This journey..called life..

A letter from her to him..

2011-04-28T22:26:00.000-07:00

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..

2010-09-29T22:31:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-17T22:26:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-07T04:45:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-07T02:35:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-15T06:12:00.000-08:00

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..

2009-11-21T03:54:00.000-08:00

"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.

2009-11-19T20:00:00.000-08:00

I looked up the dictionary meaning of the word 'cliche' today. It said - overfamiliar through overuse.
So what do words really mean to you? Think of some words you say every day. Like Good morning, Sorry, Thank you, Bye, Take care.. Perhaps the difference is when you really mean them. When you tell something thank you, can he hear it in your voice? But it's your choice. Really.

Of course, when someone talks too much, you'd rather roll your eyes and scrunch up your face to gather sympathy from on-lookers or probably hang yourself from that invisible rope. And if someone doesn't respond at all, you feel like banging your head on the nearest table. Or perhaps, the silent buddha's head instead of yours.

Can words be overused? Not if you mean them. If you tell someone you love them every single day, does that mean the word 'love' loses its importance by 1% every time you say it? Not if you mean it every time you say it. And maybe it helps you build your relationship by 1% every day.What if you speak without meaning it? I'd liken it to a daily ritual, like brushing your teeth. You'd get up every morning and do it because either you have to do it or it has just become a habit. Ever thought of what you meant by 'What's up?'

A teacher once told me, "You can't sing." I wonder if I should've believed her. A friend says, "You're so cute!" I wonder if she'll remember me ten years down the line. Then again, my Mom says, "You silly girl!" And I believe her. It makes me love her more. A friend says, "You're an idiot!" And it makes me happy.

Ideas are born out of words. They make and break relationships. They can bring a smile on someone's face and wipe it away for ever. And to some people,words mean the world. Even Neil Armstrong had something to say when he stepped on the moon! We all have to say something.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to listen to yourself once in while.

Come as you may

2009-11-19T07:33:00.001-08:00

Most of us are very fond of hearing our parents describe our childhood antics. We may have our share of embarrassment but secretly, let’s face it.. we love hearing how cute we used to be!

“Mom, please. Not those naked pictures of mine. Was it a trend to take black and white pictures of naked babies in those days? And the next time, please do NOT exhibit them in front of my friends.”

“Why? You had the softest and chubbiest buttocks in town! And Neena loved those pictures. Didn’t she say the word ‘cute’ over a hundred times? You’re still the cutest boy around.”

“Mom… please don’t call me CUTE!!”

Then she’d go on to describe the cat and mouse games she’d play with you as a child. If you’re lucky enough to remember those moments, you’d realise that you won every game. There were no rules and no points because then you’d never have won. So in every game she played with you, she’d let you win. Every smile and every hearty gurgle of yours was worth it.

As adults, we’re all so obsessed with winning and proving ourselves right. But true love is not about just about winning, it’s about winning the other person’s heart. As a child, did you know the meaning of the word ‘ego’? For at that point of your life, flying kisses were free, hugs were unlimited and ‘I love you’ was full of affection and devoid of any hidden expectations.

Looking at the world through a child’s eyes leaves much more to imagination and less to contemplation. So let yourself lose once in awhile. You may end up losing a moment’s glory to win a lifetime of loyalty.

Close behind

2009-11-19T07:29:00.000-08:00

Do you remember that old pair of jeans you faithfully wore 7 days of the week? You were just walking down the street when those blue legs beckoned you through the glass window. You were curious and the unknown excited you. And you were best friends from that day onwards. 'Jean', you lovingly called it.

Time passed. You got so close. Two became one. But familiarity erodes the excitement of the unknown. And you stopped noticing 'Jean'. Even though Jean had stayed with you..through thick & thin times, Fat & skinny times, tight & loose times, clean & stained times, party & trekking days, boy & girl times..

Then you started complaining. You wished you could meet Gucci and Prada, Chanel and Tommy. And these names always wanted you to be someone else. They never liked you for who you were. They would've probably been interested if you starved yourself and matched your shoes with every attire you wore.

So one day, your mom mom donated 'Jean' to the Dhobi wala. You didn't even hear her when she asked you about it. And Jean was gone. Then you started getting lonely. You had tried hard to move on, captivated by the glitz and glamour of what was really beyond your reach. But it was too late. Now and then you peek into the back of your cupboard, wishing Jean was there.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Some people are never obvious. Because you never look at them even if they're looking at you. Fact of the matter is, they've got your back. Why do they find happiness in doing that? Because they accept you for who you are. And acceptance makes it easier to live with something. And perhaps the only day you realize their value is when they're gone. Because now you can see and you can feel - emptiness.

You never knew it was important to glance over your shoulder, just to see who was there, did you?

Just there.

2009-11-19T07:26:00.000-08:00

Her fingers gracefuly encircled the pole. The wind fiercely ruffled her soft hair, while the sounds of the train graciously sounded the background score. Her face was emotionless and calm.
Wasn't there anything in her head? It was hard to tell. The sea of faces around her was restless and bursting with emotion. Perhaps life hasdn't touched her yet with it's naughty antics.The train grinded to a slow halt. She stepped on to the platform and walked towards the stairs. There was no break in the rhythm of her steps, except for the fact that another set of steps had joined hers.
He was there. No words of recognition that the world could hear, but perhaps there was a silent sense of understanding that acknowledged each other's presence. And there dawned a sudden realization. The sense of peace and contentment was born out of the assurance that a similar harmony existed and waited patiently. And all that was required, was to be there. Where the need arose. Just there.

Sunset

2009-11-19T07:24:00.000-08:00

Slippery sand
Soft sun
Salty sea air
Humming waves
Golden glimmer
Soaring Kites
Childish Castles
Faded footprints
Heavy hearts
Happy hearts
Stolen Kisses
Embarassing embraces
Breathe....

You're not here... you're there.

2009-11-05T10:38:00.001-08:00

Where? Anywhere but here.
Seems like an endless play of words. But this is the truth. And you wish you could just laugh out loud one day and say, "Yeah! It was all just a joke.."

I forget which movie it was that said, "When you've got nothing to lose, you ain't scared anymore." I'm still scared because now I fear I may never get past that stage of emptiness someday. We just hope we can one day look eye to eye and say, "I understand the way you feel."

Tears are wasted for there's not a shoulder to cry on. Dreams are wasted for there's not a soul to share them with. A hug is wasted for there are no arms to reciprocate. A smile is wasted for it does not light up another face. A kiss is wasted for there is no cheek to decorate. Love will be wasted because every sentence stops at the word 'love' and there's no 'you' beyond that.

I don't have you. Simply because you're not here, you're there. Nothing in between.

The Door

2009-11-05T10:37:00.001-08:00

The next time you sit down with your coffee at a place far from the safe confines of your home, notice the door.
I noticed a red door at Mochas. It was tall, numbered and really very red. I saw a green door from the bus today. I think I liked the blue door I saw at the vegetable market. A door like that really makes me want to open it. Just to see what’s on the other side.
I may be at a point in my life where I’m not sure which door I’ll see next. But I think it was worth opening every door on the way. I got caught for opening one and praised for opening another. I found Love behind one and a friend behind another. Temptation peeked through the keyhole of that white door and salvation through the corners of the black one. I fell through one door though I really didn’t want to open it. But I was careless I guess. I’ve jammed my fingers between somebody else’s door as well, and while I nursed my poor fingers back to health, I almost wondered if it was God’s way of teaching me a lesson!
Regret should not force us to undo the journey. The best thing is to keep looking out for new doors. I’m yet to find that yellow door.

Serendipity

2009-11-05T10:36:00.000-08:00

Destiny they say, is just meant to be. What if I passed you while making my way through the bustling crowd? Have our hands brushed or eyes met for that fleeting second? You think we would have sat next to each other in the bus without realizing that we both were part of a greater plan? That crowded train that rocked our breaths in unison was just one accomplice. Have I ever stopped you on the road to ask you directions? Have you ever bumped into me on a busy morning and said, "Sorry!"?
I think I'll see you on the other side.

I killed an angel today..

2009-11-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

Dear Dan,

As I was standing in front of that old church on St. Mark's road today, I suddenly realised something. It was something that happened a long time ago.. but since I realised it today, let’s say I did it today.
As a child I’d play with this bunch of kids from my building. Each time I returned home, I had one toy less. If somebody liked something, that somebody could take it. I didn’t mind. I liked the gleam in that somebody’s eyes. And then my Nanny told me, “Don’t give away things like that!” So I killed the girl who gave away toys like that.

School days were filled with fun and frolic. Katie and Jenny were my best friends. We were in the ‘secret keepers’ club, just the three of us. I spent my nights up helping Katie understand fractions. One day, I found out I was no longer part of the club because Ema was the new girl in town with the new shiny Princess bicycle and she replaced me as ‘secret keeper No. 3’. My aunt told me, “Don’t help anyone for free!” So I killed that girl who helped anyone for free.

College was my ticket to new found freedom and a change in fashion. Ted was best friend and worst critic. And then we hung out together a lot. The movies, the cosy little coffee shop down the street, the monkey mountain and the college canteen. Then he decided I had been around too long. My brother told me, “Don’t trust any guy like that.” And so I killed the girl who trusted any guy like that.

Today, I woke up and remembered who I had become. My mother thought I was the cutest and most innocent thing around when I was an overweight sloppy baby. I didn’t even think it was funny this time.
I killed an angel today. Maybe we all do that. Every time we give up.

With Love
Ann

The end of it happens only in the end..

2009-10-23T22:27:00.002-07:00

Would you remember your first day at that new school? Do you remember the teacher who smiled at you and made you sit next to that big fat boy who grinned wickedly at you, grinding his fists in glee? He was of course conjuring images of a nice orientation session with you, and his facial expressions probably made you gulp a big one.And you looked to your right and saw that guy, decorated with zits and big round glasses. The heart warming smile he tried to give you was blinding, for his braces seemed to steal away the glory of whatever teeth he had left in his mouth.
But the lesson was to be smart. Be nice to nerdy boy and swap seats with him so that he'd end up sitting next to Fat Bully boy and you'd be seated next to that window next to the playground. Then you could spend countless hours staring out of it..dreaming of neverland.

Would you remember the first day to college? You climbed onto the bus and raced another burly lady to a seat. Your trimuphant glee soon turned to dismay when you reached your classroom and discovered she was your teacher.The cute guy who flirted with you ended up going out with your best friend. So what if he was just looking for an opportunity to get friendly with her?
The lesson was to be tactful. Be attentive in grumpy lady teacher's class, sit in the first bench and take down notes so she'd realise you had 'repented'. Then in the 'hour of need', refuse to do Cute guy's assignment for him.

So then I can safely conclude that Bully boy, nerdy boy, Grumpy lady and Cute guy have all left a part of themselves in me.
And we never stop learning till the end of life. Every single day, I learn something new from the people around me. There were good times and bad, and the best part is, I'm not just a single piece of stone, carved into a human form. I'm a mix of human lives, each one touching me in some way or the other. Be it good friendship or a depressing heartbreak, I can't deny that I've gained something from each experience. And whether I like it or not, it will continue to be that way. And the end of it all, happens only in the end.

Talk the walk

2009-10-23T22:27:00.001-07:00

There is a stretch that I commute everyday from Dadar train station to the bus stop. I can't help but think that if I ever had to drive a car the way I walked this distance, there were be nothing left standing on the roads.

I prepare myself before I slide off the train – armed with headphones, letting the inspiring and energizing music waft through my ears and into my brain. Imagine stepping onto the platform and a mad bubble of humankind rushing towards you. Brace yourself! Here it comes – and bursts on you.

Keanu Reeves did a fantastic job in the matrix and I do a very poor imitation of the same when I try to push my way through the crowd. A concoction of smells hits me when I make my way through the crowd of vegetable sellers and flower vendors. The pungent smell of coriander mixed with the fragrance of roses does wonders for a sleepy brain. Nobody can miss the old bai washing a naked baby girl in the middle of the road with water from an old bisleri bottle. The Salman Khan look-alike holds up some underwear for ‘Rs. 50’ only. I walk by a blue board that says ‘Ladies & Gents for Rs. 99 only’. The ‘Keel Beel’ store for children’s wear makes me wonder if Hollywood would change start patenting its productions. Bright orange and yellow flowers adorn the road and parapets of shops, reminiscent of the Diwali that flew by. A sharp swerve to the right, in order to avoid a morose cow (with horns I did not want to test), landed my pretty yellow sandals in a pile of fresh green dung.

Now buses in Mumbai are pretty efficient. Except for the fact that their numbers are written in Hindi. No do not blame my education, for my Hindi teacher tried his best. By the time I figure out the English equivalent of the same, the bus is on its way, carrying a load of passengers who are grateful that the bus had one person less.

Just another day. Just more to left to learn.

There was once upon a time when I felt beautiful

2009-10-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

There was once upon a time when I felt beautiful
When my mother would look at me, when she needed reason to smile
There was once upon a time when I felt beautiful
When my friend hugged me, cried and begged me to stay for a while

There was once upon a time I felt beautiful
When my love was the essence of all things true
There was once upon a time I felt beautiful
When his face lit up on hearing my voice inspite of all I'd do

There was once upon a time I felt beautiful
When this baby held my finger and refused to let go
There was once upon a time I felt beautiful
When I was blessed by a teacher to prosper with all I know

But time erodes the weak
The essence of the past we seek
There was once upon a time I felt beautiful
There will never again be a time to be beautiful..

Sin

2009-10-11T12:03:00.000-07:00

Wrenching me out of safe harbour
You broke the anchor that held me still..
Thrown into the midst of squalor
Where existed no protection or free will..

A new spirit is what I thought I'd seek

But the hand that once nurtured has made me weak..

Shallow dreams and insignificant words

Are what remain in my soul's innards..

Disillusioned and left to traverse alone

A journey of painful regret unfolds..

For the sin of slue, I must atone

With tears, a new sculpture the hand moulds..

Moonlight...

2009-09-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

When the night is cold
A chill gently drapes itself around my heart..
The streams of memory gently unfold
A realisation dawns, of a story with no ending, only a start

I miss the entirety

The feeling that I get when you're with me..

I miss the sense of belonging, my hiding place

A place in your heart called home, amidst distant barriers I face..

We climbed a mountain, to steal away from the world

We stole like theives, a few precious moments as time unfurled..

Tonight the moon curiously accompanies this night, free

It silently understands and drapes a blanket of light up on me..

Touch

2009-08-07T09:23:00.000-07:00

Distance did not occlude,

Quietly, in stealth, a voice did intrude.

It enticed the soul to play,

And secretly crept away...

And each time the voice visits

A fragment of imagination drifts..

into a greater dream of hopeless hope, a minion

Until it sinks to the depths of oblivion

Betrayal of the Phoenix

2009-07-07T05:03:00.000-07:00

I yearn to burn

Away into olivion..

Ashes strewn far and wide

With the wind and sun on my side..

I wish to cease to exist
And to be reborn I must resist..
The end is too far away
While we crumble with agony each day..

Half Way ..

2009-07-05T09:26:00.000-07:00

The journey had already started before you realized..
But why is coming to terms with reality so tough?
For by the time I had built a companionship so prized
I realized you had fallen back into the rough..

Glass half empty, the moon trying to slip behind a tiny cloud
Half hearted smiles, only disappointment voiced out loud
You gave up before this tryst was sealed
Silence rings in the depths of this empty wound, never to be healed

Ice

2009-06-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

Lovely water through my garden flowed
In a rhythm, the surface shimmered & glowed

Spring time faded away
Winter has come to wreak havoc & play

The old symphony of love is a Eulogy today
My colors have faded to dull gray

Water re-incarnarted as ice placid
A stone sculpted for the heart, its journey has ended...

Circle

2009-06-22T21:46:00.000-07:00

Choices are difficult, for they can be blamed

Chances are secretly safer, of their failure we're less ashamed

Someday we hope, that hope and chance collide

And a reality is born, manifestation of dreams inside

The circle brings us together, tears us apart

Leaving all the memories swirling within the heart

Open Palm..

2009-06-11T13:44:00.001-07:00

With palms open wide,

A prayer on my lips, a song in my heart

Into the sky, my orison will glide

For you & your happiness, I pray a new gifted dream will start

Hold me not guilty, for I follow my own path

I shield my soul, harbour my heart

For renewal & rebirth from the ashes & grief you mourn

Let the fire burn your past till new colours are born

P.S. - The note I left you...

2009-05-28T02:56:00.000-07:00

The paper was 3 fold. As I placed it on the table where he would see it as soon as he opened the door, my mind ran a movie reel. Images played in my head - when I first saw him, when our eyes first locked, when I first brushed my nose against his, when I first kissed him...

I had tried to capture all of it in words. But they never seemed to do justice to the pain that was gnawing at my heart. Perhaps I should have just left quietly..

Darling, I know this has caught you off guard. But I have to leave. There's no easy way to say this. What's so 'good' about the word 'goodbye'? I could never figure that out.

I still remember everything clearly. I know your fingers are running over smudges on this piece of paper, where my tears have splashed mascara into ugly blotches of gray, like those unfortunate days when gray fights marred our colourful story.

I know we shared our ice creams and cartoonish dreams. We shared some beach trips and bruised knees. We shared some golden sunsets and silver moons. We shared some words and some silence. And we shared so much.

I've found someone else now. A man who will marry me and treasure me for the rest of his life. You have somehow carved a niche for yourself in my heart. And nobody will ever replace those memories or emotions that you planted in my secret garden.

You will always be my first love. I have to go now. I did not want to cry in front of you. But I know you know.. that I'm crying even at this very moment when you're reading this note.

With love
Nana

It was 6pm by my watch. I waited for my cell phone to ring. I was already on my way to the airport. "He's got the whole world in his hands...", that was my personalised ringtone for him. As I picked up the phone, his sweet voice called out, "Nana...you will always be my favourite aunt..and my best friend.."

Blanket of Love...

2009-05-24T09:47:00.000-07:00

When you meet someone, your mind takes out a book and flips through old pages. Scenes of memories associated with that face, perhaps that voice, a hint of familiar fragrance or a sense of apprehension... a sense of Deja Vu - fill these chapters. Depending on what your mind and heart discuss, you may smile and long for a hug or you may pray for the moment to pass away as quickly as it came.

When I held baby Arnon for the first time in my arms, I was so scared. Was I holding his head correctly? Will he cry...?
"Oh Goodness... I'm in love..."

And my head was clear. Here was a new chapter being written and such beautiful music flowed into the pages of my heart. Never had I held something so pure. There was no 'expectation' here, just an aching desire to shield him from the world and keep him for myself. And as his tiny fingers curled around my little finger, my heart melted and all that was left was a bare soul. His soft skin smelt like a pudding of milk and softness and I wished the moment lasted for ever.

There was another world outside my window. I didn't want to leave the room for I knew there would never be another soul that would care for mine, there would never be another hand to curl around my finger, to lead me , never another sweet perfume, to comfort me, never another warm smile, to fill me with warmth. All I would find was doubt and voices that called for me only when they were in need.

How I wish we never grew up!

My little blue bundle

I give you the silver moon..

Showering you with a kiss & a cuddle

We will fly away from this horizon soon...

Hello Gogonutz of calicut

2009-05-07T00:06:00.000-07:00

Meet Laxmi... she was just lazing around, content with an afternoon Siesta.
My visit to a friend's place, welcome to a house almost a 100 years old.... renovated several times, but the roots are still strong.

Their first Puja room..

The Veena, Harmonium - instruments that play harmony for the Gods

The grandmother of the house plays melodious tunes, devotion is in her blood.

Goddess..

The family 'kolam'

Vacation time means swimming, swimming and more swimming!

Puja room 2

Ezhuthu Ola

Nadi astrology (nāḍi jyotiṣa) is a form of Hindu astrology practised in parts of South India. It is based on the belief that the past, present and the future lives of all humans were foreseen by Hindu sages in ancient times and written down as Palm Leaf Manuscripts.

The following Ola contains the whole of the Mahabharata, etched years ago. Age and decay has taken a toll on the dry manuscripts.

The following Ola contains a horoscope.

She's only 2 years old, but knows that she had to smear 'Basmam' (Ash) on her forehead, neck and arms. Every morning, her mother bathes her and prays to the Devi for blessings. She listens to her mother's melodious prayers, registering the sacred words...to last her a life time.

The sacred Tulsi plant along with medicinal herbs.

At Dusk, the lady of the house recites her prayers and lights the lamp. The belief that truth triumphs over evil, light over darkness.

The grandson lights a wick from the same lamp and lights another lamp to be kept inside the second Puja room. Vacation time for the children still includes evening prayers, recitations of shlokas and the Ramayana, under the watchful eye of their grandmother.

Indeed..is there anything more powerful than your creator's love?

2009-05-02T23:48:00.000-07:00

The windows to a soul

Burning in the dark, flaming coal

Speak in tongues of truth, not pretence

Break this deafening silence

You offer me life and I might find love on earth

You offer me death and I might realise immortality's worth

Or do I wish to be filled with the nectar of these eyes

and slowly lose sight of who I am to pay the price...?

Past..

2009-04-23T09:52:00.000-07:00

She wiped the sweat off her eyebrow and pulled her sunglasses off her head. The sun was determined to make her retreat back into the safety of her cozy house, but she was equally stubborn. "Today's my day!"
As she walked past the rows of tiny shops, the ripples of the heat waves forced her eyes to squint. Surprisingly, the market was still crowded and nothing seemed to deter the will of all these wretched souls who had gathered to shop before the festival season began. As she walked by the Old Aggas Gully, a glint of light caught her eyes. A row of colourful joothis peeped out from a shop at the end of the gully.
"Funny how I never noticed this one before."
A pretty network of black sequins caught her eyes. "I wonder if I'll get a good bargain."
But what was it that had struck her eye? That shimmer? The light that danced on her face. She walked towards the shop, as if drawn by some unknown magnetic force. She felt a strange sense of....déjà vu.
And there it was. That locket. Oh so pretty it was with pink and blue precious stones. The mirrors mischeviously touched her face with fingers of dancing light. She reached out and touched it... and felt a strange sense of inhuman frigidity course through her hands and fill her body. It was not pleasant and yet felt strangely..at home.

She heard a voice crackle behind her, "Welcome beti....Kismet ne aapko yahaan le aaya hai.."

Kismet. That was her name. Her mother had named her and breathed her last in the midwife's arms.

She slowly let go of the locket and a chilly smile found its way onto her lips, curling them....

This is going to hurt just a little bit...

2009-04-20T20:27:00.000-07:00

They were all dressed in white. I think the doctor called her angela... but with the syringe in her hand, she looked anything but angelic to me. She smiled, her pearly white teeth reminding me of the arabic cartoon characters I'd watch on TV. I couldn't understand a word they were saying, but I knew they were up to no good, when the smiling goons would finally slay the fallen hero.

Maybe I was overdoing my imagination and a morbid fear of needles did nothing to help this 5 year old girl. As the nurse inched closer and closer..with the injection, she whispered.. "This is going to hurt just a little bit..."

I closed my eyes and waited for the enveloping darkness to comfort me.

That was years ago. Last week was spent in Mumbai. I stayed with family friends in Goregaon. They had 2 lovely children. The younger one was the one who brought the tickle into my life after so long. She was tiny and bubbly. Imagine being woken up in the morning by a pair of tiny fingers wrestling with yours, only to find yourself face to face with a smiling face. Her good morning was a gurgle and her flying kisses would make anyone melt! That was sweet Amu for you!

She would play with her toys and run around the house like a tiny rocket set on fire. It just so happened that she grazed her elbow during one such 'take-off'. Her mother scooped her up in her arms and hugged her. Rocking her back and forth, she said, "Its ok! Nothing happened baby..." Amu stopped crying and gurgled. By the end of the entire episode, she was smiling and back on her feet.

How wonderful it would be to have those arms to scoop you up and protect you up whenever life rings the death toll in your ears, "This is going to hurt just a little bit..." It's not fair is it? How can life get away by just this one line?
It's difficult to get up and tell yourself- no, you can do it. You can face this day and everything in it. You have responsibilities. You have a job to do. And yes, you have to do it all alone. No arms to comfort you and say, "It's ok. Nothing happened baby..."

I love the train journeys there. Sit on a bench and let yourself sink into the environment. Have you ever noticed what happens? The train rocks you gently throughout the journey. It's so comforting. All you have to do is replay those words in your head..."It's ok...."

So Mumbai was a good experience on the whole. Amu made it worthwhile. The train journeys were picturesque. The people were different. As I hungrily gobbled up a cream bun during one such journey, the lady in the opposite seat stared at me.
I had heard stories of mumbai - the danger, kidnapping, robbery and blah! Now why was this woman looking at me? I shifted nervously in my seat. And she kept staring. "uh oh...what do i do?", I thought.
Then she spoke,"There's cream all over your cheeks...." Embarassed, I quickly cleaned up with a half-smile.
My camera phone helped me out with some pictures of Dadar.

At the station

Definitely female!

I thought only samosas were sold like this!

Habits and habitation

Yeh Dosti...

1934!

Chakachak mumbai :)

Wah kay baat hai!

St Joseph's church

Dry spice

Ice cream biscuits (near churchgate)

@ Chowpatty beach

Many more experiences to come....

This night I'm with your memories..

2009-04-11T14:37:00.000-07:00

The nights drag by into oblivion..
When I snuggle under my blanket, dreaming of a pinion
The pillow I hug to my bosom..
is reminiscent of the times I had let felicity blossom

As sleep kisses my eyes goodbye..
and passionately caresses my lips dry
I slip into your arms, in my dreams they're warm and real..
Into eons of pure love that seem perennial

Come drown with me in these spirits of fantasy
Overwhelming obession with every illogical smile..
Velvety starry night so intricately studded with gems, so deep
Endless odyssey of intimacy we reap..

Happy birthday Priya..this one is dedicated to the special something for someone..... :) :p

Uprise..

2009-04-10T08:34:00.000-07:00

For the first time, words fail me
Here and now is not where I want to be..
Misapprehension rules my vision
Dreams disintegrate into the realm of treason...

A small unfledged sparrow on the window sill
No ink for rhyme, a dead Quill..
No feathers on this arrow, a blunt point yet to be sharpened
The tree has yet to bear fruit, In the harsh sun...the sapling bears the brunt..

Forgive me this ignorance

For the days are long and the nights flow in a trance..

The river courses through twists and turns

Let this child remember the bruises and lessons she learnt..

Blue bottle blue..

2009-04-06T23:54:00.000-07:00

I've tucked you away

So I can taste a little of you each day..

So when I walk alone, I'm not lonely

This love I bottle up for you only..

The Looking Glass...

2009-04-05T03:37:00.000-07:00

I see a world beyond this glass wall
Full of coveted rarities
Temptation and charm invite me, they lovingly call..

I press my face against the cold lifeless plane
No amount of coerce can let me through
The colours from my world flow into the other side, they drain..

I cannot hear anything, but my heart knows it exists
All that I wanted, all I ever will need
The helplessness,incompleteness still persists..

I slowly retreat, for the only yield is an image
a reflection of myself and an echo of my own words
I cannot cross to the forbidden land, not meant for this age..

Statutory warning: After receiving a number of question marks as feedback, I must warn you that this poem was writing with a context in mind. A looking glass...a barrier... think of it as a person... think think think!!

Sunrise..

2009-04-02T12:49:00.000-07:00

Golden beams stream through the mist
Aurora descends upon the earth to grab her wrist..
Her breath bathes naked jasmine petals with dew
The fragrance awakens all creation from deep slumber to a day anew..

The air outside is misty unfriendly cold
But I'm still warm in the tight embrace you hold..
What wakes me up is not the bird song or the mischevious illuminance that beckoned
But the throbbing of your heart against my hand, beating every precious second

Your voice soothes my careless eyelashes
Which flutter in the breath you so lovingly blow..
My mind is torn between dreamy and reality meshes
For both under my eyes and outside, you are what life will show..

A sweet lullaby to tingle my soul, a honeyed kiss
A bounty of bait for the senses, spices and cinnamon mix..
Your face drowned amongst my waves of ringlets black
There would never be day for this storm to subside back..

A mantle of serenity encompasses our being
The beautiful beautiful truth of unity aeonian
To me the sun rises in your eyes and in your heart is my awakening
For our souls will never sleep, but only in entwined incarnation

Delilah..

2009-03-31T22:20:00.000-07:00

Your lips so luscious, don't say a word
Your breath, deep and pulsating, was all I heard..
Let me shut my ears before I let your zephyr play
For slowly, unknowingly, it's my breath you take away..

Your eyes entice and invite the lights to dance
Through strands of hair, your piercing gaze captivates me in a trance..
Let me close my eyes before I let yours capture mine
For slowly, unknowingly, it's my soul you steal and freeze into your time..

Your fingers slender, twirl your lustrous black curls, wind and unwind
They swim through the air, hypnotizing my mind..
Let me pull away from your touch before they entwine my body wholly
For slowly, unknowingly, it's my existence you conquer boldly..

Your fragrance wafts into my head, overpowering all reason
It tenderly snares my restraint, all logic screams treason..
Let me escape before all my senses are imprisoned by your presence
But I can no longer find my feet, for I have dissolved into your essence..

Depth..

2009-03-29T10:05:00.000-07:00

Lightning struck, but I did not hear

Rain storms lashed, but nothing was clear..

Hailstorms, never told me the truth, pounded me weak

Finally... Silence did speak..

Did you hear of the child, who could not yet walk?

She was only learning to stand up, learning to talk..

She would move ahead, then stumble and fall

Until the day she heard the voice call..

We look for answers in questions

We look for fulfillment in empty promises..

We talk about quality, but our eyes catch only what glistens

We hide with excuses, all our losses..

The beginning of the end

of the ignorance of truth and belief..

I delve deeper into my soul, this dubiousness is God-send

I intend to find the treasures in me, beyond this life, beyond this reef..

facade..

2009-03-23T13:31:00.000-07:00

Through the facade, into the realm real

I stepped in, a steady footing to feel..

But I had stepped into emptiness infinite

falling into the darkness, I struggled against the truth every minute..

I'm nothing divine, not even a fallen angel,

Just another fragment of existence..

You look for figments of imagination gifted from your wishing well,

Knowing me was just a brief torture of penance..

Is it really me or you that's hollow?

For when you searched, you found what you did not approve..

When I searched, I couldn't find any piece of humanity to swallow,

Wake up and break your pride of greatness, it's the hour to move..

Velvet..

2009-03-15T19:27:00.000-07:00

This too shall pass. I've heard this one one too many times.

The moon is just perfect from the hostel ledge. But it's my worst part of the day, where in the name of 'personal' time, I listen to music and stare at the moon - alone and lonely.

What's the difference between the words - 'alone' and 'lonely'?

When I'm alone, I might be in a vast expanse of humans and inanimate objects. But I wouldn't be lonely, if I felt a pair of invisible arms hug me and hold me as I walk through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Lonely would be...just lonely - cold and without the warmth.

What are words? Would they be powerful enough to delve deep into one's soul? Can they hurt or can they heal? Can they be strong enough to sever bonds or make them?

Latika's theme playing in the background, the darkness was just out there...

The frame of my vision

Is a soft velvety black..

No sparkling stars, no regnant Orion

An empty infiniteness, no randomness to tack..

Back in my safe shell

Cancer has hidden shamefully behind the inglorious mantle..

Retreating to a silent spell

No words and world to handle..

The moon is still half-done

The painter feels more for the sun..

I close my eyes and open them again

To fall into the darkness, shattering that black heavenly pane...

First Rain...

2009-03-14T18:41:00.000-07:00

The heaviness in the air,

Tugged at the stone in my heart..

I looked up to the heavens in despair,

The clouds had forced the sun and me apart..

The first drop fell on my cheek,

The next from my eye..

The torrent was harsh, my mind was still meek.

Rancour mingled with disbelief smothered my spirits to cry..

The grass was green again, the parched soil lapped up life.

The rain tried to refine my memories, polishing it like a knife..

But the end had already begun, I'd refused to heed the sound,

Nothing more could water do, for a withered sapling trampled underground..

I wish...

2009-03-10T22:59:00.000-07:00

I wish...

For a beautiful morning
when the sun rises in your eyes
When I can kiss you with complete belonging

For the warm hug before I climb out of bed
Which I steal from you under the covers
My head on your chest, feeling your heart beat against my head

For the hot steaming coffee
That I bring to the bed, with my freshly bathed scented hair,dripping onto your face,
opening your eyes to see me

For the wallet in your hand and the Knot I twist into your tie
As I tidy you up for office and place the tiffin in your bag
And I stand on my toes to reach your nose, kissing you goodbye

For the occassional messages of 'i love you' and dates to book
over phone call lunches
My mind buzzing with thoughts of which of your favorite dishes to cook

For the day I would place our baby into yours arms
And look at the piece of togetherness that I brought into this world
My heart soaring and signing to a litle dance.

For the occassional trips when we take out out the car
When we deck up our rooms and lives, with precious curios
a part of you and me brimming with life in spaces near and far..

I wish to be yours and you to be mine
Before I close my eyes and my breath freezes in time.
I wish for love and I know I love you
I wish for a love for me too...

(PS: dedication to a friend getting married) :)

You...

2009-03-09T01:05:00.000-07:00

The first time I felt inspiration in this college, was my first class of Design technology. My sir was so simple, down to earth and was the first person who talked about being positive.
Among all the threats of warning letters and suspensions, he was one person who told us, "Never give up..."

His last day with our class was melancholy. He sang for us as each of us wiped our eyes. He was moving on to perhaps a better life, but we knew the loss for us would be greater than we had ever imagined.

Thank you sir for being with us. Thank you. And this dedication is for you...

We often chance upon impressions along the way
It may be a signature, a twine or a paper ship
Trails of people who've moved the world everyday
People whom you'd love to, in your memories keep

But being just you, I was amazed to find
With no reward or medal for bravery
That you managed to move my moribund mind
From despair to action, from isolation to comradery

Every word that came from your heart..
Which felt for us deeply, which moved every soul to do something new
Is a gift for us, with which we'll never part..
Thank for touching our lives...thank you for being you..

Fade..

2009-03-01T00:20:00.000-08:00

I see the empty space in your heart

I see it through your eyes..

Standing next to you, we're miles apart

In place of emotion, now there is ice..

So..now you forget me.

The picture had faded away..

The one when we first looked into the same mirror,

when our reflections would shimmer and play..

Remember to forget me

For if we meet again..

Do not voice recognition or credence

For all my patterns will then become a stain..

You'll never forget me

For my pain should cut through that wall,

that you built around yourself

And the pretence and pride will fall...

White noise

2009-02-26T03:20:00.000-08:00

I ran into the room
I listened for your voice
The silence reeked of doom
All I heard was white noise

The colourful wall was empty
Where did all the patterns go?
The explosion of colours I drew in a frenzy
Nothing does this white wall show

This chapter

2009-02-19T11:57:00.000-08:00

And so we come to another chapter

Of this story called 'happily ever after'

The pages were filled with lyrics and rhyme

the essence of which flowed with time..

But this too shall pass, life is not too unkind

For the same book, it was heartbreaking to see

With the pages torn out, pieces left behind

The last few memories of a chapter on you and me

A kiss in the rain

2009-02-17T11:42:00.000-08:00

Ah the old memories and classical songs in the background, a host of romantic novels (eewww...) to keep me company.. why wouldn't i pen down a poem from my long lost book of memories??

Kiss in the rain

We held hands and walked
The dark clouds poured as we talked..
The drops ran down your skin
We welcomed the thunderous din..

You pulled me close to your heart
And felt my wet clothes mingle with yours..
Your face close to mine, our lips apart
Our hearts pounded with such passionate force..

We kissed under the moonlight
Our souls entwined as one, a bond so tight...
The showers drenched our bodies cold
But our love was warm, as much our hearts could hold..

And oh the sweet sound of rain and your breath
How we felt ourselves fall into the eternal dark of the night..
The cacoethes and universal myth of love, surpasses even death
The horizon is but a shimmer of happiness, a new insight..

V day is back!

2009-02-14T10:21:00.000-08:00

February 14th, 2008 was a bitter sweet day and I remember putting up a new status in orkut which said - 'I hate Vday'.
I think I've grown up after that. Being single isn't so bad, especially when you have friends who care for you much more than you could've expected them to. The bunch of Roses and yummy chocolate cake that came in today, reminded me that I am much loved by God and my friends.

Thank you!! :)

Rain of Colours

2009-02-11T19:56:00.000-08:00

Rain of Colours

When clouds fill the skies..
To the heavens you lift up your eyes
Even when the sun is hiding away..
The rumble beckons you to come out to play

When all creatures rush in to hide..
You throw away the chains, to find your calling outside
The first drop hits your cheek like a bee sting..
So sweet..sweet as honey dripping

The burst of colours outside..
The paint brush yields a pattern, far and wide
Yellow flowers, green grass, the blue sparrow..
Blue water gushing down brown creeks, both wide and narrow

We painted fiercely, the skies poured out their blessing
The colours all bleed, amalgamating and running
We raise our faces to the emblazon of nature..
The colours never die, but only grow richer, in the rainbow thereafter.

Home is?

2009-02-06T11:50:00.000-08:00

He picked up the phone. He had been wanting to call someone, but this time, he did not know whose number to dial. He glanced at his phone book. Full of names that had been scratched out, the cover was dusty, for it had been a while since he had felt the urge to talk to anyone.

It hadn't been too long ago when he had disagreed with his friends and pushed his family down to the bottom of his list of priorities. At that time, he claimed, "I'm independant. I make the big money. And there's nothing that money can't buy." What was the cost of being successful and becoming the richest man in town, by the time his friends had just started out on their first well-paying jobs? He had never taken the time to think.

His doctor had told him that he had just 6 months to live. The disease had wrecked his body like an angry tornado. Now whom could he call and how? What would he say, " Hello? I'm dying so I thought I'd just let you know. I was hoping you'd talk to me atleast out of sympathy if not empathy...."??

The day he felt the energy ebb out of him, as he lay in his hospital bed, was the day he cried. He glanced at the roses at his table side. He couldn't even muster the energy to reach out to them and read the little yellow card. "I'm sorry..", he whispered, perhaps hoping that the Almighty would ultimately have some mercy and grant him some comfort. He felt a strange sense of peace settle through his body.

He closed his eyes and let the darkness engulf him. He was on his way. He was finally going home.

"You must remember this..."

2009-01-28T06:35:00.000-08:00

On the road to Barbusa...

This trip to Belgaum, Karnataka was a special one. We were going to meet someone. The author of a host of novels, a civil servant, a retired Colonel (Maratha Light Infantry), a mine owner, a candidate for the Parliament.... he was more than just someone... he is Manohar Malgonkar. Born in 1913, Malgonkar based most of his novels on the activity during the most momentous times of Indian history - Independance and its aftermath.

He is currently 97 years. About 60 kms from Belgaum itself, we travelled around noon time to catch up on those precious 20 minutes that he had permitted us. As tall as 6 feet, Malgonkar walked slowly into the drawing room of his quaint little house and smiled at us. Age had caught up with his eye sight and voice.

Further into the conversation, he warmed up to us as he recounted one of his fondest experiences.

"I had gotten my book- 'The Princes' published in 1963. E. M. Forster himself had written a letter to me saying ' Thank you for writing the book, else such rich history would have been lost, faded away...'. I wrote back to him and we kept in touch through letters. He invited me to Cambridge and I told him I would be delighted to meet him. I reached Cambridge and rang him up. To my dismay, he seemed to not recognize me and hung up. I wrote to him telling him how disappointed I was with this reaction and that I had taken the trouble to come all the way to London, just to meet him. I reached his house the next day. I think he must have had heard the taxi pull in to the driveway, because before I could knock at his door, he opened it and invited me in. We had a lovely conversation and discussed a varied range of subjects."

While recounting the story, Malgonkar paused and looked at us, " You must remember this.."

He continued, " E.M. Forster then took me out to lunch in one of the most expensive hotels and ordered a bottle of wine. He looked at me and said, "I hope you will finish the bottle..". I ended up finished three-quarters of the bottle...". Forster then autographed a book that he had written and gave it to me. A few years ago, I decided I would give this book to someone who would truely cherish. So i wote to the E. M Forster council in Cambridge and asked them if they would like to take the book..."

We listened to his words , so heavy with emotion. Then he asked me my name, took a copy of his book - Distant Drum and wrote inside-

With all good wishes on your visit to my house

Manohar Malgonkar

26-01-09

On my way back home, I kept the book open in my lap. It felt like history was repeating itself.

Malgonkar had a beautiful house. We were allowed to look around and take pictures. Here is a painting that I found fascinating.

Another point of view:

After Malgonakar's book on the 'chattrapatis of Kohlapur'

The wall of memories:

The baptism:

With his daughter..

Those days....

Here are some artifacts I found interesting.. :

The experience was another addition to my basket of memories. Hoping that many more come my way!

Meet Toto the turtle...

2009-01-28T05:46:00.000-08:00

Meet Toto. He was swimming around in his king size 'fish' tank, when he spotted my big black camera staring at him through the glass. "Hello there!", I said. Toto blinked and gulped a few bubbles. But I couldn't understand what was going on in his mind. Then in the blink of an eye, he swam to the opposite of the tank!
"No...wait!", I cried. "I'm a friend. I don't want to hurt you..."
And I spent the next 15 minutes trying to click the close up of a tiny turtle, because each time I approached his side of the tank, he would swim to the opposite side!

Notice the black and yellow patterns. He was a pretty lil fellow!

There he was taking his occasional sniff of air from the surface of the water.

Toto, it was a pleasure meeting you!!

Red red wine...

2008-11-25T23:19:00.000-08:00

This glass of wine that you sip...

slowly for the pleasure

The neck of the glass, strong fingers grip...

draining the glass at leisure

And like the red red wine flows..

my blood slowly ebbs out of my life

You drained the life out of me by force..

you deepened the wound with your knife

Cheers to you and your newfound happiness

A toast to the sparkling wine, beautiful and new..

You finally let go of the glass, that shatters into pieces

The wine and blood stain the floor behind you..

At the edge...

2008-11-07T05:15:00.000-08:00

Tenderness against stone

White against black

Nothing to be called as one's own

Left in ruins and wrack

Pray pick this one up with care

As you pass by

Guide it to safety, leave it not bare

Leave it not, to wither and die...

Can a lot really happen over coffee?

2008-10-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

I'm talking about Tasseography. It's a method of divination that interprets patterns in tea-leaves, coffee grounds or wine sediments.

After a cup of coffee has been poured, without using a tea strainer, the coffee is drunk or poured away. The cup should then be shaken well and any remaining liquid drained off in the saucer. The diviner now looks at the pattern of coffee sediments in the cup and allows the imagination to play around the shapes suggested by them. They might look like a letter, a heart shape, or a ring. These shapes are then interpreted intuitively or by means of a fairly standard system of symbolism, such as: snake (enmity or falsehood), spade (good fortune through industry), mountain (journey of hindrance), or house (change, success).

A friend of mine went to this coffee reader and was thoroughly impressed by her. Now, I really don't believe in predictions or 'fate' readings. I believe that what needs to be achieved should be worked for...and nobody can determine which way your fate goes.

I was curious, and hence the experimental visit. I was asked to think of my problem while drinking the coffee and then had to blow into the little that I left behind in the cup. She over turned the cup onto a tissue paper and waited. Oh boy, was she beautiful!

Then she took the cup and told me, " These are not predictions, just some advice for you.."

She told me about some career confusion that I had. It was interesting, listening to her analysis. Then she said it, "Not all people you meet are nice. Do not go all out believing every person is good and likes you. Make your decisions wisely." I guess she was just telling me - Keep your friends close and your enemies closer!!

It was confusing considering the fact that I didn't know of any 'enemies' as such. But on the whole, the session was interesting enough for me to come home and blog about. :)

What's even more interesting is that people from all religions and walks of life come to her, seeking her advice. I guess it's human nature to seek assurance.

My Gut feeling is the same as always - only God determines what's good for you. You need to trust and believe in him...no matter what.

cheers! :)

Strings...

2008-10-14T06:58:00.000-07:00

He buttoned up the suit. The room was cold. In every sense. The air was chilly and his nose felt numb. His eyes scanned the sober conference room and tried to find some movement that could remind him that he was alive and not frozen in time. But all the faces were pale and lifeless, eyes on the rostrum.
The monotonous voice of the speaker resonated in his ear drums. "And the sales rose up by 27% last week,..."

He wished he could have walked outside in the sun instead. He walked into the lobby after the meeting, with his trophy for the 'Best Business Man of the year' award. As he walked down the empty corridor, the silence was broken by a gentle strumming.
He stopped in his tracks. Running back to the middle of the hall, he raced towards the sound. It was coming from the side room. "It can't be...", he thought in his head. He burst into the room, only to find a startled gentleman looking up at him. He stared at the cell phone in his hand.
"Where....where did you get that ring tone from?", his voice quivered.
The gentlemen seemed offended at the unapologetic question from the person who had nearly scared him into an early heart attack.
"My wife...plays the guitar..., this is her favorite tune. I've just recorded it. But why are you so interested in it?"
"What's.....her name?"
"Razmi.."

He turned back and walked away, leaving the gentleman even more puzzled than before. It was was her language. It was her code. The monochrome memory of him sitting with his old guitar with the band...slowly filled his mind. How she sang for him and only him! How she plucked those strings as gently as her fingers ran through his hair. How she cradled the guitar like he would cradle her in his arms.
The night he made that tune for her, was the night before her birthday. He had played it while she sang. She sang for him under the moonlight....

The images started fast forwarding in his head. He remembered the vivid paradigms of intimacy, love, fun, career, distance, priorities & money reel through.... in the very same order.

Now he was back in the real world. The picture was still gray but the instrument had changed. He walked into his office and fell into his chair. He closed his eyes, waiting for the dancing ghosts of the past to dissolve in front of his eyes....

*Razmi - strings in sanskrit

Cuppa..

2008-10-09T09:20:00.000-07:00

My porcelain cup
Look where we've ended up
Like the splotches of red
We're in some splattered pattern instead

Empty as can be
It's only you and me
Waiting for something special
will my heart , warmth fill?

(See the hand's picture, 2 posts below...that's my roomie's hand)

The age of innocence..

2008-10-07T13:36:00.000-07:00

Has age ever been synonymous with innocence? Has love ever been pure?

It was a friend's birthday at 12 AM. Just sat down and made a card for her with a few lines from the following poem:

The Child Angel

Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my child,unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.

They are cruel in their greed and their envy,their words are like hidden knives thirsting for blood.

Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child,and let your gentle eyes fall upon them like theforgiving peace of the evening over the strife of the day.

Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the meaning of all things, let them love you and love each other.

Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, my child. At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming flower,and at sunset bend your head and in silencecomplete the worship of the day.

-Rabindranath Tagore

The words seemed to make me wonder about the beauty of innocence that we once enjoyed as children. With love, selflessness and humility. They say we become 'mature' as adults.

Do we really? Do our emotions mature away into stone and money and things far more shinier?

Wishing you all the happiness...

2008-10-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

I'm going through a full circle
Which started with life, innocence adorn
Somewhere the lines collided
A new design was born

The pattern broke
The colours drained out
I've reached the end of the tunnel
withered away in doubt

But here's what's left of it
Wishing you all the happiness
Take this precious chance to blossom
While I fade away into dark infiniteness

The photograph...

2008-09-29T12:53:00.000-07:00

She dusted the old album. The pungent smell itched her tiny little nose and she sneezed out loud. "Achoo...achoo..achoo...". People always laughed when they heard her laugh and called it cute.
"Bless you nunu...", a voice echoed in her head. She shrugged the memory away and opened the pages. There were no photos. Just the remains of bitter-sweet memories torn away, leaving nothing behind but bits of paper...
She fought against the tsunami of emotion that was trying to push into her mind, but in vain. The flood of familiarity exploded in her head and she tried to overcome it by shutting her eyes tight. But nothing changed. The world was still the same complacent, insenstive atmosphere when she opened her eyes.
As she turned each page, she ran her fingers across each page. Her mind saw the pictures that had once been pasted there. Voices played in her head, the smiles and the laughter, the fresh sweet-smelling flowers and the tangy wine, the exciting holidays and the daring rides..., each colour danced in front of her as if they were back in time, back with each other.
And then she flipped to the last page. There was still one last photograph there. It was their last happy picture together. Their hands clasped, one hand on the other.
The colours drained into shades of black and gray. The picture turned fuzzy as drops fell onto the page.
There was no picture anymore. The easel had been replaced and she was no longer a part of the artist's imagination. The artist had drained out the colours from her life and used them to paint new canvas.

Genius!!

2008-09-25T10:21:00.000-07:00

We were asked to give definitions that even a layman would understand for our AV communication module. This is what a genius wrote:

DEPTH OF FIELD
it is the field which is in focus. it is the distance in focus which is in front of the object and beyond the object. in case of the close, object is the starting point of the depth of field.

CONNECTIVE SHOT
Shot for connection of background and other ground by using trolley.

BOTTOM SHOT
Shot from bottom. (Oooh.. La..la..)

TOP SHOT
Shot from Top. (Eyebrows raised)

Er... in the case of the close? Other background would be something from some other dimension??

Lol... we laughed our heads off reading this one.

The food 'fare'

2008-09-21T07:10:00.000-07:00

Yes, we at Lavale have a price to pay.

Now when would a girl normally chase a guy?
a) Guy is HOT.
b) Guy is rich
c) Guy is single and no other single guy around
d) All of the above

Sorry, the rules in lavale are different. If a girl chases a guy, it's for
a) FOOD
b) FOOD
c) FOOD
er... no we're not promoting 'cannibalism' here... but if a guy DARES walk around these hills with food that is not a mixture of Aloo, salad, baingan and sour curd, then he is doomed.

:D

Onam is On!

2008-09-13T23:33:00.001-07:00

And there it was, my first Onam at SIMC. Well, nobody wants to know, but I still cherish my experience and want to share it.

That picture was my attempt at artistic photography with a K-750i.

Malayalees are a minority here, but they're more in number than the other minority folks. I guess most of the janta here are from Maharashtra, Kolkata and Delhi.

I'll just explain a little more about Onam. Onam is the national festival of Kerala. It is celebrated in honour of Mahabali, the mythical Asura king of ancient Kerala. Malayalees believe that on Onam day Bali visits his subjects. This ten-day harvest festival falls in August / September.
Onam has two specific significances. First, it is the memory of the community at large and celebration of past history as enunciated in the Mahabali legend – a story of how paradise was lost. Secondly, it is the celebration of the harvest, tied with the memory of the golden age of prosperity. It is believed that during those days the whole of Chingam was celebrated as Onam season. After the rain-drenched month of Karkidakam, with its privations, Chingam is a welcome month for people in the state of Kerala. The festival is the harbinger of spring — signalling the start of the harvest season. Onam epitomises the newfound vigour and enthusiasm of the season, and is celebrated with traditional fervour with visits to temples, family get-togethers, gifting of clothes called Onakkodi and lots of merrymaking. The Keralites perform the Mohiniattam Dance, dedicated to the female form of Vishnu Mohini.
Thiruvathira kali is another dance form performed at the time of onam. Onam is celebrated with flowers and sumptuous sadhya(Kerala food).The flowers are decorated on the floor to welcome Mahabali.

At 10 PM, 'twas the night before Thiruvonam (tenth day). The Mallu girls association (MGA) at that point consisted of me and a few others. Though it had been founded just a few hours before, we felt the need to do something solid. A brainwave had hit me at 4 PM and I had made poor Priya call up our Campus administrator. He was Malayalee colonel himself, and we begged him for help in making an attapoo in the campus Admin block. He said he'd send us the resources but we were doubtful. Keeping our fingers crossed we waited for his call. At 10, Priya called him back. He hadn't been able to arrange the flowers and we thought our merry plans had been squashed.
But no, the MGA wasn't ready to give up.

Time: 5.30 AM
Day: Thiruvonam
MGA member Priya Menon is up. She calls me at 5.30 AM sharp, interrupting my dreams of payasams and sweets. After 2 calls, I'm up. MGA member Anousha is also ready. At 5.45 AM, the 3 MGA members go down to member Paro's room in an attempt to wake her up. Anousha manages to flash a torch light through the hostel room window at Paro's roommate's face by mistake, scaring the wits out of her. We drag Paro out and reach our target - the flower bed in front of the girl's hostel. Mission starts, and flowers are swiftly and skillfully plucked and tucked away into our plastic bags. We sneak out of there and run to the Admin block. MGA member Sneha joins us. We start the plucking, delibrating, designing and decoration.
And our attapoo was born.

At 9:00 AM, we're back at the block, dressed up in our saris, as innocent as angels.

Mission accomplished!

Rock on!!

2008-09-05T15:12:00.000-07:00

Hanging out in E-square was one of the better things I did on a holiday, that is thursday.

I had an hour to kill before the hindi movie ' Rock On'. So we walked into Odyssey. Here are some snaps. I must admit I was feeling very artistic until I was shooed out by the shop assistants.

Talk about lovely bangles and exquisite earings...

I'm in love with Farhan Akhtar and the songs of the movie. Arjun Rampal is THE one and only. I just loved his attitude.

I got selected for the college prospectus team so will be packed for days to come. Take care everyone!

Latest creations...

2008-09-01T09:31:00.000-07:00

Hmm.. I need to cook up 2 stories about the girl and the cockatoo... any suggestions? :)

My Corner

Experiment with colours...

The Date

2008-09-01T09:14:00.001-07:00

The doorbell rang and with it, she felt her heart skip a beat. Anna was nervous. She tugged at her saree, smoothening the creases, but her nervous nimble fingers crumpled the soft silk all over again as she toyed around with it.
"Do I look alright?", she mused as she glanced at herself in the mirror. Anna rushed to the door and opened it, only to find herself face-to-face with an enourmous boucquet of flowers. The fragrance drifted into the room, while Abbey laughed at the concotion of surprise and pleasure on her face. She pouted and stated, " You're late!!!" Abbey apologised and remarked playfully, "My secretary just wouldn't let me go..". Anna punched him and laughed. This time it was from the deepest deep of her heart, unlike all those times she had forced a smile to hide herself from the world.
She looked at him, longing to hear him compliment her about the way the blue silk complimented her blue eyes, the way her blue diamond earings matched the exquisite braclet on her tender arm. Her deliberate 'rounds' around the room, did not seem to catch his attention , instead he talked about everything else under the sun.
Her dejected face finally sent Abbey into splits of laughter and he pulled her close to give her a bear hug. "You're beautiful. You'll always be. What you have will never fade away.."
They drove out to Coral bay, her favourite sea-side restaurant, where they had booked a special table for two. The candle bathed his face in gold, as handsome as a greek God.
The wind caressed her face, tears filled her eyes as a flood of memories rushed into her head, as tumultous as the waves that crashed into the shore nearby.
The salty air, the salty tears, the salty sting that had sliced her life into shreds years ago, when her husband had died.. all strangely seemed to fit into the puzzle that her life was.
Abbey pulled her up for a dance. Bathed in moonlight, he smiled at her and whispered,
"Mom, you'll always be the best woman in my life..."
She smiled at the gift that God had given her. If only he hadn't planned it this way.

Date: 2007-06-07 12:22

2008-09-01T09:10:00.000-07:00

Wanted to write a song...and came up with something like this...

You stepped outside today
Felt the sun pierce you like a knife.
Did it thaw the ice around your heart?
Are u ready to feel alive?

You think Life is ok
Everything’s alright
Do you still want a storm
To remind you you’re alive?

CH:
Are you ready for the ride
On this journey called life?
It’s a one way baby
There’s no turning back tonight

I promise you tears,I promise you pain
Don’t think its only laughter and gain
If you’re ready to accept all in the game
I promise u sunshine after rain

Why drown in your mire
When u can climb up higher?
Slice those ropes that bind your soul
Break free, dare to face the cold.

CH:
Are you ready for the ride
On this journey called life?
It’s a one way baby
There’s no turning back tonight

Date: 2007-05-24 11:21

2008-09-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

Subject: How did this happen?!

Scene1:
Me and my elder sis sitting at the dining table and talking. Mom hovering in the background, busy with housework.

Sis: So how was class?
Me:Ah it was ok. He teaches ok.
Sis:So all set for the exams?
Me:hmm.. u know me. (Grin...) But you know why we girls are regular to this class?
Sis: hmmm..lemme guess.. cute guys?
Me:Well yeah! how did u know???
Sis: (Rolls her eyes...) been there, done that.
Me:oh ...ok. There's this one particularly cute guy u know.. Fair,tall,brown eyes..eye candy! All of us just have a good time in class teasing each other with him.

CLANG,bang,crash.... mom's dropped a vessel.

Scene2:

Mom:I heard the whole conversation!!!
Dad: I knew we should've been more strict with her, you're the one who spoilt her!
Mum:ok now its my fault.great.
Dad:we'll talk to her tomorrow.\
Mum:At such a young age. Where did we go wrong? (sniff..sob)

Mom and dad pray fervently for my soul.

Scene3:
Prayer time.

Dad: Mole, we need to talk.(angry)
Sis:I'm leaving.. bye bye.. (sigh.. I have to fight this war alone.)
Mum: We have always loved and taken care of you,we have sacrificed so much for you. But at this age you ahve to be careful.
Me: huh? (Did i murder someone?)
Dad: Take the bible, turn to ChapterX: verse Y. Read it aloud. Understand the meaning...
We have to be pure of heart,mind and soul. ( I pictured angels scrubbing me clean in a bathtub full of bubbles...)

(and a long lecture continues...)

We are human beings. We may sin, but remember, the wages of sin is DEATH!!!!!!!

(drum rolls... horror music playing in my head. I can picture a beast running towards me with a sword, breathing fire out of its mouth... I crouch my head in fear...)

Ahem!!

Mum: People may mislead you, but you should be more careful...

blah blah blah...

Scene4:
Sis:So how did it go? did they mention the 'wages of sin'?
Me:Gasp! how did u know?
Sis: Sigh...been there, done that.
Me:Sniff sob..they terrified me outta my wits.
Sis:There there... this is only the beginning!

Oh Great!!!

Date: 2007-05-11 11:53

2008-09-01T09:07:00.000-07:00

My Buddy!

Down the road of life I walked.
Saw people of different kinds.
And then I met you and we talked.
I thought you were out of your mind! 

Your crazy sense of humor
And your generous wicked smile
Made me wish I had met u sooner
It would’ve helped me cross that extra mile.

Your stupid never ending questions of ‘Why’
Your weird debates against everything I say
Your comfort whenever you see me cry
The idiotic mails we forward each other everyday

But I’m glad your’re around
Whether I need it or not :p
But It’s a good thing you I found
You’re a damn good buddy that I’ve got!

Dedicated to my buddy!

Old is Gold... (old post 1)

2008-09-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

I've decided to post some of the blogs that I wrote 2 years back while working .. for memories sake...for the sake of good times...

One of the poems go as follows:

I always wait for the rain
after each attack of pain
So when I rush out before anyone asks me why,
No one will see me cry.

I stand alone on the roof,looking down at the city below
Then I close my eyes,my body cries to be warm
The water drenches my face, my body from head to toe
The tears get drowned in the storm.

A smile creeps its way onto my lips in the chilly night
I hug myself and let the pain subside
I'm alone or am I really? Is it worth holding onto my fears?
This is God's way of wiping my tears...

Extension of my wandering mind...

2008-08-29T11:43:00.000-07:00

I decided to do something different after so very long. The pain, anguish and every bitter memory seemed to dissolve away as I used my oil pastels to scribble.

Empty Reflection......

Colours bleed..

Interior decoration....

Many more to come.

The shadow...

2008-08-26T20:01:00.000-07:00

She woke up sweating
She clutched her doll
Her heart was racing
Nobody could hear her tearful call

The shadow was sinister
The silhoutte was vicious
The footsteps grew louder
Every second of delay was precious

The shadow grew stonger, its claws were long..
At her side, he did not belong.
He reached out for her, slithering down the sheet..
She could not hide anymore, she couldn't feel her heart beat.

She cried for her mama, but her voice was never heard..
She didn't know, she didn't like what was happening to her,
There was no colour in her eyes, so dark was her world..
No laughter left in her soul, only fear.

"Mama, is it my fault...why did this happen to me?
This paralysing evil in my dreams I still see?
Am I no longer your child,
Will I always be treated an animal, homeless and wild?"

"Will I ever be able to tell you this..
The story of the evil shadow, death better than its kiss..?
Will it haunt my world forever..
My body and soul, will it sever..?"

All pun intended...

2008-08-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

My photography sir said today, " Shoot yourself.."
I know he meant well, but by all means, I fully agree with him!

Another sir says, "We are not lunch..."
Yes sir, I'm sure, but why do you treat us like prey?

"Scroll upstairs.."
Anything else sir?

"Don't talk inside yourself!"
Ok sir, it was getting too boring anyway.

Done with life here... :(

Today...Hug your sweetheart day!

2008-08-22T12:23:00.000-07:00

Happy hug your sweetheart day... Here's the picture of my sweetheart.

He's special because his name is printed on his bottom - Toffee. :)

Now let me enlighten you on a keen observation I made last week. Our group had to attend a radio practicals class in the basement of the new academic block. As I was walking by, I noticed the following on the ceiling. Now doesn't that say something about the 'advanced' technology we use in our college for air-conditioning?

My friend remarked after hearing my woes of water-shortage and internet-less nights, "Are they preparing you for the stone-Age????"

I think I talk too much about myself these days. So let me tell you about a documentary screened today, called ' The Silent Speak'. It's about a group of women in rural Andhra Pradesh who work for a Dalit community newspaper called 'NavoDaya'.

The documentary starts by introducing a bare-foot repoter, bare-foot cameraperson and bare-foot radiocontroller, all Dalit women who were trained in these trades. They balance these tasks passionately along with daily activities. And we complain when we don't have enough money to buy the latest nike shoes, don't we?

One thing that caught my attention was the mention of 'Joginis'. Street plays are organised, in which the dalits themselves play parts influenced by experiences of their own lives. The pain is real, the trauma is deep. They try to spread awareness about prevelant superstition and meaniningless rituals.

Joginis, alternately known as devdasis, basivis, matammas and venkatasanis in other states of South India, are women 'married off' to a goddess, sometimes when they are barely six years old. Once the girls attain puberty, they are trained to become courtesans, catering to the villagers. The girls undergo an elaborate ceremony at which liquor flows freely and some influential villagers 'initiate' them into the profession.Traditionally, it is believed that these girls are 'serving' society as 'ordained' by the goddess. (Quoted from http://www.boloji.com/)

Nirmala Grace, Convenor of the Andhra Pradesh Anti-Jogini System Struggle Committee (APJVVPS), a movement started by Aashray, says, "Often upper caste families influence the farm hands (from lower castes) to dedicate their daughters to them in the name of god. The landlord suggests that one girl can continue serving his family and the local goddess throughout her life and offers Rs 2,000-3,000 (1US$=Rs 44) to the father for this arrangement. Some poor families force their physically challenged girls to become joginis. Some offer their elder daughters. Sometimes, a senior jogini goes into a trance and asks for a particular girl in the village."

"When a girl has copper-coloured hair, which is due to malnutrition, the villagers believe that she is born to be a jogini. In many areas, a sick baby girl is abandoned outside a temple in the night. If she is still alive in the morning, the family believes she is born for the goddess," says Grace.

Sadly, women and girls are still exploited, though the public is being made aware of them.

Slowly but surely, let us hope that salvation comes...not just to the sinners, but also to the captive.

Left is right!

2008-08-13T03:14:00.000-07:00

Happy Left-Hander's day! :)

To all you lefties out there, this your day!

Quoting from www.lefthandersday.com

"No-one has come up with a definitive reason for WHY some people are left-handed, but about 13% of the population around the world are, and it is thought to be genetic - it definitely runs in families.The way the brain works is incredibly complex, but this simplified explanation will give you some understanding of where our left-hand dominance comes from. The brain is "cross-wired" so that the left hemisphere controls the right handed side of the body and vice-versa and hand dominance is connected with brain dominance on the opposite side - which is why we say that only left-handers are in their right minds!

This brain dominance makes left-handers more likely than right handers to be creative and visual thinkers. This is supported by higher percentages of left-handers than normal in certain jobs and professions - music and the arts, media in general."

So now we know where we're lacking! :)
I'm surprised to see a lot of left-handers in my batch here. Now I don't mean to make them sound as though they're some kind of species, but they were rare in school and college.
If you ask me, it's kinda special and different to be a left-hander. Being right-handed is so boring, isn't it?

My status update would be, No water and no internet in the hostels. I get to access internet only from the computer lab and that too, when no teacher is around. Else, I would be awarded a warning letter for not using the internet for 'educational' purposes.
No water in the hostels means I undergo rigourous physical exercise everyday. Yes, I have to walk to a tank outside my hostel with buckets, refill them with water and climb back to the fourth floor, just in case I need to brush my teeth. :)
Ahh..the bitter sweet joys of helplessness. People tell me my biceps have developed.

Have a good time people. :)

Happy Lighthouse Day

2008-08-07T10:41:00.000-07:00

Today is Happy lighthouse day! Here's a poem I liked about a lighthouse!

Echo Of My Heart

Each and every night we would
meet at the lighthouse of love

We would hold each other till
the early morning hours and pray
god would give us just one more moment

On the cliff's edge is where we both
had to walk different ways, each knowing
the other would walk alone with only
the distant sounds of the empty waves
crashing into the rocks below

Oh its been so many many nights since
the nightly trip to the lighthouse, but the
memory that is witheld in the halls of its
harbor will remain an echo of my heart......

Bonnie Collins

Hope is a strong word. We keep searching all the while for new things to inspire us. I guess the latest inspiration is a certain lecturer who goes 'Waaaat yaar yuuu doin maaan...? I dant knaw waaat ur saying?' His hindi dialects are even more inspiring. All his 'K's' have been replaced by 'G's'. 'Thum Ghaam Gyun nahi Garte?'

I'm still searching for more inspiration.

Heart of stone

2008-08-04T16:48:00.000-07:00

They say the toughest stones are worn out,
by the waters of the sea..
Though some drops can seem to do nothing to a stone
persuasive they can be..

My tears fall on stone,
you call it your heart..
Even if the strongest mountain is over thrown,
only my tears burst apart..

Expression!

2008-08-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

And so here I am reporting from the lavale concentration camp.
Ok just kidding. Maybe it isnt so bad except for the fact they're given us our 'uniform' dress code.
Saturdays - Gray Sari
Sunday - Gray salwar

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I heard about the 'sari' but my nightmares consist of me running to college and in between classes wearing several metres of cloth, not to mention walking a kilometer in this rainy season. :) The thamaasha is yet to begin!

So anyway, laugh all you want! I thought the entire idea behind a 'media' college was being able to express myself, but I think the administration mistook 'exposure' for 'expression'.
I daresay a sari is one of the most revealing attires worn by women. No doubt, Deepika Padukone and Aishwarya Rai would look hot in chiffon, but what about the poor girls who have tyres to cover?

Jokes apart, I thought I would share this poem with you here.. The sheer beauty of Pablo Neruda's lines... Thanks to Usha for introducing me to his poems.

Twenty Poems of Love

I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write for example: ‘The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’

The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off.
Far off,my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me

The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.

Pablo Neruda

Happy Hugs' Day...

2008-08-02T11:52:00.000-07:00

Well yeah technically it's Happy friendship's day. But I prefer Hugs day. Now guys please don't roll your eyes and say, "There she goes again, trying to make her own rules and definitions!"

I shall submit my evidence as follows.

I smiled when I saw these. Hopes you the smiles toooooo.

So lets get back to a more important topic. Hehe...you guessed it. Judging by the way my posts are going, you might say, " ok..College life again.." :)

The regular MBA students aparently have a problem with our bindaas life and hence... our once 'rocking' media college has a new dress 'code' from tomorrow. Talk about life getting better. Its Formals from now on and uniform two days a week.
I fear the supression of expression!!!

All first years are required to do a compulsory NGO internship for about a month during the month of November and an industry internship after that. The 2nd years gave their presentations today about their NGO internships and some of the work was facinating.

A girl had worked with an orphanage in Delhi and she had managed to squeeze in a LOT of work in one month. She had designed brochures, websites, PR programmes and even coloring books for the children. She said she had learnt her best lessons from the children who never cribbed even though they never had the love and affection that we all take for granted.
I felt ashamed at the way I feared being opimistic, all for the sake of 'touch-wood'.
I found myself longing to get back to work. It was then that I realised that it was work life that I missed the most. I can't wait for the opportunity!

Now here's a message for you people!!!!!

Take care! :)

Fresh?

2008-07-30T23:34:00.000-07:00

Last night was Fresher's night. The 2nd years arranged a 'welcome' party for the 1rst years.
Now I have this minor problem here. I refer to the 2nds years as '2nd years' and not 'seniors'. That's because most of them are much younger to me. So call it ego, or anything you want, but they will only be referred to as 2nd years.
I picked up a black Tshirt and my favorite pepe Jeans. Though it wasn't 'party' wear per se, I wasn't really interested in going for it. But we had to cough up 250 bucks each for entry, so I wanted to make the most out of the food.

Amazing is not the word to describe what followed. The crowd was pure eye-candy. We were taken to Area51, one of the biggest discotheques in India. Grand and huge, the lighting and music was good. The DJ wasn't that great but then again, not everything can be perfect.

Legs and skin everywhere! :) If only you boys could've been here to see the variety of colour, shapes, IQ and EQ!

Girls looked stunning and chic. Mascara and lipstick, fancy handbags, stilletos, high pitched giggles, the girls made the best of the chance they had to break free. There was not a single girl in the disc who didn't dance..barring me. I just sat on my plush leather sofa and sipped a drink, watching the crowd sway in frenzy. Smoky and loud, the environment was pulsating with energy. I wished some of the energy had rubbed off on me too but I somehow didn't feel like joining them.
There was one particular dude whom everyone 'disliked' and the news had gone around that 10 of the hostel guys had rushed into his room the previous night and roughed him up. He seemed to have found a suitable match for himself and I think I laughed till I choked at the absurd couple.

I watched a few couple hold hands, dance, sway, enjoying themselves, completely oblivious to the crowd around them. After a while, I had to keep turning my head in different directions so that I could respect their 'privacy'. Booze was flowing, at a price though. Some of the girls had too many shots, so the air reeked of smoke, vomit and alcohol. The entire scene brought back a flood of memories to my head, in which I saw myself out on the dance floor enjoying myself just as much.
But I really wonder where all the fun and frolic went. :( I just didn't feel that enthusiasm in me anymore that used to bubble up every minute, pushing me to try something new everyday. I felt like a part of me had withdrawn back into that safe shell, from which I could occassionally peek out and observe the world.
I tucked myself with some food and lots of ice cream to cheer myself up. Some irritating fool had dropped ice cream all over my jacket and people were falling all over the place. The director was there on the dance floor along with some of the staff. I was amused by their energy and unstable moves, thank goodness for entertainment!

The party ended at around 2 and the next hurdle was herding all the lost sheep into the college bus. All 3 buses were jampacked and I had to sit right behind the driver in his cabin along with some friends. When we reached near the foot of the hill on which my college was located, the engine spluttered and died. Diagnosis? Diesel had run out! The time was 2.30 and were in the middle of nowhere.
The crowd was again re-arranged into 2 buses and sent to the hostels. We reached out rooms at around 3, tired and desperate for sleep.
I switched on my laptop in an attempt to record all that happened, but sleep captured me and I slowly dozed off...

Breathing...

2008-07-29T07:26:00.000-07:00

Classes were hectic from day 1 itself! I so badly wanted to sit down and describe the entire situation before it engulfed me completely, but classes from 9AM to 8.30PM kept me away from any form of social activity. But for the first time in so many days, I had the last hour off. Let me start explaining my saga through the hostel pictures. Now guys need not get excited because I mean the hostel building and not the inmates. :)

I'm staying in a campus in lavale, right on top of a mountain. Tucked away from civilisation, this place is devoid of any noise, smoke or human banter. In the beginning, such silence makes you believe in the serenity and peacefulness of hill stations, but after a week, the silence is deafening. Especially when you badly need to yell at someone to unload all your frustrations.
My hostel is a kilometer away from the college. So lunches are a mad rush, nothing short of a marathon for some food. By food, I mean the same yellow dal, yellow chappathi, yellowish rice etc. On sundays, we get a sweet dish that is nothing short of a suggary concotion of ghee and food colour.

The hostel block is grand but incomplete. Construction work starts in the morning and takes place throughout the day.We wake up every morning to the beautiful sound of workers hammering away at their walls, with the result that most of my early morning dreams are about war.

Here is the hostel courtyard

The next picture is of the half constructed corridor next to my room.

Here is the completed corridor...

Since there are 3 of us in the room, I've thought of displaying our names on our door in more appealing and girly way.

My bed looks so neat for the picture!

My hand shook while taking a picture of the door, with the lights off...

Some of the lectures are excellent. I love hearing journalists and art teachers talk about their view points and experiences. It's a whole new perspective, where your mind begins to do a post mortem of almost everything around, be it pictures, films, emotions, life, love etc.

My assignments range from marketing concepts, to creating assignments with Art and craft paper..to watching art films. It sounds really good, but these assignments gulp up all my sleep and recreation time.

So much more to come..

Picture Perfect?

2008-07-26T12:45:00.000-07:00

I had a class today where my sir told us to 'paint' pictures through words. He was a successful journalist and had years of experience behind every piece of advice he gave us.

When you close your eyes and try to think of yourself, what do you really see? Do you see yourself smiling or sad? Is it a frown or a grin that's prominent on your face?

Tell other people to paint a picture of you. What do they see? Are they willing to picture you above your faults? Or have you not been trying hard enough?

I've learned that a mistake can be the costliest thing that happened to you ever! With pain, I look back and wish that I had been more wise. But the aftermath of all those mistakes is still looming in the air. People tend to judge you for who you were and not whom you've tried to become. Someday I hope I will be loved for trying to overcome my mistakes.

Sweet dreams world!

On a bed of roses...

2008-07-19T13:35:00.000-07:00

Barely as lovely as the red rose. But I was thrilled to get a belated birthday gift delivered to my door today. One of my friends, studying abroad had managed to send me flowers!

I was pleasantly surprised and touched when the delivery boy made me sign the receipt for 50 pink roses and 1 red roses!

And before you all go awwww..., let me say I removed each and every rose from the bunch and cut off the leaves. Then I arranged them to get this picture.

There was a pretty little note along with it:
"Live your life with love only..N Don't ever compromise!!
PS: N stay beautiful, Beautiful."

and trust me..this made my day!

My roommates loved the flowers too. I was lucky enought to get a similar bunch of yellow roses on my birthday. I had least expected it back then, but we at the stroke of midnight, the bunch of yellow flowers in my hand made me smile after so long.

I also met up with some 2nd year students who tried to boost my morale, quoting examples from their lives.

So I'm still cringing at the negativeness of this place, but I'm hopeful things wont change!!

This was a year of flowers!

I'm alive..

2008-07-12T23:36:00.000-07:00

When time flies, you don't even know it. The worst part about time is, when you want it to move fast, it drags along so painfully...and when you want time to just stop, it rushes past you so rudely!

I said goodbye to my beautiful home for 2 years, mysore, goodbye to my company, my teammates, my independant life..and landed in Pune last week. I wasn't really prepared for the series of events that followed.
We took the train to bangalore from trivandrum. As I boarded the train, I realised that I had said goodbye to trivandrum the same way 2 years ago when I left for mysore. As the train chugged out of the station, the familiar pain gnawed at my insides, churning my stomach. I stared at my cell waiting for a sign. Perhaps a phone call, or even an sms.
And I waited. Waited. Waited. Nothing. Where was the world? I swallowed my hurt ego and started sending several sms to all the people in my contact list tellin them that I was moving to pune for higher studies. Then my cell went out of range and I stared at the book in my hand. It was going to be a long journey.
We reached bangalore and freshened up at my cousin's place. Bangalore brought back a flood of memories. I dragged myself out of there and got to the airport. Our flight got delayed by 4 hours. My parents were tired and I felt guilty for putting them through all this stress.
We finally reached pune and had a tough time getting to our hotel. It was a really shady place and we had no choice at the last moment. That was when we realised that Dad had forgotten to take the 3 DDs required for my college. I was supposed to report to the hostel next morning but we were frantically trying to search for the nearest bank where we could arrange the DDs from.

Testing times. I felt like everything had gone horribly wrong. Maybe this was a sign that the decision to join the college was the biggest mistake ever. I wished for some comfort but things seemed to get worse. At this point, I get an sms. It was from a friend saying he never wanted to talk to me again. I smiled at the timing. It was ironic.

Our cab didnt turn up and we had to run around trying to find atleast some mode of transport to the college. Dad ran around the deserted place trying to hire a shared auto. In the afternoon, an autorickshaw agreed to take us for double the normal price.
When I got to the college, I realised that there were no free rooms in the hostel for me to shift in. It was complete chaos. After running between the hostel and the administrator's office several times, I was allotted a room. My parents were both ill and didn't have a mode of transport to go back to the city. I had hit the point of lowest low.
My dad finally managed to flag a lift back to the foot of the mountain on which the college was built. I hugged them both and tearfully watched them pull out of the campus. My last source of strength was gone.

I walked back to the hostel, trying desperately to smile at those around me. Everyone was pre-occupied with their own problems. As I slept alone in the hostel room that night, I remembered..
The tighter you try to hold sand, the more slips out of your hand. Even though I hadn't lost anything as yet, the sense of loss was greatest at the moment. The people I had depended on the most had disappeared when I needed them the most, but then they all had lives of their own. And it was time I accepted the change. All my life I had been taken care of. But this was the time I needed to fall free.

Hostel problems were common. No facilities, no water in the rooms, incomplete furnishing etc. The mess food had a common colour for all curries - yellow.
I sighed as I realised that my laundromat days were over. There was no range for airtel and no internet connectivity in the college. I felt like I had settled down on an island where communication with the outside world was forbidden. But then again, the irony was that ours was a media and communication institute.

People were strong and confident, not afraid to express their opinions. People from mass communication backgrounds did really well while this poor engineer stared in awe at the concepts presented. Average age group was around 20 and my gray hairs started to look more prominent in the mirror. I was warned that this industry had enourmous potential and any slow step could let you be trampled by the crowd.

Fortunately my roommates were sweet to me. I would go back to my room and listen to them talk. It was a welcome break from the deafening silence.

Each day passes by with new fears. I'm sceptical but not giving up. But I guess this is the stage when I learn to live alone and handle myself!
Someday luck will favour me and I will be living happily. But till then, I'm praying for patience.

Oh for God's sake!

2008-06-28T14:24:00.000-07:00

My friend once asked me.. "Are you religious or are you spiritual?" And I thought to myself, "what's the difference?"
My explanation was,
religious - Adhering to customs, traditions, expressing faith in one's life and other people's lives, more of a 'wordly' term.
Spiritual - Personal belief, belief in God and one's own destiny, belief that one's own actions was more important that judgement, an effort to improve oneself than other people, more of a 'personal' term.
I decided I was spiritual. I now somehow feel that this is actually what's more 'convinient' for me. Was religion too much of a hassle for me that I claim to be spiritual and believe in 'Faith in action'?

I've met religious people, spiritual people, atheists, agnostics and many more. I like listening to their points of view. There was a time when I once thought that everything I believed in was always right. But as time passed, my experiences with different people changed the way I thought. When the going gets tough, the people you depend on are no longer there, when the world just seems to fall apart.. I find it hard to defend my belief. Because that is when it hits you the most.
But what about the people who don' t believe in God? Whom do they blame when things go wrong? :)
They are the ones who actually are able to take up responsibility for their actions. Because they know that they have nobody else to blame.

For people like me who DO believe in God, the mind is constantly at war. There always needs to be an explanation for everything, a reason for things to happen or not happen, something to account for. If something doesn't go as planned, what the hell went wrong???
I wish things were less complicated. I wish that there was just one religion called 'humanity'. I wish all people were beleivers, spiritual enough to practise humanity.

cafe time!

2008-06-10T10:19:00.000-07:00

My first time @ Cafe mocha was a lovely experience...felt like I was sitting in an 'alladin' type of palace! Grand chairs, plush rugs, dim red lighting... Lovely effect!
The menu was extensive and expensive. I have always been a fan of Waffles drowned in maple syrup and ice cream. Cafe terra was the only place that served good waffles. I was delighted to find out that mocha too served waffles. I'm putting up the pic of the chandelier there that fascinated me!

This one goes down in my book of memories. :)

Of bollywood and Love..

2008-06-04T08:04:00.000-07:00

I have some doubts. But if these were to be solved, our film industry would be doomed. All those beautiful bodies and empty minds would be left jobless. This is the way Bollywood rolls!

How do men fall in love with women dancing in the rain?
I mean, come on, look at RHTDM and minnale.Madhavan (he's cute) sees Diya mirza (She's dumb..no I'm not jealous) dancing in the rain. The film has music. But in reality, does the song play in the guy's head? Well yeah, I tried jumping in the rain to see if I felt any more sensuous than Diya Mirza but I just got drenched, slipped, fell down and sprained my ankle. I doubt any guy would've fallen in love with the bundle that I was. Maybe some background music, a little of Bryan Adams or Atif could've softened the effect, but No, I still think it was all too messy.

How does a girl's shawl sweeping across a guy's face make him fall in love with her?
We walked as a team to the Food courts and my ML was fortunate enough to have a shawl sweep across his face. Disgruntled by the metres of fabric that itched his nose, he grunted his disapproval at the girl who had interrupted his afternoon walk and clear view of the blue sky.Nope, he didn't fall in love with her. Infact, he swore to remain a bachelor.

How do people fall in love with people bumping into them?
A year ago, I was rushing for dinner in the FC. I had managed to coax the kitchen into giving me a dosa even though it was way past closing time. I climbed the stairs and bumped into a guy who was running down the stairs. He had this shaken expression on his face, and then he smiled. I swear by the Dosa and my hungry stomach that was singing songs at the moment, if anything had happened to my Dosa, I would've had his neck for dinner instead!
No I didn't fall in love with him.

How can swinging around trees be romantic?
The last time I sat under a tree, I was stung by an entire batch of mosquitoes and red Ants. I felt anything but love for anyone I saw after that. Or maybe I should've picked my tree more carefully. I think Pole dancing is safer.

Do women coming out of swimming pools really look sexy?
Well this one makes me smile. On our trip to WonderLa water theme park, all of us jumped into the wave pool. After struggling around like drowning ducks, we decided to experiment the 'Halle Berry theory'. She always walks out of water looking so hot!
My friend, Nina volunteers. She ducks under the water so she can come out and smoothen her hair back, lips slightly parted. But the moment she rose out of the water, her head banged into the 'behind' of an aunty who was attempting to dive.
I guess private pools are sexier and safer.

Do women look fabulous when the wind blows into their faces, strands of hair flying around?
The rides at amusement parks are a nightmare. Simply because each time I step out of a ride, my mane looks nothing short of a bird's nest. Now all women cant afford to be walking advertisements for Shampoo Ads. The last time there was a strong wind outside office, I ran outside, eagerly anticipating a filmy effect. I came back really unhappy. My eyes were sore from all the dust and my hair was tangled beyond recognition. So much for the 'windy' love at first sight. not to mention the fact that I had to run after my shawl which had been blown several metres away. That was more embarassing that seductive!

Do people removing their helmets look awesome?
What is it with hide and seek? After I ride my bike, I dread removing my helmet in front of other people. (Especially if cute guys are around) It does NOT look hot. Well it's hot considering the fact that I'm sweating my guts out inside that stuffy helmet. But otherwise, either the helmet clip gets stuck in my hair or I look like a mess. I'd say I looked better with the helmet on! Atleast it leaves the spectators speculating. :)

The list goes on...but Bollywood never falls short of ideas.Somebody please tell me how I can sue those misleading directors

Dreams..

2008-05-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

I had a dream (No I'm not going to become a political leader...) last night... or should I say early today morning.

I dreamt that I was travelling with my mother on our bike. We reached a beach. Then we both removed our slippers, held them in our hands and started wading in the waters. We were walking through the length of the beach and I remember talking to her. My heart was full and I wanted to desperately open up to her. Her calm voice and smile comforted me and I was ready to pour out my feelings...

And I woke up.

I wonder if dreams have any significance. I guess it felt strangely comforting to see my mom smiling at me in my dreams. When you come to a point where you feel that you don't belong here anymore, you don't belong to any place or to any people...what do you do? I guess family is the first fort of security that comes to my mind. I guess no matter how bad a prodigal child I am, my mom will always love me. No reasons for that. She's my mother so she HAS to love me. :) Its a beautiful law of nature.

Dreams I believe sometimes show what we desire or what we fear. I don't think dreams can predict or determine my fate. But to dream is all I we have. And nobody can take that away from me.

Blue..

2008-05-22T07:39:00.000-07:00

Rain drops pitter-patter on my glass window
Reminds me of the way you'd tap on it to show..
your wide smile and wet tussled hair,
then you'd run into the room just to give me a scare..

Ruffling your hair so that the drops fell on my face
With you I seemed to lose track of time and place..
Huddled under blankets with cups of hot tea
We'd talk until the stars in the sky were all we could see..

Now I'm huddled under my blanket cold,
Wanting for you to comfort and hold..
I'm hugging myself and wiping the tears,
that fall into my tea cup, to calm my own fears..

I remember the way we danced in the rain,
My efforts to resist your pull were in vain..
As the big fat drops splattered our crazy heads
Life was a riot of colors, of watery blues and reds.

We'd run inside and towel dry,
I loved the comforting smell against your warm chest..
You would tickle me till it made me cry,
We'd laugh together till our eyes fluttered to rest..

Now I lie on the floor, drowned in the clothes you left behind,
The fragrance makes me smile through my tears as it floods my mind..
With memories so dear, so far away and yet so near,
I'm feeling blue as I try to sleep, with nothing but silence to hear..

The Last goodbye...

2008-05-09T21:28:00.000-07:00

Have you ever said goodbye to someone in a train? Have you ever said goodbye to someone from a train?

You're on the train and you're looking at her standing on the platform. She's trying to look brave. But her lips tremble and you know it will be any moment. The whistle blows and the train starts chugging out of the platform.How you wish you could jump out and run to her, hold her in your arms and kiss away her tears. How you wish the ground would stop moving and time just froze so you could look into those lovely eyes forever.But its too late. The train pulls out of the station and you wave. Tears roll down her cheek and she tries to wave back. But she can't. She collapses on the platform and sobs. You know you'll never see her again.

You're on the platform and you see him waiting at the compartment door. You try to look brave and smile. He used to see right through you. He knew it the very moment your sadness showed in your eyes. But this time its different. You don't know if he sees your pain. He looks Ok. How you wish you could run to him and beg him to take you along. You want to cry in his arms and beg him to love you. But you know you can't ask for more than this. Your ego makes you want to scream at him and forget him. But your heart desperately wants to be loved. But its too late. The train pulls out of the station and he waves. The tears start coming and you don't even know it. You want to wave but you feel like you're falling. Your knees are weak and you collapse.

He's moving. Slowly. Then the train picks up speed. She sees him grow smaller..and smaller..and smaller.. till he vanishes. Like there was nothing there.

She's still on the ground. The train pulls away. He sees her grow smaller...and smaller..and smaller.. till she vanishes. Like there was nothing there.

The need for need..

2008-05-08T12:33:00.000-07:00

We all read and preach about the importance of trust in a relationship. To give without expecting. Being humans , we are all let down.. by situations, circumstances, by friends, by family, by lovers, by things important to us.

Where does inner strength come from? The strength to ackowledge that what happened, has happened and may have happened for the best?There might have been no better way for it to have happened?

They say we are happy when we see our loved ones happy. Is it too selfish to worry about one's own happiness too? That might be the case for poets and philosophers, for the saints and beleivers. But I am a mere human being and I can hate, love, protect, destroy and try almost anything to keep myself happy too.

How I wish I could practise the ways of great men and women, who succeeded in overcoming their obstacles with self-confidence and perseverance! The day I learn to love myself and be jealous of none but myself, would be the day I move on.

That woman in your life...

2008-05-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

Women often complain about how insensitive men are. But what about other women? Be it a sister, mother, daughter, friend, sister-in-law or mother-in-law. We have our own stories of success, misery, pain, anger and doubt. But do we really care about the other women in our lives?
It's easy to pass judgement. But when you do so, remember that someone somewhere could be passing judgement or making an opinion about you!

If you're a mother, please remember the lack of understanding you faced as daughter from your own mother.
If you're a daughter, please remember that someday you will have to face the same situation with your children.
If you're a sister, please remember that you would be hurt, angry, happy or scared if you were in your sister's shoes.
If you're a friend, please remember that you could very well mean the world to your friend..you could be her sister, mother, daughter and every other important person in this world. So be supportive.
If you're a sister-in-law, remember that your sis-in-law has the same fears that you had when you once entered your husband's house as bride. Build a brigde on common understanding.
If you're a mother-in-law, remember that you were also sceptical of finding a mother you could love or a monster you could hate. Love can heal wounds, build broken relationships and enrich the bonds you share with your family.

Let us not take it for granted that women can understand each other better.

I am no superhero

2008-04-25T21:53:00.000-07:00

I am no superhero

The nights are longer when I'm alone
The days stretch into deserted hours
My mind plays games and I stare at my phone
Deeper and more painful are my scars

My mind played games with my heart
Kept telling me to stop what I did start
But a million fingers point at me
They scream in my ears till what seemed like infinity

I made mistakes and took a fall
It hurt me more than ever to see my tears fall into dust
One small message, one single call
Waited but gained silence and close my eyes, I must.

I'm no longer needed and I know I've lost
But what can I gain from the ghosts of the past
I wanted to be accepted for who I am inside
But from the truth I'd always hide

I am no superhero
I make mistakes and every good chance I'd throw
I cant be perfect,I'm sorry for claiming to be
I slowly say goodbye to life, embracing darkness for me.

Chivalry anyone?

2008-04-18T22:28:00.000-07:00

The moment guys hear about 'politesse' or 'chivalry', they roll their eyes and say, "yeah yeah..we know all about it."
I remember a funny incident that happened some time ago. I met up with a family friend during training here in mysore, who promised me a treat for some good thing that happened to him. Now we had our casual 'hi's' and 'Bye's' before, but I had never spent some quality time with him.Training in campus had gotten so monotonous that any chance of breaking from the routine was welcome.
So the moment he told he'd take me to Pizza Hut for a change, I was excited. The last time I had been to Pizza Hut was half a year ago. So dinner was fixed at a day and time. We got to Pizza Hut, while all along the way, I dreamed about delicious Pepperoni pizza. I so badly had a craving for pepperoni pizza that day and I just couldn't wait.
We reached Pizza Hut. I quickly skimmed through the menu and found what I was looking for. I happily told him,
"Why don't we take a medium Pepperoni ..."
He cut me short, "No...No... I was looking for something else.."
He skimmed through the menu and showed me what he was looking for.
Combo Meal for Rs. 75 only. Pizza+coke+icecream.
I was embarassed and disappointed.
"sigh...there goes my pepperoni.."
Guys, please remember that if you're treating someone, please be courteous enough to ask them what they'd like to take, rather than taking the cheapest thing on the menu or even taking something only you'd like.
And so, that fateful day, I didn't get my pepperoni pizza...and to this very day, pepperoni pizza is but a dream.
(hehe.. sorry to make it sound so dramatic, but I hope I got my point across!)

I can fly so high...I can touch the sky..

2008-04-16T08:22:00.000-07:00

The weekend was lovely. The train moved swiftly along the tracks, the rattling sound monotonous, but strangely comforting. Watching from the glass window was like watching life in fast forward. First there was greenery, then dry lands. First the skies were bright and then they slowly faded to gray.
I sat and stared out of the window thinking...."So what new thing will I do today?"

The salty air, the sticky cool wind, the sand slipping in between my toes and tickling my feet. The beach was filled with people from all walks of life. There were the peddlers, the beggars, the sinners, the saints, the young and the old, the rich and the poor. And everyone was under the same dark sky, under the same bright moon, with the same sand beneath their feet.

I saw a young boy tug his kite along with him. He seemed so happy. The kite was such a flimsy little thing after all. Made of paper. Could any paper other than money make man so happy? I wondered and decided to find out for myself.

I bought a kite and observed it closely. It was purple and blue, with a very long tail. The boy showed me how to nudge the kite up into the howling wind, generously unwinding the ball of twine in my hand.
As the twine in my hand untangled, the kite tugged and tugged, as if willing to set itself free. The boy said, "If let go, kite fly, then fall." The kite wanted to do its own thing. Oh no, I was not going to set it free!
Meters of twine away, the kite rose high above the skies. I wanted to jump and shout, "Yes, I touched the moon.." The kite sailed so strong and beautifully, controlled by my hands. I was so happy.
This piece of paper made this girl so happy. I smiled as both the kite and my heart soared into the heavens.

Real..not reel love..

2008-04-10T12:52:00.000-07:00

Love is a 4 letter-word
It must be in books and movies that you've heard
About rags to riches and the handsome prince
But of real life, let me give you a glimpse.

I lied to you because of fear..
The fear that you wouldn't accept me.
You lied to me because I lied, nothing else you wanted to hear.
And it was only my faults that you wanted to see.

My hopes and dreams I shared
I tried to relive them, my soul I bared.
But whenever you wanted to win a fight,
you'd shred my dreams, stamp on them, leaving leftovers in sight.

If you had cherished me,
my tears would've have been pearls not to be wasted.
But I was just another woman,just another showpiece to see..
my tears were drops of salty water, just fuel for more hatred.

And now you're tired and need more than old promises
The empty words you avowed on your life rings of emptiness.
Your memory has grown faint, you don't remember me now.
All has faded, memories vanished somehow.

To all who will hear, I say again
Love is but empty without feeling and only pain.
Philosphers and Poets, all blinded by the light.
Darkness slowly creeped up, they forgot to cogitate on the evil night

The return to Innocence…

2008-04-09T20:14:00.000-07:00

When you talk about ‘feelings’, which category of people would you expect to come across? Married people? Teenagers?
What about Tara?

Lovely Tara, with deep dimples, brown eyes and curly soft hair…
She was only 4 years old. Her mother Hannah loved dressing her up in blue. Blue frock, blue ribbons, blue socks. Papa Manuel loved taking walks in the park with her and buying her a bar of chocolate. Tara loved chocolates. Both Hannah and Manuel were immigrants.They worked in morning and night shifts as factory workers. They couldn't afford to send Tara to playschool or pay a babysitter to look after her. Their hearts were weary whenever they left Tara alone at home.

One day, a letter arrived for Hannah. She jumped with happiness as she showed Manuel the letter.
"My sister's husband Jaque is coming to stay with us. He's searching for a new job here."

"That's great. Now Tara will have someone to keep an eye on her."

Manuel cuddled Tara in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Your uncle Jaque is coming to visit us. You'll have a new friend."

He smiled as Tara clapped her hands in glee and said " Papa, Tara will play with uncle Jaque now."

Jaque rang the doorbell. Hannah greeted him with a hug and Manuel shook hands with him. Tara ran to Jaque and hugged his leg. Jaque found himself staring down at a pair of big blue eyes, filled with curiosity. He laughed and picked her up. Jaque tickled Tara's tummy and the family sat down to a happy dinner.

The next day, Hannah and Manuel left for work with lighter hearts. Atleast Tara was not alone anymore. Atleast for the time-being. Tara was happy to have found a new friend. Jaque was amused by this bundle of energy.

One morning, Jaque called Tara to his room.
"Would you like a bar of chocolate?"

"Oh yes!! Tara loves chocolates!"

"Ah ah.. not so fast. First you'll have to do what I say."

"Ok uncle Jaque."

Jaque made Tara sit on his lap and kissed her cheeks. He ran his hands over her hair and her dress.
"First you have to.."

2 months had passed and Jaque had found a job as a bar tender. Hannah and Manuel noticed a change in Tara's behaviour. She seemed quiter. She didn't like chocolates anymore. When Manuel tried to carry her to the park, she shied away from him and hid behind Hannah's skirt. Manuel and Hannah were worried. Hannah decided to speak to her neighbour Maria.

"I'm worried about Tara. She was always so energetic. She used to laugh and smile at us whenever we tickled her. She loved going to the park with Manuel. She doesn't like Chocolates anymore."

Maria was surprised. She had always liked Tara for her vivacious laughter and infectious smile.
"Why don't you speak to our church counsellor , Dr. Juene? I'm sure she'll be able to help you."

Hannah was hopeful for a moment. " Yes she's a lovely lady. I hope she can help"

Dr. Juene was a plump lady and loved children. She had two of her own and loved them more than any other thing in the world. She looked at Tara sitting in front of her with her small rag doll.

"Hi Tara. That's a lovely doll you have."

Tara hugged the doll even more tighter and refused to look at Juene. 'She thinks I want to take her doll away from her.'
She had spoken to Hannah and Manuel about Tara, her behaviour, her habits and noted down the entire pattern. Tara liked chocloates.

"Do you want a chocolate Tara?"

Juene was surprised to see fear in Tara's eyes. A fat tear rolled down her rosy cheek.

It took Dr. Juene a week to make Tara speak freely to her. Tara finally broke down and started telling Juene about nightmares. She dreamed of a monster who would come and capture her and take her away from her Papa and Mama. Tara cried herself to sleep that night in Dr. Juene's presence.

After Dr. Juene coaxed Tara to speak to her, she cautiously asked Tara,
"What is the monster's name, Tara?"

After a minute's silence, Tara replied, "Jaque"

Dr. Juene finally spoke to Hannah and Manuel about her session with Tara. Manuel was enraged and Hannah cried. Jaque had meanwhile sensed the tension and had vanished before the truth was discovered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is not just a story. It's the truth. It's what happens to millions of children around the world. Everyday.
Nobody wants to read about sadness, cruelty and distress. But many lives get destroyed by paedophiles like Jaque.

I’ve read many stories and articles about abuse. There are chilling stories of women and men getting abused, all the while not knowing they were abused. But nobody remembers children. Beleive it or not, I've spoken to several friends of mine who've had similar experiences with relatives of theirs. You may think, "It can't happen to anyone I know..." But it can.

Reader's digest recently featured an article on child trafficking in Asia. "Out of the estimated 20 lakh women being trafficked in India, 5 lakh are children." Parents can be careless. One piece of advice to them - please be careful of where you leave your children for babysitting and playing. If you notice any change in behavior or any new habit, please try to be sensitive enough and try to find out what went wrong.

I fear that 'Innocence' will be a term of the past. I hope you feel it too.

Tech talk

2008-04-02T08:58:00.000-07:00

Who me?
Whenever I talk to my friend Gen, I take pride in the fact that I knew more about the 'colorful' side of life than him. Now I wouldn't dare define colorful. Stuff about poems, general issues, colors, designs, pictures..anything! I could always counter him and make fun of him saying, " Useless fellow! You should try to be more creative.." And then I'd puff up my chest and walk away. He knows I have an upper hand in this matter and the poor fellow always accepted defeat.

Ah laptops. Everybody owns a laptop these days. Gen also got a sleek shiny laptop. Since my eyes can't resist anything that shines, I dreamed too, of owning a laptop! So I finally coaxed my dad to buy me a laptop from the gulf (it's cheaper out there), with the promise that I'd pay him back.
I proudly walked up to Gen and said, "Ha! Now I'm also getting a laptop!" Gen being the old sweet natured guy said, " Oh that's great. So what are specs?"
"Specs?", I blinked.
"Yeah...the specifications, the brand, the memory etc.."
"Oh ya..that. Yeah, the normal stuff."
Now it was Gen's turn to look confused. "Normal...?"
"Ya, the normal stuff. I guess HP."
I tried to look confident. I had seen the enticing HP advertisements and it was probably the only brand I remembered at the moment.
Gen continued, " You should get a good graphics card. I got an ATI for mine. There are a lot of high end models like Nvidia Geforce 8600gt. You could go for 2 GB RAM, 2 GHz speed. Older computers had PIII and PIV, but centrino Core2 Duo is in now. HDD should idea be 200GB or plus if you're going to use Windows Vista. 14" laptops are more comfortable to carry around though I have a 15" Toshiba..."

All I heard was " Blah blah and blah."

:(
Damn. The ball was in his court this time, even though he didn't realise it.