A headache or a memory? Your choice.

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Every difficult decision, more often than not, boils down to a choice between a Bad Headache and a Bad Memory.

The day I stuck to my belief (or principle or self-imposed rule, whatever) I came home with a headache. People tried to prod me, nudge me, lovingly force me into doing something I didn't want to, but - though I almost did give in, at one point - I mercilessly (and I dare say, rudely) resisted and fought and refused.

The effort itself was enough to split my head into pieces. I almost regretted the decision within minutes. The headache stayed till morning reminding me of the darn stupid principle I was trying to stick to. Who made up these rules, anyway?

But I told myself, the headache will be gone soon - after an hour or a day. Instead if I had given in to the people and gone against my wish, the memory would had gotten bad over time, decayed, smelt like shit and would have ruined my days forever. Better the splitting headache than the rotten, life-long memory.

And so I say, everything that does not have a happy outcome is either a severe Headache or a decayed Memory that forever gnaws at your mind.

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And that's that.

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The Fox and the Grapes

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I think the Fox was right to turn away when he did.
He was not a loser as I had been led to believe. He tried the best he could, and when he realised that he would not get the Grapes, he knew it was time to give up. He commented on the sourness for good measure, to give himself the strength to stop trying.

One of the most definite signs of a loser is that he continues to run after the finishing line.

There are things like hardwork and persistence. Then there are things like crawling on all fours and begging and pleading and returning, even after you've been kicked out. The line between the two is very thin. It is where Dignity ends.

You do not run after the finishing line, it is foolishness and a waste of energy. What you do is find the next race and try to win. It is important to know when to stop and move on.

The Fox was dignified, he knew he would never get his hand on the Grapes. He accepted the fact and turned back. He did not keep trying until and after the grapes were eaten by birds or the vine had died. He knew when to stop. His was the honourable decision.

Who knows, he may have found better Grapes at the next juncture.

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Lonely are Journeys

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The roads are now wider, the green is all gone;
The full moon at dusk throws a cool, golden dawn.
An old tree once stood where a new one's now born,
Old garments stripped off as new ones are worn.

Night streets are well-lit, which once were all dark,
The streaming of cars, with no space to park;
The shiny outsides only hide what they lack,
The old days are past, one can't hold them back.

The children are busy, grown up and gone
Leaving their parents to wait up, alone.
The garden is unkempt, the path over-grown,
The flowers have withered, no seeds are now sown.

An old shop, new people; new signboard, old name:
The cup of vanilla still tastes just the same!
Landscape beloved has vanished from town,
Landmarks have come up, old ones come down.

The beach, well-remembered, the waves children wade,
Open, safe places where friendships were made;
The sunset is over, the crowd soon does fade,
Fearful of danger that lurks in the shade.

Childhood, a shell, gathers memories by day,
Happiness, sadness, all that come our way;
Rising and falling the feelings, they sway,
To savour and taste when we are far away.

Once there was love, and life was not fast,
Hearts were much closer in spaces so vast
Changes will blossom, the shock does not last,
Lonely are journeys I make to my past.

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NaNoWriMo - at the end of Day-15

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Chugging on - on the right track and a wee bit ahead of schedule! Absolutely delighted!

My NaNoWriMo 2012 stats

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Just for Fun - a quick Diwali poem

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A little star was born,
Opened eyes and yawned.
Looked around and found
Blinking lights abound.

What are those? Or who
Are blinking red and blue?
Sometimes don't they move,
And playing peekaboo?

Stars they are, and planets
And asteroid belts
Satellites, comets
And, like you, small starlets.

I like that little blue,
Yonder, see, do you?
Like a drop of dew,
Mom, is that one new?

Why does that one glow
When the night does grow
Does it try to show
Us something we should know?

Two nights it has fun
It sparkles like the sun
Every year it's done
It's Diwali, my son!

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Reward or punishment?

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When my son came from school, he was the best child ever. He did everything he had to do without my asking even once. We had a nice Mom-and-Son cuddling-and-talking session, we had a lot of laughs, and then he went out to play. He knew he had scored a few points with me.

But when he got back from play a couple of hours later, the tide turned. He wanted to watch TV and I wanted him to do something else. Some of those Mother-and-Son sparks flew. Lightning and thunder lurked behind the curtains, ready to make their appearance, and storm brewed in the horizon. All of a sudden I had this enlightenment that I did not want to yell any more at him, and gave in.

"Go watch your TV, do what you want," I said in the most upset and resigned tone I could manage.
"Thank you," he said, and ran off, my sarcasm and indignation totally lost on him.

When it was time for dinner, I placed chapatis on a plate and brought it to him. He looked up in surprise. I did not explain, and turned on my heel and walked away, my chin raised to show my displeasure in general.

My unspoken words, which I believed he could fathom, went like this: "I know I would have to yell at you to make you turn off the TV and come to dinner, and I don't want to yell any more. I'm tired of yelling every day. So this is me being indifferent to you and punishing you for not listening to me earlier" or something of the kind.

His Dad walked in a few minutes later, and was surprised. "Hasn't your mother told you so many times not to eat in front of the TV?"

"But she brought this to me," came the reply. From the next room I could imagine his wide, innocent eyes as he spoke. I braced myself for what was to come.

"Oh! Why?"

"Because I was a good boy today when I got back from school and she was happy."

Talk about perspectives.

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An absent-minded Mom's Guide to Packing for a Holiday

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1. Packing begins two weeks before the trip. At least ten days. My condolences to those Moms who have to travel 'tomorrow'.

2. Make a list. Lists are essential. Trust me, without a list you aren't going to remember a thing. If you do, you do not deserve to be called "absent-minded", nor do you belong in this elite club. Quit reading.

3. Start laundry and folding. Throw them into the travel bag, but don't pack them properly in. Not yet. That comes in step #8.

4. The number of clothes to pack for the child is a complicated mathematical formula that each Mom has to arrive at. Here's a hint: The equation takes into consideration the climate of the destination (the more humid the place, the more change of clothes per day), the weather conditions (in the rainy season, the child loves to get drenched twice a day, so at least two changes of clothes), multiply it by the number of days you'll be away from home and the number of baths foreseen per day. Square the final answer for good measure, and you get the number of clothes you need to carry.

5. Don't ever make the mistake of asking the child what toys to carry, unless you plan to hire an entire train for the trip, because every little toy, every little book, every CD, bicycle, even the dining table, is "absolutely essential" to them.

5. Remember to

6. By no means allow the child to see what you've thrown into the bag. Because once they start pulling their favourite outfits and toys out, there is no stopping them. If that happens, return to step #1 and start all over again. (You're allowed to swear aloud at this stage.).

7. Locate the bag/suitcase you're going to carry, from the depths of over-stacked cupboards. This should have been done before step #3, but I forgot to mention it. Dust and clean and air it and keep it where you can see. You don't want to lose it again.

8. I am sure there is something to do here, but can't remember what.

9. Before you leave, attend to the laundry pile - the ones you don't intend to carry. There is nothing more annoying than an overflowing laundry basket when you return from the trip.

10. Keep the list safe. (What do you mean "which list"? The one you made earlier, that's the one.) You'll need it for the next trip. You know you're never going to find it again. But keep it safe and secure nonetheless. You can create a new list the next time.

There will always be something you forgot but you can always blame it on the list.
Have a safe and happy trip.

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Labyrinths... on Facebook

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A blogger friend of mine had suggested a long time ago that I create a Facebook page for this blog. I never got around to doing it... until now.

So if you read this blog, and like what you read, please let me know by 'Liking' Labyrinths Of Life on Facebook. Thanks!

Thank you for the suggestion, Harish.

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