DEAR APARTMENT

Dear Apartment,

On a bustling working day in early December amidst the usual mad rush, I remember receiving a frenetic call from my parents. The pitch was feverish… like they had struck gold. Vaibi and me dropped everything and rushed to see what they had stumbled upon. It was YOU. Our first encounter was like a testament of serendipity. YOU happened to us and reaffirmed our faith in the way things work out, especially with us -- at their own time…when we are least aware. Suo Tempore …right? Just when we were dismissing the idea of buying a house in Mumbai as a pipe dream, you showed up in our life and we at your doorstep.

It was not the bait of ‘NO DOWNPAYMENT, NO BLACK MONEY, 24 HOURS PANI’ that compelled us as much as this feeling that came over me when I sized you up…it was a faint surge of anticipation like something good was happening but was not immediately apparent. Something about you in this unfamiliar place made me feel rooted.

And then…You had me at the big airy balcony. Outside, a gentle breeze ruffled the leaves of a towering tree and a canopy of the bluest sky stretched endlessly across my vision. I had claimed my corner. When I took in the whole of you from there, you looked like a puppy with heart melting brown eyes, begging me to take you home. And then just like that I felt at home.

Other than that you were a nester’s nightmare. (Ya…Ya….I owe it to you --- the discovery that I am a secret nester. I confess that I like to build a cozy home---a house that reeks of me -- full of things that make me happy.) At the risk of sounding redundant, you were a nightmare – a mesh of naked wires, mutilated walls patched up with garish images of Hindu Gods and Goddesses, ill-fitted doors and ugly bulky wall to wall furniture that clamored for space. I wanted to uncover every nook that you embraced…explore every irrepressible story that every square inch of you was dying to tell. And I agree that in the process a torrent of atrocities was unleashed. The iron grills that separated you from the perfect blue-grey celestial stretch overhead were done away with, so I could lie in your lap and tickle the sky’s belly with my toe. We got you high on turpentine and then when you drifted out of sweet slumber you saw that you were stripped of everything you hid behind. Unnecessary walls that tried to rein in your unbridled verve came down and you were dressed in shades of turquoise and gold. You weaved almost all the possibilities I imagined in your canvas. As I reinvented you, you made me come alive in more ways than one. There you were - elegant and vulnerable – slowly becoming mine!

We gloated with pride. We were objects of envy and admiration. You – ‘OUR FIRST HOUSE – IN OUR VERY OWN NAMES’ conferred upon us this rare sense of accomplishment. It was with you that we brought in these rollicking sublime years of adulthood. Then Mortgage Mountains threatened to crush our spirit…

There were days when I wanted to get into bed, put the blanket over my head and imagine that I’ve disappeared from the world. Days when I wanted to BE and didn’t want to BECOME. At such times, you insulated me from things that got to me. Coming ‘home’ to you from anywhere else strangely made everything alright. When sunshine came in timidly in the morning and all would be quiet except the birdsong, you would allow us a glimpse of life in its barest simplicity. I can never forget the warm burnished yellow glow you sprinkled on me as I savoured my morning cuppa.


We
Cooked (I could swear that you wished you were human when the smell of prawns curry wafted out of our kitchen)
cleaned
fought
made up
made out
danced
laughed
learned
cheered
reminisced
Got drunk, Got creative, Got inspired
Had Brainwaves
Had the most stimulating conversations
Faded into quiet cuddly moments
And made friends for life ---

All this…right here, with reckless abandon

Though these last 6 months have been all about work, slogging it out within your expanse made everything easier. Remember how I subjected you to my long dreary monologues. Sitting alone with you in my dark moments, my solitude would be peopled at once.

We took our first steps towards our dreams in your arms – Galleon Technologies and Dipti K Ideas were conceived here. All this flattery must bloat your head…huh? Did I hear you say --- BRING IT ON! Okay then…There’s more. There’s a lilting rhythm to you. One of those nights when I wept, I could almost hear you sing to me --- …“Slow down you're doing fine. You can't be everything you want to be…Before your time.” It was during one of these random rants, you reconciled me to myself. I understood that even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to live outside my passions...You pushed me to seize life by the lapel saying, 'You don't need a safety net...You'll figure this out."

When I did get in touch with ME, I had to accept that I am quite a GYPSY at heart.

We have to go. I hope you understand.

Thanks
for loving us back,
for housing our hopes, fears and dreams but above all
for the gift of perspective.

P.S. I ripped you open – layer by layer --- till you could see all you could be. It was exhilarating and equally exhausting. Don’t go back to your old ways…Don’t allow anyone to bring the blinds down on your bright soul.

One of these days...

It’s been a while since….
I squished a juicy strawberry
Since… I Observed a Dragonfly with its own little halo made of light glinting off its jeweled wings
Since I Smiled at the funny gait of a wrinkled, cuddly elephant
Since I Indulged in candy-flavoured hues
Since I Thought of traveling across the world with a close companion, a camera, some cash and comfy clothes
Since I Felt this Heart-warming, glow-causing, lightness-inducing happiness
Since I Walked on Deserted roads lit with warm yellow lamps
Since I Witnessed a beautiful sunset… Few things must be as beautiful as a mellow colored sunset spent floating on water under the cold open sky
Since I Cried tears that satiated….tears out of being overwhelmed
Since I Read a great poem…that haunted me long after I read it
Since I Thought of ways to pep up my desk at work
Since I Curled up with a book in one of the warm welcoming cafes with the smell of freshly roasted coffee
It’s been a while since I squealed with delight
….Skipped down the street and ran against the wind
….Painted my toe nails
The simple life as we knew seems to beckon me !!!

I'm home :)

At the onset ..I apologise for vanishing without a trace..and Im not going to plunge headlong into what I have been doing for the past one year(not yet)..Thats cos I'm eager to post something that i dug out of the deep recesses of my inbox ( the stuff i indulge in and mail myself during office hours to record some of my insane moments)

I hear the distant voices 
calling out my name.
My body wakes to the sound 
of a life that I long to live.
The sheets slip by my waist,
and the world glimpses my pain.
The sun wants to shine 
his way to my bedroom;
I shy away 
behind the strands of my hair.
I tell him wait a lil longer;
let me sleep away today.
The blades of the ceiling fan
cut through my thoughts
The smell of a laid back morning 
cradles me in the womb of my bed.
And in my heart I hear the beat-
I am a phase,I live a dream
I long to love and live for real

P.S. I'm home :)

Cleaning up my closet

I rearranged the contents of my cupboard today….it had begun to mirror my mind…cluttered with thoughts. It’s almost like detoxification..I got rid of quite a few of my keepsakes that failed to serve their purpose and the exercise gave some semblance of order to my immediate outer space, which I hoped would seep inside….

Most of the things that I managed to unearth were reminders of a life that could have been, memorials of promises I had made to myself…. unrequited prayers and thankfully so. I also found quite a few things that I had forgotten were in my possession.. books and wisps of paper on which I had written my spontaneous thoughts, scraps of paper that once adorned my soft board….

Few of the things I managed to scavenge are worth mentioning:

1) Hand-written last statement of Timothy, executed for the Oklahoma bombing …

Out of the night that covers me

Black as the Pit from pole to pole

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul

In the fell clutch of circumstances

I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeoning of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate

How charged with punishments the scroll

I am the master of my fate

I am the captain of my soul.

2) A tattered dress that my first doll once wore, which reminded me of my many ‘firsts’ – My first stereo system, my first day at college, my first job, my first salary, my first poem, my first ‘mini skirt’, my first prom dance…

3) Withered flowers and leaves

4) My cartoon sketch gifted by my school friend – a rendition of what my future self would look like…

5) Some handmade cards given by friends (I’ve been out of touch with) promising to be my friends forever

6) My English Composition and grammar book – with essays of prophecies of what I would be when I grow up

Apart from the archaic therapeutic ways like cleaning up, getting a haircut, comfort food…. and some other mood elevating stuff…I was contemplating about what works for me.

a) Finding a quiet comfortable corner.. settling in the bean bag and soliloquizing

b) Surreal conversations and coffee

c) Sifting through old pictures and revisiting good old memories at my own pace…

d) Sepia tone pictures complemented with Rumi poems

e) Writing poems and testimonials for friends…

f) Smelling my grandmom’s sarees

g) Dressing up…having a drink with a friend …trying out a new cuisine

h) Imli and star fruit

i) movies - especially world cinema - I'm a hardcore cinema enthusiast.

j) Stick ice-creams

k) Crazy Photo sessions in diverse lights and ambience

l) Long drives and retro music…vast stretches where the crisp air can be best appreciated through windows of a car

m) Sumptuous upbeat colours — aquatic blues, bottle green, passionate red, burnished gold and elegant jade…floral prints..polka dots….

n) Screaming in a giant wheel

o) Sitcoms

p) Children’s literature with pictures of dwarfs, cosy pink and blue houses perched on snow clad mountains, Tinker Bell, Winnie the Pooh, pretty tea sets, poppies, exotic fruits…

q) Calvin and Hobbes – my all time favourite

r) Talking to kids – because essentially basic is how we live. We can take inspiration from children in countless cases – They don’t incessantly judge themselves – they plunge headlong into activities – they don’t care about how they look whent they’re dancing – they shake their bodies when they hear their favourite songs – they are comfortable with their own bodies. I love practicing Madhuri’s moves in the privacy of my bedroom – and it really helps especially with dupattas!! Crooning into a hairbrush works even better for me – not being your prevalent critic allows stress levels to nose-dive. I also very unabashedly accept that having an invisible friend was a form of self-therapy for me for a long time as a kid. I think one can be more adjusted with one…since the idea of soemone who knows you as intimately as an invisible friend always comforted me.

s) Magical realism - It is an artistic genre wherein magical elements appear in an otherwise realistic natural setting – an altered reality. It operates in different realms of fiction, visual art, films. Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s stories or the film ‘The Lakehouse’ are a perfect example of magical realism. My most serious problem like Marquez was destroying the lines of demarcation that separates what seems real from what seems fantastic .

t) The sea is my best friend – my confidant – Walking by the sea…sinking my feet in the sand and watching the water recede from my toes…the sound of the sea… thunderous and soothing at the same time..waves of white froth and azure crashing…like thousand silver bells and ribbons jingling and unfolding..It is easy to project with the sea – to see in it what we want to see – a roaring monster or a vast expanse imbibing your secrets in its enormity

u) Reading travel magazines especially Pico Iyer….The idea of having a home which is both invisible and portable has always captured my imagination.

v) Wearing Orchids in my hair

w) In case of Monday blues – planning something special for Monday. This way I have something to look forward to all through the day – its like working towards a reward

x) Gazing at Vincent’s paintings for their arbitrary forceful strokes or at Monet’s depiction of the countryside of Giverny and water lilies till I become a part of the landscape staring at me. What I love about water – ponds, lakes or seas is the fact that they mirror the changing sky, which in turn imbues the waters with movement and life. It’s easy to seek in art an adventure that we cannot sustain in real life.

y) Walk through parts of the city that I haven't been to earlier during the early hours with my music and having a hearty breakfast after that.

I guess I’m a positive pessimist. I like to turn the inevitable occassional negativity into a splendid affair.

Can I live my life a million times over? A different tale, each time?

F Scott Fitzgerald's ' The Great Gatsby' will always remain somewhere at the peak of my list of favourites for its scintillating language and sarcasm.

I couldnt identify with the author more when he says - I'm inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me a victim of not a few veteran bores.

Unsought confidences would vex me earlier since I have never really perceived the role of an agony aunt as a desirable one but being privy to the secret griefs of unknown and known people did exhilarate me in a certain way. I was the keeper of stories - that’s how I preferred to look at it.

I always had a deep yearning for stepping out of my own skin to inhabit other worlds.

Books then were the best mode of transport that helped me glide to different places ..places unheard of ..places that have probably never existed. It is easy to travel back and forth between covers. Books have allowed me to take on new identities, explore new places and assume different roles. When it comes to a story, I could wish, I could write it down and I could have the world. You write the world castle and it conjures up one. The idea of love could be achieved with a single idea –a ‘glance’ - “his luminous eyes fleetingly held mine and my heart stuttered at the thought of him…his walnut brown eyes shaded by fanned lashes met mine…”. Words can sometimes help you invoke images more articulate and evocative than tangible objects. I always wondered what was the central cohesive element that propelled me towards books, pictures, films or peoples lives - 'STORIES'. Each one of them tells a story.

A few days back I came across a picture in the newspaper. It spoke volumes in a silent sort of way amid all the cacophony over whether Salman Khan deserved the sentence that was handed out to him for killing antelopes of the endangered species. It was a picture of a woman from the bishnoi community hailing from a small pocket of Jodhpur. It was a telling picture of the woman breast-feeding a black buck fawn. Therein lied a huge story of compassion, of reverence. A blackbuck fawn was injured by poachers, who wanted to make away with it in their jeep. The Bishnois rescued it and the fawn, which was only a few days old, was brought home by a young man. His wife who had borne him a child only few a days ago felt really moved by the plight of the fawn. She breast-fed the fawn along with her own son and both of them would sleep with her on the same bed. The fawn grew up and when it was able to fend for itself, they released it in the forest. It kept on visiting its foster mother and the house it grew up in even after attaining adulthood. The prominence of stories in the life of a journalist can never be exaggerated. One of the spin-off benefits of being a journalist is the opportunity to catch up with people, who unwittingly teach you a lot about yourself. Vicarious learning is one form of learning that we tend to discount but people’s lives and their eccentric dreams can be your classroom.

Imagination can be your vehicle. Fantasy sometimes can provide an ideal excuse to tell the truth about the quirky quality of human existence. Stories can miniaturize the vast space in the expanse of my mind.

Fortuity smiled upon me and my job allowed me the chance to meet P Sainath, the Magsaysay, Asia's leading development journalist - a term he himself avoids - writing frequently about issues such as poverty and the effects of industrialization on India. He is the 2007 winner of the Ramon Magsaysay award for journalism, literature and creative communication arts. A very pertinent observation that he made was that a lot of what we call journalism today is stenography to the powerful. We are stenographers to power. We basically reflect what the establishment reflects.

Media is in the business of implicit consensus…the focus of each medium is to dwell on what the competitor has covered and not to concentrate on something that probably all the media had overlooked. The most important function of journalism is to bend it back to whence it sprang- to the lives of common people.

In 1992, many poor peasants from Thane, mainly adivasis, marched into Mumbai in protest, with their starving children and they congregated near the Stock Market. That day, the Sensex touched an all time-high of 2,000. The press churned the staple photograph with an obvious caption: "Farmers Demand Remunerative prices". Actually, those farmers were saying something else. They were saying the devastation inflicted on the public distribution system was hurting them, the collapsing public health system was endangering their lives and that they could not afford the new costs being inflicted on them at a time when spending on the poor was being slashed. Their march ended at the Stock Exchange but we were too busy monitoring the Sensex to notice the protesters on the ground. Two weeks later, 29 children had died of hunger-related problems in Thane.

Then of course, the press disparaged the Government; there were big stories that exposed the government's public distribution system. It was a failure though of the media to have missed the huge story of the crumbling public distribution system earlier. He was queried in terms of what was the best way to sell such a story to your editor in the age where news content is driven by TRP ratings. His answer to this pertinent question is something that will always guide me throughout my career as a journalist. He said --Don’t state statistics…tell the story that lies beneath. He gave an example of how one of the ‘Lakme Fashion week’ events coincided with the high incidence of suicides of Vidarbha farmers. Statistics in terms of the abysmal ratio of reporters covering the plight of these farmers to the number of those covering the ‘Lakme Fashion week’ pointed towards the story which was screaming to be told….but we obviously missed it…we missed the juxtaposition. We missed the juxtaposition of the buoyant emergent superpower of a country that India is touted as with the country, where the dominant population consists of toiling agriculturists…farmers. The irony was that the models strutting at the Lake Fashion week were displaying cotton wear…and the Vidharbha farmers who were killing themselves were cotton farmers.

Paradoxes make the best stories… the magic of conflict….as I love to call it. Tell it like it is and the irony will work its charm lending a luminescence to a poignant story.

To digress a bit, I would love to mention one of my friends who has been among the ones who has been feeding my passion..whose many observations and points of views have been a source of redemption for me and whose friendship will always be a sort of emancipation for me….and I stand by the testimonial I wrote for her on Orkut…she tunes into the secret hopes and dreams of people…including mine..and verbalises some of the most inexplicable feelings – Indira.

She kindly parted with a few of her favourite lines from Tarun Tejpal’s “Alchemy of Desire”.. which broke the spell of my mental block and urged me to write this blog after a space of about three months. Here are those lines.

"More than anyone else, it is lovers who need the gift of the story. They need to tell stories to each other continually to keep themselves from disappearing.

Passionate love has nothing to do with any obvious attributes of the lover - class, intellect, looks, character. It has everything to do with the stories the lover can tell.

When the stories are stirring, complex, profound - like great fiction they need never be crudely true - then so is the love. When the stories are thin - their grammar sloppy, their life-force weak, their plot tawdry - then so is the love.

The stories lovers tell each other are tales about themselves, their past, their future, their uniqueness, their inevitability, their invincibility. Stories about their dreams, fantasies, the nooks and crannies of their fears and perversions. Those who can tell their stories with power create powerful love. Those who cant, never know the emotion.

Love is the story - the wine in the bottle. The teller is merely the bottle, of some significance only till the wine is tasted. Grand bottles die on the shelf if the wine fails - if the stories flounder.

We all know beautiful people who have never known love.

Like great fiction, the stories lovers tell each other can be about anything and can be told in any tone. They can have the exuberance of Dickens of be spare like Hemingway; they can teem as Joyce or confound as Kafka; they can be mad as Lewis Carroll or sad as Thomas Hardy. They can be anything - grim, comic, philosophic, loony. But they must be true.

In the peculiarly false way great fictions are true.
In the peculiarly false way great love is true."

-This is one of the most convincing explanations of love I’ve read by far.

One word probably to describe me is someone who is perpetually questing. I have always ruminated about the one passion that defines me, gives us a name other than the one my parents gave me, one space that I can call my own, one activity that I can claim to know everything about, one identity besides the one everyone knows me by….and I wish I’m known someday for the stories that I tell .. stories that I’ve heard and recounted.

So much to take, so much to give
Before I leave, a million lives to live.

put the responsibility of your happiness where it belongs…with you

What is the difference between saying “I feel hurt” rather than saying “You hurt me”. When you say the former…you are not blaming or attacking your partner. You are simply providing information. When one person expresses his or her feelings, they provide information to another. All we can do is provide information to another person. The rest is up to them. Thus, the more we value a person or a relationship, not only the more interested we are in their feelings, but the more likely we are to make changes voluntarily, without feeling forced, or coerced. Part of the value of clearly identifying your feelings, if not the primary value, is to help you decide when it is time for you to make a change. This change may take many forms, but the point is to take primary responsibility for taking care of your own feeling. Ask "what would help me feel better that I can do" rather than thinking in terms of what someone else could do. Thus it is necessary to assume responsibility and ask for help, rather than expect or demand your partner do anything to help you feel better. Learn to change your demands into preferences. Accepting responsibility releases resentment.

When one person is shouting, angry or walks away, they are most in need.

People's feelings can change quickly. Expecting consistency will lead to disappointment. Instead, try to accept feelings at each moment.

Disappointment can be avoided by having no expectations, or by at least not having unrealistic ones. Remember you create the disappointment more than the other person.

You are primarily responsible for your feelings of resentment and bitterness, not your partner.

Define your terms, for example, respect, support, listening, and friendship. Discuss how you each believe love is shown. Agree on a method for resolving conflicts. Discuss the concept of punishment- for example, withholding communication, changing plans to hurt the other person. Find out if your partner uses punishment when they are hurt. Find out what your partner does when they don't get what they want. How they resolve problems. Find out whether they have bitterness from past relationships; how they felt with their parents. The fewer unmet emotional needs (UEN's) we have, the more we are able to be interested in our partner's feelings. If I am very needy, for example, I am only thinking of, because I am feeling the pain of, my own unmet emotional needs. It is unlikely I will be able to feel much empathy for my partner when I am hurting myself, since taking care of one's own pain is fundamental to the survival of the species. In evolutionary terms, individual sacrifice seems to make sense only in extreme situations, where life or death of another person or the group is at stake.

Whoever needs the relationship most has the least power in it. Do not depend on your partner for your happiness. Remember that happiness is something you bring into a relationship more than something you get out of it. Be sure you don't confuse loving someone with needing them. Need is based on insecurity and dependency. When you need someone, you believe you can't live without them. When you love someone, you can be happy alone and you can continue to love them even after you are no longer romantic partners.

People don't fight about real issues but about symptoms of their inability to work things out. It is healthy to be sensitive. What is unhealthy is to feel insecure and to be insecure. The secure, sensitive person can feel something and express their feelings without fear of rejection and abandonment. The more sensitive one is, the sooner one can feel it and express it. This has the potential of averting major conflicts down the road.

Stick to the issue. Don't fight old battles or draw in other people.

Don't react passively. Everybody needs feedback. But I would say try to limit your feedback to your feelings and a brief explanation of them, and I would add: Don't label the other person and don’t use general terms…like always..never…be specific about incidents…

Once begun, don't leave the room, except to calm down or take a needed break until you have reached some agreements and you both feel better. [I would say: Try to listen to the other person for as long as it takes till they feel fully expressed, but be aware of your own feelings and take a break if you need it, while giving assurance you will return. Also, don't pressure the other person into continuing the discussion when they have made it clear they need a break. Respect each other's feelings and boundaries during the process. Try to reach compromises, without feeling sacrificial.]

Try to keep a sense of humor, for comic relief, but don't joke around if the other person isn't smiling. [Remember though it is easy to invalidate with humor, even when completely unintentional- especially if other person is feeling hurt, insecure, inadequate, defensive, needy, etc.]

Don't tease, mock, or ridicule the other person (i.e. don't invalidate!!) Find things to agree on, even if you can only agree that you disagree.

Most importantly…put the responsibility of your happiness where it belongs…with you!!!

If you believe that the answer to your happiness lies in someone else’s hands you’re in for a lot of trouble!!! Even if they manage to accommodate you with occasional changes, you’ll come to rely on those for your continued happiness. Eventually you’ll be let down and you will be left feeling discouraged and left feeling helpless and dependent! I’m not saying that our parent’s actions don’t affect us or that you wont be upset if your girlfriend or boyfriend left you by choice or circumstance. When your life isn’t working, you need to make changes to see things differently. There isn’t a relationship good enough to do it for you. This is a very empowering insight. In fact you are making a statement to yourself that while your relationships are a priority, you have the power and the ability to make yourself happy. This means that you are okay when things around you aren’t going so well or when people prove to be human.

You are also taking a great deal of pressure off them, by communicating that you can make mistakes, or that you don’t have to pretend to be in a certain way when you’re with me. When you take responsibility for your happiness, you open the door to new kinds of relationships based on honesty ,responsibility and courage.

Sometimes.... just listen!!!

Beliefs can be debatable. Feelings are not. Therefore Feelings at most times unite us more than beliefs. We still often indulge in ‘scene stealing’, advising, sending solutions, correcting, grabbing their arm and shaking it when you want your partner to listen, shouting their name over and over again when they are silent.

Be with them in silence. Reach out and intertwine your hand in theirs. Show them that you are there, waiting patiently. Give them time to speak when they are ready. Figure out the reason for their inability to speak. If they are weak and they fall on the ground while talking…don’t ask them to rise…don’t ask them to stop crying. Don’t quip… "We all feel alone sometimes, but ..." because nobody is like them. Our life experiences are unique…they may be similar not the same. Offer a hug.

The best listeners focus on feelings, not facts. When you tell someone that they should not feel the way they do, you are invalidating their feelings. When you try to solve the problem of someone who needs to be heard, they end up feeling underestimated, disempowered, offended, pressured, and controlled. Don’t offer solutions. Just Listen! When they ask you to listen, they may be faltering or depressed but it doesn’t mean they are feeble or helpless. Once you accept the way they feel, they don't need to spend their time and energy trying to defend themselves or convince you, and they can focus on figuring out why they feel the way they do and what they can do about it. The emphasis should be on ending the isolation in the feeling..in the pain. What you think are "irrational feelings" always make sense if you take time to listen and understand your partner. There are some things behind a thin gauze, waiting to emerge. There may be questions grappling for anwers, timid hopes, pain and remorse and apprehension, which is difficult to share. The gleam of a smile, look of pain, occasional nods, eye contact ..can convey more than words. So its essential that you respect the others freedom and encourage without rushing. Understand that some things may never be brought to light
but others may emerge if given time.