Sinking No More…

Megha Sharma

The hot wind blew relentlessly in my face as I prayed for the umpteenth time for it all to go away.

The three-wheeler lurched and bumped along the dusty roads that were curiously devoid of any usual traffic snarls which marked the route I undertook daily.

I sat in there with my hands lying neatly folded in my lap- sometimes staring into the emptiness of the barren expressway while at others staring away from the curious and slightly leery glare of the driver.

What was it that was so distressing about the day?

Soon enough and before I knew it, I had tears streaming down my face. Now, I am a frequent crier. I wail at situations that people wouldn’t turn around to give a second thought to, but which are curiously important to me.

But this was different. Today was different. These tears didn’t feel the same and there was no comfort to be derived from them.

The next day was much the same, except the fact that the ride back home was relaxing and didn’t carry with itself the cumbersome mores of despair that beset me the day past.

I guess what I am trying to articulate in words here is the fact that Life Goes On. The loss that you and I moan about and think as being irreparable is but momentary. That feeling of sinking in a bottomless pool of agony is but momentary.

The people we lost might not come back, the ties we yearn for might never become a reality for us but eventually Life Goes On. And you have no option but to move on with it….

Neverwas (a very short story)

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.

Save the last dance..

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.

Is America ready to witness and assimilate change?

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.

Hope defereth too long begets misery..

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)