Middle Muddle

I never meddle, but plight of the middle needles.

Mind-boggling, if not maddening. Amidst motley of ‘mids’, it’s a medley of ‘middles’.

Malady or melody…depends:

It is a mystery why the mid-wife is a wife only in the mid;

It is an enigma whether ‘midnight’s children’ are born on this or ‘the other side of midnight’;

Even if it is a wily woman lurking in the shadows, behind every shady deal is a sinister ‘middle-man’;

While one end devours and the other discards, the middle alone fights battle-of-the-bulge;

Facts: It is always the mid-riff which is reported bare on a bike; Middle names are lost like middle-ages; Medium-spicy always turns out to be low-bland, like mid-day meals;

Having lost youth’s charm, and lacking wisdom of the old, the misfit middle-aged try to be both, and land up in no man’s/woman’s land;

Caught in the middle, like pendulums they perpetually swing from end to end, as if caught between ‘goodbye’ and ‘I love you’;

The moment we mingle middle with class, we assign it to the mundane; sensing the mood, even Modi has abandoned it;

Glory is of the elder, love is with the younger, and leftovers of both for the mere middle;

The middle-of-the-road always gets it – hook from the ‘left’, hit from the ‘right’;

A hit is a hit, but it is amazing over the mid-wicket; Out is out, but it stumps when ball hits the middle;

The mean is never mean, the median adheres to the median, and the mode is always a model, yet the central tendency of being in the middle is scoffed at;

No one wants them (even though they have their advantages): middle seat in airlines, middle berth in trains, a puncture in the middle of the journey, a slap in the middle of the road; the notable exception being a fiendish fart in the middle of a politician’s lecture;

Even though it is the longest, you can’t raise the poor middle finger, lest you are booked for being illegal or immoral;

Whereas the mad flings with mids* or maidens cause the mid-air collisions, the ‘midsummer night’s dream’ becomes a midwinter nightmare for the jilted;

The middle-east today is so west, it has none of the middle and little of the east; And in that County why is it only Middlesex, even if no one is counting?;

Don’t come running to me with your mid-life crisis when I am in the middle of nowhere.  My signboard is succinct:

“Don’t disturb, I am in the middle of something” (read- I am enjoying ‘nothing’ more than I had enjoyed ‘anything’)

*weeds

Disclaimer: I have written this in good humour, not to ridicule anyone. I believe we can laugh at ourselves.

Pic: Gabriela Pala, pexels.com

girl in forest

Life Abbreviated !

Brevity is the soul of wit, but reduced to abbreviations aren’t we at our wits’ end?

Bitter or sweeter….communications are shorter n smaller. As they swarm all facets of our life, abbreviations, acronyms and initialisms confuse, confound and control, but there is no escape.

As men appropriate by playing GOLF (Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden), undaunted ladies have moved from FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) to JOMO (Joy of Missing Out).

In SOML (Story Of My Life), I am never IRL (Me In Real Life). As I DFTBA (Don’t Forget To Be Awesome) coz am 2H2H (Too Hot To Handle), LMK (Let Me Know) DAE (Does Anyone Else?)

Today none is CBGAILY (Caught Between Goodbye And I love You), and in the nano-second relationships it takes no time to traverse from  KMYF (Kiss Me You Fool) to BFK (Big Fat Kiss) to H&K (Hugs & Kisses) to KMA (Kiss My A..).

We are pinned to PINs, swindled at ATMs, and promise of WYSIWYG (What You See Is What You Get) doesn’t give what we see. CAA, NRC and NRP: Some insist AOA (All Of Above) and some shout NOTA (None Of The Above).

I am not JK (Just Kidding) when electronic mirth flows infinitely with LOL (Laughing Out Loud) and we are ROFL (Rolling On the Floor Laughing) and I end up LMAO (Laughing My Ass Off).

Rarely F2F (Face to Face), we are at our laconic best with HMU (Hit Me Up). BTW (By The Way), TIC (Tongue in Cheek) some say ASL (Age, Sex, Location) do not matter for YOLO (You Only Live Once), and so what if you are MIA (Missing in Action).

But not so long ago, the only beauties in mass circulation (whether AM or PM) were OK (which never was), RSVP (which no one followed) and PTO (which none did)    : )

P.S. Though politically incorrect, I suffer from RSS (Reverse Snobbery Syndrome) and now I put FUTAB (Feet Up n Take A Break).

Abbreviations

From Attachment to Attachments To Attachment to Detachments.

My good friend n cousin Lalita often cautions me about the perils of attachment.

Confession: Narcissist to the core, I am attached to myself, my body and its appendages. Am attached to amazing tendencies and hypocrisies (I practice what I hate in others and don’t what I preach). Am attached to my achievements (read failures) and failures (showcased as achievements). Am attached to fantastic fetishes and hilariously hideous habits (e.g. acting feline or admiring that imaginary dimple on my cheek).

Am attached to creatures which include some friends, few loved ones, fewer relatives, no Exs, and all animals & enemies. Am attached to the real which is unreal, and to the fake which is surreal. Am thus attached to myriad possibilities, prejudices and pretensions….the good, the bad, the ugly, and of course the beautiful Me.

To cut the crap, I am attached to the bad in me (which others like) and to the good in others (which I dislike).

And when I tried to shake off attachments, I became attached to detachment.  Try detaching and soon the detachment attaches you to its own attachments….passions of mind or obsessions of the heart.

I now wonder: I am attached to the attachments or the attachments are attached to me ? Am perplexed: I am attachedly detached or detachedly attached ? Ohhh Niru, whither Nirvana ?

IMG_20200113_214334_1

Fat Weddings, Slim Bodies and More.….

Let’s laugh at the antics (including our own) displayed in the weddings we attend:

Highlights in Lowlights: This misfortune befalls the well-heeled sooner or later….all dressed up, everywhere to go, and a heel breaks……all hell breaks loose. Many a slips show, and intentionally oblivious of the obvious, we pretend ignorance as the show must go on. Who wants to be branded as a spoilsport? And just when we are beginning to be intoxicated with the exotic smells emanating from the beauties, a silent killer scent from an unknown orifice makes us flee the scene in great haste. You present your best face to become the Facebook darling, but you are caught on camera at your worst with mouth agape full of saliva-mixed morsels, ketchup dripping down your chin, and eyes wide open with utter glee.…depicting you as Dracula in a horror movie.

Man vs Woman: Whereas men like me display narcissistic tendencies refusing to change their stripes, women exhibit abundant selfless love for self and selfies with pouting lips.

A Women Exclusive: Fatter the weddings…..slimmer the bodies, with slim turning into slimmer and slimmer vanishing into thin air.

Spirited Spiritual Men: And what with the clean-shaven, the moustached, the goateed and the bearded sneaking out to the openly secret watering hole… suddenly there is vacuum, as if balloon is emtied of half its gas….and we find famine of the masculine, only the feminine populating the pandals in powder pink and pale purple.

Love n Longing: Amidst tumultuous cacophony, some try to steal still moments. Setting out in canoes or sitting under canopies, they weave themes of their dreams. Hoping and hopping from event to event and changing attires but not the attitudes, they wink and hoodwink to keep the rendezvous.

Touching: Bride side or groom side…is besides the point; the unwanted are kept at arm’s length. And for the privileged ones, hugs are from far and back slapping is inflicted in measured manner, lest the wrinkles creep into clothes and conversations. Husky cries, coooes and croonings of …how are you….oh my…you look so good….where were you hiding all these years….. begin with vigorous air-kissing and culminate into even more vigorous air kissing and never-to-be-kept promises of “let’s keep in touch”. Touching indeed.

The last laugh: And the one, who like me did not have the misfortune of going to an English-medium school, has the last laugh pronouncing “am in the middle of bedding”, when a friend inquires about his whereabouts. Hilarious… definitely. Scandalous…may be. But scarce are scarlet cheeks… like onions these days.  : )

IMG_20191211_001046 (1)

My thoughts on Sashi Tharoor Words

In lighter vein !

There is brouhaha each time Sashi Tharoor throws an unpronounceable word at the unsuspecting public trying its sangfroid and causing psychosomatic symptoms and hallucinations of “wordly” pleasures, albeit vicarious. Without doubting his concinnity, one wonders whether the perpetuator of treppenwitz intends to flummox, or to ensorcell one and sundry with his borborygmus. Or  is it a case of subtle n sophisticated schadenfreude by playing with the sehnsucht  of gobemouche ?? Or, the idea is to discombobulate by gobbledegook ?? LOL !

IMG_20171019_204655