Mansi

Listening to 'Don't let the sun go down on me' by Elton John got me thinking about when he did the same song with George Michael which I absolutely LOVED.

I really really like George Michael - always have. I remember when news broke out that he wasn't as 'normal' as the rest of the men out there. My brother and me were in a room once and my brother spoke outloud, not in particular to anybody. He said - I always sensed something was off with that chap. I remember thinking, my god, me too!!!!

Today thinking back on that incident, I think my brother and I have shared so many 'similar' feelings. Perhaps living abroad by ourselves made us more sensitive to what was not being said, and not being understood. It comes with being of 'foreign' origin living in a country that is not yours. Of course years after we both came back to our 'own' country we realized that we're no more of this country either. Still sensitive, still tuned in to people better than they are into themselves:

Post George Michael's unveiling of sorts, I think he has come out with better music more true to his talent than ever before. His jigs with Mary J Blige and even Elton John on this classic number are unforgettable.

Which brings me to the term 'vague'. I used this to characterize a person's blog and another's poetry. Driving back from my run this morning, I pondered on what was behind that term I used - 'vague'. As an initial reaction, a friend pointed out that perhaps because my blog is focused, I find anything that is not like mine vague. First I thought - wow, I am focused! Next I blushed - finally, I am focused! Then I thought, perhaps it's about age. I am at an age now where I feel more focused, more by practice if not naturally. And then I trashed that opinion too since it was not true. First, I don't read other blogs as a reaction to mine. That's boring. I maintain a blog so that I can read it - primarily. When I read another blog, I am reading them - primarily. Second, I've always expressed myself as I do on my blog. I have maintained diaries and journals since I could write. Prior to blogging, I had an account at LiveJournal and Oprah's online journal. Thus, this is not a new style acquired with age or experience.

Writing to me is a reflection of how one thinks. Thinking is an art. To be able to assess, sift, sort and then derive meaning (however shallow or insightful), thinking is an action. When I visit blogs and read excerpts that are not process oriented or action oriented, I find that vague. Writing then becomes a snapshot, snapshots that are deliberate and meticulously orchestrated and yet completely vague.

Writing has never been about the language, in my opinion. It isn't about one's vocabulary or one's skill with sentences. Writing is really about what we think.
My favorite quote that ALWAYS applies to me is that of Faulkner: I don't know what I think about something till I've read something I wrote on it.
Writing thus is my way to figure out what I think about a particular issue, feeling or person. Writing is means to think about something. I often will begin writing and it jumpstarts my thinking and lo and behold at the end of the exercise, I know something. It need not be significant and more often than not, it's a discovery. Other times, its a conscious effort to improve.
We think because we have a conflict or problem at hand. Thinking is means to solving / figuring something out. Thus it's an action - one with an outcome. While writing helps me think, it almost always represents an effort to improve and figure.

Then I come across blogs where there are snapshots, no thinking - in fact a deliberate shut door on any process - and to me that writing is vague. It's off center. It doesn't tell me anything about the person anymore. It will at times tell me more about myself because everything is off center. That could be me on the page, or it couldn't. It certainly isn't the blogger though. Here the writing is often obviously contradictory, obviously trajectory, obviously NOT what it is or isn't. It's a controlled expression, carefully scripted and sculpted, that has no soul, except for the one it reflects in it's readers.

That's Vague.

So much is being said about rape, rapists, policemen, policewomen and capital punishment - The icing on this particular discussion that should never have 'been' was the 'We the people' show on NDTV. I have always maintained a low opinion of Barkha Dutt and with this particular show, she has notched new levels of cheap entertainment previously never been attained by a news channel.
'How can you let rapists back into society?' she yelped at Rani Jethmalani who looked like coming on this show was the stupidest thing she could have done with a free afternoon.

All of us like launching off on women issues - the plight of women in what we think is a man's world. I know I do. Sometimes all I feel I really want to write about is my experience of being a woman. Were it just that, I could probably excuse myself out of this - but it's not. I have often found myself screaming and shouting on issues that concern women. To what end? None. To what purpose? None again.

Women do lead terribly distorted, sometimes borrowed and sometimes selfless lives. It is part of the framework we call society. That our sex is vulgarly groomed to perform as baby producing machines, something that fuels society itself is ironic and more or less true. In all this haze, it is very easy to lose sight of personal journeys, some even personal victories.

For example, an Indian woman came fourth in the International marathon held in Bangalore this past weekend.
For example, the mindblowing performance of Mita Vashisht depicting the life of Lalded.
When we heard of the play at first, we learnt that the theme was around women. I expected to see something on violence, rape, abuse or marital amiss depicted. I remember the last time I sat in the basement auditorium at the Habitat Center. I was audience to two plays: The first was on a woman being raped; the second on the plight of World War Two japanese brides living in the United States. Both were done very well and conveyed their message.
However to go for a performance that was about a woman's spirituality was different and special.

I go for a run every morning at a local park. Mornings are very crowded and there are all kinds of people who come every morning, like me, pursuing fitness, health, friendship, comaraderie, common interests and more times than less spirituality. We do have a Shiva temple inside our park for those who must combine thier walk with a nod at the Sun and a prayer at the temple. There are some who hold hands and chant. There is one particular man who likes to greet other people with a loud 'Hari Om'. We've passed each other by for some time now and he never forgets to wish me. I don't acknowledge him partly because I distrust old men and partly because my father bans me from speaking the word 'Om'. My father is my guru and I have not been able to even in my mind get away with that sound.
Running for me is my spiritual time. It began as a very physical exercise that freed me of my mind. Then it became something more. Running is my conscience, my inner voice. Just as the theory goes that if you exercise at 60% of your maximum heart rate for forty minutes or more, your body will burn fat for the next twent four hours - I think running exercises my conscience for the next twenty four hours too. My mind is quieter, my body stronger, my emotions are akin to foam on a receding wave (my mind waves). The days I don't run, like this day, I am all mind, all emotion - punishing my body for sins I don't even know.

Watching Mita perform got me to feel my spiritual self, the same way running does. My mind was quiet. My emotions were there and not there. My body was alert. The experience was exquisite. The story of Laldeb is indeed inspiring. Her transformation from a role of a woman, daugter and wife, to that of the very embodiment of female spirit is one where cultural meanings were foresaked for spiritual meanings. Laldeb didn't wear any clothes. She didn't take on any religion but wielded them into one giant wheel (different spokes, different religions) so like Abhimanyu bravely spun above his head. Her spirituality was not fueled by rituals or religious meaning - they were fueled by her experience of this world. In sweeping the floors of her house, in cooking rice for her family and in doing day to day chores, everything she did in honest connection with her spiritual self. She too, like most spiritual voices, spoke of the disconnection with one's mind. I remember hearing a line about the mind compared to a horse and breaking into a thousand pieces. Here's another of her 'vakh' on the human mind:
Keep your mind intent upon
the path that leads to immortality.
Should it stray from the path,
it will fall into evil ways.
Be firm with it and have no fear;
For mind is like a suckling baby,
which tosses restless even in its mother's lap.

Incidentally Deepan and I were watching a travel program on 'Capri' on Travel & Living (sadly the only channel that is still free of HINDI commentary). We learnt about the process of painting on ceramic tiles. Starting with clay, rolling it out, forming a mould and then baking it - we learnt that after it is baked, the tile reduces in size since it loses it's water. That evening, we heard Lalla speak to us with this 'vakh':

With a rope of loose-spun thread am I towing
my boat upon the sea.
Would that God heard my prayer
and brought me safe across!
Like water in cups of unbaked clay
I run to waste.
Would God I were to reach my home!

Far above the drone of the news and sensationalisms around women issues, this play was like a breath of fresh air. It was like we were witness to Lalla again, listening to her speak to our spiritual selves. Some days when I miss my run in the morning, I go in the afternoons. Then I happen to notice these yellow and white 'psuedo' butterflies. These are not the normal butterflies. Nor are they flys. They are an inbetween species -- small and quick. I have often wondered at this most delicate life form. They only appear in the summer, flitting about effortlessly despite the maddening heat all around them. Running by them, I used to think that were I to ever begin a venture of my own, they will be my symbol. They speak to me of a different kind of strength -one that comes from being completely true to themselves.

For all of Oprah's silly and wonderful shows, this one truly had me! 11 of the most macho men who were wholly into sports were asked to be women for three days.
They started with the transformation - waxed bodies, hair, nails, outfit and all. Next they went on to going in public and living in their houses as the 'woman' to even spending a day doing their respective wives or girlfriend's chores.
Watching this show, part of me is going 'silly', 'silly', 'silly' - - down to the point where one man who went through this experience was so transformed that he decided to propose to his girlfriend right there on Oprah!
When asked what did this do to you guys? Some guys said :
'It's the little things that I gained insights on - - like I love my convertible and I hate it when my girlfriend wants me to keep the top down...and there I was - my hair was flying about'
' I always felt like I was lopsided - my chest...'
' The worst thing about it was the waxing - it was brutal - - it felt like I was on that table for days!!'
' As a man, if some guy came up to me and said i like your outfit - i would go whoa!! but It felt good and it's one thing I am taking from this show - I got a compliment from my wife even'
'I always thought it all just got done - I didn't realize the amount of hours my wife would spend taking care of us, after a day at work'

My favorite response however was from this large man who looked like a Harley Davidson man with short hair. He was decidedly the largest amongst the group. He said that he was very emotionally hurt because no matter where the group went, he was always the one to be ignored. He called it a state of 'focused lack of attention'.

I heard that and thought 'I'm quitting my weight program NOW' - if only to just empathize with the truth of what this man said. While men can go around in all sizes (as per what the men said on the show - just in case someone thinks I am being sexist again!), large women are conditionally eliminated from our social consciousness.
'Here I am with a good personality and yet noone wants to even get to know me'
Those were the reactions of this large man.
'Everyone has a inner beauty. Yet, we are socially conditioned with images of what we think a 'good looking' woman is about and that limits us to experiencing the beauty in other larger women'.

Focused lack of attention : Is that what we know as blindness?