Every Cloud…

What it says.

What it says.

I’m not usually one for clichés. A protagonist running around all over a movie in a garbage bag screaming out hopeful things about silver linings wouldn’t normally go down too well with me. Neither would two people literally dancing their way into each other’s lives while participating in a dance competition appeal very much to me. And it’s not because I’m not hopeful and it’s not because I’m a dance –grinch. It’s just that I’d normally prefer my movies without a sprinkling of inarticulate clichés.

Thankfully, Silver Linings Playbook, is anything but. The movie is absolutely lovely and human. The characters are so convincing and oddly lovable. In most scenes, more than 80% of the people in the frame are absolutely bananas, each with their own brand of madness nailed to the tee. I love the scenes where almost everyone’s talking all at once, and yet there’s a feeling that everyone’s actually listening to the other as well. That to me is brilliant; it’s exactly how families work, dysfunctional or otherwise.

And like Dr. Patel says, maybe all we need is to figure out a strategy, a play that would help us read the signs more clearly, because everyone’s ‘silver lining’ is probably just waiting to ambush them. And today I felt like just maybe mine is too.


the Notebook

The NotebookTonight, I watched the movie again. And every single time I do, it makes me want to be young and old all at the same time. It makes me want to run and jump and yell at the top of my lungs, all while lying perfectly still. It makes me want to remember and it makes me want to forget. It always makes my past, present and future collide in magical and unexpected ways. But most of all, it makes me want to write it all down in my Notebook.


Photo0403coEvery day on my way to work I pass by this store, and it always leaves me unnerved.

“Feelings – We customize emotions”, it shrieks, under its blue and white striped canopy.


I’ve been diagnosed with ‘emotional range of a teaspoon syndrome’ since quite a while now. And every time I walk by this store it leaves me stirred. Pun unintended.

(Refer Ron Weasley, for other people who have been diagnosed with E.R.O.A.T. syndrome. PS- I love him. Always have, always will. But that’s not what this is about. Although I’d love for it to be about that.)

Coming back to feelings, yes, FEELINGS. On most days, I feel exactly two things. Always have, probably always will. And depending on the various combinations you put them in, I have exactly four emotions.

  1. Sunshine (happy)
  2. Blue (sad)
  3. Muddled (happy and sad)
  4. Water-like (neither happy nor sad)

And every single time I pass by this store, I feel, well yes, I FEEL like taking my spoon and scooping a nice lil bite off my robotic arm.

I’ve never stepped inside ‘FEELINGS’. I wonder what it’s like in that world. Where everyone is continuously feeling these inexplicable, exhilarating and brilliant things. Such unfathomable feelings that they would need help from a professional in expressing them. Every feeling so unique as to be understood, translated and customised both for the person having the said feelings and for the person who is the to-be receiver of said feelings.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not as simple as that. I get that. I do.

I get that there are some feelings that one just cannot describe. Like the feeling I get when I’m at mass watching the priest in his habit, in his pure white habit, his royal gold or purple robes, his lace lined napkins and veils, maybe a staff or cap if it’s a special occasion, and then when he lifts up the host, in that most sacred moment, I can see it. I can see the bottom of his trousers under his habit. The bottom of his painfully ordinary trousers. And it always sends a chill down my spine. Always.

And then there’s the feeling you get when you’re watching a movie you’ve seen before. You know exactly how it ends, and you’re sitting there waiting for it to go exactly as you remember. You’re just sitting there waiting for the inevitable. Watching, waiting, quietly.

And then there’s the feeling you get when you try to blow two balloons at once. You know it would be simpler if you were blowing them one at a time. But there you are blowing two balloons at a time, wondering where you got that idea. Wondering at what point exactly did your hands decide to pick up two balloons and put them into your mouth. All these feelings running through you while simultaneously furiously blowing into two balloons at once.

I get it. I’m human. I am. I feel these things. I do.

I get that we’re wonderful and complex and full of inexplicable things.

But these feelings, these inexplicable feelings are just that – inexplicable. I’d never have to get my parish priest a card that says, “I feel you. I know you’re just like the rest of us. Like the rest of us, in a uniform. I get it. Amen.”

I’d never have to give myself a bouquet and a teddy bear so I can feel like I’ve got it all figured out. So that I can feel like everything is going exactly like I knew it would. I wouldn’t.

I’d never have to buy myself a box of chocolates to tell myself to let go sometimes. To just throw my hands up in the air and breathe.

I know these things, I feel these things. And yet I feel like I’m on the outside. On the outside of this world of emotions.

Just like I find myself every day. On the outside of the shiny façade of ‘FEELINGS’