The choice my dear... is all yours!

The other day I observed a very interesting conversation between my grandma and my 11 year old cousin.

“Did you finish the assignment we started working on yesterday?” my grandma asked her.

“No… I don’t feel like doing it right now…” she began, and then changed her mind. “Actually I don’t want to do it at all…” this she said looking at me, giving me that adorable smile.

“You do know that’s not an option, don’t you?” My grandma smiled.

“But why not? Why can’t we not do certain things?” she asked, clearly in a mood to delay the writing work as much as possible.

“Because it’s not a choice!” My grandma replied calmly.

Unhappy with the answer she turned to me. “What do you do when you don’t want to do something, don’t feel like doing something, but have to do it because not doing it is not a choice?”

Surprised at being at the receiving end of such a profound question I answered, “When there is no choice, you have to do it.”, I answered.

“Duh! I know that! Granna just said that!” she rolled her eyes, clearly expecting more out of a sister she idolizes. Of course it’s not easy to pretend smartness all the time, I realized.

“I mean, can’t I hope that if I don’t do it, it will just go away?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe the teacher will change her mind?”

“Of course, that’s a possibility…” I stammered now looking at grandma for help.

“Okay, let me see. Imagine a plateful of delicious foodstuffs. Say it’s your friend’s birthday feast. All your favourite items are in it. However, hidden amongst the cakes, and chips is a bowl of fruit salad.” My grandma stopped a minute to see the reaction on her face. For the record my cuz for some reason hates fruit salad.

“Yuk!” she said.

“Yuk indeed! Now the most ideal situation would be to ignore bowl of fruit salad, and hope it will vanish by the time you finish the meal. Unless you believe in wasting food, throwing it away may not be an option. You can tell your friend’s mom that I hate fruit salad, but let’s say she is not around. Now you are left with three options. First, you can keep eating spoon full of fruit salad at regular intervals along with rest of the yummy food. The second option is eat it at the very end of your meal. And finally, you can eat it at the very beginning of the meal and then move on to the better food items in your plate.” Grandma waited for a response.

“Okay…” she said tentatively and I was sure she was cringing at the idea of eating that fruit salad!

“If you pick the first option, you will be spoiling your mood, the taste and the experience after every second or third bite.” Grandma explained.

“I don’t want to do that…” My cuz shuddered.

“Okay, if you pick the second option, chances are that after eating all those tasty dishes, you will end up eating something you would avoid, and get up from an otherwise delicious meal with a bad aftertaste, thus, more or less nullifying the entire eating experience.” This sounded interesting. Grandma was a genius.

“I don’t want to do that either…” she sounded sure.

“Finally, the third option. You can start a meal with a bad taste in your mouth and perhaps bad mood too, thanks to gulping something you hate… but as the meal progresses, you will forget the fruit salad totally… finish your meal and enjoy the experience too, isn’t it?” Grandma finished.

“Yes… I think so…” My cuz agreed reluctantly.

“So what will you pick then…?” Grandma asked.

“The third option…” she answered grudgingly.

“Very good. Now coming back to your question… unwanted activities and situations will arise all the time. Time-consuming homework is not going to go away… so what do you do? You may not have a choice of not doing it… but you always have a choice of selecting when you want to do it. Now do you want to ruin the experience of a delicious meal or not… the choice my dear is all yours…” My grandma smiled at me…

And I had a distinct feeling that the little talk was not just for the benefit of my 11 year old cousin!

Who are you trying to fool?

“What do you do when someone is telling you a fib and you know it too?” a friend asked this profound question.

“You blow off the lid,” I smirked.

“What do you do when blowing off the lid may result in that person thinking that you are spying on him?” came the next question.

“Well…” I hate these conversations. They often challenge you to think.

“Well what?” she asked tapping her fingers on the table.

“It depends man…” I said in bored voice, “If the fib is big enough to confront someone with, I say you do it… if it’s just a fiblet, let it go.”

No response. 10 sec, 15, 20, 30, 45, 1 minute.

“What??” I asked, as the silence had stretched too long.

“Some two days ago, in the morning I called M in his office. You know the wifely thing to do… Tusi pahuch gaye ji?” she mimicked Farida Jalal’s DDLJ dialog.

“You call him everyday?” I asked, slightly amused.

“Of course not! Sunday night he told me he had an important meeting to attend at work and he had to reach office early. However, by the time I got ready for work, the man was still sleeping. I woke him and left. The call was just to know if he had reached.” She finished.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Okay… I gave him a lecture before I left on how he should learn to be more organized and punctual and all that…” she conceded.

“And?” is this what life becomes after marriage?

“I couldn’t get through to his cell, so I called up his office. The receptionist said he hadn’t reached. So I tried his cell again exactly a minute later. This time I connected and he answered. When I asked him where he was he said he was already at work and busy. I could hear the slight noise of traffic. Even AC cars are not that sound proof.” She finished.

“Okay so he hadn’t reached office… but fibbed to stop you from giving him another lecture. What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“Does he think I am dumb?” she asked.

“Look if you wanted to know the truth you should have asked him something like, Why haven’t you reached yet? That would have eliminated the chance of him from telling you a fib.” I said.

“Oh then he would have known I called his office!” she said irritated. “You don’t know these guys!”

“Aren’t you making a mountain of a mole hill?” I asked tentatively.

“This is not the only time. He fibs on and off just to stop me from pestering him,” she added.
“So stop pestering him!” I suggested.

“You think I do that for my own good? You think I was getting late for that all-important meeting?” she asked. “I do it for his own good… why can’t he understand that?”

“Well… I don’t have an answer for that… but the old saying, You can fool everyone, but you can’t fool yourself usually works!” I continued. “It happens with all of us doesn’t it? We often fib to get out of complicated arguments. The point still remains that if you can’t fool yourself.”

“Hmmmm…” she conceded.

“See… telling you he has reached office, he has managed to silence your pestering. But does that mean he will get away with reaching late? Of course not. So he knows the situation, and he can face the consequences. Why are you taking tension? M is a big boy… he can take the consequences.” I smiled. “Next time, don’t ask…” I suggested.

“Yes… I guess that would be for the best. It will save some antacid intakes for me!” she laughed.

Yes sir, I have completed four laps…
Mom, I have finished studying for the test…
Of course, I have exercised today…
I replied to your sms, how come you didn’t get it?

We all use these fibs, err… excuses to get out of more questions, accusations, lectures and so on. Who are we trying to fool? That almost always remains a question…

Random conversation...

I was in one of those ‘I-want-to-pull-my-hair-off-in frustration’ sort of mood. Middle of the workday, crying to release the built up irritation was not an option either. So I was keeping my tone low and voice calm as I dealt with issues at hand. Smiling where response was not required, nodding where one was, I opted for minimum expenditure on words, because I was afraid someone innocent would fall victim to a backlash! It was in this mood that the phone rang.

“Hello…” said Kay in a very low voice. So I was not the only one having an off day, I smirked to myself.

“Hey babe, wassup?” I worded the usual greetings.

“Nothing…” she sighed deeply. Now here came the tricky part. Do I dare ask the question?

“What’s wrong?” I asked tentatively, praying she answers with another one of those ‘Nothing!”

“Nothing…” she began, then stopped. “Okay everything…” My hopes crashed.

“Out with it…” I sighed too.

“AJ is getting on my nerves now…” she sighed. “I don’t think I can take this pestering from him for too long. He nags and nags and nags, and when that doesn’t work, the sarcasm comes in, and when that fails too… it’s the cold shouldering. I am just so fed up.”

“Nags about what?” I asked.

“Every little thing. Did you pay the phone bills, did you go to the doctor, did you finish X, did you pick up Y… God he just can’t let the small things go.” She finished with a bang, literally. I believe that was the sound of her hand thumping the table.

“I see…” seeing, yet not seeing it.

“Have you spoken to him about how this is irritating you?” I asked, finding it easy to relate to AJ, and smiled thinking of that certain someone nodding vigorously.

“Yes, hundred times. I have asked him to leave me alone with my chores. I am 27 years old and can fully manage my life. I don’t need a keeper controlling my moves…” she sounded genuinely pissed off.

“And is that what you think he is trying to do? Control?” I asked, feeling uneasy with this conversation now.

“Obviously… do this, do that. Why didn’t you do this… why did you do that. You shouldn’t go here… please go there! Hello… my parents never told me this… I am feeling claustrophobic now… I just need to be left alone…” she finished.

“So tell him,” I said with a huge gulp.

“You think I haven’t… but the very next day it’s the same old story.” She ended dejectedly.

“Can I ask you something…” I asked, my irritable mood lost.

“Yeah…” she sounded spent.

“Is there any weight to what he says?” I began, “I mean, have you been paying your bills late, for example?”

“That’s not the point,” she said defensively. “Even if I have, I will do it when I get time…”

“Okay, okay, it was just a question.” I concluded. I knew where this was coming from… and hearing someone else say it this bluntly had raised my antennas too.

“I concede that at times he is right. He has a point too. But I can deal with it myself. I don’t need this… I believe I can manage.” She explained.

“And is that what the problem is? That you think he doesn’t believe so?” I asked curiously.

“In some ways yes. I think he doesn’t believe that I am capable of dealing with certain things… I procrastinate sometimes, I agree. But I don’t think that gives him the right to think I just don’t want to do it… or I don’t understand the importance of doing things at the right time. I have my pace and my priorities and I know when what needs to be done.” She made sense… and a lot of it.

“You are saying that the first instance you miss something he is on your case??” I questioned.

“Hmmmm… no…” she sounded uncertain.

“You mean it’s something like mom… and the whole clean your room dialog? After the clothes pile up to the ceiling and you are lost under the pile of books, that the whole ‘clean your room’ dialog comes up?” I drew an analogy.

“Kind of… but not entirely.” She conceded.

“So I say you let it go for now. Don’t we eventually clean the room anyways?” I asked smiling now. “When mom starts with her speech, you remember the feeling? Every yummy meal she has cooked goes off the mind, every encouraging word she has said is forgotten and replaced with absolute irritation. But it’s momentary right? The next time you talk to her, it is forgotten. Why not use the same principle here? So he has been crowding you. Talk to him… tell him. I am sure AJ isn’t unreasonable. So it can’t entirely be his fault. Own up to your side of failings too.” I encouraged.

“I don’t understand,” she sounded confused.

“When you called me a while back, it looked like had AJ been around you would have murdered him. At that moment the surprise birthday party he arranged last month was forgotten. The feeling was lost, just for a while. Babe, take it easy. Listen to what he is saying. It wouldn’t hurt to do as he says… you may never realise he has a point. On his part… ask him to ease up a little. Tell him you need reminders but not nagging. Although I don’t have a solution to what he should do if you don’t listen to his reminders either…”

“I get your point. Meet half way you mean. Basically don’t wait for the reminders to turn to nagging?” she asked.

“Yes…” I said.

“But doesn’t that still entail the same thing? Me working by his pace?” she asked.

“If he is right… where’s the harm?” I asked…

“Hmmm… I am not entirely convinced because then the question of who is right or wrong arises. But I am calmer now.” She said honestly.

“Good…” I smiled.

“Thanks for listening babe…” she said genuinely.

“Nope… thank you. For the conversation. I wish I had this with you an hour earlier… would have saved me some trouble…” I murmured.

“Huh? Yeh kya tha?” she asked amused.

“This is what I call wake up call…” I quipped. “No time for explanations right now. But thanks anyways…”

This is sooooo unfair!

It was a cold Wednesday evening and I was fast asleep in the bus when my cell phone rang.
“Hello,” I answered groggily, which I am sure sounded scary because I already have a bad throat.

“Are you dying?” came an irritated reply! “It’s cool if you are… just listen to me first and then you can carry on!” Nothing else could have woken me this fast… not even a bucket of water!
“D! What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to clear a hurting throat.

“My boss… that’s what is wrong!!” he thundered. “I was assigned to this project exactly a week ago… but the project was dormant as the client was sleeping. I got an update mail from the client today afternoon and within fifteen minutes my boss asks me what’s the status. So I told him that since the update came in 15 minutes ago… there is nothing that is new. He got mad at me for wasting a week! Wasting! Wasting! There was nothing to do!! This is really unfair!” he finished.

That was too much of information to take, and my sleepy mind was revolting at the verbal onslaught. But D was clearly upset… so I managed to mumble a… “That’s sick!” Of course that came out like a squeak and I could only hope that he got the message. Well none of it mattered because he went on with his angry outburst.

“I mean, what was I supposed to do? Re-read the proposal like a million times? Which, by the way, I did. I used to read the two documents I had every day!” What for? I wondered in amazement, but my amazement was cut short again as he continued. “But each time all I could conclude was wait for the client to respond. My boss is barking mad at me, because he feels the wasted week is going to screw up the schedule! You should have heard him talk. He was almost yelling at me in front of the team. I mean I always thought the guy hated my guts… but he took it too far this time. Okay, so I may gulp down my pride and keep the humiliation part aside. He’s being plain unreasonable and this is so what I don’t need right now. I am up for appraisals in a fortnight… this is so unfair. I think I am getting victimized.” he trailed off.

“Damn…” I muttered. “Well, there is very little you could have done on a dormant project right? Tell your boss when he is slightly calmer. I am sure he will listen to you. Explain that there was nothing you could do, except waste time…” I giggled, “Not in so many words of course!”

“Hmmmm…” long sign. Yay! D had calmed down, I celebrated. “You are right…” he began, “I can talk to him. I can tell him that there was nothing I could start on without a feedback. Well…” he paused. “Well… not nothing really. I mean I could have created a query document, and maybe hunted for information available online, or started out on a raw content document of my own, maybe ideation even…” He suddenly stopped.

“Man I have messed up, haven’t I!” he asked, more a question for himself than me. “Shit… there was so much I could have done… out of my own initiative of course. The boss is partially right! Man…”

I was thunderstruck. “Are you saying that you may also be at fault? And the boss is not being totally unfair?”

He sighed. “Yes… I think it’s partially my fault and the boss is not being completely unfair. I mean, at the project level I still think, there was nothing that could be expected out of me, when the client was yet to respond, but I think what he was yelling about was that I could have at least started. I still think it's not entirely fair to assume that I could start on my own initiative without any input, but I get his point...” he concluded, and sounded slightly dejected I thought... but calmer of course. “Thanks for listening…” and he cut off before I could say anything else.

The rest of the journey I kept thinking, how many times have I reacted in a similar manner? Just picking at the unfairness of the situation? How many times have I concentrated on how unreasonable someone else was being disregarding the fact that, may be, just may be, there was an outside chance that I may be at fault somewhere too? That there might have been something I had done that triggered what I thought was an unfair reaction and responding in an extreme manner? And how many times have I readily agreed to the fact that after giving such an extreme reaction myself, that I may after all have been wrong too!

So many times we get caught up in situations, which are unfair at the face value. And so we refuse to scratch the surface, which may reveal that we may not be completely innocent victims in the overall scheme of things.

Don’t know if the incident has left behind enough food for thought… but I guess I will definitely try to avoid reacting to so called “unfair” situations unless I have accessed my overall contribution to the problem, before terming myself a victim in the situation!

Thanks D!!! I owe it to you! And kudos to you for accepting your contribution to the fault in a situation which so looked a case of “unfairness” and “victimization”.

Everything happens for a reason...

Last evening… something prompted my mind to whisper these words to me. “Everything happens for a reason…”.

The wary side of me immediately snorted. And I could feel the response “Yeah right…” hovering on my tongue. It seemed to laugh and say that saying all happens for a reason is just one way in which we condition ourselves, force ourselves to believe that, this happened for a good reason.

But I was in a mood for some well… rational thinking. So the world wary side had to take a back seat while the almost unused sensible side of my mind took over.

The mind went back to some of the most difficult times of my life when life seemed downright cruel and unfair. It’s been years in some cases… when I had uttered exasperated sentences like “This is just not done…” or “I can’t believe this is happening to me…” or in terminally crappy situations… “I am a good person… and I don’t deserve this!” or “Why do I need to fight for something that is so rightfully mine…”

Looking back today… I believe I have answers to some of these questions. With some others I am still waiting. But what was heartening to know was that in almost all the cases… surprisingly enough I could actually quite happily say… Yes… it happened because something better was in store.

Does that mean my current dilemma will have a happy ending. I don’t know… only time can tell. But for now experience tells me that yes… there is a reason why it is happening… a reason I may not be able to comprehend right away or a reason I may never be able to comprehend… but reason all the same.

I spent about half an hour randomly posing this question to a bunch of friends… and they all came back with quite quick answers… almost all in the affirmative. A few interesting answers that came my way…

A: Well i dont know... i dont think there is a well laid plan but i think i am happy with whta ever has happened till now, nothing i plan ever happens, but i like what happens eventually

B: Yes, could be tht or could just be that im conditioned to believe in it, so i SEE things thru tht filter. i see things in the past and how they worked out and say, 'aah it all happd for a reason'. becasuse someone already PUT that perspective in my head. else i could possibly be thinking, 'saala kyun aisa ho gaya?'

C: even if doesn’t, we find a reason, for the occurrence

D: No… im quite unfatalistic in my outlook

E: more or less, i do believe in that seems like it has quite some worth attached to it. I think whatevr i lost/left/gone away from me..simple things even...happen for a reason i always end up feeling so...coz theres a replacement in some time

F: YESSSS. thats the line i live my life on. even when a situation looks grim and almost hopeless… and unfair… even then.......then i pray i see the logic SOOOON, i go mad trying to figure it out and when i dont see it i am exasperated.........but the answer comes! smtms years later

This post didn’t have a purpose. It doesn’t have an inference. It’s one of those days when random thoughts lead to interesting discussions… and you get to spend an (otherwise sleepy/cold) afternoon in what I hope was a productive way!

A Special heartfelt thanks to all those who found time to answer this otherwise meaningless question!

Devil Wears Prada

Watched “Devil Wears Prada” for the a 100th time today (not exaggerating), and the movie strikes a chord every time. I don’t mean, the lovely dresses and the underweight models or Meryl Streep's attitude… but certain aspects of the movie almost always strike a chord! This time, it was this dialog that struck a chord…

The dialog:
Andrea: Sorry, it’s a busy day… my personal life is hanging by a thread. That’s all.
Nigel: Join the club. That’s what happens when you start doing well at work. I mean when your whole life goes up in smoke… that means it’s time for a promotion.

The dialog is pretty self explanatory. However, what is ironic is that we walk into such situations with our own two feet… steady feet. First it’s all about the new job… a job which we love. At times we love it for the money, at others for the work and on rare occasions for both.

The first time we have a late night; it gives a weird kind of kick… to be a part of the big bad corporate world. Finally you are a part of the "in" crowd that used to brag about crazy work hours and dying at work. But of course, the newness wears off and slowly, the one off late nights turn into a routine and soon you end up in a place where on a miraculous Thursday when you actually manage to leave work at 8 in the evening, a colleague snorts… “Half day today??”

The late nights convert themselves into working weekends and the next thing you know you are missing out of friend’s birthdays, parent’s anniversaries, a cousins promotion party, a date that was decided a month ago, until you are left with nothing but a life (if you can call it that) that starts and ends at work. The questions like “How’s life?” start irritating you because, where is life?? A decent bank balance, a good place to live (if you get enough time to appreciate it that is), a catalogue of a beautiful holiday in the Andaman’s (your parents/spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend left behind with the hope that you may be tempted) lying on the coffee table under a huge layer of dust… you glance at it ruefully when you get back from work, shake your head and move on!

The little sadist in me wants to end it there. It’s a painfully gloomy picture as it is… why extend the misery? But then, the bigger sadist in me wants to remind you that there is just no way out of this situation. Sometimes we do it because we want to, at others we do it because we don’t have a choice. Well… choice… that’s a tricky word. And writing about that is not within the scope of this post. But just a parting dialog from the same movie… about choice…

Andrea: That was different. I didn’t have a choice.
Miranda: Oh no! You chose. You chose to get ahead. You want this life… those choices are necessary.
Andrea: But what if this isn’t what I want. What if I don’t want to live the way you live?
Miranda: Don’t be ridiculous. Everybody wants this. Everybody wants to be us.

It’s a different issue that the protagonist walks away throwing her cell phone into a pond, when she sees her boss trying to reach her! I was wrong. It is about choice!

I resolve to... break every resolution I can!

2007 rocked… literally... and it doesn’t look like the party is over yet! But then comes a sobering thought! Came across my diary of last year and was in splits minutes after I started reading it. I was of course going through my new year’s resolutions and was laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the fact that I managed to keep just a handful of them (that’s if I am lying and none if I am honest!)

Every year I decide I will not make any resolution… but the sadist in me loves to make them because it’s a lot of fun to see them break!

In 2008 I resolve to:

• Exercise – it’s been 12 days and I haven’t managed it yet.
• Clean my closet regularly and not wait for the spring break – Which reminds me, I haven’t really cleaned since last spring!
• Spend some more time at home – Hmmm… the less said the better.
• Not kill myself at work – So far so good! Not a single late night this new year!
• Be nice to people! – Hmmm… never mind!
• Save money – I don’t have a choice but to do this!
• Control my temper – I have to do this…

Sigh… some things are just destined to remain undone. ;)

The big fat old man in red!

As a kid, the month of December was all about Christmas, the carols and the anticipation of what new gift was the big old man in red going to bring in this year! Hunting for my favourite pair of socks (no stockings for me), hanging it by the window (no Christmas tree at home either), and waiting, desperately trying to keep my eyes open to see if I could spot Santa’s sleigh as it went past my window, after dropping my gift into the sock. But of course, I almost always fell asleep and missed the exact moment when my dad hid my present in my sock. This continued for many years, years when I refused to be ridiculed by cousins and peers who, in their misplaced wisdom, tried to convince me that there in fact, was no such angel as Santa! As years went by, the gifts began to get smaller, until there finally came a year when there was no gift in my sock one fine Christmas morning. I still want to believe that it was solely because my dad didn’t find time to get me a gift, rather than thinking that he finally thought it was time I outgrew the “I believe in Santa” phase!

As years go by, hardly anything seems to have changed. I still get excited about Christmas, hum my favourite Christmas carols, and yes, I still hang my favourite sock by the window. The only thing that seems to have changed, is that the sock remains empty… or does it? My sock is full of ribbons of good wishes, parcels of happy thoughts, and large boxes of never ending hope! Good wishes for all, happy thoughts to take us through another year and hope that this will be a better year! My sock isn’t empty… it is fuller than it used to be! Kiddish? Maybe… but what’s wrong with that??

I don’t have any smart sign-off on this post… but just a thought. In today’s world where practicality is replacing emotions, where money is replacing relationships, where peace is a distant memory, we all need to believe that someone, somewhere will change this. In a world where competition kills, where sarcasm and attitude rock, where we have all the luxuries we need, but no time to enjoy it, where apathy is replacing sympathy and support, I like to believe that going back to being kids, where life seemed so simple, isn’t such a bad idea. For at least then we will all be at our best behaviours all year round, for the better we are, the bigger present awaits us from Santa!

For all those who are still with me on this post… check out the link below and sing, Jingle Bells!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H21bOeI5IKE

Merry Christmas… and Happy Holidays Everyone!!

That night…

The night was unusually cold for an otherwise warm summer week
A perfect climax to an imperfect day, I thought
As I slipped under the cold duvet of an unfamiliar, icy bed
With the dull beats of my frozen heart

I stared at the silhouette formed by the figure sitting across the room
The darkness made him even more formidable
And I knew that even though a few feet away,
He was now out of my reach

The cold, the darkness, the still night suddenly engulfed me
As silent tears began to flow down leaving a burning trail
What brought about this distance between us?
Was it me, was it him…, I wondered.

For whoever it was, had managed to build
A fortress between us, oh quite so quickly
That I knew I was way to week to break down.

And as I lay in that strange cold bed,
My eyes trying to search for the tenderness and love
That was lost somewhere in the darkness
Knowing it would be difficult to find even in bright sunlight

Just then the room filled with a bright glow
The light poured in by the flashing lights of a passing car
And just for a moment I stared into his eyes
The eyes that answered the unspoken question

It was neither me nor you
But a stranger who had managed
To build between us… that night
A fortress with a single locked door… that was without a key…

Memories that are forever?

Checking emails has been a hurried affair for quite some time now… it is usually a routine of scanning through messages, deleting most forwards, opening a few, forwarding fewer nice ones, replying to emails from friends trying to find out if I am still alive… of course the answer is usually the same, so once I write it, it is usually a copy paste job… something on the lines of… Hey… long time… I am good… chal raha hai yaar, wo hi boring si routine life. Work’s a killer… baki fine… tu bata…

Today started out no differently. After replying to hazzar Happy Diwali messages and sending out a few myself, I was about to hit the sign out button when my eyes fell on this… 1 - 50 of 2481. I stared at that number, slightly shocked. I had 2481 emails and forwards in my gmail (and this did not include the conversations within emails!) in a span of three years?? When did I have the time, and who sent me all these messages??

Immensely curious now… I clicked on the Oldest link… which took me straight to the very first message I had ever received in my gmail… and I was lost… through all the memories, the messages exchanged with so many people… some of whom are still very much in touch, but some of them are out there somewhere, but I dunno where. I scanned through these emails, some that went into 20, 30 and one of them as long as 82 conversations ranging from topics about life, work related frustrations, Sachin Tendulkar, broken heart, shocking confessions, declarations, plots, future plans, surprises, Iraq war and so on…

As I read through some emails I realized that this gmail was really a hold all about my life these past three years, a elaborate description of some of the most pivotal points in my life, a diary about some of my inner most feelings, celebrations, successes, doubts and disappointments… a hold all really.

As I went from one email to another, I also realized how somethings, some people, and some events that once meant so much, are no longer around, most are irrelevant to the today’s Me or have just seized to matter anymore. And yet, the traces of those times remained in my inbox, as clear, and as blatant as if it all happened yesterday.

I asked myself if I really needed these email reminders. Reminders of times that no longer make a difference… reminders of things that are best forgotten… reminders of memories that should have long been erased? Most definitely not! So here I went, page after page, selecting messages that don’t matter anymore (or lets just say, shouldn’t matter anymore)… selecting messages that needed to be thrashed out of my life… and yet, when it came to hitting the Delete button, my hand stilled over the mouse! I couldn’t bring myself to erase such large chunks of my life… from my inbox, the inbox which was the only proof of the times that made me what I am today… the only proof of those moments some wonderful, some painful that reside only in my memory today… the inbox, which was the only proof that they actually happened…

As I sat there deleting messages page after page, I could feel the pain, the sadness, the smile, the joy with each passing message, until none were left… After what seemed like hours, I managed to erase a substantial chunk out of my life… I thought… but even as I logged off… the reluctance I felt while deleting those messages kept haunting me… Is this what we call the inability to let go? Or is it just some personal tendency to hold on? I don’t know… but it was time to let go… let go of some memories (that may last forever… )