Happiness Quotient

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It doesn’t really mean anything if I say that I am happy. On the contrary, there is an inherent presence of sadness in that statement. There is no limit to the varied emotions that a person can experience. Happiness is just one minute piece of the entire emotional puzzle that our life is. Don’t you think so?

Sometimes a tear can express more happiness than a smile can. A smile , as it is widely accepted,  most of the time conceals terrible sadness. People who are exuberant in showcasing love and affection, need not necessarily be good. Just like not all  blunt and straight forward people are bad and emotionless.

So how can one claim to be happy and not be able to express it in ways other than words. A happy person is not identified by the smile on the face, it is by the warmth in their eyes. A blooming flower is a pretty sight, it brings about a smile on many faces. It is the happiness of a new beginning. A simple and yet very deep an emotion. But if it reminds you of a sad incident, even the prettiest of flowers can cause pain.

How exact a science is the art of happiness?  We create more memories with each passing day. Why not make them all good ones. If we learn to appreciate the small things in life, life can be a bliss. But if we keep concentrating only on the bigger picture of fame, fortune and happiness and forget to live our present, then there are high chances that even with the fame, fortune and happiness ultimately gained, will leave us feeling helpless and alone.

Just something to think about, I guess. Especially since there is no tax on Positive Thinking. Let’s consider Happiness Quotient as a balance of all human emotions. Without loss, you wouldn’t be able to appreciate the gain, would you?

It has been a while…

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My blog tells me that it has been 5 months since I wrote something here. I guess it is time to start writing again. If only planning to write , wanting to write and writing were all easy to do as they used to be.

Collecting thoughts and putting them down on paper (ahem) isn’t easy anymore. There is so much to say, so much I should not say and so much more that should have been said a long time ago. 

But one has to restart somewhere. Let it be now and let it be here. At the moment that I am still sad that my first born is not at home anymore , yet happy and proud of the man he has turned out to be. He has flown the coop . He is happy at a college in the US. This moment is precious to me. I just realized he misses home. I also just realized how selfish I am!

Let the feeling sink in, I keep telling myself. It hasn’t yet. He is still a child. He still behaves the same. He still is the same. I know it is wishful thinking to hope that he will always remains the same.

I started blogging when my kids were small and blogged through their teenage. In this new phase as a college mom, I am not sure what to blog about anymore. Until I figure out what to write about, I am leaving you with something that’s close to my heart these days :

Missing someone is bad enough, but being missed feels even worse…

Writing 

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It isn’t in the honour or accolades that a writer breathes,
It’s in the inner peace that writing brings,
I write to feel the warmth of the written word,
It’s effect on this cold soul within.

Many years of happiness and pain,
Maketh a writer more supreme,
A writer known for their writing will inturn,
Suffer many more years of happiness and pain.

How different is a writer from a normal soul?
How elite is this crowd that pride?
Aren’t humans a part of the stories we tell?
Aren’t emotions that we shamelessly sell?

Humans above humans, we know not what we think,
It is all for praise for a job well done,
While another human sits to decide, with malice even,
If what I write is in any way worth his while… 

Being Hurt

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Being hurt is a sign of being human. Maturity should not take that from us.

   

When we are in a situation that has no solution, what can we do? 

I saw an ad recently issued in public interest about men and crying. It seems it  is something that has been grilled into boys for generations. 

Boys don’t cry!  Ladke rote nahi hai!

My first born is a boy and oh boy , the way he cried just after birth. His cries have kept me awake for nights together when he had the hernia and he couldn’t express what was hurting him. 

My husband cried the day our son was born. He cries when he sees any of us in pain. It’s a natural feeling to be hurt or to cry. Gender has nothing to do with it. Neither does age or maturity. 

It’s all about how much of a human we are. The daughter and I are a bit too human that way. Some insensitive people call us “too” sensitive. We are proud of it though! And no, we were not “taught” to cry because we are women. 

Yes, I am hurt. I am not embarrassed to express it. My life isn’t what I wanted it to be. I am not all what I could have been. 

I never thought being a mother would make me want to not want anything more in life. But it did. Even though it hurt every step of the way. The hurt of seeing my children grow. The hurt of them preparing to start a new life. The hurt of the first few harsh words that teenagers use. I have been there , done that and I have a few grey hairs and wrinkles to prove it. 

I see pregnant ladies in parks and malls and wonder if they have any idea how dramatically their life is going to change. The second child adds to that equation, the complexity of being “fair” and of equality. It never a ends, the battle against hurt. Yet we embrace each new hurt with a smiling face. We are only human. Humans that need love, care, understanding and a reason to continue living.

Laugh when you feel happy, cry when emotions overwhelm you.

That’s what life is all about. The simple essence of it. The essence of being ourselves. About being open to hurt and gaining the ability to overcome that pain. We mature, we learn, we grow. 

Cut the Cloth

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Cut the Cloth

Cut the Cloth

It was 28th December and we still didn’t know what we were doing for New Year’s Eve! I guess there is a first time for everything in life. As the usual custom, my sisters and I plan up something for the 31st night. Something different from the year before. This is done mostly before Christmas. But December 2013 was not an ordinary December. It was more or less like the moon’s surface. Not at all smooth!

Our brilliant investments before the recession hit, had come to an “impossible to handle” situation. There is a saying that goes something like, “There is no gain without any pain.” Whoever said that must be shot dead! Where is the gain after all the pain I went through for years!

Well, there was no gain per say. But we did cut out our losses. “Cut the coat according to cloth”, I have no idea who said it. But this was something that my dad used to repeat time and again to us. Desire only things that are possible. And if you must desire something out of reach, then you must plan well towards it. Not jump into it with your eyes, ears and brains closed!

Some foolish decisions later , we have come to our senses. Nothing matters more than happiness and peace of mind in the house. Comparisons can stay on FB and cocktail parties. Life is lived in living rooms and bedrooms not on FB or cocktail parties! Finally , Dad’s words have sunk in. But does this apply to everyone? I have seen people make investments and come out victorious and I have seen people fall flat on their faces. So where is the list of correct way of doing investments and savings? I am guessing there is none!

All anyone does is make well thought out and planned decisions, stick to the plan and hope nothing goes downhill. And if we are lucky enough, nothing will. But if we are like me, then everything that can go wrong will go wrong. So for people like me I have the best advice I can give. That too free of charge. “Cut the coat according to cloth”. That is the mantra of my kind of life.

It is said that we should save at least half of what we earn. Save it up for a better retired life. I think all I need is cash during my retired life. I don’t want to run around collecting rents or looking for people to buy the property that I have carefully invested in. I prefer having a bank balance that will be enough so that we can live off its interest every month and a home to live in. Maybe go on a holiday once in a while. Is that too much to ask? But if I save up every penny in the hope that I will travel more in my old age, how wise would that be? Especially since there is no guarantee for life. Is there?

This isn’t the best way to start a new year on the blog. But this is the only way I know. Learning from the past and moving towards a better future. Where mistakes will not be repeated and thus decisions will not be regretted.

What is that one major thing that the events of 2013 has taught you? Would you like to share it here?

On a brighter note, Happy New Year to everyone. 😀

Happy New Year 2014

Happy New Year 2014

P.S : The cake was yummy. 😀 

Picture Courtesy : Cross connection and What My Camera Captures. 🙂

Being watched

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God Lamp

It was one of those days when she was busy doing what she always does. It was routine and she had been following it for many years now. She didn’t have a fixed time for the work she does at home. But she always had a set pattern. She would first dust the furniture, wipe the table tops, reset the cushions on the sofa, then set the magazines in order and put everything back into the places they belong. She would then clean the lamp, add in oil, then the wick. She would clean the God’s idol with a cloth and set up two incense sticks onto two separate holders. Next would be the use of matchsticks to light the lamp and the incense sticks. She would then say a silent prayer with her eyes closed for a few minutes.

Soon after this she would call her son to join in the evening prayers. Her 6 year old son, who during this entire time, was busy on his phone playing his favourite game, would come, touch the feet of the idol and hover his hand on the lit lamp and then touch his hand and then his chest. He would then promptly be on the sofa back to his games.

Maya had been ill for a while now. The house was always in a state of gloom. It wouldn’t be long before she has to return to God, she knew. Her son was at her bedside, sitting with a gloomy face. His hands were holding his jaw and his elbows were on his mother’s bed. Seeing her son like that was more saddening to her than her own illness and the gloom of her impending death. She gathered all her energy and got up from bed in preparation to light the lamp once again after almost 4 months.

When she reached the sitting room, she was too tired to stand even. She was on the verge of falling down when her son caught her arm and made her sit on the sofa just like her husband does when she gets tired. She gladly obliged and kissed him on his forehead. He then went about the entire routine just as his mother used to. When the lamp was lit and he had completed his prayer, he came to help her towards the idol. She stood there praying along side her son with tears in her eyes. Her husband joins them too in their prayers that day. The parents realised that day that one thing they didn’t know was that they were being watched at every step. They were instilling their habits into their child even without actually trying to. The family of three would be reduced by one soon. But the love and the understanding they shared in the few short years together, would live on for years.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out creative writing topics each weekend for Indian bloggers.

Write Over the Weekend theme for this week

This time your entry must contain, ‘One thing he/she/they didn’t know that they were being watched.’

Picture Courtesy : WhatMyCameraCaptures

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NaBloPoMo November 2013