Taking and/or making decisions
It’s hell; trying to take a decision. (Or, oh, make a decision, in case an American reads this). It’s not exactly ‘my’ problem… Many people seem to have difficulties with it. However, I take the liberty of presenting my take. First, truly wish that I just never had to reach that stage where I have to take (er. Eh, make) a decision. If only things could just flo…w... You know ;) If only decisions could just ‘get made’. But alas, for it’s not so
I usually have multiple choices available (Yeah, am fortunate :D), whether in terms of personal, or, professional life. So, recently, when I was faced with multiple choices, I got confused (typical), and decided to log on to net and see what literature is available on decision making tactics. Lo and behold, there’s abundance of material …
1. Use thy mind. Usually, with many choices available, no ONE decision is really the best. It’s more about quickly making up your mind without really being judgemental, and then targeting on the end-results.
2. Follow thy heart – Our heart ALWAYS says a thing that the rest of our self, from toe to head, denies. Listening to it can help in the decision making process, and smoothen the journey towards final scenario.
3. Lastly, if just nothing seems to be taking shape, taking a quick decision can aid much, for it will save on all – energy, time, resources, and, resources.
Further, I'll decide if I wanna wrte more :D
c ya!
Moments...
Boat
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Accepting yerself :) !!!
The following piece was written full 5 years back. Yet, posting. Enzoy! (if enjoyable :D)
Accepting Yourself
Recently, one of my very well known people, who is physically challenged, said, “I hate the word ‘handicap’! I really do”. The vehemence of the words got me thinking…
What exactly made him say that? As far as I know, the person in consideration is managing his affairs well, living life with a positive note in his head and can anytime boast of a cheerful disposition. But, the above mentioned line showed his frustration more than his acceptance of himself.
I often face questions about my handicap. Frankly speaking, it never upsets me. Rather, I love talking about it. It assures me that the person I am talking with, is, not affected in any way by my handicap and can think of it in a casual way. He/she can question me about my challenge in the same way, as he/she would discuss politics.
In fact, is not each human challenged in one way or the other? My best friend is too conscious of her looks, my uncle is too scared of public-speaking, my teacher wears spectacles…these people, too, are disadvantaged in certain ways, and….these people, too are challenged in certain ways. But it doesn’t affect their daily routines. We all have our own set of ‘positives’ and ‘negatives’, and when we show irritation for one of these, we show unacceptability of our own-self.
I once read somewhere – You can never hate a person; unless you see in him, a tiny reflection of yourself. What it means, is that every negative feeling arises out of your own insecurity…not because the circumstances justify it.
One day, my father said to me. “Except your handicap, I am proud of you, Reema”. Immediately I said, “Dad, My disability and myself are available in a package deal. So, please, either you like me WITH it, or just don’t like me”.
Earlier, I used to get very annoyed when somebody showed ‘sympathy’. The word itself would produce a scowl on my face. Slowly, I learnt that this is how people are taught to react; when they see someone, who, according to them is less happy than themselves. It’s not their fault. Or maybe they just don’t know what to say; and to avoid sounding rude, they start sympathizing. Now, whenever I meet such a person, I use his/her ‘sympathy’ to motivate me to reach that level where the same person would draw inspiration from me.
One Saturday, my friend was staying with me for the night; and, as usual, we started chatting. She is a wonderful person. We talk of everything under the sun, but, somehow, never about my disability. That day, we decided to tell what we feel about each other. About me she said “You are a perfect person, with a lot of qualities. But destiny has given you one drawback.” In a fraction of a second, all my drawbacks, like ‘short height’, ‘laziness’, ‘day-dreaming’, etc came to my mind. She sighed, and further added “But, it is not your fault, and you can’t help it. And then, no one really is perfect.” Then, I realized she was talking about my disability. For sometime, I was quite amazed that she thought of it as a ‘drawback’, as an ‘imperfection’. It had, to be frank, hurt me…because I used to think that my friends respect me for the way I handle my challenge. It never occurred to me that they think of it as something lacking in me.
Slowly, I realized, people have their own set of problems. They won’t waste time sitting and thinking how well you manage yours. Every challenge in life is YOUR own challenge. It’s a general tendency to think of disability as a big ‘curse’, as something that makes people less happy. This, too, is ‘their’ problem, not ours.
Humans, by default, adapt themselves to everything in the best possible way. People have their problems to solve, you have your own and I have my own….so I yeah, I am challenged, yeah I am handicapped. I agree it does pinch a little bit when my friend is pulled off to dance floor in a party while I am left sitting on a chair to dance ‘mentally’…but when he comes back dazed and says ‘I think everyone there was making fun of me’, I can’t help laughing to myself. And when he doesn’t say that, well, it’s always fun watching a good dance…especially when you realize how fortunate you are to be a part of the party.
Just surround yourself with optimistic people and keep yourself productively occupied. :)
You are as happy as you decide to be.
Accepting Yourself
Recently, one of my very well known people, who is physically challenged, said, “I hate the word ‘handicap’! I really do”. The vehemence of the words got me thinking…
What exactly made him say that? As far as I know, the person in consideration is managing his affairs well, living life with a positive note in his head and can anytime boast of a cheerful disposition. But, the above mentioned line showed his frustration more than his acceptance of himself.
I often face questions about my handicap. Frankly speaking, it never upsets me. Rather, I love talking about it. It assures me that the person I am talking with, is, not affected in any way by my handicap and can think of it in a casual way. He/she can question me about my challenge in the same way, as he/she would discuss politics.
In fact, is not each human challenged in one way or the other? My best friend is too conscious of her looks, my uncle is too scared of public-speaking, my teacher wears spectacles…these people, too, are disadvantaged in certain ways, and….these people, too are challenged in certain ways. But it doesn’t affect their daily routines. We all have our own set of ‘positives’ and ‘negatives’, and when we show irritation for one of these, we show unacceptability of our own-self.
I once read somewhere – You can never hate a person; unless you see in him, a tiny reflection of yourself. What it means, is that every negative feeling arises out of your own insecurity…not because the circumstances justify it.
One day, my father said to me. “Except your handicap, I am proud of you, Reema”. Immediately I said, “Dad, My disability and myself are available in a package deal. So, please, either you like me WITH it, or just don’t like me”.
Earlier, I used to get very annoyed when somebody showed ‘sympathy’. The word itself would produce a scowl on my face. Slowly, I learnt that this is how people are taught to react; when they see someone, who, according to them is less happy than themselves. It’s not their fault. Or maybe they just don’t know what to say; and to avoid sounding rude, they start sympathizing. Now, whenever I meet such a person, I use his/her ‘sympathy’ to motivate me to reach that level where the same person would draw inspiration from me.
One Saturday, my friend was staying with me for the night; and, as usual, we started chatting. She is a wonderful person. We talk of everything under the sun, but, somehow, never about my disability. That day, we decided to tell what we feel about each other. About me she said “You are a perfect person, with a lot of qualities. But destiny has given you one drawback.” In a fraction of a second, all my drawbacks, like ‘short height’, ‘laziness’, ‘day-dreaming’, etc came to my mind. She sighed, and further added “But, it is not your fault, and you can’t help it. And then, no one really is perfect.” Then, I realized she was talking about my disability. For sometime, I was quite amazed that she thought of it as a ‘drawback’, as an ‘imperfection’. It had, to be frank, hurt me…because I used to think that my friends respect me for the way I handle my challenge. It never occurred to me that they think of it as something lacking in me.
Slowly, I realized, people have their own set of problems. They won’t waste time sitting and thinking how well you manage yours. Every challenge in life is YOUR own challenge. It’s a general tendency to think of disability as a big ‘curse’, as something that makes people less happy. This, too, is ‘their’ problem, not ours.
Humans, by default, adapt themselves to everything in the best possible way. People have their problems to solve, you have your own and I have my own….so I yeah, I am challenged, yeah I am handicapped. I agree it does pinch a little bit when my friend is pulled off to dance floor in a party while I am left sitting on a chair to dance ‘mentally’…but when he comes back dazed and says ‘I think everyone there was making fun of me’, I can’t help laughing to myself. And when he doesn’t say that, well, it’s always fun watching a good dance…especially when you realize how fortunate you are to be a part of the party.
Just surround yourself with optimistic people and keep yourself productively occupied. :)
You are as happy as you decide to be.
All that Ends Well
Anita sat in the park. With her hair let lose, wind gushing, and leaves rustling, she began thinking about the pretty white dress she would get on her birthday. Ankush had promised her. “Wear it for me as soon as give it to you”, he had said.
Pratap peeped from behind the tree. He had liked Anita ever since he had moved into the new neighbourhood. Pretty eyes, long brown hair, and nasal voice, she seemed God-sent to him. However, an extremely shy guy, he never had the guts to ask her out. Also, he never knew she had a boyfriend.
“Happy birthday, Anita!” her mother wished her next morning. “You have a visitor”. Rubbing her eyes, Anita looked up. Pratap grinned at her, a bouquet of red roses held in his hands. She rubbed harder… no she wasn’t visualizing things. The skinny boy was indeed standing there.
“Toad of that boy!” she mulled over it in front of Raksha, her best friend. “And worse off that mom was impressed. Another hassle before I talk about Ankush to mom-dad …!” she cribbed. Raksha could only listen. She was visiting Anita for her birthday, but, the birthday girl was upset. She put her arm around Anita and asked her to take it easy.
I don’t like him, mom! Anita’s heart shrieked, while her mom sang Pratap’s praises in front of her dad. They were taking dinner. Ankush had visited in the evening; Anita’s mother hadn’t been elated, but, father had treated him kindly. However, the topic of discussion at dinner table was Pratap. Pratap a.k.a. Mr. decent Anita cringed inside.
Days were going by quickly. Anita was looking for an opportunity to talk about Ankush. The moment presented itself three months later. They were at a hill resort for vacation and Anita’s father brought up a ‘rishta’ that had come for her.
“It’s from Kaathmandu…” he began.
“Dad” she stopped him. “What do you think about Ankush?”
“Just because you are wearing his gifted dress today doesn’t mean you have to marry him” her father joked.
Laughing, she stroked the plaits of her dress. “I…” she was about to voice her love, when, “I find him weird” her mother chirped in.
The same evening Ankush called. “Mom is not ready, Anky” Anita sounded low. “She seems to have made some misjudgement about you”.
“Hmmmmm. I have to enter her good books” he spoke carefully.
“What activities does she enjoy the most?”
“Movies, shopping and Rafi’s songs (???)” Anita felt confused.
“As soon as you come back, I am going to enchant her.”
Well into the process upon his beloved’s return, Ankush invited Anita’s mother for a movie. Surprised and pleased, she agreed. Over the next few days, she had been to most shopping arenas and had bought multiple Rafi records. Ankush was enjoying his calibre. Pratap, meanwhile, had taken a back seat in mother’s scheme of things.
Anita was absolutely thrilled… Till the time she received a letter.
Anita
I couldn’t speak to you in person, even upon repeated trials. So, I write to you. I really like you; in fact, I think of you all the time. It has been eight months that I moved into your neighbourhood, and each day I wait to catch your glimpse. I won’t take long asking directly, do you think we can get together?
What do you think of me?
Pratap
“Toad! He wrote me this…” Anita read out the letter to Ankush.
“The language sounds familiar” he sounded thoughtful.
Seeing the letter, Ankush couldn’t misplace the writer. “It’s Tappy! He is my childhood friend; we were the best of pals!”
Anita hit her forehead.
Ankush immediately called over Pratap. He was only too eager to visit.
“Ankush!”
“Tappy!”
Hug.
Anita smiled, her eyebrows raised up.
“Toadie…? Our best man…? Life is unpredictable, Raksha” Anita spoke. She was getting dressed for her wedding. Raksha nodded, straightening her friend’s hair. As they walked towards Ankush, standing tall in his white dress, and guests looked on lovingly, Raksha blurted out, “Pat!” Pratap was standing right next to Ankush. Grinning ear to ear, he looked at Raksha. Anita swallowed the lump arisen in her throat.
Raksha and Pratap made the best couple at dancing floor. “We had dated for sometime in college…” they shared with friends later.
“All’s well that ends well” Anita laughed, looking at Ankush. They were packing for their honeymoon in Kaathmaandu. Raksha and Pratap’s wedding card lay on the mantle.
Pratap peeped from behind the tree. He had liked Anita ever since he had moved into the new neighbourhood. Pretty eyes, long brown hair, and nasal voice, she seemed God-sent to him. However, an extremely shy guy, he never had the guts to ask her out. Also, he never knew she had a boyfriend.
“Happy birthday, Anita!” her mother wished her next morning. “You have a visitor”. Rubbing her eyes, Anita looked up. Pratap grinned at her, a bouquet of red roses held in his hands. She rubbed harder… no she wasn’t visualizing things. The skinny boy was indeed standing there.
“Toad of that boy!” she mulled over it in front of Raksha, her best friend. “And worse off that mom was impressed. Another hassle before I talk about Ankush to mom-dad …!” she cribbed. Raksha could only listen. She was visiting Anita for her birthday, but, the birthday girl was upset. She put her arm around Anita and asked her to take it easy.
I don’t like him, mom! Anita’s heart shrieked, while her mom sang Pratap’s praises in front of her dad. They were taking dinner. Ankush had visited in the evening; Anita’s mother hadn’t been elated, but, father had treated him kindly. However, the topic of discussion at dinner table was Pratap. Pratap a.k.a. Mr. decent Anita cringed inside.
Days were going by quickly. Anita was looking for an opportunity to talk about Ankush. The moment presented itself three months later. They were at a hill resort for vacation and Anita’s father brought up a ‘rishta’ that had come for her.
“It’s from Kaathmandu…” he began.
“Dad” she stopped him. “What do you think about Ankush?”
“Just because you are wearing his gifted dress today doesn’t mean you have to marry him” her father joked.
Laughing, she stroked the plaits of her dress. “I…” she was about to voice her love, when, “I find him weird” her mother chirped in.
The same evening Ankush called. “Mom is not ready, Anky” Anita sounded low. “She seems to have made some misjudgement about you”.
“Hmmmmm. I have to enter her good books” he spoke carefully.
“What activities does she enjoy the most?”
“Movies, shopping and Rafi’s songs (???)” Anita felt confused.
“As soon as you come back, I am going to enchant her.”
Well into the process upon his beloved’s return, Ankush invited Anita’s mother for a movie. Surprised and pleased, she agreed. Over the next few days, she had been to most shopping arenas and had bought multiple Rafi records. Ankush was enjoying his calibre. Pratap, meanwhile, had taken a back seat in mother’s scheme of things.
Anita was absolutely thrilled… Till the time she received a letter.
Anita
I couldn’t speak to you in person, even upon repeated trials. So, I write to you. I really like you; in fact, I think of you all the time. It has been eight months that I moved into your neighbourhood, and each day I wait to catch your glimpse. I won’t take long asking directly, do you think we can get together?
What do you think of me?
Pratap
“Toad! He wrote me this…” Anita read out the letter to Ankush.
“The language sounds familiar” he sounded thoughtful.
Seeing the letter, Ankush couldn’t misplace the writer. “It’s Tappy! He is my childhood friend; we were the best of pals!”
Anita hit her forehead.
Ankush immediately called over Pratap. He was only too eager to visit.
“Ankush!”
“Tappy!”
Hug.
Anita smiled, her eyebrows raised up.
“Toadie…? Our best man…? Life is unpredictable, Raksha” Anita spoke. She was getting dressed for her wedding. Raksha nodded, straightening her friend’s hair. As they walked towards Ankush, standing tall in his white dress, and guests looked on lovingly, Raksha blurted out, “Pat!” Pratap was standing right next to Ankush. Grinning ear to ear, he looked at Raksha. Anita swallowed the lump arisen in her throat.
Raksha and Pratap made the best couple at dancing floor. “We had dated for sometime in college…” they shared with friends later.
“All’s well that ends well” Anita laughed, looking at Ankush. They were packing for their honeymoon in Kaathmaandu. Raksha and Pratap’s wedding card lay on the mantle.
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