Before dreams come true..

I had been dreaming about him since the day I knew he was coming. What would he look like? Large button eyes, silky soft hair, such graceful tiny feet and hands, a smile that would melt the hardest hearts... truly a dream come true.

But wait he was still a dream. Surely a dream can be shattered only after it's been born. Right?

Or maybe not. Sometimes the realization that it's not happening..is enough.

I've had a lot of time to reflect about Life and Death. People who are alive want to die. People who are going to die, want to live. It's a confused lot out there.

For the first time, I encountered Death before Life. And it's the worst feeling I have ever felt. For thousands around the world, Life is an option they can choose any day. I wish they knew how lucky they were. I'd gladly trade every Life-threatening situation with them.

A letter from her to him..

Real happiness is cheap enough, yet how deeply we pay for its counterfeit. - Hosea Ballou

Dear Darling

If you are really happy with where you are and who you are, would you ever admit it? Would a man admit the truth about his life? Especially if he was blessed with good health, a loving family, good food, shelter and clothing. Especially if he had friends who remembered him when they wanted to share the good times and the bad. Especially if he could be proud of his work and his ideals and he never had to walk beneath the shadow of a dark past. Especially if he was born in a country which gave him the freedom to worship and express his opinion.

Never mind that we cannot afford a vacation to Europe or the Swiss Alps every year. Never mind we cannot walk carefree into a Gucci showroom and buy as many clothes as we used to. Maybe now we think twice before spending every penny because either of us might suddenly need the extra money. Never mind that your colleagues are working towards better salaries and saving for new sports cars. Never mind that your friends have the latest music systems and Plasma Television sets.

Because by the time you’ve finished working hard and saving up for all this luxury, you’ll realize you’re poorer than you were twenty years back. Poorer because you won’t have any memory of walking hand in hand with me on the beach, eating ice-cream instead of dining in fancy restaurants with the elite in your industry. Poorer because you won’t remember playing football with your son and watching a movie with your daughter, instead of working late nights on presentations for your promotion. Poorer because you’d never have found the time to exercise and stay fit, instead of battling the diseases that plague your body. You would be a very poor man with a lot of money.

I love you now because you’re a very rich man with no money. Please remember to be happy.

With Love
Your Wife

Ishq Muhabbat jiske dil mein...usko pasand karta hai Maula mera..

When ‘Bombay’ was released in 1995, I was just a kid trying to figure out where all the romance and singing fit into religion. But a tear did roll down my cheek, when in the film, the heroine’s father dies. From then on, the shocking violence on screen left me shaken.

When you watch movies, read books and debate with friends over sensitive topics like the Indo-China war, Communalism and women’s empowerment, you feel so close to the topic, and yet you’re so far away from reality. Delhi is the center of controversy, thanks to the CWG and today… the Babri-Masjid conflict verdict. And it’s with heaviness in my heart that I listen to my female colleagues who tell me to reach home early.

“They just need a reason.. be careful..”

And why is all this happening? And why is fear trickling down into my otherwise happy days? And is the one in whose name this war is being fought happy?
An appeal and a plea from this tiny world of mine. Please let me be.

Being You

There’s a song that goes like this, “It’s not easy to be me.” Most often, we try to carry a burden on our backs. A burden that’s not even necessary – the regrets of the past, the difficulties of the present and the uncertainty of the future.

A conversation with a good friend yesterday left me wondering – Why not let life unfold, instead of tearing it open? I’d liken it to a gift wrapped in glossy wrapping paper. I’ve seen many people with this habit – unwrapping the cover carefully, removing the cellotape stickers one by one and then preserving the wrapper as carefully as the gift itself. Requires a tremendous amount of patience, doesn’t it?

On the other hand, you have people tearing it open, excited..or just plain impatient. And that huge box would’ve contained a tiny piece of parchment. Or that tiny packet contained a precious diamond, worth more than anything you’ve ever received before.

Keep it simple. Life just slips by when you’re busy worrying about your present and why you haven’t achieved what others have at the same point of time. You may cry away the nights worrying if you’ll ever live up to people’s expectations. Here’s the truth – to the people who really matter, it’s your happiness that really matters. So even if you’re not the rock star or powerful entrepreneur that some people are right now, five years down the line, if YOU’RE happy, you’ve done your job. Expectations are guidelines, not rules. So go easy on your conscience.

It’s not easy to be you. Because you have a purpose in every person’s life – friend, lover, sister, brother, confidante, bread winner, bread eater or simply just being there! And it’s not a burden, it’s a privilege.

If you’re still reading this, in spite of pulling through tears, lonely nights, harsh days, good dreams, achievements and you’re still grounded, with your heart in your head and your mind in your chest… you did good. You did real good.

A pat on the back. Now please get back to life. Because nothing’s lost yet, everything is yet to be gained.

Quoted from http://hubpages.com/hub/art-of-japanese-gift-wrap : "The wrapping around the gift is seen as being part of the entire gift experience, with the opening and revealing of the contents viewed as one complete experience. In Western culture, gift-wrapping seems mostly just meant to conceal the gift, with unwrapping often being very perfunctory or even crude. Japanese gifts are aestheic and beautiful on the outside, with the same full expression of the culture's love of balance, nature, novelty and simplicty."

The eye | Chapter 1

Chapter 1
She walked into the room dragging her luggage behind her. She felt her nose wrinkle up at the smell of fresh paint. Noira had always been sensitive to smell. “The allergy must be acting up..”

The room was the last in the hostel corridor. She heard the sound of feet shuffle behind her. Turning around, she found herself face to face with a tall petite girl. Her hair was long and black, her eyes were dark and intense. Not Indian. Noira’s eyes caught the amulet on her left arm. A stone Udjat.
“The Eye of Horus, son of Isis. It serves to ward off the Evil Eye, a common superstition in the Middle East…”
Egyptian? Probably an exchange student.

The girl tossed her hair over her shoulder. She noticed Noira staring at her arm and smiled. “Accha hai, hai na?” she said in Hindi with no trace of any foreign accent. Laughing at the disbelief on Noira’s face, she said, “The name is Jane. By the way, I picked that up the day I landed in India.” Noira shook her outstretched hand with a hundred questions on her face.
“Noira. “
“So you must be wondering how we got to be roommates.”
“Well I assume you’re an exchange student.”
“That is correct. From the University of Melbourne. But I took up Hindi as one of my subjects. It’s a fascinating language!”
“So .. do you have family back in Egypt?”

Noira couldn’t get that piece of stone out of her head. What seemed like a fascinating piece of junk jewellery to most people could well be an original drop from the ocean of Egyptian mythology. She had seen too many of these to pass this one off as junk jewellery.

Jane’s eyes narrowed. Noira thought she saw a hint of dark anger in her eyes. But it was gone in a fleeting second. Jane smiled warmly and said, “Ah, you’re a history major perhaps?”
Noira smiled and nodded. “It’s a very passionate subject for me.”
Jane laughed and said, “I hope you’re not the nerdy kinds. Burying myself in books is the last thing I’d want to do in college. And to answer your question, my family has been settled in Australia for the past decade. My grandparents and relatives had migrated from the East a long time ago.”

Noira decided she did not want to purse her doubts about the amulet. She had fallen into trouble before for her unending curiosity. The two girls settled into their respective corners and unpacked.

That night, the visions came back.

Zephyr

He walked by. Sometimes, there's something that happens in your life which you wish had never happened, even though it may well be the best moment ever in your existence on earth.
He stopped in his tracks. My heart skipped a beat. Then another. Then faster..as he traced his steps back to the spot where I was sitting.

The fragrance crept into my senses like the deadly assassin. Was it the smell of the rugged sea? Or the misty mountains? Perhaps the bitter sweet aroma of strong spices?

He picked up the book which had fallen beside my feet and placed it on my lap. His eyes disapproved. "Silly girl. You should stay awake more often."

The fragrance waned gradually till the cold air was all I could breathe. "Silly girl...", I said to myself. "You should stay awake more often..."

Painting

She twisted and tortured the ends of her dupatta until the strands of cloth started falling out one after the other. “Where was this Mr Intelligent?” She smiled at the thought. It was fun to give people nicknames. His voice had sounded deep and intelligent. But he appeared to be too serious. Maybe she would find out. In another 2 minutes.

“This had better be worth it. I didn’t wear this traditional suit for nothing!”

“Hello.”

She looked up. He was on time. Good. That was a good sign. She smiled, a mixture of shyness and curiosity.

“Hi..”

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“No, I just reached 5 min back.”

He saw a flash of pearly white teeth, a smile so innocent, he nearly doubted its existence. The whiff of perfume wafted into his head.” What was that scent? Strawberry?” It reminded him, almost painfully of how long it had been since he had the pleasure of female company.

“Would you like to order something?”

She watched him speak. Slow and confident. He looked intelligent. Perhaps he even had a telescope in his bedroom, where he spent countless nights star gazing. Or maybe he had won the child-genius-of-the-century award in school. She giggled at her thoughts and found him staring quizzically at her.

“Umm… yes, one cold coffee with ice cream please! And oh, a chocolate doughnut too and maybe…”

She bit the last few words of her sentences. Her love for food had temporarily erased all memory of the fact that she was meeting him in order to make a good impression.

He was amused. She came across as a very simple and sweet girl, not to mention someone with a healthy appetite. He gestured for the waiter to take their order.

“Two cold coffees with lots of ice cream, two chocolate doughnuts and 2 white-forest pastries please.”

She was secretly pleased. Her eyes caught the swiss army knife keychain that he had placed on the table.

“Oh! A swiss army knife! How cool. Where did you get it from?”
“Well, I had travelled to South Africa on business last year. It was a gift from a colleague there.”
“Wow. South Africa! Do you travel a lot?”
“Yes. My job requires me to travel a lot for the next three years. But I should be able to find a stable location after that. Do you….mind…er..like to travel?”
“Oh you wouldn’t believe how I always wanted to travel! I’ve spent almost all my life in Mumbai. I haven’t seen much of the outside world. I’d love to see more places, meet different people, taste different cuisines… ooops.. am I talking a little too much about food here?”
“I’m glad. I’d be really happy if my partner could adjust to my mode of work and lifestyle…”
She blushed and looked down at her lap. “Why am I acting like a little girl?”

“So, I hear you’re a kindergarten teacher.”
Her eyes lit up. He noticed they twinkled whenever she talked about something that was dear to her and he liked it. She twirled her jet black wavy hair, not realising that they softly framed her face and complemented her red luscious lips.

“That’s right. I just love kids. They always make me feel so energetic. I feel there’s always something that we can learn from children every day. There was this one boy in my class who…”


He listened to her talk animatedly. She was chirpy, bubbling with life. Her favourite colour was red. She loved glass bangles and wearing bright colours. She didn’t mind singing in her baby voice as long as the neighbours didn’t complain. She loved cooking and experimenting with books. She was very curious as to why he tilted his head by 5 degrees whenever he listened to her. She wanted to know why his cell phone looked like a pebble and if it was really the Dalai Lama accompanying him, in the photograph on his cell phone wallpaper. She refused to believe that the cross pen in his pocket was worth more than all her sketch pens put together. She wanted to start a small school for Autistic children some day and she wanted to do her part for the society.
And he could tell that she was quite taken by him. His profound statements left her puzzled initially, but as they eased into the conversation, she would occasionally burst into fits of laughter, recalling a joke he had made fifteen minutes prior to that point of time.

Now there was a life time left to discover more. That's what made the wait worth it.

There's something about him..

"There's something about him.. I can't figure out what it is. But there IS something.."

The word 'thing' is the most cliched word after the F word. When you're at a loss for words but in an environment that does not allow sub-standard language, use the word 'thing'.

"Something."

"You know that thingy."

"It's that thing you do when you see.."

So have you ever felt 'something' during any encounter? Perhaps his or her presence was so overpowering, you finally understood what people meant by 'magnetic personality'. Maybe it was your grandfather, in whose presence people stood up with respect without being asked to do so. Or your teacher, whose face you remembered whenever you acheived something or won a prize.Is there pin-drop silence in the room when your uncle speaks? Sometimes there are people who you bump into and you're left intrigued. Sometimes you just need to go back and find out what that 'something' is. Let's not forget 'powerful' personalities. These people say things that you'd love to chew on and swallow as they come. Or the 'mysterious' personalities who have an aura of the 'unknown'. This time you just HAVE to break in and look around.

Then there's that friend with whom you can just unwind. You may be meeting him after 5 weeks or 5 years and yet, silence is never uncomfortable. There was no written contract stating number of phone calls, chats or sms required every day. You can probably share a drink with him, while watching TV, without having to feel awkward, even though there's no conversation. You're calm and happy.

It's almost like being able to go back home. Because home is where you don't need to prove yourself. Irrespective of whether you're up or down, fat or thin, low or high, ugly or beautiful, you can just be who are.

If you feel at home with someone, do visit once in a while.