We were celebrating Road Safety Week this last week in office. I had made these posters for the occasion. (No. They are not on public display. I had made them for a poster making competition which now seems to have disappeared)
The grating sound of the squeaky wheel on the concrete shook him from his reverie. He shook his head and smiled, as he saw her trying to get the luggage trolley over some bump on the ramp. She turned and grinned at everybody, as he thought of all the times she'd always turn to give him a last look as she boarded a bus or got into a car or left a room. And she looked at him again with that same look. That mixture of mischievousness and childlike innocence. That same confident belief that we'd meet again soon. Only this time the confidence didn't mask the fear in her eyes.
The struggle to not give way to her emotions was evident as she gripped on tighter to the trolley. And the grin became wider. After some meaningless "bbyes" and "keep in touch" and "i'll call" and "mail me" she turned to walk towards the entrance to the airport.
He stepped forward and took the haversack off her shoulder. He hugged it and started to walk with her towards the entrance. There was about half an inch of air between arms as they walked and the space seemed to be charged with electricity. Only she knew that it wasn't science but the silence that explained the tingling on their skins.
They stopped just before the entrance luggage screening. He held out the haversack straps and she slid her arms into them. He straightened the twisted straps on her shoulders and put his palms on her shoulders. They stood there for a minute too long. Her voice cracked as she turned and said "Well, you take care of yourself." He was about to say something. Something that would explain everything he was trying to say, when the security guard said, "Will you be carrying any luggage with you, ma'am?" She turned back and in a firm voice said,"No. I'll be checking it in." And walked towards the x-ray machines, never to turn back again.
For the benefit of my enormous fan base of ummm...1...2...right, 2 readers, I wanted to take time out to explain the drastic change in the look of the blog.
I'm sure that they don't really care either. But do I really care that I might alienate the 2 people who actually appear on my Google analytics-blog statistics..no sirree!...(especially when one of those 2 people is me.)
Anyways, now for the profound psychological reasons for altering the look of my blog. After careful study of the piece of thin white paper that comes with my tranquilizers, I consider myself a bit of a guru in the matters of the mind. So I realize that there must be deep psychological implications of this shift. Probably something that can be traced back to my nursery school days and that weird red haired man who used to walk by our building everyday.
So I spent an adequate 4 days pondering this move.
And I realized there are indeed deep seethed reasons.
Allow me to explain. No? Well I'm going to anyways.
Firstly my blog went plain html last Friday. So all my award winning stuff was now displayed in times new roman with a plain white background and bright blue links.
I knew immediately, that my blog was was sending me a signal about something in my life. Again there were murky psycho-babble waters to be explored here. (Am i mixing metaphors? Or is this just a result of mixing drinks?)
As any good pseudo-techie should, I signed out and signed in again. This normally works. It didn't.
I then switched off and switched on my PC. This always works! Oh, mother of blogs! It didn't.
So I decided to go deeper and solve it with good technical skills. I turned off the PC and went away. Came back and started it on Monday. I mean, the problem should have gone away. That's how I live my life too, by the way.
But horror of horrors, I was still faced with eerie whiteness.
Now, I was convinced that either I was overdosing on my tranquilizers (and hence the calm quiet whiteness. This could also explain the tweety bird noises in my ears) or there was indeed something wrong with my template. (I like to take my time before I arrive at obvious conclusions)
Now I again followed my book on "Pseudo-techie protocol for dummies". I went to the Edit html window and spent valuable minutes scrolling up and down the html code. After a few minutes of scrolling up and scrolling down again, I was quite satisfied that I had done the mandatory "debugging" of the code.
And that's when a light appeared.
Actually it was the ceiling lights reflecting off my colleagues watch. And the light shone on the Template tab.
So I silently copied my old template, saved it, bid a tearful goodbye to it and changed my template to the new and now very popular template (so much so, that its actually attracted one more person to access this page).
The clever reader(s?) of this blog might notice that I'm now posting on a white background too. But that's just because the effect of the tranquilizers and the shining lights have caused various colours to appear in front of my eyes. So I'm no longer sure about what colour I am actually posting on.
However my "Tranquility through Tranquilizers" Guru assures me that this new template has positive energy and will flood my life with positive vibes (and my blog with comments??).
Thus with reasons of psychological metamorphosis and technical ingenuity, I present to you, my new template.
May the positive energy flow into your lives and blogs.
There are now innumerable ways in technology to set reminders for oneself. You can set reminders on your cell phone. With alarms without alarms. You can set the same reminder twice or thrice on the same day. You can set appointment in your Outlook calendar. You can place desktop post-it notes. You can set out your tasks on Google desktop. In the new Office 2007 version, you can use Windows calender ( similar to Outlook calendar) to lists tasks and set reminders. You can desktop calendars and clocks to show you the date and time. You can make birthday lists. Anniversary reminders. You can have reminders send to you for 9:30 pm - "Pick up wine and flowers on the way home". You have birthday calendars online which you can repeated hound your friends to list their birthdays on. Orkut shows you their birthdays.
Everyday technology gives you more and more ways to remind yourself.
And everyday you forget a little more.
It seems to me that as technology gets upgraded, the wonderful tool we have called memory seems to get downgraded.
The white lights blurred as I felt my eyelashes go wet. You are wearing a white dress with a deep back. His hand rested on the small of your back. Your head on his shoulders. He’s wearing a smart black tuxedo.
I thought back to times when you refused to get out of the corner. When the music played, and the crowd danced, and you sat in the corner and tapped your feet. When everybody looked at you standing, aloof, beautiful as ever. When we searched for that light in your eyes, that had been missing for so many months. And you never once looked back into anybody’s. Shying away from making eye contact.
Then one day a boy came and sat next to you in your corner. He didn’t say a thing. Just sat next to you silently for as long as it took you to say something. And then something else. And you talked. Really talked to him. And as you sat and talked, you didn’t even realize when he put his hand gently under you elbow and led you to dance floor. By the time you realized, you were already standing holding his hand on the dance floor. And then you wondered whether to rush back to the corner. But the hand you were holding seemed strangely comfortable and you felt very much at home. You’ll danced to what will now forever be known as your song.
And today as I see you with your arms around him swaying to the same words, all I can say is, I’m glad you danced.
I could see his spectacles lying on the table next to the bed. The alarm clock said 5:45. The sky was turning pink as I watched it. He still slept like a child. His right leg pulled up to his chest, his left outstretched below it. The left ankle peeking out from below the bed sheet. ...more