A Wing And A Prayer

I read a rather disturbing book last year - We Need To Talk About Kevin. It wasn’t written poorly, but the story was horrifying. Not getting into the details of it, there’s one thing I particularly liked in it – the name of a travel company, A Wing and A Prayer. Initially, I had no clue what it meant but even then, I was fascinated with it. It was the only positive, hopeful thing in the entire book and I’m glad I Googled it up.

Here goes the story: during the World War 2, a plane is shot. It has lost one of its wings. The captain asks a clerk if he knows what happened to that plane and the clerk affirms that he does: it was shot and it is coming on a wing and a prayer.  

I can’t pinpoint what exactly I find so enthralling about this poem that was written about the incident. It’s just one of those things that are hard to explain. Normally, I’m not a big fan of poems because I believe I fail to grasp the poetic meaning, that deep emotional stuff that you literally need to decode like the teachers taught you in high school. I was never good at it. This poem, though, it’s pretty straightforward. It talks about struggles, hard ship, perseverance and faith. With one motor gone, we can still carry on.

It’s self-explanatory, thank God!

One of our planes was missing

Two hours overdue

One of our planes was missing

With all its gallant crew

The radio sets were humming

We waited for a word

Then a noise broke

Through the humming and this is what we heard

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

Though there's one motor gone

We can still carry on

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

What a show, what a fight, boys

We really hit our target for tonight

How we sing as we limp through the air

Look below, there's our field over there

With just one motor gone

We can still carry on

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

-        - Harold Adamson and Jimmie McHugh

Nailed It!

It never seemed a problem before. I thought I had it under control until I realized that I don’t. I can’t stopbiting my nails and it’s just sad because I’d like to grow them like any other sane girl. Clearly, sanity is not a virtue that I possess. So the long and short of it is I have no restraint and zero willpower.

It’s just another reminder of my indiscipline and lack of authority. When it comes to the matter of my nails, I’m most completely and absurdly neurotic, much like my untidiness, laziness, blabbering and eating patterns. On my way to perfection, these are the few obstacles that I need to overcome and then I’ll be good to go. If only I could be masochistic and apply some bitter tasting nail polish or worse, chilly on my nails. You know what? These are not the habits that you can overpower when you are as old as I am. This is the childhood stuff, which is now making me think that I missed a few steps back there. Did I?

So how did it start? Hmm… My brother used to do it, I must have picked up the habit from him. Did my family try to stop me? Well, yeah but I never listened to them or I wouldn't be writing this post, would I? So what can I do now? Live with it.

That’s settled. I bite my nails, it’s a blip, I hate it but what can we do, eh? I can’t stop myself so I’ll just carry on until I catch an infection and die of whatever it is that nail biting causes. Cancer?

Only problem is that I want to quit, I really do. I just don’t know how. A lot of people have advised me on the subject and honestly, I have tried those things. It doesn't work. Either my subconscious doesn't want me to quit or I’m too far gone. I’ll just wait to hit my rock bottom and then I’ll rise above like a shining angel. Guess now I know what an addiction is like!

I don’t mean to sound so dramatic about it but when I’m older (if I survive till then), I’d look back to these days and think to myself while biting my nails, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger!”

Because Reality Is Not Fiction

When a character invokes feelings in you, he has touched your heart. You want him to win every fight; you root for him and you are by his side even if he doesn’t know it. Of course he is just a character; you know it’s all fictitious; nothing that is happening on screen affects anyone in real. But you still switch on the television every night to see him and encourage him to bang the heads of all his archenemies. It’s not just a show once you start loving or hating someone, it becomes so much more.

For someone who gets bored of things very easily, I have watched my fair share of television series. Family dramas have always been a favorite with occasional detour to comedy and thriller. If given a choice, I’d still probably choose Brothers and Sisters over Modern Family. The story seemed so real (until it got batshit crazy) and each character had something to offer, even those who were dead contributed to the story. I have always believed that whenever a writer writes a story, he gives a part of himself to his characters – the good, the bad, the ugly, it all comes from the one who is trying to say something about himself. Gradually, he molds his representatives in a way that the audience wants to see him and sometimes, he does something bizarre and takes everyone by surprise. That’s the beauty of it – the twists and turns and the “OH NO!” moments.

Inspiration comes from within, as much as people around us. If I want to write something, I’d probably write about a girl (or desserts). I’d kill a lot of bad men in my story and I’m positive the girl will be the hero of my story, taking antagonists down singlehandedly, running them over and celebrating their deaths without any remorse. Good over evil, right? Even in fiction, I want to say something about my life, which I feel everyone does. Subconsciously, we leave traces of our story, dots that connect and on some level, we want people to see it, to find the clues and may be feel empowered. All we have to do is think of a story that keeps people on the edge of their seats with their nails in their mouth and thumping hearts. When you make that happen, then you can call yourself successful as a writer. I have seen one incredible woman who has done it and so beautifully, if I may add. Shonda Rhimes is one hell of a genius. Creator of Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice, she has moved people, literally. She made us laugh, she made us cry, she made us love her and hate her but we are still hooked to her story – we want to know what happens next, even if it is so bad that it will kill us!

This is something I’d like to hear when I write. Love me, hate me, just read my story and tell me you were gripped. I love clichés as much as I enjoy unpredictable twists in a plot. It’s the balancing act that I need to concentrate on, rest will come on its own. Or so I’m hoping.

One Tree Hill churned my wheels and reminded me why I find these shows so enchanting. Go, Lucas! Nathan is going down and so is his father!

Prisoners of the War of the Sexes

God made man first, Adam. Then He thought the man needed a companion so Eve was sent to Earth to keep him company. Repeatedly, God warned Adam never to eat the forbidden fruit, that it was out of bounds – everything was his save for that one thing but Eve broke that rule and they were subjected to a life’s worth of punishment. The burden of that punishment, they say, we are carrying till today because Eve ruined it for the rest of humanity. Not that I have ever cared.

I have always seen women as victims. She is the one subjugated in the society; she is dominated; she is oppressed, harassed, tormented, thumbed under. Then someone reminded me that it was foolish to think they were not victimized by the society, that they were probably better off. I am under no misconception, I know 1 out of 2 women face domestic violence; almost all women are subjected to harassment and assault at some point in their life; many face irreparable damage to their mind, body and souls. But does it really justify the way I look at men? I consider them all vultures, waiting to prey on poor girls. Every guy is a prospective rapist, wife beater or molester – I see monster in each of them. May be many of us do.

Recently, I read a fairly long blog post of a man describing what it was like for him to stay in a country where girls thought he was a threat, where he couldn’t even look at a girl without everyone thinking he was assaulting her. A man asked a random girl out and spent hours in jail. His crime was simply asking someone out who was not interested and possibly not in the right frame of mind. She complained to someone, called the cops, her husband and father beat the alleged monster up and he was behind bars before he could say anything in his defense. I will be the last person to defend a guy, being a sexist myself, but this even shocked me.

The question I was left thinking was - what is happening to us? He didn’t touch her. He didn’t say anything remotely offensive. Hell, he didn’t even ask her the reason why she turned him down. He saw her, he asked her out for coffee, she refused and he left without a word (that’s the story I know and I believe him). We need to protect women in our country but what about the men? Who will protect them from such incidents? Someone has to take responsibility and that someone has to be you, me and us!

Be assertive, eloquent and levelheaded; stand up for yourself; break bones of the man who touches you; speak up when you should but draw a line somewhere. The line between assault and mere expression of speech is not that blurred – you can clearly see the difference. It is time to take accountability for our actions. There is too much power in our hands so we need to use it well. I have encountered girls who would ask a middle-age to relinquish his seat for them just because it is their right on that seat. I have witnessed incidents where women have been domineering and outright indecent. Just because you have power, don’t abuse it. And yes, you do have power – it is power that sent that man to jail, it is power that police didn’t even hear what he had to say, it is power that can ruin someone’s life and career.

As it was said to Harry Potter, use it well.