the surface

The turtle, wise and calm

Moving slowly, ageing forever

An aquatic explorer

A heart full of the ocean’s secrets

So much to share, to care

The seagull and the turtle

His passion and her patience

His impulsiveness and her sentimentality

His flight and her strokes

Wings and flippers

Perfectly in sync

Until one day

When the seagull in his relentless journey

Spots a foreign shore

Glittering, tempting

He is drawn towards it

Driven to explore

Farther and farther he flies

Leaving the turtle behind

She cries out for attention, he ignores her

His own mission is far more important

Excitedly he reaches his destination

Only to discover

The light that beckoned to him

Is but a swarm of fireflies

a family of insects, getting together for dinner

He is an uninvited guest, he cannot stay

So the seagull flies back

But the turtle has disappeared

She has dived into the deep currents

Unwilling to wait for him any longer

This time he waits, willingly

But she does not surface

And the seagull circles overhead

Calling out to her

His cries fall on deaf waves

And the seagull moves on

He lives a full and healthy life

He doesn’t die of sorrow

But the most tender, the most delicate feather

On his white body

Blackened and died

Unnoticed

The day the seagull lost the turtle

to the vast ocean.

Think

A flock of pigeons on your window ledge

Creating an absolute ruckus, waking you from your hard earned slumber

You sit up angrily, determined to shoo them all way

Ugly grey machines of noise

You flap your hands around like a madman

On a mission to stimulate an exodus

But just then a white pigeon arrives

Like the ultimate messiah of peace

A flawless pearl on a grey ocean floor

This beautiful guest changes your mood

And you stare lovingly at its luminous feathers

As for the grey pigeons, you choose to ignore them

In favor of their royal white cousin

Who has unknowingly saved the day for the entire flock.

But is the white pigeon aware

Of the spell it has cast on you?

Is it aware that it is white and unique and beautiful

Or does it feel left out, an outcast

Is it proud to be white? Or would it rather be grey

May be that’s why it has arrived suddenly amidst the grey flock

Determined to seek acceptance

Desperate to blend in with its friends

Unwilling to be treated like an alien

Ashamed to be colorless and transparent

Is beauty about being distinct or being well accepted?

No one is the ultimate judge

No one has the last word

Not even the creator

Because he has created us all with his own hands

And to judge us, to pity us

Would be to pity himself.

Travel Babble

I just want to travel
Is it too much to ask?
A little wind in my hair
A little dirt coating my shoes
No idea what's behind the next corner
Nose buried in a map
As I walk around in circles
Until the guidance of a friendly local
Saves me from my foolish dance

I just want to travel
Is it too much to ask?
Opening my sleep ridden eyes
to a new city everyday
A different flavor to savor
A different language to comprehend
Mobile, in motion all day
Until I feel that the bed I lie on
also has wheels and I'm on the road
Sailing in my dreams

I just want to travel
Is it too much to ask?
Mountains, oceans, monuments, cows
Merging into one great unknown
and I get to unlock the doors
one by one, I get to unlearn
All that I heard and read
And which now I can see
Form my own images, my own memories
My eyes gulping in the sights hungrily
My soul digesting the new meal
Until I am finally full

Let me into your heart
Let me into your sanctum
I don't need a guide
I can read the signboards
quicker than you can erect them
Let the path become familiar
Until I can walk with my eyes blindfolded
and still find the way
to my favorite destination
I just want to travel into you
Is it too much to ask?

What is it about Hope?

What is it about Hope?
A stubborn intoxication
that refuses to let go of us
The hangover never goes away
no matter how many bitter aspirin pills
of disappointment we swallow the next morning
Hope clings on hopefully
and we think we'll have a brighter day
receive better news
What is it about Hope?
That even amidst a pile of destruction
we yearn for a newborn's cry
As we watch our heroes die
our dreams disappear
we quickly replace them with new seeds
and we water them everyday
move them towards the sunlight
urging the shoots to grow faster
faster than ever before
Is Hope the basis of being human?
Does a dog expect the next bone to be bigger
tastier than the one before
Or is consistency his canine trait?
Does a deer expect the water in the lake to be sweeter
or the predator to not spot him
as he takes sips from his own reflection
What is it about Hope?
That makes us more human
or less, since we forget all logic
and surrender to the optimism
The cosmic force of faith
The pandora's box of promises
Wise men become fools
and fools become wise
As Hope wraps her blanket around us
closer, tighter, warmer.