Monday, May 26, 2008

I Cried……Ask Me Why?

It must have been eons but often seems like yesterday. The day I shivered in cold sweat, fumbled for the right words, cried for my existence and let out a 1000 decibel scream in the hope of winning back the world I thought was mine.

Never did I feel so desperately lonely, deprived and heart-broken, all at the same time. Never did I want to pull so far away from hands that were trained to grip and grab. Never before did I force myself to play dead, when all I wanted was to stay alive.

How else do you think a few-seconds-old infant would feel after being manhandled and hung upside down by a bunch of nincompoops who couldn’t distinguish my ass from a football? “Hey! That is my private part you idiot! I don’t want you touching it before I reach puberty.” My words fell on dead ears a couple of years back in that sophisticated maternity ward.

It all began after my parents began honeymooning and the doctors fixed my mom’s delivery date on May 19, deciding between themselves to make me a Taurean, when I so much wanted to be something that is prefixed with “gem”. I loved growing up and drew my own sketches of the face that whispered sweet nothings and sang me lullabies in Raag Kaanada. I liked it most when mom fought with dad for not bringing her Andhra pickles or taking her out to watch Dharmendra’s latest hit. Much to my delight, dad was no longer in mom’s good books and I had her all to myself.

My peace of mind was short-lived though. The dreaded date, May 19, was fast approaching and the doctors expected my whole-hearted co-operation in vacating the warm, cozy premise I had so fallen in love with. Well, I decided to make it clear who’s the boss. May 19 came and went. A week flew by with me refusing to budge an extra inch. The doctors got alarmed and put my mom through a whole series of tests without even seeking my permission. “Hey, there are laws for citizens in the womb world and my lawyer is due on May 30.” A few more hours passed and then they decided to do to my mom what they did to Caesar’s mom and got away with.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! That was mom, not me! (Now you know from whom I inherited the 1000 decibel scream). Mom became hysterical much to everyone’s dismay and would not let the blade touch her porcelain skin. Nor would I. “Don’t worry, mom! I won’t let them hurt you. Here I come…………………..!”

Finally I was born into this world, like a true Geminian. Full of gaiety and pride on the warmest month of May.

Every year since, same day, same time, I have been reliving this moment of my birth. I have learnt to forgive the doctors and forget their torturous deeds as I cried for what I was about to loose, not knowing that a whole load of gifts awaited me in another part of my world…..ones that were mine to keep forever.

The gift of being born into this world was greater than the moments I spent in my mother’s womb. The gift of beholding her beautiful face was sweeter than her whisperings my ears were so used to. The gift of being with her was eternal than the feeling of growing inside of her.

Like an infant, we all wail in vain for the smile of today when life beckons us to the laughter of tomorrow. Cry, if you may; it can smudge your eye makeup though. But learn when to stop and budge that extra inch. Vacate today and welcome yourself into a better tomorrow.

Monday, May 5, 2008

HUMOUR SENSE & MEN

What has a good sense of humour got to do with men?
A lot, for most women!
Don’t believe me; I was hardly into a fruitful relationship with men to know if they have any sense at all. But if you go by the advertorials and the strictly “ladies only” gossip cafĂ©, you will have enough reason to believe that a good sense of humour ranks high in a woman’s list of qualities for her macho man.

My dad once confided in me about breaking into hilarious laughter every time mom watched Mr. Bean, wondering what it is about Rowan that tickled her humour bone. There are others who swear by Google Search Engine to get hold of 101 jokes to crack on their first date, in the hope of making it the best date ever. My friend’s brother Rony, tied the knot recently and was shocked to learn on his wedding night that his bride had always dreamed of marrying a guy who makes her laugh non-stop. Rony, in his true pragmatic style, tried tickling his bride the whole night, much to her dismay and his delight. I know Rony well enough to understand that his sense of humour is limited to an occasional uproar when someone slips on a banana peel or a poodle poops on its owners lap. Thanks to God, Rony’s bride has taught herself to live with a humourless husband while appreciating his other superior senses.

If I were to trust the sad stories of my male colleagues, the poor things hardly know what exactly this sense of humour is or why women feel naturally attracted to men who make them laugh.

Maybe it goes like this. It’s quite normal to think you are enjoying yourself when you are laughing. You feel good after watching a comedy show and yearn to see it again for that feel-good moment. The same goes with men. A woman feels good after spending time with a man who makes her laugh and will pine for his company in the hope of reliving that moment of side-splitting enjoyment. Women thus reach a conclusion that marrying a guy with a good sense of humour assures marital bliss filled with laughter and joy. At this juncture, I can’t help wondering why women never thought about marrying clowns? (not that they don’t make a handsome pair).

So, is it only women who feel good in the company of people with above-average humour sense? Don’t we all, old and young alike, long for a little laughter in our lives?

Of course, we do. And this means humour has nothing to do with men. Yippee! Guys, you can now heave a sigh of relief. Humour has everything to do with the emotion it evokes in each one of us. In the case of women, they enjoy humour most when it comes from a good-looking man and vice-versa.

Now does that mean women with a great sense of humour rank high in a man’s list?
Nah! Men have other things on mind when they see a woman. Don’t believe me