Friends & Friendships ...why some feel just right!

Relationships are huge opportunities for growth and connection. Once you’ve looked at them through the four lenses below, you appreciate better the quality of relationships you share with the different kinds of your friends basis which tier their friendship might fall into.

 

Friendships that pass through all the 4 lenses are priceless. And few. And if you’re lucky to have one such, you know you’ve found one for keeps.

 

Take a look at your friendships and you’ll notice that in any given moment, your relationship will likely embody these four nutrients on some level.

 

1.     Resonance

The level of connectedness you share with their interests, values and directions.

Some questions to help determine resonance with your friendships:

•       Do you look forward to hanging out with them? What activities?

•       Do you feel better having them in your life? Why? Why not?

•       Do you genuinely like them as a person? Or does your relationship feel transactional?

•       Do conversations and experiences just flow easier with them compared to other people?

•       Do you just vibe well together? Do you have fun?

2.     Reciprocity

The level of mutual curiosity and communication flow.

•       Are you the one always reaching out to them? Does your friendship feel one-sided?

•       Do they ask you questions, too? Are they curious about your life?

•       Does the conversation ebb and flow between you sharing and them sharing?

•       Do you ask them to hang out and you get crickets each time?

•       Do you support them as much as they support you?

3.     Consistency

The frequency of connection in whatever way that feels good to the both of you.

•       How often do you communicate and/or hang out together? Does it feel good to you and if not, have you told them?

•       Does your connection feel solid (or at least moving in that direction)?

•       Do they stick around during difficult conversations? Or do they brush any conflict under the rug and retreat for a
         period of time with no warning

•       Does the quality of your interactions feel good to you? Is it too deep? Too superficial?

4.     Intimacy

The level of depth and knowledge of all parts of each other, not just the positive traits.

•       Do you only know things about them that could already be figured out from their Facebook or Instagram profile?

•       Do you feel comfortable sharing vulnerable parts of you without fear of being shamed or judged?

•       Do you talk about things in your personal life or just external topics?

•       Have you ever cried, gotten angry or shown emotion with them?

 

 

The 4 Tiers of Friendship...

 

1st Tier

Your closest friends. Your inner circle.

•       They know the real you, warts and all. You feel comfortable sharing anything with them and vice versa.

•       You feel relaxed being around them and you feel recharged after hanging around them.

•       Most people can maintain a max of 10 people in this Tier.

•       High level of Resonance + Reciprocity + Consistency + Intimacy.

•       They will free up their time to see or talk to you.

 

2nd Tier

Your bigger group of friends.

•    You genuinely like them and have warm/positive feelings toward them, but there simply isn’t a resonance 

      or desire to go deeper or see/talk to them more often.

•    You might both always say “We should get together sometime!” but nothing happens.

•    You may have had some occasional dropped-in conversations with them but nothing much happens beyond 

      that. They often will see or talk to you only in their free time.

•    At least one of the nutrients is low or missing (Resonance + Reciprocity + Consistency + Intimacy).

3rd Tier

Acquaintances. People you know and interact with in person but just haven’t gone beyond a few minutes of conversation with them each time you see them.

•       They might be people at work, church, softball team.

•       You’ll likely have a high level of Resonance but not much else.

4th Tier

People you know of, but don’t know personally. You often don’t have an opinion of them either way because you haven’t had any direct communication with or experience of them.

•       The majority of the people on your Facebook and Instagram.

...No one tier is better or worse than the other. The tiers are just ways of objectively looking at your relationships and seeing perhaps why some friendships feel solid and fulfilling and others feel turbulent and unsatisfying.

 

This is not a reason to start keeping a checklist or spreadsheet on all your friends, but rather a chance to gain some perspective on why some friendships feel better than others.

 

Rescue

Cradled in cold concrete, 
Tired, fallen and dead,
Lives that once held hope,
...reduced to memories now,
Like scars from wounds that have bled 
A kinship of deep comfort
An intimacy dark and complete,
Fate smiles in calibrated silence,
...at the rescue in oblivious attempts 
Fighting shy of light, in a landscape so barren and bleak.

- Mark

B for Britannia, Bawa, Bombay...

Britannia used to be one Parsi Cafè (not that Bombay has many more of them left now, barring my other favourite - Jimmy Boy) I used to frequent in my college and journalism days. I have vivid memories of heated and impassioned discussions with my Editor on the copy and the features that needed to be filed for the week ahead, over my raspberry soda, chicken dhansak and paatrani maach (exactly in that order too!). Infact my very first feature on  ‘Being Parsi from Cusrow Baug’ also got finalised and to a large extent drafted over detailed discussions at the dining tables there! 

Meherwan uncle - the affable and endearingly likeable owner - as I’d fondly call him, would watch patiently from the sidelines and offer us  his perspective as he’d discern the goings-on of “city happenings” in his quintessential sagacious bawa style, whenever it was that we went there - which was quite often!

At Britannia, we never had to formally order our food; food just the way we liked it - extra kebab and a few additional dashes of ginger-garlic in the Beri pulao, an additional generous spoonful of burnt caramel over the custard - just landed on our table and in the course-order we liked it (dessert first!) under the hawk-eyed supervision of Meherwan uncle.

It came as a shock to recieve a whatsapp update from a friend late last night that he had passed away. May his soul RIP.  His passing away, to my mind, is also a symbolic passing away of all things “Bombay” to me. Nostalgia is never quite going to be what it used to be anymore!

Khoda hafiz Meherwan uncle. To good times wherever you be...

Updating a YouTube video of him and the Cafè he ‘lived’ and loved, that went on to become a veritable landmark of food connoisseurs in Bombay.

Anna-ther memory of a time long gone...

I survived 8 am Physics classes and other science lectures that pulled on until lunch time, ‘Reference-Library’ research (without which no self-respecting Xavierite was deemed worthy to ‘earn’ their degree) and the daily grind of weary 4 hour practical sessions - on my feet - in the Chemistry, Bio-chemistry laboratories, all thanks to the endless cups of refreshing filter-kapi this man used to patiently brew to my liking daily - and serve it in my very own kullad - over 3 years. 

   My staying awake through the late afternoon Honors classes in summer were in no small measure all due to the ice-cold ginger-pudhina-lemon sherbet made by him.

       No Malhar, IMG Jan-Fest or SSL (Social Service League) meetings were complete without a garma-garam chai ka pyaala from his canteen, delivered pronto upon calling.

       No hang-out in the Woods was complete without digging hungrily into his trademark tasty Burmese cheese-toast and the variety of fresh fruit juices he used to freshly make and serve us. Us - his always ‘short-or-out-of-money’ regulars. 😝

         Sambhar-Vadai Wednesday’s or sajjigè (Upma) Friday’s were always a hit back then wherein we’d all flock into the mess and scramble for tables - the boys from the hostel winning hands down, as they’d beat the rest of us to it in their boxers or pyjamas.

Uday anna, was not just another canteen operator for anyone who studied at St. Xavier’s; Warm, kind-hearted, generous and always smiling no matter what time of the day you met him, anna was a landmark institution at Xavier’s in himself! The fact that he had memory recalling who you were long after you graduated from college and welcomed you back, whenever you visited - with a tea/coffee - on the house - made him that much more endearing; it made going back to college so much more memorable and personal! 

Xavier’s will never quite be the same without the cheery presence of this wonderful man who fed thousands of students over the decades. I for one am going to miss him the next time I’m on campus, as much as the many others who’ve known him and visit as often. 

Wishing you well Uday anna in your future endeavours and may you always bring warm cheer and give that big-big smile to all whom you meet. 

P.S: As for the signature Burmese cheese-toast and my cuppa’ kapi, I’m visiting campus this Saturday the 28th for the final goodbye to anna. 

🖐🏻😊👍🏻

Lights, Lens, Action!

From subtly influencing to convincingly coercing me to explore a whole new dimension of myself,  these two are chiefly responsible for getting me to awaken to the world of documentary film-making. And boy, what an incredible experience it has turned out to be!

 Conducting lectures is one thing, but in the process becoming a student yourself over workshops, real-time dialogue and immersive reflection over some amazing (world) documentary films with students and some of the leading documentary film-makers from across the world, is quite something else altogether. 

The fact that the stage for this act was set in picturesque #Naukuchital, nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas in Kumaon, made it even more surreal. 

Film-making is truely a wonderfully liberating experience - a one that changes how you view and experience yourself within and, therefore the world around you.

And now, I go back home in ways I know I’ll never quite be the same again.

Aatma Namaste!

Strand-ed for life!

A part of me will die with the closing of this iconic book store, in a way that I will never be able to really express in the how and the why. When something that you grew up with is taken away or fades out into the silvery fog of a forever dawn, life as you knew it is never quite the same again.

The StrandBookStall has always been more than just a book-stall for me, as it has for the so many other book lovers of this city. A sanctuary of serendipitous finds - books as well as people - in the crowded by-lanes of P.M. road, VT, South Bombay, the place afforded avid readers a platform for engaging interactions with other bibliophiles and animated conversations with the ever gracious and smiling late owner, Padmashree T.N. Shanbhag as he’d make gentle probes on your thoughts about societal issues and the dying reading habit with the current generation. Blessed with an elephantine memory, he would recollect names and faces and even remember what you picked up on your last visit there. Just that experience made visiting Strand even more endearing and homely.

The place had a special appeal to it – the books - a mix of bestsellers and rare titles were always available at discounted rates. Customers like me were drawn to the diverse book collection, carefully curated by Shanbhag uncle.

That tantalising smell of books - both fresh and mellowing with age, the raw feel of those crisp yellow-brown pages in the gaps between your fingers in the dated section, in the corner on the upper level mezzanine, the enveloping musty air of erudition as you discussed and exchanged notes on reading-lists with other book lovers and, the ever smiling Shanbhag uncle from across his desk as he bid you bye and encouraged you to come back soon - all that I will miss and, miss terribly at that!

The end of an era it is as I find myself Strand-ed for life!

Good bye Strand. 🖐🏻😪

Strand Book Stall 15-C, Dhannur Building, Sir P.M. Road, Borabazar Precinct, Fort, Bombay.

1948-2018

The Blue Silk Scarf

Winter had set in earlier than expected that year and, along with it had set in a certain sense of dark anxiety. Anandita got up wearily, adjusting herself. She was more heartbroken than she was tired. She stared blankly at the ceiling as if expecting it to console and comfort her by drawing itself like a warm quilt upon her. Nightfall was only a couple of hours away.

 It was 6 pm on the 18th of December – exactly a year since Anuraag and she had been married. Hearing the wall clock tick by the second only made Anandita more conscious of passing time, albeit nervously. Tara had just fallen asleep beside her – more out of exhaustion than of a need for slumber. She felt secure in the arms of her mother. Her mother – her hero, the one woman she looked upto in the whole world. Tara knew her mother was a strong woman and derived her strength from that one sole fact. A successful corporate lawyer, she had single handedly brought up Tara with utmost dedication and care. Anuraag would never have happened to Tara had it not been for Anandita. Mother and daughter had cried enough that long cold evening.

 Anuraag and Anandita had met at the law firm, where Anandita was a practicing corporate lawyer, on a banking litigation case that involved Anuraag’s bank. Right from the first time they were introduced he couldn’t help noticing how attractively beautiful she was – doe eyed and earthy in the pale of that creamy-brown dhakai silk saree she wore that day, with a round bindi to match. He knew from that very moment that he had fallen for her. A quintessential ‘ladies-man’, Anuraag was well-groomed and average looking. His oratory skills coupled with a mesmerizing voice were his trump cards. That he was rich and a powerful name to reckon with in the corporate corridors made him only more attractive. And, how they swooned around him – women of all ages – eating out of his hands as they heard him make engaging conversation in that timbre of a voice of his! He knew too the effect he had on women and, unabashedly used it to his advantage. That he was divorced and single made it only easier on collective conscience.

 Anuraag made quick moves. From insisting Anandita take up his case, to ensuring that she did – it helped that as a key client he could throw his weight around - he made multiple attempts to court and woo her. But no matter how much he tried, Anandita was indifferent to his charms. He was just another client for her and this was just another important case. With that in mind she fought his case well and won it, making headlines for the manner in which she built the win, bringing out evidences – circumstantial and factual – to absolve the bank of charges leveled against it. Anuraag was even more impressed; Anandita, even more distant.

 Life after Onirban’s death had been tough. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with his loss. A part of her – somewhere deep inside – still hadn’t. She loved him and missed his presence every single day. They were high school sweethearts who were meant to be, always! And life for them had only just begun. How then could he have gone so suddenly? She wasn’t prepared for the manner in which he was taken away. They weren’t! They were married for only two years with tinted dreams of staying married for fifty. Tara was just about approaching her first birthday when Onirban passed away in a hijacked plane crash on his way home from an international assignment in Iran. A bureaucrat with the Indian government, he was a member of the delegation visiting Iran to discuss bilateral economic ties in light of the economic sanctions imposed on the country following a ban on exports. The delegation had planned to stay on and return a few days later after a few sight-seeing trips; however Onirban had planned his return earlier to make it in time for Tara’s first birthday. Destiny though had other plans. And along with that plane, Anandita’s world came a crashing as well. She suddenly found herself at the crossroads of life, completely underprepared and lost. Only now, life had to go on as there was Tara too. Her energies over the next couple of years were completely focused on bringing up Tara and ensuring that Tara never missed the comforting presence of her father. Onirban had provided well for them but the money was soon running out. Running a home and bringing up a child single handedly wasn’t easy on the finances. She had to get back to practicing professionally as a corporate lawyer sooner than later. So five years later with a heavy heart she went back to the corporate job she had given up after her marriage to Onirban. Tara soon grew accustomed to the comforts of her crèche.

 Years flew by. Tara was now fourteen and in high school. Anandita, now forty, had grown very well in her career and become a name to reckon with. She was seen as a determined and ambitious woman who seldom lost a case. Fact was she had no choice. She had to work twice as harder to be taken seriously as a woman...a beautiful one at that! Taking tough decisions and executing them with singular focus was second nature to her now. Life had moulded her that way. And even though she did coyly bask in the attention she got from men for her looks, she had long since realized they were just not worth it for paradoxically the same quite reason. Anuraag took to Tara almost instantaneously. He loved her energy and bubbly spiritedness. He had run into Tara at a restaurant one evening when she was out to dinner with Anandita. He joined them at their table for a while, uninvited. But what struck Anandita about him this time was his way with Tara. Anuraag effortlessly struck an engaging conversation with Tara and seemed to have won her confidences easily. Tara too was mighty taken in by the fatherly attention she got and seemed to lap it up - every minute of it fervently. Anandita watched them both on the sidelines. She had longed for a moment like this – Onirban, she and Tara. Sigh, if only...

 Anuraag became a regular at their home thereafter. Tara looked forward to his visits. She had grown attached to him in a way even she couldn’t fathom. He was protective, kind and loving. He seemed to understand her well, sometimes even better than Anandita, who now had herself grown emotionally attached to Anuraag, though she never admitted it. She felt secure for her daughter with Anuraag around. He had slowly managed to successfully fill in the void that Onirban had left behind. It made her feel guilty too, at times, and she reprimanded herself for such thoughts. Life continued like this for two years until one fateful day in October, when on Ashtami, Anuraag popped the question to Anandita at pujo. She was already in love with him by then and Tara liked him too. She conceded! Tara was the happiest.

 Anuraag and Anandita were married that December. The family was complete again. Anuraag took on the role of a father very well. He spent a lot of his time with Tara and took pains to ensure he was always around for her, making Anandita only more reassured about her choice to settle down with Anuraag. This was the right decision. And just when she thought life was back o track Tara slowly became a matter of concern. She had entered into that period Anandita dreaded the most – the troublesome teens. Increasingly rebellious, moody and reticent, she grew distant and would now not even listen to Anuraag who she doted on once upon a time not very long ago. Infact she seemed to detest him now that he had married her mother. They were both perplexed by this sudden change in her behaviour. While they had heard managing a teen was tough; it was now their time to experience it first hand! Anuraag, however, was prepared for it and patiently assured Anandita that this was a phase that would soon pass. Anandita, thankful for Anuraag in her life at this stage, couldn’t wait for that time to come. She was already stressed at work on one of those high-profile cases that demanded stretch hours at work, even on weekends. An unreasonably defiant teen at home was the last thing she could handle in the little time she got to spend at home these days. Anuraag was understanding and made every effort to ensure she got her share of rest as he took over complete responsibility for Tara. He even suggested taking Tara on a vacation abroad, a plan that Tara vehemently shot down as soon as it was conceived and verbalised. Tara’s moods slowly caught up with her performance in school. A bright student throughout, her grades had begun to dip as much as her interest in basketball and tennis – sports which she excelled at. Anandita obviously didn’t take lightly to this drop in her academic and extracurricular performance at school. She hadn’t struggled to see Tara come to this. At a certain subliminal level she perhaps also felt guilty believing she had some part to play in the way things had panned out in Tara's life. At times like these, she was tempted to confront Tara openly about it over a heart-to-heart conversation but Anuraag would dissuade her saying it’d only make things worse. She reluctantly agreed.

 It was almost a year into their marriage, with their anniversary only a few days away. Anuraag had planned a dinner at the Taj requesting for a special terrace suite to celebrate the evening. He was travelling that week and was scheduled to return on the day of their anniversary. Anandita, as was her routine lately, was working late that evening and was to join him directly at the hotel for dinner. Tara had planned to stay back at home. It was no use convincing her otherwise. The day of the anniversary arrived. Tara was at her gloomy best and refused to acknowledge the day for her mother. Anandita thought it best to ignore her as she adjusted her blue pashmina silk scarf, over the suede wrap dress in emerald hues, gifted to her by Tara a year ago at her wedding. This was the first time she was wearing it after it was gifted. For some reason though wearing it felt heavy. Tenderly kissing Tara goodbye, Anandita gave Tara a hug and told her and would always be there for her no matter what. And as she said it the scarf came away loosely undone and gently slipped off her shoulders. Grabbing it off the floor, Anandita rushed to work, suddenly missing Onirban very much.

 Her day at work that day seemed longer than usual. But her mind today was restless. Tara played heavy on her mind and suddenly all she wanted was to rush back home and be with Tara, hug her in her arms and just be. Anandita decided to call it a day at work, early that day, and drop in home to spend some time with Tara before heading out to dinner with Anuraag. She reached home. There was an eerie silence about the place. As she moved towards Tara’s bedroom on the upper floor she heard faint sobs emerging from the kitchen downstairs, or did she? There it was again! She turned about and headed in the direction of the kitchen. The sobs by now had only grown louder. At the kitchen door, from the other side, she could heard Tara’s voice wincing in pain begging not to be hurt. Anandita grew pale. She became stone cold as she pushed the door ajar in a hurry. What she saw had her in disbelief! Anuraag forcing himself mercilessly on a scared and sobbing Tara…her Tara…her baby! This couldn’t be happening. But it was.

 Suddenly it all made sense. Tara’s mood swings, her change in behaviour, Anuraag’s increased involvement in her upbringing, her sudden detest for him. How could she have not seen through it? Overcome with swelling emotion that in seconds metamorphosed into seething rage she darted into the kitchen grabbing the first thing that came to her hands – the kitchen knife that teasingly lay on the platform. Distracted by the sudden movement behind him, Anuraag swerved in defence only to grab Anandita by the scarf around her neck and contain her next steps by choking her as hard as he could.  Anandita ripped at the scarf tearing it apart to undo Anuraag's grip on her neck. And before he knew it, stabbed at him again…and again…and again as he groaned in pain and tried to evade her manic dig. After putting up quite a defence, he finally conceeded, giving up in fight and in spirit. Tara sitting motionless beside him, inconsolably sobbing.

 It was 6 pm on the 18th of December – exactly a year since Anuraag and she had been married. Hearing the wall clock tick by the second only made Anandita more conscious of passing time, albeit nervously. Tara had just fallen asleep beside her – more out of exhaustion than of a need for slumber. She felt secure in the arms of her mother. Her mother – her hero, the one woman she looked upto in the whole world. Tara knew her mother was a strong woman and derived her strength from that one sole fact. Anuraag would never have happened to Tara had it not been for Anandita. Mother and daughter had cried enough that long cold evening.

 After what seemed like an endless while Anandita got up wearily, adjusting herself, waking up Tara in the process. She moved slowly but purposefully towards her handbag, with Tara held closely beside her, in the living room. Fetching her cell phone from the handbag she calmly dialed 100. Her head was spinning. The smell of blood had now permeated the house. It was nauseating. They both needed fresh air and Anandita craved a double expresso too. Coffee calmed her down. And she had to act calmly now. Tara and she made their way to the coffee shop in the lane beside their home. Starbucks used to be Tara’s favourite hangout joint, ever since it had opened shop over a year ago. She loved meeting her friends there as they discussed girly things and boys much to the amusement of those who cared to hear their babble at the coffee shop. Today however, it was different. Something in her had changed, for good. She felt all grown up. Anandita loved spending her time at the coffee shop too. It offered her solace and calm when Tara would throw up her moody tantrums in the past year. Sipping her coffee and staring out of the window blankly, Anandita felt calm again. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, wrapped in her blue silk scarf…

The police were soon to arrive.

Being Human.

I have nothing personal against Salman Khan as a person but this I must say...what he did was wrong.

● WRONG to have indulged in drunken driving
● WRONG to have blatantly ignored warnings he got for speeding
● WRONG to have cowardly fled the scene after running the hapless sleeping pedestrian over
● WRONG to have gone into hiding for a week thereafter
● WRONG to have put up an alibi to cover up for him
● WRONG to have incessantly lied about the incident and misled the lawyers
● WRONG to have pretended to be innocent all this while
● WRONG to have not so much as even visited the family of the victim he murdered; that he never once compensated them is another matter altogether!

So, Salman my friend, is this what 'Being Human' finally adds up to?

To my mind, Salman, you missed an opportunity to truely showcase what 'being human' is all about.

You could have come clean about the truth and been man enough to accept the consequences of your actions. Not only would that have sent out the right message to the millions of fans you have out there but also, would have made you a true hero for all you're worth! Just imagine the influence you'd have had on impressionable minds out there who idolise you, had you done that.

And that, to my mind, is what 'BEING HUMAN' is all really about - that imperfect as we are in our lives and in our actions, we accept responsibility for it and make ammends in ways that show we're truely repentant because we still have a caring heart.

Conversations...

Read this somewhere and it struck a chord. So here goes...

There's always a little truth behind every 'Just Kidding!'
a little knowledge behind every 'I don't know!'
a little emotion behind every 'I don't care!'
a little love behind every 'I hate you!'
a little uneasiness behind every 'I'm okay!'
a little pain behind every 'Forget it!'
a little fear behind every 'Leave me alone!'
a little hope behind every 'Goodbye!'
There's always something' behind every 'Nothing!'


If only we'd understand speech behind the quiet silence, maybe someday we'd understand life itself!

Bridges of Orkut County...

There’s nothing like an emotional high of re-establishing contact with ole’ pals who you’ve completely lost touch with. More so especially, if these are pals who’ve had considerable influence on your growth as an individual; pals, who in no small measure, have helped you come into your own over your growing years. It’s another matter then, ironic as it were, that as you came into your own, you also chose to go it that way, from then on, gradually having lost touch with your once close friends. It happens with all of us all the time as we battle the dilemma of ‘how much of ourselves and how many of our relationships to leave behind, as we move forward’

Aahhh…the story of life!

And then when- many summers down the line, when fate, guised in the name of Orkut, surreptitiously destined that you ‘network’ across six degrees of separation along each other’s path - you discover that, irrespective of the chasm of time between your last meeting and this one, the bridge of ‘connect’ still holds just as strong, the feeling of bonding becomes all the more intense. Engulfed by a tsunami of sweeping memories coming at large over you, you are surged in the nostalgic sea of time, almost drenched to you weather-beaten bones before you are washed miles ashore into the present – the now. The time to act is now, you realize!

It’s a defining moment in the history of that friendship from then on; almost like a milestone erected in the direction of its forward course. Wiser in retrospect now, you know this time over that you want to do all it takes in your ambit to nurture and nourish these bonds for good, silently expecting nonetheless that your efforts are equally reciprocated.

And with the dawn of that feeling begins a whole new chapter that is freshly inked on the pages of that long-lost forgotten book.

The more I delve into seeking the design behind such happy chance findings, the more I am convinced that life does give us all a second chance - and if not a new beginning, at least a whole new direction - with the people who’ve meant a lot to you - to make good the elapsed passages of lost time; the karmic principle of eternal hope in, and continuity across all creation, if you may!

Like the foggy silver of dawn against the brittle brown of passing time, these friends re-enter your life and complete you in ways you never even thought were possible after you last parted, gathering around you from all corners like a shawl against the winterliness of the incomplete world.

I’d guess it must work the other way too; having you back in their lives must have quite the same impact on them as well!

Like they say, in life, some relationships are simply just meant to be!

Thank you Orkut for making this so much more possible...

Sound of Music

Death they say is a great leveller. Obviously someone forgot to mention music. The ability of music, as a medium, to forge bonds is grossly unexplored.

It’s amazing to see how a diverse set of people resonate to the same wavelength whilst discussing music. Now come to think of it, music has always figured at some decible or the other in my discussions with almost all the people I’ve bonded well with. And interestingly, what consciously begins as an introductory understanding of each other’s tastes, besides of course proving to be an ingenious trick that melts the ice, leads into the sub-conscious realm of mapping datapoints to trace the persona of the other.

And so, if you were an ardent messaiah of say the Dave Mathews band then you can could bet nine on ten times that such a person would lend himself wholly to interests that would include a keen understanding in the genres concerning fusion, jazz/folk rock, poetry and off-beat cinema. Also given his taste in fusion/jazz, it'd lead for a connect to the way he'd chose to dress; unlike the twiddley rapster, hip-hopping to stocatto beats in baggy pants almost falling off his hips, this would be your guy who could best be described as the outcome of a cross between the well heeled dapper and the free-spirited hippie. Not for him are the pleasures of loose and oversized clothing. He'd rather have a pair of courduroys and a contrasting Tee, that sports an environmentally friendly message in synch with his 'activist' image as he goes about proclaiming the perils of non biodegradable plastic. Throw in a pair of sandals and a he's ready to take off to the next book reading meet across the corner someplace; for all you know, it'd be his very own! And so, voila, you'd figure he's well read and informed too. That'd open up a whole new vista for an engaging conversation...and a treasure trove of even more nuggets of singular information to be collected, organised, analysed and interpreted.

Having connected the dots thus, you almost have the person all carved and figured out without even so much as really having begun! Suddenly the both of you are bound by an ensuing crescendo of companionship as you find yourselves connected by the umblical chord of a common interest in music.

Long life heuristics.

Your taste in music most definitely defines 'who' you are. Elementary Watson...but of course!

That apart, I don't really know what it is about music that makes it great company to have especially when you're at the wheel negotiating your way through the endless traffic on your way back from work. Listening to the chattersome RJ play your favourite track/s on the radio is almost like a prayer answered. Humming along with the tune you find yourself smoothly cruising a nostalgic bend as you revisit memories that spawn a springburst of emotions - happy, melancholic, sad or sometimes even sombre. Flashes of
- a friend you've lost touch with,
- the warm satisfactory gaze of mom as she watches you devour that
amazing chicken dish she prepared especially for you, when you visited
home last,
- the comforting feel of a secure relationship
- a touching movie scene,
- a strained relationship now gone sour,
- a faint wallow of self pity for the life you could have, but dont, and
all because of a few wrong choices

all these and so much more come alive across the windscreen of your mind. And as you watch life whizz past you into the incandescence, you are left at the crossroads of an oxymoron. One minute you feel like you've moved a step behind from madding crowd as you take stock of what makes you feel the way you're feeling. And the very next minute, it's like as if you're leaving everything behind into the fading limelight of the evening as you zip through almost detached yet stronger in resolve to reclaim your life for what it's really worth.

And having experienced that million dollar feeling, you realise you've forged another key bond. Only this time it's with yourself!

A Song That ...
(stolen from alaina*marie the super*star)

~ You wish you wrote: No Such Thing- John Mayer
~ Reminds you of your best friend: too many to list here
~ Makes you cry: A Lifetime- Better Than Ezra
~ Makes you laugh: Jerusalem- Dan Bern
~ Reminds you of what you want: Banana Pancakes- Jack Johnson, Sunscreen
~ Has the best lyrics: Soar- Christina Aguilera
~ Sums up your teenage years: The Way We Get By- Spoon
~ You used to hate but now love: Somebody Told Me- The Killers
~ You like to wake up to: California- Phantom Planet
~ You like to fall asleep to: Follow Through- Gavin DeGraw
~ You like out of your parents record collection: any John Mellencamp
~ You sing when you're alone: Almost Perfect- Ingram Hill
~ You love which is from a movie: I Wonder- The Diffuser
~ Makes you think of stars: Somewhere Only We Know- Keane
~ Makes you think of the sun: All I Wanna Do- Sheryl Crow
~ Makes you think of the night: Cause A Scene- The Format
~ Makes you think of sex: Secret- Maroon 5
~ Makes you think of being alone: Mr. Jones- Counting Crows
~ Reminds you of Summer: Pieces Of Me- Ashlee Simpson~Reminds you
of Winter: The Beautiful Letdown- Switchfoot

Code of Conundrums...

If there ever was a letter I've recieved that made me uncannily feel as if I had ghost-written it, then this'd have to be it!

The questions posed herein, and the ensuing residue of harboured emotion, as a fall-out of a cold, 'coming-to-grips-with-the-situation' kind of rationale, almost instantly strike a chord with the reader, bringing to fore memories of a time(s) we've all periodically battled, lonely for the most part, in the course of our respective journeys through life this far...

It takes one, reading a letter like this, to realise that, much as they make for strange bed fellows, the pleasure of growth has to be accompanied by the discomfiture pain, and so the twain shalst remain till death do them apart!

My very own journey this far, has made me the wiser in having taught me this, that there is no one solution to unravel the dichotomy of this dual code. Each must, in his own way and on his own terms decipher and unravel it to make sense and give meaning to their own perception of the world they inhabit.

...And whilst at it, I am reminded of something I read a long time ago in an editorial and wish to share with you:

The very observation of a phenomena, changes the nature of it.
By our constant quest into the nature of ourselves and of the workings of this universe,we may be changing not only that which we seek to investigate, but also our very perceptions, which are the instruments of that investigation.

Perhaps, this is the final insoluble mystery of the Cosmos; that when we have come to the end of all our explorations of it, we will find that we have only begun with the odyssey of our own self-discovery.

Read on then...


Dear Trev,

Loss hits you suddenly without warning or indication that today you are going to wake up to it. You suddenly realize that your warm security blanket,taken for granted for ever so long,has been ripped away leaving your battered soul naked and shivering cold.

There is first a terrifying numbness and then it hits you...HARD. With the final acceptance comes despair beyond words. You wonder how the sun can shine, how the world can actually go on, how people can smile and laugh and talk while you wade through torrents of endless grief.

Sometimes, if only for a minute,you may forget it all and the clouds lift a little. You look up to feel the warmth and instead are hit by a cold realization that things will never been the same again. Things that once seemed so complex, so important, so necessary fade away into nothingness. All you want perhaps, is for time to turn-to take back hurtful words, to prolong savoured memories or merely to remember better.

I don’t think it ever stops hurting. Every person who enters your life creates a world in you...a world that you never knew existed till they came into your life. And then they leave!!!

But, somehow perhaps it’s better that it happens that way. It aches, horribly at first, but then if you could not know it, feel it...you would also not have the bitter-sweetness of tenacious memory.

…Going through those not infrequent bouts of melanchony at the moment…

You know, I’m tired of being me. Honestly, I am becoming a person I don’t like too much. Morose, withdrawn and weepy…happiness and laughter used to come so easily to me...and I am angry with myself for letting go of it. I stand in the crowd and watch joy dance across peoples faces...and I’m silently screaming with the sheer agony of emotional loneliness…

Why do people change...why did I have to change? How do you mourn the dying of a dream? A dream that dies just a little more every day? You look around trying to grasp battered hope, letting go of everything else and you are left with nothing but emptiness...

Your emotions evolve and change shape, undergoing as if a sort of retrogressive maturity. I wrap myself up in this little cocoon of self pity choosing to ignore the world outside and I realize what an absolute fool I am making of myself.

Unfortunately knowledge is not always a predecessor of wisdom. What makes is worse is the realization that I made my own bed...made wrong choices...now it’s a little too late. Yes I know that you’re thinking – I’m over reacting and being paranoid. Maybe I am! But I can't help it; feel like I have been thrust into this frighteningly large,complex adult world without having gained the maturity I need to deal with it.

Fear…real and imaginary…seeps into my soul as my life changes form before my very eyes.. Thank you for putting up with me and my eccentricity...I know it must be an awfully trying task.

Love,

...


I'll just say this, my dear friend, that the things you love, will eventually gather around you like a shawl against the winterliness of this world, protect you and warm you, ushering you into the spring time of your days. And this will be your key to unlock that puzzling code of life.

That's the story of life!

Odyssey...

Finally, it's that time of the year again - a time most eagerly awaited and yet a time of uneasy trepidition of what the future holds in store.

Temperatures may have dropped to cause a chill in the winter air, but the mood is laden with a hue of fragrances. Like a seasoned sommelier, I can tell that this aromatic bouquet has a tantalizing effect on my senses and an uplifting one on my spirits...

...that sweet whiff of nostalgic sentiment, the fresh aroma of renewed commitment and resolve to come back stronger in the coming year, that scented air of optimism laced with new-found purposefulness and that ever contagious brewing current of gusto and vigour.

Well, and what gives me reason to stay hopeful, you may dryly ask, in the face of the seductive and lathered trappings of the all engaging soap that is life? Of hope in the times of Sex crimes, AIDS, tsunamis, global warming, terrorism, corrupt governments and economic inequities...all demanding our immediate attention, like there was no tomorrow?

Well, I can't absolve myself completely of blame for being hooked on to this chequered gameboard of life - much like a pawn held captive by the grip that directs it. You see, now, that is a condition which is virtually universal. However, I have been a tad more fortunate than most to have seen people - (extra)ordinary people - summon the courage required of them to change the rules of the game and play by their terms rather than being played puppet in the hands of destiny.

Uncannily, each was, in their own way, unknown to them, called upon to play a key part in completing the on-going miracle - that of the triumph of human spirit - as it carefully unwound the canvas of their lives. That, in a subtle yet gritty display of what it took to make sense of their world in the face of a doom that stared them in the face at a point-blank range.

And where did they find courage to stay put through it all? To this, they all but said this: "It is was as easy or difficult as changing the point from which they viewed it."

Simple truth of life now, ain't that?

Fortunate are those who realise it. For they will begin to play their part in the larger scheme of things of life; a part that will largely define their lives thereon and bring meaning to it, in the light of the decisions they make.

For the rest, it would mean a mere "existence" in this otherwise 'instant-two-minute' and 'big-is-beautiful' world, wherein they'd remain content with admiring the wrappings and never look inside the box, failing to take cognition of the slow but definite little miracles that keep happened around them all the time!

Yet, all is not lost. For, if there was ever a time for rejeuvenation of the body, the mind or the heart, then this has to be it! For it is now - at New Year's - that the fountain of hope springs to life in its attempt to touch unfathomable heights and thereby unleash the greatest miracle of them all - that of human potential.

And so as the New Year dawns upon us, let us re-commit ourselves to strenghtening our bond with humanity and our belief in people. However more importantly than most, let us learn to believe in ourselves and ungrudgingly give ourselves a second chance. A chance to open our hearts to love and accept ourselves wholly and unconditionally.

For if miracles are to happen, we first need to believe that we're worthy of them and hope in them strongly enough for them to actually happen.

A figment of my imagination, you say? Well, to each his own. But for me, I can tell 'cause I've seen it ring true for me in more ways than one all through this past year.

Happy New Year everybody!

May the new year bring us all more of what we love. May the force be with us and many good things to us.

I sail over still waters,
forewarned they run deep…
Strength for ores, paddling life’s currents,
Amidst curdled thought but structured flow.
Confidence and fear battle it out,
amidst resilient efforts to win…
I journey the unknown,
In silent contemplation of sin.
Gravity hangs my head in shame,
Hope disappoints, leaving me lame.
Like a star having risen, when others have set,
I set forth to capture my time in fame
- Trevor Mark Fernandes

P.S: This entry is solely dedicated to all those beautiful people, knowing whom, made me a more complete person in the year that was. Thank you Ma, Pappa, Naana, Aabaa, Carol, Kiran, Nix, Nandu, Vinny, Praa, Preeti and Raji. There is so much I have learnt from each of you - Aloha!

Of Pride and Prejudice...

Went out to dinner with a friend last night and I came back full with more food for thought than I had consumed for a fill. What started out as a dinner to just catch-up with each other, for that is what we both intended it to be, turned out to be a soul-searching experience for me.

Fresh out of B-School and armed with a library-load of even fresher management jargon, I was high on theoretical jingoism as I waxed eloquent on areas of the like of efficiency and effectiveness, reduction of lead time and cycle time et al, in my attempt to impress upon my friend the importance of ‘value addition’ on his part to the family business, the reigns of which had now been handed over to him by his father.

Helplessly he watched me rattle off nineteen to the dozen as I kept re-iterating the need for him to pursue a Master’s in Business Administration sometime in the near future for better insights into effectively driving his business…blah blah blah…

Patiently he listened, and then when I was sure that I had spoken convincingly enough and had no more to say, he took over. And what he told me over dinner as we sat at the rooftop of Bombay Blues, watching the incandescent shimmer of evening traffic glide past us into a distant luminosity, I shall always remember as one of the key lessons life uncannily throws you way when you least foresee it.

All of 23, here was my fine young friend, out of grad school with dreams of making it big on his own as a consultant. And a good start he had made in that direction too, having landed himself a plum position in one of India’s better known consultancy firms. Barely eight odd months into his dream job and many accolades later, he had to call it quits. The family business was in the doldrums and his father in despair. Destiny now fired her salvo of taunting mocks at my friend – the son of the house - to prove all he was worth in a trial by fire as he was ushered in to hold and guard fort.

The retail tea business, for that is what they are into, was slowly beginning to succumb to the mighty clout of mammon in the form of organized retail, courtesy clearance of 100% FDI in the tea sector.

The clearance came at a time when prices had touched abysmal lows, much below the cost of production and the industry was in much need of a stimulant. With global output showing an upward trend and new producers and exporters entering the fray, the prices slumped even further. Correspondingly, Indian prices and exports took a beating and efforts were now on to shore up the bottom-line.

Faced with such a situation, it is, today a do-or-die conundrum for small time retailers in a bid to salvage their businesses. And it is no different for my friend’s family either as they struggle to stay afloat in their efforts to eke out a living. Things have reached such a zenith that they are in serious consideration of moving house form their plush apartment in uptown New Bombay to a rented flat so as only to repay the mounting debt incurred on keep the business going.

With tears in his eyes he then told me that it was all very well to mouth competitive strategy for sustained growth in business and economic development in favour of the consumer whilst supporting the claim to open markets. The ground realities, in the absence of sound economics and tempered politic, in emerging economies like ours however project a whole new story.

With domestic markets soon disappearing in the face of falling incomes and rising costs of production, it’s only a matter of time before India’s blind rally at embracing globalization is soon going to claim its merciless pound of flesh from many more families such as these.

I don’t for a minute – as I state all of this – claim to be "anti globalist". What I am attempting to say here however is, that on the issue of globalization when it comes to India, there are deeper implications that are conveniently overlooked by the powers that be, given the steeped layers of a socio-cultural pluralist and disparate state of peoples in this nation state of ours.

And here I liberally quote Thomas Friedman, one of America's foremost political and economic affairs writers, when he said that all economic growth cannot only be explained with reference to the markets; power, politics,environment and culture are of equal import. "One has to understand that it is the interaction of all of these that is increasingly defining the face of economic growth and therefore international relations today. Only then will we be able to satisfysingly order the chaos. And understand this, one must, considering that if there is one system that is influencing more people in many more ways than they'll ever understand, it's globalisation.

In dealing with a non-linear system, especially a mighty complex one, you can't just think in terms of parts or limited aspects and then add things up and then say that behaviour of this and of that, added up together, makes the whole thing. With a complex non-linear system such as globalisation, you have to break it up into pieces and then study each and every aspect and the strong interactions between them all to approximate the magnitude of impact unleashed by it."



India needs to pay heed, else it'll be India mining instead of India shining - all over a concept that is being rashly implemented, in a pip to the WTO post, berift a wider pan Indian vision!





“What is happening to the world, lies at the moment, just outside the realm of common human understanding. It is the writers, the poets, the artists, the singers, the filmmakers who can make the connections, who can find ways of bringing it into the realm of common understanding, who can translate cash-flow charts and scintillating boardroom speeches into real stories about real people with real lives. Stories about what it’s like to lose your home, your land, your job, your dignity, your past and your future to an invisible force. To someone you can’t see. You can’t hate. You can’t even imagine.”
- Arundhati Roy

She's got her Ticket...

Anu (and that's not her real name) a fellow blogger is a special friend of mine. Special not because, we're fast buddies or some such but because of the special understanding we have between us as friends. Anu and I are friends through B-School and and all through our association, even back then, the only constant about this friendship we shared was the periods we didn't keep in touch regularly with each other. But somehow, in the event that we did club up - the vacuum of communication notwithstanding - nothing (to our surprise) seemed to alter the status quo from where we last left. And to me, that's a beautiful feeling.

And so it was that in the course of one such happenstance meeting at a coffee shop that she told me about how her parents had begun the all elusive search for Mr. Right and how terrified she actually was of the concept of an 'arranged marriage.' (And here I take the liberty to quote her(sic) "Imagine the horror of waking up in bed the morning after with a complete stranger...")

All this, barely a few months ago; Anu is now happily engaged to be married to her Mr. Right. It is an arranged marriage (but of course, after all she's not only the very quitessential Indian but Tam bhram as well you see!) with a courtship period running into a good few months. Arranged or love, does it really matter any more? What is of essence is that they are willing to give each other time and space to grow together yet apart, physical distance immaterial. And it seems to work, considering they have clicked from the very word 'Go!' Now that's the kind of understanding that makes commuter marriages work in todays' day and age. And if such understanding ain't love, then pray God, I don't know what is!!!

I am simply thrilled for you Anu and very happy too, because knowing the kind of person you are, you deserve all the happiness and more! Congratulations and here's to you both...you've only just begun! ;-)

Meanwhile, here's an entry (love the title, I do) she posted on her blog long before she met her Mr. Right that I particularly liked, for the refreshingly humorous manner in which it brings out the finer nuances of an otherwise tried and tested (read cliched) concept of the run up to 'The great Indian Marriage.'

Another One Bites the dust

(Disclaimer :I love my parents , though this is a part of their eccentricity which I have to put up with )

On Friday night there was this call from my Dad, asking me for a place where I meet my friends, I erroneously told him Coffee day, having a slight inkling of what he had in mind but not sure, however the plan was crystallized by Saturday morning for a Sunday afternoon tea with the Boy (Lets call him A) and his parents at Coffee Day!!!

Well my parents came rushing in from Chennai to Bangalore, at the speed of light with Lalbagh Express actually in a century coming in early!! Well with my mothers constant what will you wear with my dad’s ruffling through the yellow pages to verify the company A worked - Saturday wasn’t very quiet. My mom took out the sari with the most zari, to wear. This is a lady who has been a H.O.D of management in leading woman’s college , but firmly believes that in these situations the girls mom responsible for updating the future mom in law on the family background and speaks only to answer questions on my culinary skills and moral upbringing.

On entering Coffee day, my dad was shocked at the ‘noise’.. he then asked the maitre d to switch it off :) . A was kinda hoping as I was that he was anywhere else when my dad loudly asked him to sit next to me so we can exchange views, over “Evanescence” screaming “my immortal”. The parents kept looking at us expectantly and to satisfy them, A came up with first question- pretty good one since his eyes kept moving to Priyanka Chopra on screen shedding most of her clothes. “where do you work ?” – well the questions was good, because my dad had just finished retelling my entire history in good old Bangalore, right to the fact that I walked to office from home and the number of dogs I encountered on my way there!!! So I told him and asked the compensatory ‘what about you and office?’ routine. He answered to me or I think he did, as his eyes were focused on anything but me!! Through the excruciating 45 mins he kept looking over my shoulder, or at my dad or at MTV with no music. So the A is shy , as my dad fondly put it later…”It means he a good boy, he doesn’t look at girls” ...OH PLEASEEEEE...

To add to the whole circus of things, the order was taken by waiter.. My dad asked coffee – to which came prompt reply “Mochha or Capuccino?”. Now my dad was taken back – looked at the waiter and asked “This is Coffee Day- U serve Coffee Right”?? So I had to step in and quickly update my dad on the advancement in the brew industry in the last 10 years.

Taking a smoothie for the A, the rest of us had Cappuccino . Well my mom wasn’t to be left behind, she suggested the mandatory sweet to be brought in .When the waiter said they didn’t serve Sweets looking the poor waiter in the eye with a wintry glance “So cake is not sweet here”??The poor guy didn’t know what had hit him. Stepped in again and ordered a Black forest to keep the general peace and I swear I think I saw a glimmer of gratitude in the waiter’s eyes.

In the meantime A and I were trying to find a slim pane on which we could meet. He was a sports fan whereas the only channels not tuned on my TV were the sports ones- I like watching tennis only when there are tall, good looking Czech/Romanian/any former USSR countrymen playing :). My passion is Music and books, on enquiring on those, ‘A’ sweetly replied all he read were Harry Potter’s and music thoughts were met with a shrug, all while looking over my shoulder to an invincible person seen only by him (Btw I look passable, as per general opinion, so I know that it was not my looks which made him stare into space)

OK- no habits/hobbies/movies/people in common. Next round was family. Which was taken care by my dad who explained to the listening pleasure of all the people in the restaurant the family tree right from my great granddad’s period. My mom quietly intercepting on how my culinary skills to be attributed to the amazing genes of my forefathers :)). Time drew on, my entire concentration was on hookah pipe smoked by the under aged kid nearby ,hoping to God, a genie would appear and grant me my wish of vanishing from that time zone for the next half an hour.

I finally woke up when my dad asked for the bill. Both the waiter and I wore similar looks of relief on our faces. My dad asked us to exchange our cell nos. while loudly proclaiming that finally it was in our hands and Gods. I doubt God will have much to do with the final outcome,considering A and I were trying best to get out of there as possible.

A did not give me his number and I am hoping that he doesn’t call. I hope he finds a wife who is a sports fan and also doesn’t mind being invisible when he talks to her :)

My dad is sure they are impressed and will call, all the while checking the net and matrimonials for new finds!! My mom on the other hand , shakes her head at me for being opinionated and promptly starts praying for the next one to be the final one!! Well that was a nice experience, I learnt that I finally needed to tune my TV to the news in sports too, maybe the next one will speak to me instead of invisible gal behind on Saffin’s serve.

P.S: Anu...hopefully this post should ensure for me a personalised invite to your kalyaanam. As for being a Rebel, well not quite but hmmm...where did I hear that one before ;-))??? Btw, this post is titled bearing in mind - you know it don't you - !

Squaring the Circle...

Over the past many months I’ve done quite some thinking over why certain relationships work and others don’t. And what I’ve come up with is information that deserves to be fine-toothed by combed examination.

I also realise that more people than I can possibly think of deliberate and mull over the same thing almost regularly, however circumferencing their understanding around the radius of self, which I believe is not radius enough to make a fair conclusion.

This is to say that we as individuals would never in a lifetime bring about change if not for our interactions with those around us. Constant interaction of all sorts rubbing on us – both ways good and bad - make us realize our need for and to change, or to reassure us that we fine the way we are – short, tall, fat, thin, dark, fair, gifted, challenged, warts, blemishes or both…

In my many many discussions with friends and with myself, I have come to believe that relationships that stand the test of time and patience have one major thing in common - willingness; It is why people stay married for many years, why families stand-by strong, why people choose to remain in love despite times of adversity.

Willingness is accepting people for who they are and not for what they might be. It’s about adapting, sometimes even stretching beyond your elastic limit - and that’s tough. I guess that’s what Amma means every time she refers to “being the bigger person” in a relationship.

It’s a tough cookie to digest, especially when you know that it has to pass through your buckled cavity of inertia; An inertia that by its very nature is opposed to a change in existing state, causing people to sit idle in the face of life’s changing paradigms.

But this is not to be, at least not in a life that is more than just about myself.

I increasingly am made to realise that the more I allow myself to rub against those who think differently than I do, the more I learn that there is more than one perspective on how this journey through life is travelled. Reminds me of the Carnot’s cycle in high school Chemistry…

I have realised that the more I revolve my life around others, the more I learn to be a better person

People (or even situations) are like sand paper, constantly smoothing your rough edges provided you’re willing to let them. Abrasion happens when you decide not to yield. It’s a conscious decision you have to make to be willing. And, here I must add, willingness does not equate conforming – blindly or otherwise - to someone else. Rather it's taking time consider all possible options and yet realizing that the options of dealing with people issues are endless.

And it not that you have to be in concurrence with the otherat all times as well; Disagreements, varied opinions/perceptions/perspectives are but inevitable, considering that there are as many insights as there are people. But these counter viewpoints are vital because they make you grow and think about things that are important to you. They help you stand up and put up a good fight, especially when you care enough to work hard building facts supporting your point of view.

And that’s the ultimate truth of life. Two people comfortable with each other, don’t an easy life with each other always make. It’s the willingness to make the effort to stay on and make things work that separates the wheat from the chaff.

In many ways I guess, this key understanding has come to sum my relationship across my role-set of interaction with family and close friends alike. You don’t throw good thing going for you because it’s hard work; rather you learn to take one day at a time telling those who matter “ I’ll never give up on you no matter what…”

"A good relationship is about you telling me what a son of a bitch I am, and me telling you what a pain in the ass you are and we not worrying about hurting each others feelings because in a few seconds, we’ll be over it and onto the next pain in the ass thing!" (simply love that line...borrowed as it is were from The Notebook)