“Excess of everything is bad,” was the oft-repeated adage of my mother to me during my growing up years, and the same will be surely rattled off by me to my kids.

It is the one rule of life that I adhere to, or at least try to adhere to. Impressions dull, compliments fail to impress, and appetites diminish in face of excess.

Some ties, some impressions, some connections have to be really strong to be able to weather out the storm of excess, which brings a monotonous boredom in its wake.

Girl meets boy. Boy seemingly falls hard for her. Girl is all blushes as boy pays court. Days go by, moments glide past and herein enters the reality of life. Fevered compliments become lukewarm. Conversations now come interspersed with awkward silences.

Everything has a shelf life. Your appreciation and liking for most people including.

We rarely find the few we intend to and find worthy of appreciating for a long span of our lifetime. And suppose you do find one, the reciprocation of the same is highly doubtable.

Past experiences have taught me to be wary, to hold myself secure within the walls of my inner being in case I am faced with a non-responsive heart and soul.

A silver-tongued devil, a completely alien creature and a supremely talented person is who I recently came across. After enjoying a period of animated conversations and much more, am now afraid of the demons of excess taking over.

Should I ration my affection carefully so as to sustain something I have come to cherish dearly? Even if I do so, the insecurity that comes from being rejected once fails to leave me alone. And, time and again I find myself wondering about the sincerity of feeling on part of the other.

Isn’t it also unfair on the other? Isn’t the other person entitled to a just hearing? Hmm..I think so.

Well, life is sure to teach me more.

I must, nay will, learn to get over this glitch and continue my pursuit of happiness in earnest…

Megha Sharma

A breezy dawn it will be..
The day I walk into the sea

Wet sand will cling to my toes
The day I let go of all friends and foes

The wind will whip my hair haywire
As I pay homage to all my frustrated desires

Caught between the extremes of life
I will abandon my role amid all the strife

Soft and sultry, the waves will lap around my feet
The day I finally bemoan a heart untouched by love’s heat

It will be long before they come..it will be long before I am found
It will be long before some cry..it will be long before some wonder,  just why did I die

Megha Sharma

Was it bad timing or sheer rotten luck? wondered Neesa. Neither, whispered a small but persistent voice in her head. It was a rare case of Divine Retribution, also known as poetic justice.

The realisation of the same hit Neesa in the gut like a fist. She was long afraid that might have been the case as she lay staring at the cieling for days on end, with tears trickling down the side of her face.

Utter desolation swept over the frail-looking young woman as she wiped the perspiration off her brow.

So this was it, this was God’s way of reprimanding her to be careful about what one wished for. All she had wanted was to secure some succour for her mom, whom she could clearly see reeling under the effort of taking care of Neesa’s long-ailing father.

In her wish to see her mother relieved, Neesa had inadvertantly brought on an untimely end to her beloved father’s life. Or so she believed to be true.

In the aftermath of that tragedy of magnum proportions, Neesa witnessed her mother struggle day in and day out, trying to deal with a loss she could barely comprehend.  The loss of a husband, a companion of 27 years.

Taking care of her father, though exacting, was all that Neesa’s mothers’ life revolved around. And once freed of that task, she hardly knew what to do with herself.

Had she, Neesa, been indirectly responsible for inflicting this pain unto her mother and the rest of her family? Had somebody taken her wish to put an end to their misery to mean an early death for her father?

And, was this the reason for her own heartache and the miserable failure of her endeavour to secure the affections of the one guy she had truly fallen for?

The lovelorn girl pictured God deep in thought, finally deciding to etch her punishment in stone. “Quid Pro Quo,” he uttered with a small sigh.

Neesa was rendered numb.

She knew she had to get out of this, conquer this for once and for all because it would be stupid to wallow in grief for the rest of her life over it.

One’s life is one’s own to alter and improve. Beyond a point, there are only a couple of people who are truly affected by what happens to you.

Placing her conviction in this adage, Neesa vowed to try once again to let this pass, and live in the moment for herself and those chosen few whom she knew would be glad to see her smiling at all times.

Megha Sharma

Distancing yourself from the everyday, the routine, life and the people in it comes very handy in leading a peaceful, unfettered existense. Devoid of any ups and downs, devoid of any pain and ecstasy..comfortably numb.

Recently, I have been in twin minds over such a mode of living and all it entails.

Till some time back, I was a confirmed believer in the concept of ‘feeling’ and the importance of it.  To feel – be it sorrow or happiness, dejection or elation – is always better than a hollow vaccum. Or is it?

Lately, I have started wishing for a wee bit of that vaccum to engulf me. I think I need to cultivate some amount of indifference in order to feel less, in order to avoid pitfalls, and in order to be relaxed.

An easily excitable and too cheerful a nature is of little help in face of rejection and suffering.

I consider myself one of those who are too spunky to be down for too long, but with that spunk comes a keen sense of perception too, a heightened awareness.

And this presents a problem when all you want is for things and situations to not affect you.

Maybe it is a cheap way out, but then I am not sure I will be able to see myself through it.

After all..I do love them damn tears, and them damn giggles way too much to imagine my life without an exclamation mark in it!

Megha Sharma

A tongue that slays and soothes with equal ease, razor sharp witticisms, a persona that is saucy and sweet at the same time… Sighhh! The list of accomplishments I seek for myself is getting evermore elusive with each passing day. First on, my essential nature refuses to ebb and secondly the age factor is not coming to my aid either.

Twenty-six and counting, birthdays have now taken on an ominous gloom and despite my best efforts to shop the pall away, I nevertheless find myself wondering about all the grand and some not so grand plans I had made for myself.

A couple of days back, a dear friend of mine who is blessed with a cynical bent to his thought process, argued that life as we know it is not worth living at all. And that the prerequisites for a “happy” existense in these chaotic times are myopia (short-sightedness) and willful ignorance.

Now though I disagreed with him in principle, partly because I believe in the spirit to live and in part because I just had to argue with him, he did make me think of my reasons to exist in a world totally devoid of the concept of justice.

I like living in the moment. It is not possible all the time, but it is the only viable means to justify me being “happy” in my own way or even ending the day with a smile when I don’t have any reason to.

Brooding over the ‘what if’ and the ‘may be’, ‘the just’ and ‘the fair’ gets me nowhere.

So, I close my eyes, and just go on. Fight the auto wallahs day in and day out, crib over the lack of etiquette in Indian men, curse the hostility of Delhizens each time I go for a night out, yet end up beginning the next morning with renewed hope of a better day in passing.

My friend calls it deluding oneself, I prefer to call it momentary bliss courtesy myopia..

Megha Sharma

A usual day it was. I was busy punching data aimlessly but there was a zest nevertheless. The office was new and I was seeking to fit in.

He walked in nonchalantly with nothing assuming about him or his walk. He walked in with an easy grace and little talk. I felt nothing.

Introductions continued for the better part of a month. Every day I met somebody new, somebody different.

What followed were evenings of fun and intellectual discussions over endless cups of chai and piping hot samosas. The genial familiarity encouraged me to open up and make friends with most and share endearing ties with some.

All this time, it was creeping towards me and I was blissfully ignorant. I was being pulled inexorably into its dreaded vortex but what was to be done.

This might sound like one of those nauseous platitudes about Life that grace the covers of ‘Art of Living’ books, but is true nevertheless. Life is a mystery, it surprises you when you least expect it and irony is its favourite progeny.

The fates had once again dealt me a rough hand or so I thought at that time (and probably still do). The evenings took on a torturous bent. Conversations now came heavily encumbered with emotional mores that played in my head like a second track at the end of each day.

All through this he was the same. Supportive like a rock, but emotionally unyielding to my silent pleas. I might seem like the one wronged here but the fact of the matter was that he was never to blame.

I was not the inspiration he sought. I was not even somebody he would have needed to impress.. I was already there. He already had me.

And so it continued and still goes on, the only saving grace being the friendship that was and always will be more dearer to me.

I am relatively at peace now. The abyss has finally engulfed me within but like death, it too brings a soothing finality with itself.

I mull and I mull over it time and again. Who is to blame here? Who am I to hold by the scuff of their necks and rattle till I get what I want?

Maybe I will allow somebody in someday and will put the much mooted healing powers of sharing to use. And then maybe.. just maybe.. I will conquer this once and for all.

Megha Sharma

“Sway me smooth… sway me now!” crooned the sultry and sensual Julie London.

For those unaware of the finer workings of Project Maya, it may sound as if I am a dependable authority on this genre of music; for those who are aware of how I function… you can laugh all you want but even you have to grant that I do sound intelligible here

Soft and smooth is what characterizes quintessential jazz. Be it Louis Armstrong, Ray Charles or the inimitable and absolutely delightful Ella Fitzgerald, the sound and the feel of jazz transports one into another realm of existense.

It plays in your head over and over again, the notes wrapped in a dark, velveteen aura. My feet tinkle and I itch to give up all inhibitions and do just that… sway.

A heightened sense of feeling, a relish for touch and a hankering for passionate love. All these and more such emotions assail you in the midst of a busy working day, thanks to the aforementioned artistes and the music they create.

It all sounds very dreamy and I will once again be sadly accused of garnering rosy visions when the reality actually  is very diffrent for me.

But tune into “Cry me a river…” and you will realize that there is more to the calming and sometimes poignant notes of the saxophone than the mere vision of a couple dancing in slow motion.

The hectic campaigning drew to a closure with a bang. The day dawned with a euphoric feel to it. History stood on the threshold for America on Nov 4, 2008 as Barack Hussein Obama trounced his Republican rival John McCain with a huge margin to become US’ first black president.

The world went in a tizzy of delight and exclamations galore as the young, political novice gracefully accepted the verdict that laid to rest on his shoulders world’s most powerful job. Needless to say, the fiery and wonderfully eloquent Democrat delighted with his inspiring words that unleashed hope in leaps and bounds.

But as a young international affairs expert has pointed out, Obama’s promised slew of changes - when scrutinised in a practical light – yield little in effect and hence can be best described as “cosmetic” in nature. (Manoj Kewalramani: ‘Substantial Indifference’)

Now, while very much debatable, the point remains that Obama’s election does bring a range of issues in its wake that seek resolution. One of these is the fact of his racial identity that though adding to his mass appeal remains at loggerheads with the deep seated conservative nature of American political and social strata.

An analysis of the results clearly and disturbingly points out the fact that Obama suffers a defecit of over 10 percent as compared to McCain in the category of white voters. Though not a huge margin, it goes against the dominant trend, wherein he has comfortably managed to woo all sections of the public.

Will America’s deep seated racial misgivings come into play in the coming four years? Will this aura of invincibility, which Obama seems to enjoy now, hold in face of crucial foreign policy decisions that he may choose to make and which will definitely irk many nerves?

Are we sure that in these times when the waning superpower is struggling to reassure itself, this ’seemingly willing for change’ America will stand by its president elect and not allude any of his failures or decisions to his ethnic origin?

These are some of the questions that the world will seek answers to as it keeps an eye on how Obama heralds the mouch touted wave of change that was his calling card to becoming the one who altered the course of global political history.

Megha Sharma

The epithet above is scarily accurate and this is something I discovered much to my chagrin recently. Hoping is essential and basic to human nature. Many a lofty soul and intellect have advised against it and many a laymen have nevertheless fallen pray to its inviting tentacles.

It comes so very naturally and doesn’t leave one any time to ponder over its consequent ramifications. But it slays, and very sharply so, when one lets it reign for a period too long. Hope.. but learn to disband the same when things refuse to change for the better, or what you assume to be a movement for the better.

Globally accepted maxims will tell you that the direct alternative to hope is nothing but despair. That is something I choose to disagree with. An effective, practicle and emotionally sound alternative to the same is acceptance of the things as they stand.

Herein Bhagwad Geeta is right when it propounds that doing the action is enough, worrying and hankering after the results is no good!

Alas, if only I could wholeheartedly follow the same and thereby protect myself from the vicious pangs of hope that leave a trail of dismayed dreams in its wake….

(Disclaimer: My own incapability to adhere does not translate into a universal applicability of the same. So please, do give the theory a try)