Perspective

Fundraiser, I don’t like that word. In my dictionary the word has a very negative meaning. It paints a picture of a banquet hall filled with privileged people, competing for the attention and the seat at the hottest table, as far removed from the cause as they could be, and rubbing shoulders with other socialites.

This was different. Room was packed with diverse set of people and when my friend took the microphone and read out the numbers and success stories of asylum seekers, the room resonated in applaud. However, nothing my friend said could sum it up like Paul (that is not his real name) – who was granted asylum thanks to the efforts of The Advocates For Human Rights did. He said, “You can not stop sadness and fear from visiting you. But these people helped me shut the door slam on that sadness and fear. Thank you so much for helping finally sleep peacefully at night.”

It is inspiring to see the lawyers stand up for a cause. I imagine there is more money and fame in patent infringement, high-profile divorces, and suing McDonald’s for their extra hot coffee for that matter. But these guys are here, rescuing one life at a time.

Being in a foreign country myself, I have my set of sadness and fears as well. Certainly nothing compared to Paul’s. But his words did help me put it things in perspective. 

Sure, there are uncertainties and insecurities but I still have the basic freedom to believe what I choose to, follow any religion I prefer, love regardless of gender, and above all express myself.

And for that I am grateful. 

Neo

Surprise Yourself

First time I ran for more than half an hour without anyone chasing me was last year for my company’s community 5K run. I ran liked a mad man, and half an hour later all I felt was my legs and heart pounding at the pace that made me worried.

This year when I went back for the same 5K run, I shaved two minutes of my time. That’s it, it was time for double or quits. I signed up for a 10K without losing any time.

Day 1 of training for my 10K and I buckled down after 4 miles. I limped back home. The pain in my foot didn’t subside and I found out I was suffering from Plantar Fasciitis. It is nothing but a way of saying my foot really hurts when I try to move.

I gave up training for the race. I even looked into refund policies. And now I was now going to be that guy - “No Show.”

And then something unexpected happened. My colleague, a tennis player in her past life, handed me a tennis ball and said “8 hours that you are sitting at your desk, keep rolling your foot over the ball. Ice it. Rest it. Don’t give up on the race yet.”

A couple of days later, another friend offered up a splint that would help.

Come race day, I showed up. Unsure of what to expect, I had a mantra - Run, Walk or Tumble, I am crossing that line. However, to my utter surprise, I rounded up my first mile within 9 minutes, half way mark in 30 and now I was running to beat 60 minute mark. And I beat it. 57:40.

But that is not the coolest part. You know what is really cool, I enjoyed the run, I noticed the fall that had now set in the Twin cities, noticed a guy with his guitar who was busking – singing Beatles songs, lady who was blasting Journey (Don’t stop believing)  on her front yard to support the runners, I took in the view as I came up the hill, and crossed the finish line. Oh and surprised myself – that I could do it. 

Neo

Nostalgia

Wondering how things used to be …

And I notice the logs burning in the fireplace

Effortlessly giving light and warmth, while turning into soot

And so did all those wonderful moments

They appeared out of nowhere, lit up my life with warmth and faded away

Nostalgia is like a warm fireplace on a cold winter night

I sit there with the intimate company of loneliness and in the warmth of moments gone by

Neo

You Took A Shot & Missed ..... Again !!

…Shit ! I think she gave me the wrong number or did I mistype one of the digits.

…She doesn’t seem to return my texts, tried calling but no answer.

I thought it went really well..drinks, dinner, walk to her car. Been two weeks, no communicado !

But this time it was different… I mean really. I waited until I saw her for the second time at this friend’s get-together… and she said “A drink or something is fine but as friends. Is that cool?”

 Guess what... single, approaching 30 and fairly tired of people playing games. This is such a relief. 

Well not the best outcome possible, but given the circumstances the Optimal. 

I say optimal, but I begin to back-track ... so which were the clues that I missed ? Should I have waited? Shouldn't have texted, perhaps call would have worked better... maybe had I phrased it differently ?

These carefully laid out downward spiraling questions, safely lead me to the ultimate question -  the self doubt... it must be me! What's up with me ?

And then it hits me. What Morpheus said - the lines from Matrix - ""Whatever happened, happened, and couldn’t have happened any other way."  Why, because, I am still here. We are still here. The clock is still ticking and seasons are still changing. 

And then for kicks sake, I start peeling the onion. On what happened...

Well, I guess it was the walk back from the bars. It was late, we were both sober ( well, six drinks sober ), I can't remember what we spoke about exactly but sure enough it must have been somewhat romantic and fittingly poetic. I guess it was the hanging out even after the bars were closed.

Or maybe that hug...that night. It definitely lasted longer than 3 Mississippi count.

And then you wonder, wait ...did I talk myself into asking this person out ? Didn't I too just wanted to hang out and share stories ? Well, if I am not sure what I wanted, why am I talking myself into feeling even remotely unhappy about what she said...

One of my dear friends would read this and say - "Stop being such a girl about it." ( No offense to the ladies and FYI this dear friend happens to be a lovely girl)  

So more importantly, the long and short of it, is I guess that I may have read a few things the way I wanted to read them. Interpreted them in a way the world wisdom has taught me to and it turns out I was wrong. 

What is important though, is a little less of ascribing a great deal of significance to coincidences, gestures that are subconscious, and especially conversations past 1 o'clock. 

And a little more of - mindfully going with the flow. Letting it pan out. 

Secretly, though, I would tell my 17 year old self, with a big smile... "I tried."

Neo

Hats

Once Upon Time Far Out West

I can hardly wear any more accessories than absolutely required; my German arm-band is the only exception. Precisely the reason why I have never worn hats, rings, chains and what have you.

Living in California, I have repeatedly debated adding a Hat to that exception list. No Luck yet.

Walking around at the Union Square, I found myself in a Hat shop, looking at a couple standing next to me try hats on. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

He would put a hat on and look at her and the mirror. She would tilt her head sideways and then straighten it, pout her lips and then nod. So it went on until he ran out of hats to try on and they left.

That incident was enough for me to picture my little romantic hat shopping escapade. Simple things about settling down, going shopping together, valuing other person’s opinion, normally buying more expensive items than you otherwise would, attaching a story or an incident …essentially a memory to most of the pieces of clothes you pick up. All of it just seemed too romantic to ignore.

Ever since that day, I have worn that foolish romantic hat that has driven me to live that hat shopping experience. The other day, walking down on Height, I couldn’t resist the temptation to walk right into the shop and try a few hats on.

It may be extremely insignificant and fade away in the avalanche of new experiences, but

When you pointed at the pink hat and asked me to try it. Then you adjusted the black hat I was trying on and nodded. Looked at me as I tried a few more and smiled.

I just lived that one moment; I had been looking for all along.

I believe the life hardly ever sets up a dinner table for you with a neat clean white table cloth, pristine silverware, dinner plates and wine glasses. You have to assemble one single item at a time by yourself for that dinner with someone. As aware and cognizant I am of this reality, it won’t stop me from a being a die-hard romantic.

And if nothing else, I would have had almost bought that hat with you.

Neo

Midnight In Paris

An average evening, in fact a below average one - with an initial misunderstanding about tasty Indian food in a crummy little Indian restaurant versus a fancy mediterranean place on the waterfront. Not hard to imagine we ended up at a crummy little Indian joint. Then a fumbling walk by trapped sea water in Foster City and eventually by the bay in San Mateo. A little later, while I sat down staring at the bay and she preferred to sit in car, the evening wasn’t looking up either.

But then we roll into this desserts place which sells super high calorie sweets but absolutely delicious if I may add. This place is just by the movie hall and I say, “So do you want to catch a movie.” One thing to the other and we end up at the movie hall. Midnight in Paris is the only one we can watch. Woody Allen and set in Paris, I think twice and then she buys the tickets. Least I could do was to get the popcorns. (They are extremely high priced but I refrained from commenting and am glad that I did. Because I know, perhaps you do too, where that would have gone)

Walk into a completely empty movie hall as if it were a personal screening. I can’t decided if I am happy that a few more folks walked in before the movie started or I would rather have it other way round.

This is a movie set in Paris, where a successful Hollywood script writer begins to search for his inspiration to complete his novel while he is out freeloading with her fiancée’s family. .The family is there on a business visit. He has a poetic aspiration of living in a French attic with sunlight glazing through the roof top and she wants a Malibu mansion.

Every night the protagonist (Own Wilson) slips into his illusional golden era of Paris, where he spends time with Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Picasso. He meets a woman in his figments of imagination – Adriana, who one day travels to even older Paris… one that existed in 1890’s. In search of a more surreal, and poetically beautiful Paris.

That is where perhaps I realized, Romanticism flirts with the denial. At times in my mind, denial always takes my romanticism to the bed. Only to wake up next morning for that walk of shame….some times just until the door, sometimes until that phone call, a blog post or a long hard stare at the horizon.

Sitting in this tiny little, ill ventilated studio of mine, in one of the vibrant cities in the world, I think of my time in Paris and my depreciating capital of memories…. And I wonder

Oh well. This is life. It is a bit dissatisfying and probably because it is now and it is a present. My Present, a choice that I make or perhaps made…

I don’t want to look back on my time too quick too soon

Neo

Got to Love The Swiss

8:13am : Colin drops me off at the Mountain View caltrain station

8:16am : I briskly walk towards the ticket vending machine

8:16am : I am interrupted by this graceful old man, wearing a hat, overcoat and gold-rim glasses, with a big suitcase on his left and his wife to his right.

“Exkhuse me, can I buy tickets for the airport from this machine?”

He asked a question, and I heard

“Oh, you look like one of them. Locals! Who spend half their life either waiting for the caltrain or on the caltrain. Maybe you know something about this overpriced Californian public transport system.”

On your day-5 in a fairly new place, being asked for help as if you were a local (although, I see how he could mistake me for a local – there a ton of Indians in the bay, a bit too much for me as well), is like an honor, is like a certification. I felt a sense a obligation and pride to help the man out. Emm and also, the fact that he was old and was with his wife and spoke in a strange language with her.

So, I tried helping them, the machine won’t accept the bills.

(cutting all the mundane details out > we move to a different vending machine) The train is expected at 8:23am

8:20am : I am third in the row to get my tickets. Old man doesn’t seem in a hurry at all. I wonder when his flight is leaving.

8:21am: Old man taps me on my back and shows me a woman trying to buy ticket from the same machine. Makes his point very clear that he wasn’t wasting anyone’s time, the machine is actually at fault. I calmly node in agreement

8:22am: We (myself, old man and wife) get our tickets and now we wait for the train.

“What language did you converse in earlier on?”

“French” …. “But we are NOT French”

“Oh, so you are Canadians ehh”

“Oh, no no, not at all. We are Swiss.”

It is that oh my God, I am so sorry moment. I can’t do much but just deflect my embarrassment by asking some other question…one of my favorite … “So you must know German as well”

“Man nodes, in pride. Naturlisch, Ich kann ja Deutwesch” (Offcourse, I speak German)

“Na ja, schweiz Deutch oder Hoch”(oh well, Swiss German or High-German)

He looks at me surprised and amused and leans back a little and proudly say “Bidas” (Both)

He mentions how he speaks a lot languages, how he is headed to Vegas for the weekend and so on.

8:23am

Train approaches and I ask, “Soll ich mit dem gepack hilfen?” (Should I help you with the bags)

Perhaps I should have said “Darf Ich?” (May I) or “Lass mich hilfen” (allow me to help you)

Anyways, he respectfully denies help. And as the train approaches, puts a hand on my shoulder and whispers

“Wir sind schon Alt aber noch nicht so alt” and Laughs, while tapping my back

“We are already old but not so old”

Neo