Election results

It's scary when there's no strong opposition to pose a serious threat to the ruling party, I've always thought. It makes the govt complacent and socio-eco-political conditions moribund, people secretly rebellious and optimism about the future difficult. The election results in West Bengal especially reflect the common man's opinion : it's time for a change. It remains to see how effective the change is, for mere histrionics (I refrain from mentioning the MB name) do not constitute a revolution.

Individual Milestones

It's nice to be appreciated once in a while for what one does everyday on a regular basis, without stopping to consider exactly what one gets in return except for the mandatory monetary benefits. Immediate case in mind : K, who turned up on Tue afternoon, with a huge white carnation in his hand and a huger smile on his face. Now although he's the sort of husband who does like to surprise me once in a while by doing the very unexpected of things (good ones, fortunately), a weekday isn't really the time it'd occur to him to do anything of the sort. The most he'd rise to would be to say, "Let's cook some really spicy stuffed baingan masala" or "Let's go over to the Shindes' place for a chat or call them over" when he's not particularly bogged down by the burden of mainframes jobs. So I naturally wondered about the source of this floral extravaganza. He must have been more than a little ecstatic about it, for without even pausing for my volley of questions (now that's a rarity, I assure you), he pulled out a small piece of paper from his fluorescent green backpack and proceeded to wave it tantalisingly before my eyes. The typical Gemini I am, I didn't need any more foreplay (oops !) : I grabbed it. It was from one of the HR personnel from his office and was a simple acknowledgement of the efforts he put into earning his daily bread selflessly (it wasn't that dramatic really). You can have a look at the two for yourself, since I strongly subscribe to the school that believes in pictures speaking louder than words (although that doesn't deter me from using lots of them on a daily basis !):




I insisted on playing the role of a proud wife that day, despite K's assuring me that everyone had received the same set of things from the HR, and some had received pink and even red flowers. I told him that I didn't care, I insisted on treating it as an individual triumph.

Talking of individualism, I wonder why Rituparno Ghosh took so long to come out of the closet. Everyone's known about his alternative sexuality for years and for heaven's sake, it's as personal a preference as one's favourite colours or beverage or restaurant. Freud, himself a doctor and therefore a man of solid common sense, opined :

"There is nothing shameful in homosexuality, it is not a vice or humiliation, it cannot be treated as a disease, we count it to be a variety of the sexual function…"

If the conservative Kolkata crowd can turn up in the most bizarre of costumes (the grotesque Ascot hats, for instance) at the Statesman vintage car show annually, then I really don't see why the former couldn't summon up courage earlier to dress the way he wanted to. It's his recent revamping that's causing the gossip and exchange of looks, not the actuality of the thing itself. For those who have absolutely no idea what on earth I'm referring to, here are a couple of illustrations (the first one's from the Star Screen Awards Red Carpet 2009 and the latter from today's TOI, featuring numerous celebrities who turned up to exercise their right to vote):

Having titled this post thus, I am a bit hesitant about introducing the topic of my recently been re-diagnosed with hypothyroidism, since I always protest against being bracketed with those hypochondriacs who treat diseases or illnesses as individual success stories, as if remaining perfectly fit were not more of a merit in the contemporary world. I've not been too traumatised by the blood test finds, since I've been battling with the separately small but cumulatively nightmarish symptoms of this medical condition since I was in class VI, approximately 15 years now. I had always been taking synthetic thyroxine (marketed as Eltroxin in India) to keep my metabolism as close to the clinically normal as possible. My grieving parents were informed by our family endocrinologist that it was a condition that usually operated in cycles, waxing and waning, but it almost never disappeared. However, although most people dismiss it as not being as critical or dangerous as say, typhoid or malaria or pneumonia, it's the slow sapping of the abilities that you take for granted on an everyday basis that makes it a more potentially draining and even daunting one. It would account for things that had recently assumed seriously intimidating proportions in my daily routine :

Depression

Memory lapses

Constant fatigue and drowsiness

Cloudy thinking

Puffy face

Intolerance to cold

Muscle aches and pains

Constipation of an extreme nature

Excessively dry skin

Weight gain and difficulty losing weight

Heavy menstrual cycles

That's quite a list, I'm sure you'd concede. Believe me, I'm glad to be back on medication. It's not easy to cope with such a variety of symptoms when you're only in your late twenties and have most of your life ahead of you. It's not a nice feeling when everyone around you dismisses you as a mere hypochondriac.

Ode to My God

For the greatest man ever born :

GOD

No idolatry for me –

I invoke

You,

the formless incarnate;

the highest truth,

the deepest desire,

the wildest wish,

the subtlest spring,

toforestall my fate.

(Today, at any rate.)

There is a prayer

repressed in my bower –

it begs words

to stoke its fire.

For all I have

is

a helpless love

even

your treacherous glances

cannot tire.

(In spite of all the mud and mire.)

Help me,You,

whose name I breathe,

whose breath I feel,

whose sky is blue.

All time stands still

in this moment

I steal

for this my cause,

its Cause to reveal.

(And this is my Hour.)

In darkness bright

I plead my right

I sell my soul

for this insight

to me

long due.

(Tell me,

God,
my God,

Who are you?)