I am Furiosa

There is a life I live that isn’t anything like the one I am existing in. I find this life in the books I read and the movies and TV shows I watch. An in these sources of adventure magic I have found so so many women that you can’t help but love. They are hardasses, they are stubborn, soft and gentle and yet tough as nuts. They are strong and they know their minds and will never back down from a fight if forced into a corner. They fail, they fall… miserable at times, but they always stand up, broken and injured but gearing for more. Gearing to give the world hell. They may at times crawl into a dark corner to lick their wounds, but they when they step out again… the world that has broken them had better watch out.

These are the women that inspire me. That make me wish and hope that I can do better every day. They are the invisible beings watching my life unfold, tsking at moments when I falter and am not being myself and applauding me when I am who I am. These are the women I love and hope that I don’t disappoint…

Nancy Drew who is always intuitive and so kind to her friends, Buffy who died for the world so many times and yet kept coming back to give more of herself to save the world. Scully who was dealing with a tough and stubborn man and discovering a world that she had so little understanding of, and yet she stood by Mulder even when standing by him meant that she had doubt what she believed in. Scarlett O’Hara… the woman who for the first time made me realise that being pretty isn’t the only thing a woman should do and never to back down from speaking my mind. Trinity who was just as good as any other soldier in a war against machines. Hermione who could be a best friend and a worst nightmare, who would stand up for the little people and punch a bully in his face. Lisbeth Salander who faced injustice and yet got through. The women created by George RR Martin… whores, queens, and ladies who lived in a time and place that wasn’t exactly women-friendly and yet made a life – Daenerys Targaryen, Cersei Lannister, Arya Stark, Shae, Breinne of Tarth. And now finally we watch Furiosa – a woman fighting a war that is beyond her, saving other women (and herself) from a life ruled by men. Yes. These are the women who I aspire to be.

So maybe I’m not Furiosa. Not yet. But I will be.

Names and all that

I have always hated my name. I have a very common ethnic first name and a hard to pronounce last name. This made life very difficult when I was a kid. There were two other Reenas in class besides me. This meant that during roll-call the teacher had to call out our first names as well as last. My last name used to be called out in a whole variety of ways depending on the teachers mood and her accent. I dreaded roll-call each day. Naturally by the time I was in third some smartass bully thought it would be hilarious to torment me during recess about my name. This girl was really huge… like a teen wolf, and yours truly was a puny kid back then. This meant I was seriously lacking in the self defence department. So basically she used to trail after me during recess singing out my name and I’d spend the whole recess trying to outrun her. I wasn’t very good at the running thing either.

So yes! I hated my name back then.

I changed schools in when I was in 7^th. I went from an all-girl’s school to an all-girl’s boarding school. Oh joy! At boarding school there were more Catholics which meant every second girl was either a D’souza or a Fernandes. We also had Alphonsos, Borrettos, Sequieras, etc etc… And then there was me! Chakalakal! What does that even mean?? It’s too long and there are no records available giving directions on how to spell it. Of course in boarding school too there were 4 other Reenas besides me. Gets better, right? Actually in a weird way it did. Not immediately though. I had to spend my first year in boarding school being called ‘Chakli’. A big girl named me that. She was in 10^th and very popular. The name caught on. Bummer! 

Then, the next year I became friends with a girl who was sweet and brilliant. Somewhere in that year or maybe the next… she had a little chat with me about names. She made me love my name and take pride in it. Her reasoning was simple. She was a D’Souza and there were many other D’Souzas in school. She explained how ‘Chakalakal’ was unique. And it was. It is. So then on I took to educating people on how to pronounce my name. I still dislike my first name though. But now I’m stuck with it. And I fear becoming a ‘Reena D’Souza’. But I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens when that day comes.

Fun fact: I come from a family of R’s. My dad is called Robert, Mum – Rachil and my brother is called Reagan. So I guess that’s something right?

Les Miserables – Master of the Movies

I feel like I’m about to explode! I just had what I can only describe as the best movie experience of my life. I don’t even know where to begin…

So I’ll start at the beginning.

I came across a book.. a really thick book in an old book store and bought it. I never read the book for a long time… because it would require a lot of patience to get through it. It was written in a time and about a time that was way beyond my understanding. But I had to read it. Not reading it would be a sin. It was an incredible book! Yes. There was a lot that I didn’t understand.. like the war, the revolution, among other things. But the writing… oh the writing. Victor Hugo wrote his characters and their stories so beautifully. I fell in love with all of them. Eponine, the poor miserable Eponine. Gavroche, that sweet little rat whose death was so brave and so tragic. Jean Valjean, that wretched soul who tried so hard to be good. Cosette and Maruis, lovers in a hard world. Enjolras and the Friends of the ABC who were invincible. Javert, who had no room for gray in his world. I loved them all. It’s only great writing that can embrace you into a story even when you don’t understand much that is going on.

Then came the musical. It wasn’t what I would expect in a musical. But I had an open mind, cos I love musicals. For me it was one of those musicals that can actually change your life. I was lucky that I got to watch the one with the dream cast. Watching Philip Quast as Javert was an experience that I will never forget. The lyrics of the songs were larger than life. The singing was so incredible I thought my heart would burst! The actor who played Maruis annoyed me because of his sweaty upper lip. But everything else… the Thenardier husband and wife singing ‘Master of the House’; the prisoners singing ‘Look Down’; Fantine singing ‘I Dreamed a Dream; the ABC singing ‘Red and Black as well as ‘Do You hear the People Sing’… I could go on and on. Those were wonderfully written songs. You didn’t need anything else to understand what was happening. I never imagined a musical would be able to accomplish a task that could clearly only be done with a movie.

And finally.. The movie itself that caused me to stay awake till 4 in the morning with this feeling like my heart is going to burst. I can still hear the echoes of the songs. Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean was a treat. I can’t believe that was Wolverine!! Anne Hathway had a short role as Fantine but she ruled my heart. The child actors playing Cosette and Gavroche were unbelievable. It was quite tragic to actually watch Gavroche die on screen (Manly tears were shed by my movie date). Enjolras is the most badass and the most beautiful man I’ve ever set eyes on. Russell Crowe was no match to Philip Quast as Javert. Watching the action along with the marvelous songs and music, and the amazing acting from the entire cast… all of it was just very overwhelming. I’m still recovering.

To love this film is to see the face of God! 

Charley the cat :)

All Apologies.

Ever felt claustrophobic while in a rickshaw??!!

I’ve wronged someone. A long time ago. My intention wasn’t to cause mush distress, but I did. Of course, like all stories of this sort go, I didn’t know it then. I guess I knew I was causing some harm, I just didn’t know that it would be the long lasting kind.

I made a boy cry. I say this without any swank. I was a child such a child. I didn’t know then that I was capable of hurting someone. I also wasn’t aware of Karma!

Looking back, I know that things wouldn’t have been any different. I mean I wouldn’t say that if I could go back and undo what I had done I would, cos that would be a lie. I only think I could have – should have handled it differently. Maybe…

I thought Karma was done with me. Turns out, she isn’t. She’s still hounding me and liking it. I know it’s not really up to me to decide how much is too much. But a girl’s gotta catch a break at some point. I guess what I’m trying to do here is see if I can change the course of my life.

So rather than sending out chain letters in the hope of changing my luck, I’m pleading my case to the better side of Karma, and writing this as my apology to Bharat Shah. I am sorry.

And dear Karma, Please leave me be.

Truly,
Reena

Ask and you shall receive

I grew up in a convent school, two actually but that’s beside the point. Now the thing about being constantly around nuns is that you get to hear strange religious quotes from them. ‘Singing is praying twice’; ‘Elvis is the devil’; ‘God is watching you’… well these are just a few of them. Over time you learn to filter them out. For some reason though, one line has always stayed with me… ‘God works in mysterious ways’
At first I used to wonder bout this whole mystery. I mean what’s with all the mystery? Why won’t he just make a straight forward move and be done with it already? One of the nuns once tried to explain to us how God works. Apparently he doesn’t answer all our prayers right to the T! Well we all already knew that now, didn’t we? I mean how many of us asked for chocolate houses, winning the lottery, yummilicious arm candy and ended up with zilch? Now according to the nun, God answers our prayers but not how we expect them to be. He gives us what we want but we only realize it later.

It’s Ganesh Visarjhan festival this week. Last year during Ganesh Visarjhan I was more or less a mess. Actually I was more of a mess than anything else. So I did what any desperate person would do in my situation. I plead my case to each and every God I could think of. Being an Indian there were far too many God’s. This was a good thing for me. I turned to every idol and begged and begged hoping that some of my prayers would make its way above to the powers that be. The prayers were more or less the same; Make me happy again. I thought for me to be happy I would have to get back what I lost. So it was a little disconcerting when I realized that I was getting happier but I still hadn’t got back what I had lost. I went through all the feelings that a girl has when she gets her first period! Confusion. Fear. Guilt. Et Cetra, Et cetra. It was a weird phase but thankfully I had friends to take care of me… last year as well as when I had my first period. It’s only now that I realize that for me to get happy I had to let go of the ‘then’ and make room for ‘now.’

Strange isn’t it how things work out. The Catholic in me wants to say ‘Strange how God works things out.’

A Ballad Of Loss

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I'm 25. Not old enough to call myself 'wise' but I have found plenty of wisdom in loss. I've learnt the hard fact of life that nothing lasts forever. You lose your milk teeth, your boobs sag, school is over just when you begin to enjoy it, you lose your cell phone... and so on...!

I lost my childhood when I was in boarding school, more specifically during my summer holidays before 8th grade. It was scary, It was unfair and it taught me never to trust. Atleast never to trust other people's decisions made for me; made for my 'good.' But I dont think i consider this as my greatest loss. Yeah it was a terrible terrible thing but I shut it in a tiny box marked 'terrible terrible things' and locked it at the back of my mind. If the Dementors came calling this memory wouldn't be the one that would fill my heart with despair.

Hmmm I guess the memory that would come to me during a Dementor attack would be of losing my dog. Actually everything that led to the loss of my dog. The moment i saw my dog being torn apart... A friend of mine told me about the time he saw the girl he was in love with and how everything went quite in that moment, he could hear nothing. He could only see her, like in the movies. I experienced such a thing too, only in a very negative situation.

I got up at 7 in the morning and i could hear loud noises from outside. I went out and what i saw still sends shivers down my spine. Two dogs were attacking my Buzo... they had a hold on him, one by his neck and the other by his back. Buzo's legs were off the ground and those dogs were tugging and pulling at him as if my Buzo were a rag doll. The world stopped for me at that point. I couldnt feel anything... I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move... I'd lost all my senses but sight. I could only see Buzo being ripped apart. My body felt like lead, i could barely move, could do nothing. I dont know how long it was, but then I could hear screams... loud blood-curdling screams, it took me a few seconds to realise that it was me screaming. I remember running towards him, someone... I think my neighbour chased away the other dogs and i carried Buzo, he was broken and quiet and trembling. I brought him home, I was still screaming and my Mum asked me to calm down. The events that followed were more or less a blur. I just sat down next to him on the floor and held his paw. We had to put him to sleep. I held onto him until he was cold... This is the greatest loss of my life.

I lost people and pens, friends and frisbees, boyfriends and bangles... Its hard to say which of these i miss the most, what do i need back the most. But that's all pointless... Nothing's coming back. But i do know this - Loss is temporary. You only feel it if you dwell on it. There is more to come... much, much more to come, Loss and Gain. Its a funny dance. Funny if you see the humor in it. Tragic if u like drama - You pick! Either ways... Remember what you've lost, miss it, get smarter, move on... and hope for the worst lols.

I have cats now. 3 of them. They have nine lives. I'm hopeful they'll stay around for long ~fingers crossed~

P.S.
* My boobs aren't sagging. They still happy and perky :)
* I HATE gravity.
* Dementors are are soulless creatures considered to be among the foulest beasts on Earth.
They are soul-sucking fiends who guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. And oh yeah.. they appear in Harry Potter and belong to J.K. Rowling :)
* The poem used in the start of the blog is partly the inspiration for this post.
* I'm still waiting for the moment when time stands still for me in a happy positive way :)