Taxes

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I get very disappointed with time lately. I have taken to putting on my disapproving grandma look as the tick tocking clock merrily ignores the grunts and mumbles passing under my breath.

Time reminds me a lot like my salary. It looks amazing on the whole – a full 24 hours a day! And then, whoosh! I am levied a tax of 33% towards sleep-related activities from birth. On top of it, I am taxed at the rate of 40% as duty towards my employer. In a matter of seconds, my disposable income is down to about 25% of what I earn as time. Out of 24 hours, I effectively have only 6 hours to do as I please.

Unlike my salary, I don’t get any hikes or increment. Neither do I get any paid leaves or bonuses or other benefits. No matter what insanely amazing activity I pull off in those remaining 6 hours, they remain the same. But again, like my salary if I avoid paying those taxes – one day it will come down on me for ignoring to put aside that required amount of time on those necessary activities such as employment, sleep and daily ablutions.

Taking a look at tax-saving schemes, different rules have been created for each and every one of us – nature has been thoughtfully generous in giving us the freedom to do our tax planning and does nothing more than rolling her eyes when we change the plan almost the moment it is made.

I have been given the option of multi-tasking so that I can focus a little more on say, self-learning or binge watching The Newsroom all over again. I can spend a part of those six hours coloring away at my book to simply drain out the toil of those hours spent at work. I have the option of staring at a sunrise on top of a hill which makes time itself transient and gives me hope that it is not too late yet. Walking with an old friend at night while giving up a part of my due to sleep tax is acceptable since it rests me more that any siesta in the world. Also, you can plan for retirement by not delaying the payment!

I have it in my hands to make full use of those six-seven hours left over and make them count so that their worth spills over and above the 24 hours. That is more than what any increment in my time can give me! And time has a tendency to make itself disappear if you give it a chance to. It is tired of flowing and running; it likes to sit on clouds and fish for stars as well. But its freedom depends on our freedom! We can help it by not worrying about the taxes due and instead focus on making the ones paid work. Unlike some governments, time truly wants to use the tax it collects for our enhancement.

I realize that I can make my taxes disappear by paying them wholeheartedly, because then they cease to be a duty and start looking like an investment with guaranteed returns! I just need to find the time to do that…

Lost in the Party!

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Source: http://www.gratisography.com/pictures/281_1.jpg

I was at a party last night. A party I gate crashed actually. I wasn’t invited even though everyone around me had received one of those glossy gold and blue invitation cards. I really wanted to be there, so I decided to cleverly make my way inside. I knew I deserved to be there and see all those people.

I fully expected to feel like a deer in headlights on my entrance; instead I was looked right through. No one noticed as I slipped between groups or deliberately bumped into them. There wasn’t even a polite smile directed my way. I had prepared some truly witty sentences that I could throw around and practiced my laugh at hundred times in front of the mirror (Remember, left profile is more flattering!). I wanted my troubles to finally pay off… and how dare not a single person acknowledge my presence. I was visible; I had double-checked my reflection.

Time to reveal a secret – I didn’t even know who was throwing the party. I barely knew the people there – two or five I guess. Don’t ask me anything beyond their names. But I had to be there! It was the crème de la crème! The numerous years I have spent in bylines have made me an expert at studying those upturned angles of the jaw. The delicate touch of fingers to mouth and elegant flick of an errant lock of hair from the eyes. The rich perfume that followed their steps – the luxuriant air of confidence and belonging. They thrive in that comfort and assurance; here they find a kinship that I have been craving and trying to cultivate.

This was my moment. It was time for me take the spotlight and make them notice me. I jumped into the very eye of the tornado and loudly announced my presence. My senses were on high alert to demonstrate my lines and gestures right on cue. Heard I was and seen I definitely was. I was also groped and tugged and pinched and pulled. Not that I felt anything. I had arrived and was basking in the moment. Did that cute guy just let out a loud guffaw over something I said? Oh my! Bring up a round of champagne please.

It was nearing dusk as I decided to make my excuses. I carefully matched my steps with other regular guests as we made our way towards the door. I happened to glance at the mirror and to my shock, I couldn’t find myself. I twisted and turned trying to find my reflection but it was not there. I asked someone if they could see me and they gave me a strange look as they replied “There is no you. There is only us now. Us!”

I didn’t understand and look! There was someone in the reflection who was wearing the same look of confusion. I realized it was my body. Just not the same one that had walked into the party. I could see a twisted arm, a forked tongue and glazed eyes. I saw faint rashes around my neck almost like a rope had been at it and a complicated knot weighing down my head. I was truly one of them – matching feature to feature. I was not me. I had left that me behind at the party probably cowering into a corner. I could see her at a distance, growing fainter in the rising sun and looking at me with grim accusation.

Until we never met again.

Blessed by a Monkey

Meet Coco - The persian cat who scratched me
Meet Coco – The persian cat who scratched me

The baby slept peacefully under the windows. Unnoticed by the adults in the next room, a monkey lightly padded in to sit quietly near the baby. Maybe a pat was stolen here or there. All was well. Until this lady came and took in the scene. And raised hell. The sanctity was broken. The monkey bounded out with one last look. The baby went back to sleep after stirring. Blessed by the monkey – the parents attribute all loony actions of their lovable daughter to that incident.

I think I turned out fine. That monkey probably just saw a lost kin in me. We bonded and shared a beautiful moment even if I have zero recollection. But then that’s me! Who does the dog chase? Who runs into a horse on the pavement? Whose nose does the crow slap five times? In whose room does the lizard make a home? In whose balcony does the cat hide? Yours truly! The blessing at work?

I guess that is why I talk with dogs. Bus-stop, building or bench – when a dog comes up, I start with my best bark and then proceed with words. I lecture on life, list the fruits I ate, boast about the consistency of my poop, wail about work, and even touch upon illiteracy. And they listen. I see pricking ears and solemn blinks as they look at me (or the sandwich I am wolfing down). A whine here and a shake there. Or they trot off if I bore them.

I love dogs! I could never have one, so I sought any dog I could find to play with. And remember aforementioned affinity? I have lost track of the number of times a stray has joined me on a stroll. Five minutes to fifty minutes! Once, this dog even let me remove a piece of wire latched on her (Not cats though. Only two kittens have followed me). Animals have their ways right? They somehow understand or at least attempt to make sense of our verbal and non-verbal cues. They reciprocate in manners we are too dumb to comprehend. They have a sixth sense about our feelings and often give their best head butt in support.

I remember when I was sitting at the neighbor’s feeling weepy. Out of nowhere, their cocker spaniel came running and jumped to hug me. And refused to leave my side. He just knew. Every single time. Once, I made an enemy of a cousin’s Persian cat. I was feeding the little rascal and he was acting pricey (obviously!). So I just went “No wonder I love dogs more!” and hey presto! Fierce scratches decorated my arm a second after the words came out. Oh, pro tip: Read a boring verse to nagging house lizards – they disappear in seconds!

We have all hear of these wonderful accounts what humans share with animals and these date back to centuries! Dogs, lions (Ah Christian!), horses and of course monkeys. Perhaps the entire animal kingdom out there has the capability of connecting with us. Maybe if we just stopped, listened and barked…

So now. Repeat after me… “Bow Wow!”


Share your moment of bonding with a big little fur ball – Animal lovers, animal haters, pet owners, lonely bachelors – whoever you are!

That Kind of Love

Source
Source

There is a kind of love where you burst fireworks and sing to your heart’s content.

There is a kind of love where you hold hands and slow dance on a deserted road.

There is a kind of love where you tuck into a quiet alcove with whispered dreams.

There is also a kind of love…

A kind that is surreal

Connected through the slightest flicker of the eyes

In the most fleeting touches

Tied by a wisp of gossamer thread

Where there is a familiar understanding even after years of separation.

A kind that is invisible but in the slightest curve of the lips.

The one you carefully lock in a dark corner of your soul,

Only to bring out as a guiding star in the pitch dark.

Your ray of sunshine on a rainy day.

It is the love that never was.

It is the love that never could be.

Yet, it is the love that got lost.


There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald

Not Nice

Image Take from RunEmz.com
Image from RunEmz.com

Whoever said “what goes around, comes around” is a big fat liar. And I am a bigger fatter fool to actually believe in it and live by that philosophy.

Some days go swimmingly with smiles and laughs and good spirits being exchanged. You like the people around you, there is some great bonding and then splat and bam! There is that one mango which decides to ruin it for everyone and the ideal first target is the girl who is nice. That’s me – the girl and not the mango. The mango is a reference to those people who I wish I could beat to a pulp instead of having to smile at.

I am not a door mat – that might be pushing it, but I am someone who needs to learn how to say no more frequently than I actually do. I like being nice to people even though my over-active imagination loves to take a spin in the woods and commit some brutal assassinations (I am great with killing scenarios if you need help). But yes, I am all talk. When it comes down to action I am a curled-up fluffy mouse who will probably try to accommodate your request even if it means trouble for myself.

Yes, that is the word I was searching for. I am accommodating and nice and it isn’t always nice. There have been countless incidents in the past ten years where I am fully aware that I am being taken for a ride or “exploited”. And I go along. I spend hours and days getting work done for other people while they enjoy and go shopping! I realize it but swallow those lumps building on my throat and keep doing. There are good reasons for it too at times – the recent one (and the same one that led to this rant) had a third guy who really needed help. It was just too bad the person actually responsible for him decided to sleep and let me do it – because he knows I will. Can I get any sadder than this?

And the rare moments I take off my halo and snap at them, they have the cheek to pass comments on how I should be more helpful – “jokingly” of course. A hundred “yes” lie forgotten against that one resounding “no”. The other nice people ask me to calm down and let it go. And I do… Because I cannot do anything else now. Can I?

So where is the justice? How can so many people free-ride and get away with so little trouble while idiots like me are left picking up their shit and running out of soap?

No more Miss Nice Girl. Time to smarten up, smirk and say no. Even though I know this conviction is going to last only for the next 18 minutes. But hey! Last time it lasted for 11 minutes so there is marked improvement!


Apologies for this haphazard write… Had to vent it out. Which end do you fall on? Or are you one of those lucky balanced ones?