Word power

I know some very fantastic words, big words, crazy words, awe-inspiring, eye-catching, make-me-seem-smarter-than-I-am words. I honestly do, except the problem is, I don’t know where and how to use them, how to push them into sentences even when I know their meaning. When I want to use them, I never remember them. For some reason they only pop up from the strongbox of smart words at odd moments; then I just can’t seem to get rid of them. Sometimes, the words are commonplace ones, I’ve seen them a hundred times, read them in a million books, yet I never get a hang of using them like puerile, obfuscate, salubrious, sagacious, perspicacity and more.

For e.g., verisimilitude — I loved that word from the moment I heard it, yet I never get to use it. I remember dropping this word in an essay in college only to have it circled by the professor and admonished “incorrect usage”. Another word, I can never get the usage right is film noir. For some inexplicable reason I always assume that it is something along the lines of genre. I’ve been pulled up for that more than once, so now I just avoid it altogether. Then there’s schadenfreude and kaffeeklatsch; I may have used them just once in all my years of writing.

Some words sound exciting enough, that they play in your head at all times like kerfuffle, quiddity, borborygmi, and then they are words that absolutely fascinate/stump you like beetle browed, stevedore, phantasmagoria, smorgasbord.

Someday, I hope to expectorate verbal pyrotechnics and dazzle everyone with my remarkable sangfroid and equanimity. 

Rusty brains, cobwebbed memory and modern technology

A simple question posed in the office had most stymied for an answer. I faltered and recovered quickly, gave the answer but lost credibility as the one-source of information. The question? What does South Asian countries mean? I started with Southeast Asian countries and then realized that I was mixing up the two so corrected myself and said India, Sri Lanka, etc. Once upon a time, I used to be quick at these, before technology took over, before I began relying on Google, and then on Wikipedia to answer all my questions.

Now when I sit down with a pen to solve my crosswords, I’m struggling for answers that I subconsciously know but can’t remember, and answers to clues that a few years ago you could wake me up from my sleep and get the right answer. Then: What’s the capital of Bulgaria? Sofia. Now: What’s the capital of Slovak Republic? I don’t know meets just blank.

The ad campaign war between The Hindu and Times of India just emphasized how badly my ‘general knowledge’ had taken a beating. I didn’t do as bad as the guys in the ad but for every relevant question I didn’t know or got wrong, there was not a single vapid news story that I got wrong. 

How to catch a fleeting thought

Of the zillion things buzzing in my head

One takes more precedence

For only a moment before it is lost

Replaced by a new thought

That I struggle to hold on to

Thoughts flee my mind

Like bees disturbed

A torrent is sometimes unleashed

That my hand finds hard to match

At times it’s a bog

Sucking in everything, never to be heard of again

How to recover fleeting moments

Pause. Stop. Hold. Grab.

Now only if they would stay still

A butterfly catcher has his net

I keep notes

Little pieces of paper

Scattered everywhere

Jottings of vague ideas

Barely making sense

But vital to my being

Ideas, questions, thoughts, answers

Seeking acknowledgement

Pick me, choose me

The thoughts seem to say

A bizarre dance of competition

I never asked to be part of

Behind the lines

Lines. There are lines that divide us all the time. Some lines are invisible, some open. Lines can be useful and sometimes these lines fence us in. They separate us from other people, they categorise us; they shape us. They create boundaries. Boundaries that we are comfortable in, boundaries that don’t allow us to cross other lines, boundaries that becomes barriers and keep us from discovering ourselves.

So how good are these lines really? They function as an invisible entity that keeps us from becoming one of them, which may be a good thing or not. So when do we know which is what? Often, lines come in place when realisation dawns that things may have gone out of hand. It could a diatribe on religion, ethics that alienated and offended people, an extra drink that ended in embarrassing situations, a plain uncoated truth that shattered relations, hope and trust, an incident whose scars are hidden yet very much alive. Anything.

So what happens to lines that are drawn out of upbringing, prejudice, or fear? Are these lines more dangerous and damaging? Can these lines be erased? It takes a lot of courage to admit others in. To put down the lines that expose you. You may be rejected, you may be ridiculed but at least you have the satisfaction that it was not on account of not trying. And it could be that the incident may teach you something new. You may draw new lines again, but they may not be as impenetrable as before. These lines are the ones that leave an end open. Open to welcome new suggestions, people and incidents.

Potted mania

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?”

What is about plants that makes everyone go green (pun not so intended) Okay, not everyone, but many people? I see it every time and everywhere. You talk about plants and flowers and blooming buds and flower beds and then someone always comes up with a story that outshines the other. Sometimes, it’s not just the talk, just the sight of someone’s beautiful garden or potted plants that gets people envious and makes them dig deep to find their soil and plant loving souls!

Take for instance, the flats on my floor. A new family moved in last year, and four months ago she placed a potted plant outside her door. Two months later, my landlady does and today morning, when I stepped out of the house, the other lady outdoes them all with two potted plants and a new doormat! How’s that for really taking the bet and raising the stakes! Now it’s just a matter of time before the last remaining neighbour discovers her newfound love for plants. I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me. It took me back to the colony I lived in as a child. My mom loves her gardening, though you can hardly call that given the limited space in apartments. However, we did have a balcony that had around 40 potted plants of varying sizes and shapes. Every week, she would tend to the plants, bathing them, snipping off dead leaves, reshaping some and even rearranging their placements. What was interesting was that the apartment opposite us would reflect whatever style my mother chose to display her plants. Now, that neighbor loved his plants as well, and in a way he was competing with my mom. Whenever she bought a new variety, he would get a similar one or another variety a few days later, if she hung a few plants up, the next day he would do the same; they would come down, if mom got rid of them.

Mercifully, I feel I am immune to this whole love for plants craze but then the two potted plants sitting prettily on my window sill would definitely beg to differ!

Childspeak

A couple of months ago, at a colleague’s birthday party, I heard a mom tell her three-year-old daughter not to eat the cake. Reason, “You will become fat if you eat cake”. I was shocked when the daughter said, “I don’t want to be fat; I want to be thin like you.” Sharing this news with a friend, and wondering over the change of phraseology from “Your teeth will rot and fall out” or “You will get worms” to “You will get fat”, she provided me with another expression she heard, “You’ll get diabetes!” Wow! Times have truly changed.

I know that today’s kids are smarter, growing out of their childhood faster than we would like. Honestly speaking, how long does this period of being children last these days? I also know that they are more aware, learning things faster than we would ever dream of.

Last week, a colleague’s 10-year-old daughter reprimanded me for drinking a particular brand of water. She said, “Don’t drink this, it has too much sodium.” (Here in the Middle East, all bottled water packages indicate the level of minerals present. Different brands offer different sodium concentration, and as we all know the lesser the sodium the better.)

I guess I will never adjust to how intelligent or conscious children these days are. A couple more years or by the time I have kids, I wonder, will infancy be the only stage of blissful ignorance and innocence?

Of Greetings and Hugs

It's been too long. I got busy and I got lazy; a trip back home, sister's wedding celebrations, the death of an uncle and then some much needed R&R only to get back to piled up work in the office. So, it's been hectic but one that was absolutely worth it!

Over the weeks I have been wishing and greetings so many people, and I still haven't got the routine pat. Do I kiss and greet or just wave and nod and say hello? If I'm greeting them with a kiss, do I begin left to left or right to right? Given that I live in the Middle East, where there is the added third kiss, it all gets more confusing? The worst, when you lean in for the kiss and the other person stands frozen doesn't! Awkwardly embarrassing, I know.

Sometimes, people lean in for a hug. Now, I'm not a huge 'hug me' person; I've never been. However, in the last few years the number of times I've been hugged on a daily basis, makes up for all the years of my existence. Still, I have not grasped the basics of a hug; I just fake hug, always. A half, barely there, limp, something is all I can manage, irrespective of the gender or fondness of the person. Even side shoulder 'hugs' are awkwardly given and received. Sometimes, knowing a person's fondness for hugs, I throw my hands up in a grand gesture of enveloping them in a bear hug, only to have them kiss me on the cheek, thrice! Now locked up in a semi-hug and moving your head can be quite the thing!

This New Year, I'm still working around the whole hug and kiss and greet routine. For now, the only strategy I've come up with is a handshake with the arms stretched, thereby creating and extending this invisible 'do not cross'space, though, I must say, that has not been that effective. A few determined and enthusiastic individuals have broken through and enveloped me in a bear hug I never saw coming! Sigh!

*hugs* to my dearest friends and the three who loyally read my writings!