Life, thoughts, feelings....

Try it.....you'll like it

2012-01-20T08:01:00.003+05:30

When your sunshine goes missing for days on end,
And nothing seems right in the world,
When there is nothing left that you like in yourself,
When you feel life is no longer your friend,
Do yourself a favour….
Look at yourself with the eyes of the one who loves you.
And suddenly the not-so-nice things,
About you and your life, that pain you,
Will not look so painful after all,
They’ll look forgiveable, silly, and even adorable
Once you look with the eyes of the one who loves you.
The world and life itself, appears so new, so fresh
Inviting you to give it another try, a second chance,
U realize the words “You are beautiful” are indeed true,
When you look at yourself with the eyes of the one who loves you.

Unconditionally

2011-12-19T04:20:00.003+05:30

Do you know what it means
To have someone who loves you
Unconditionally,

Who is always there
To support you in your dreams,
To rejoice in your victories,
And to revel in your joys.

To wipe away your tears
When your heart is heavy,
And to wash away your fears
With all the strength she has.

Now you know what it feels
Coz at the other end of the world,
There she is such a person
Who will always be
Whatever you want her to be,

No matter what, till the end of forever,
Giving you all that she can give you
Unconditionally.

Always yours in spirit

2011-12-06T03:50:00.003+05:30

I do not wake up at 4:30am anymore

I do not check to see if you are online anymore

But since I promised you I wouldn’t do it,

I do not eat away my lips anymore

I do not forget to take my pills anymore

I pay attention to the signals

Before crossing the streets

I am more aware of my surroundings

Especially the fire-engine sirens J

You taught me to see the world

And myself with your eyes

Introduced me to a new world

A world of new lows, new highs

You showed me the beauty

Of wearing your heart on your sleeve

And the courage to get lost

In the magic that words weave

The confidence to stop having

To create and cross emotional bridges

The innocence and passion

To savour all of life’s riches

I’m not going to smile

Just to make you think am happy

I’m not going to laugh

Just so that you don’t see me cry

I’m truly happy and laugh uninhibited

I smile the same smile you so loved once

The sun still rises and sets with you

For you are always with me

And I know you will forever be with me

And I with you, in spirit.

Let that smile be your nametag forever

2011-10-26T08:32:00.005+05:30

Apologies Mr. Wordsworth, but I had to do this...

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

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
It flashes upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the smile that plays on those lips

:-)

That's my Sidd

2011-10-15T22:52:00.002+05:30

There’s never knowing what’s brewing

In the devilish brain of his

Tis easy to be deceived by his boyish charm

That hides the frenzied pace of his thoughts that alarm.

An entrepreneur, a dirty mind at its best

A fountain of ideas and confidence immense.

A spirit that soars and questions life anew

A do-or-die attitude

That’s my Sidd for you.

He’ll shock you with his indecent zest

The least said about his favourite gesture, the best.

A heart that melts like butter and a tongue that swears like hell

An emotional savant, the quintessential romantic

That’s my Sidd - intense and complicated.

To sweep his lady love off her feet,

New words he conjures everyday.

He promises her the world, but not yet his love

He puts her under his magic spell and leads her thoughts astray

He calls her a doe-eyed lass one day,

A dodgy – woman the next

Likens her growing smile in her dimpled cheek

To a puddle of water rippled by a falling rain-drop

What a smooth talker he is, all poetic and sleek.

He makes faces at her,

Loves to tease and taunt,

Not your ideal knight-in-shining armour

But that’s my Sidd – tall, dark and gaunt.

I thank my lucky stars in the heavens above

For once, for bringing me Sidd

He makes you laugh, he makes you cry

And loves you like there’s no tomorrow

What more could any girl ever want.

Seasons I love

2011-10-04T04:55:00.001+05:30

Here its the tingly chill in the air,

Orange pumpkins and the mellowing sun,

As the earth envelops itself in a blanket

Rich with colours of mauve, red and gold

And the rustle of the leaves and the crunch of the grass

Of which soon there will left but none.

There the earth is waking up

From its long winter slumber

Preening itself with flowers galore

And the dewy grass and the warm-scented mud

That eggs the heart and mind to soar

Autumn and spring, what beauty they hold

Enjoy every moment of these wondrous times

Let yourself get carried away

Taking in all that the eye can behold.

The Bond

2010-08-02T10:15:00.003+05:30

The dew drops glistened under the caress
Of the early sun-beam, as it lit her eyes like that of a doe.
Awakening gently, unsheathing her finesse
Tenderly she stretched , as she turned aglow.

Still yearning for the dreams the night had bred
As the birds tweeted overhead,
And the sweet-smelling grass murmured beneath
There she was, sitting pretty in the bed.

Soaking in the warmth of the morning sun
Non-chalant at the growing buzz
She thought that she’d seen it all
(Or perhaps she had seen none?)

Beginning to get a little annoyed
At the musings of the others that came alive
As they waited with bated breath
For their winged companions to arrive.

Soon she was interrupted in her dream
Not unpleasantly, but by a gentle nudge
Of the hairy being waiting to kiss her freckled spots
As he jostled against the sun-beam.

He used his lively demeanor,
His soothing voice, even.
He used all his charm
On attempting to impress the pretty little one.

Was she swayed ? Certainly not.
But to her surprise, she didn’t mind
His company, his constant banter
She felt something change, as their thoughts entwined.

As the sun rose higher,
They chatted away.
He regaled her with tales of yonder
As she looked wide-eyed with wonder.

The sunbeam visited again
But a new beginning dawned
She was among her sisters this time, waiting
But she knew, (just as he?), that theirs was a different bond

They enjoyed whatever little time they had together
As their hidden fears they tried to allay
They both knew he would move away to new gardens
And she would have to fade away.

The day of parting came sooner, as it always does
His eyes were filled with things unspoken
As she put on a happy charade
Though deep inside she was too heart-broken.

We’ve gone crazy, we’ve laughed,
We’ve fought, we’ve cried,
The time we’ve spent together
Short as it may seem,
Will always be my sweetest dream.

Go now, don’t fret
Leave the unspoken things unsaid
Tis only a matter of time
Before you meet another flower.

But no matter where you go,
Or who you’ll be
You will never find
Another one like me.

Whisperings of the sea-breeze

2009-03-03T13:41:00.003+05:30

The sandgrains slipping
From the grip of your palm,
The golden sun, ever so radiant,
Glowing with a majestic calm,
You see it melting into the horizon,
Confident, it will rise again
Bigger and dazzlingly beautiful
The very next dawn.

The strength and the roar,
With which the waves rush ashore,
To sweep away the sands
Beneath your feet.
They leave in their wake
A blank empty slate
The chance, once more,
To love more than to hate.
The opportunity to act,
More than to think,
The realisation that your world,
Might be gone in a blink.

And then comes the pleasant sound,
Of the soft fizz of the melting foam
As the waters recede,
As they return home.
Even if, only to return once more,
With the familiar force, the familiar roar.

Who knows where the day flows,
Who knows where life goes?
Not you, not me…only time.

Who knows how love grows,
Why the heart cries when love dies?
Not you, not me, ….ony time.

Just as the sun rises
After every sunset.
And the waters recede,
Leaving you cold and wet,
Life is to be lived
As best as one can.
And the only way worthwhile,
Is to live it with hope,
To live it with a smile.

I bet

2009-02-27T09:03:00.004+05:30

I bet she’s a beauty
that he keeps talking about.
I bet she’s got everything
That I’ve to live life without.

I sure hope she keeps him happy,
Happier than he’d even be with me.
If not, that fool deserved what he got
For having said no to me.

But the fact remains, that all of this,
Still doesn’t change anything.
That fool’s still the reason for the teardrop stains,
On my violin.

And though I pretend that I’ve moved on,
That I’ve put behind the gloom and strife.
He’ll always be my special one,
The sweetest part as yet, of my life.

P.S.: Some of these lines might remind you of your favourite songs. I ask for your forgiveness-I simply couldn't resist putting those words out here! And for those of you who are sick and tired of hearing this love-sick rant, I promise, this is the last of the kind that you'll be hearing from my end for a long time to come.

The things one does for footwear

2008-12-05T09:38:00.003+05:30

This was something that happened around May-June this year. I had to be hospitalized for a day or two, to get some routine intra-venous injections. As the hospital protocols required me to be accompanied by an “attendant”, my younger sister, Lini, agreed to accompany me.

As it was noon by the time I finally got admitted to St. Johns, Lini had to go home to get lunch for me. Tired already of lying in the hospital bed, twiddling my thumbs, I decided to escort her till the entrance.

We were climbing down the stairs from my room on the 3rd floor ( I hate waiting for the elevator), when the sole of Lini’s sandal on her left foot came out. Poor thing, she dragged her foot along and tried to walk in what was left of her sandals as best as she could. She practically took 15 mins to climb down the remaining 2 floors, lifting her left foot with the torn footwear hanging limply from it, in an elaborate manner, before placing it carefully onto the next step. As you may have experienced, walking in such a fashion is not only physically excrutiating, it looks ridiculous, inviting the disconcerting stares of passers-by.

As we proceeded laboriously (and with unusual patience in my case), with our descent, a nurse suggested that we could purchase footwear in the hospital. I was aware of items, such as soap, mosquitoe repellant, combs and other bric-a-brac of our humdrum lives, being sold in the hospital premises but footwear being part of this list was news to me.

On being told that it was sold somewhere near the Trauma Ward in the ground floor, I promptly started off in search of this place, with Lini limping behind me, struggling to keep up with my pace.

I wandered dreamily into the corridor to which the board proclaiming “Trauma Care” pointed, and was immediately dragged down to reality. The distressing sight of accident victims lying sprawled on the beds, with their limbs severed and heavily bandaged/ plastered took the wind out of me. The heavy sadness that hung in the air hit me like a bolt from the blue. I was least expecting scenes of handicapped patients with their morose relatives, trying to come to terms with a life that involved one or more, less limbs. The atmosphere was physically recoiling. I’m sure Lini was also shocked at the sight that greeted her.

I was directed to the fag-end of the ward on enquiring for footwear, by a lady in a white coat- perhaps a doctor or a senior resident. This reassured me that I was not in the wrong place but the ward seemed to end in a locked door. Just as I was feeling disheartened, a lady walked past me towards the door. I stopped her and asked her if they sold footwear there.

She looked at me from head to toe, a little strangely with a weird sort of expression, almost like she was sizing me up. She also had a good look at Lini who was still limping behind me.

Then she asked, “Who is the patient?”.

I was a little taken aback at this question and wondered what relevance it could hold to the sale of a pair of slippers. However, thinking that the hospital may have a policy of selling footwear only to patients, I said, “I am”. Lini and I have same-sized feet.

The lady again looked at me and Lini with a quizzical look. I should have realized what was going on atleast by then, but the dimwit that I had turned into that afternoon, I failed to understand the relevance of her question.

She nodded her head, as if asking me to wait there, and proceeded to unlock the door.

As I was standing a few feet away, and the door blocked my view, I couldn’t figure out what was behind the door. Just then a man carrying a toolbox, who looked like some sort of a workman, went into the room. The lady asked me to enter and the moment I did, another unexpected sight took my breath away.

The room was filled with prosthetic limbs- finished and unfinished (and let me tell you, it looks a little weird looking at rows of legs and arms, stacked one upon the other, especially if you walk into them for the first time in your life, like I had). The man had a measuring tape in his hand, ready to take the measurements for the kind of “footwear” I required. Needless to say, I was totally embarrassed and quickly explained to the kind lady that I was looking out for “normal” footwear and was mistakenly directed to that place.

After apologizing sheepishly, I turned back with a very wide stupid grin on my face, just in time to stop Lini from entering the room. When I told her it was “special” kind of footwear that was available there, both of us broke into laughter. We looked like a bunch of idiots and may have even appeared insensitive and uncouth to be giggling away in a ward filled with accident victims.

The moment I come out, trying hard to control my laughter, who should I run into but my doctor! He was obviously surprised to see me coming out of the Trauma Care ward, and confused as well to see me laughing my head off, like I had just attended a comedy show in there! I’m sure he was left as confused even after I explained to him, amidst wide grins and suppressed laughter, what I had just done in search of footwear.

So many words…..

2008-11-07T17:32:00.003+05:30

So many words
quivering on the lips
So many things
Close to the heart, left unsaid
So many memories
framed in the galleries of the mind
So many moments that seem
to be frozen in the annals of time

Will those words ever be spoken
How can those times ever be forgotten

How is it that we grew so far apart
When did the silences creep in
Why in our moments together
Did we allow our egos to seep in
When did the special feeling
we nurtured for each other
Turn into pain and then into torture

I have tried a thousand times
To bridge the distances
To speak the words long awaited
To forget and to forgive
Nothing can change the way I feel for you
Why do you refuse to understand it.

The thoughts that chug along…..

2008-08-17T18:14:00.004+05:30

Somewhere along the Karnataka-AP border
8th August, 2008

I’m writing this from the Kacheguda Express. Tomorrow morning, I will be in Hyderabad after a very long & tiring 18 months. Listening to my music and taking in as much of the sights as I can, I feel an inexplicable joy. Not just a calm, the relief that comes with a welcome break from the hectic Bangalore life or the happy thoughts of visiting the vibrant city of the Golconda. It’s a feeling that encompasses all that and much more- a feeling of pure, inexplicable joy. I do not know the reason for this immense joy. I’m just glad that a train journey still excites me, the same way it did, ages ago.

My sisters have been the freaky ones in the family who, till date, go gaga over the distant hooting of a train. But again, how many 21 yr olds still retain the passion for something they adored as 5 yr olds? I, on the other hand, still am a little awed at the sight of the huge, metallic engine, hissing menacingly as it approaches. It is the train journey that I am a sucker for.

Nothing but a train journey gives the opportunity to revisit the relationship one often forgets to nurture with the inner self. For me, this is a time for introspection- a mental stock-taking time. A time to be thankful for, for the big and the small ways in which life has changed since my last stop at Kacheguda.

The various personalities, each with its own eccentricities and mysteries that one gets to observe and meet during the trip are one of the delights that come with a train journey. Some fellow travelers prefer to keep to themselves, content with their books and music, and I probably belong to this set of people now, as I try to marshall my burgeoning thoughts onto paper. There are others- constant observers and always ready with a helping hand, but still a little too shy to venture beyond the smile that escapes them everytime you catch their eye. Then there are the gregarious, talkative types- thankfully milder versions of Geet in Jab We Met.

No matter what the category of people, there is the wonderful element of non-commitment ingrained in the relationships built during a train journey. The feeling that any interaction holds good only till the train comes to a stop. Destinations, work lives and even life histories are exchanged. Then sweet words are spoken, false promises of keeping in touch are made and people part. So very alike the bigger journey each one of us undertakes.

Not all go through life with the same excitement and joy they have when they start off. Somewhere along the line, they seem to forget that happiness is, but a state of mind. So many are too pre-occupied with the nitty- gritties of life; they forget to savour the experience of the journey itself. The shy ones want to get so much more out of life but are unable to cross the self-drawn boundaries of doubt, inhibition and ego. Then there are the over-enthusiastic ones, who, in their eagerness to get as much out of life as possible, often burn up their energy before the journey is half gone by. They forget that not all the best experiences of life need be the most exciting or adventurous and miss out on the smaller pleasures, which are often the best things in life.

These thoughts and many more, will continue to chug along as the fields, trees, hills and clouds disappear into the fast approaching dusk. Right now, I am determined to enjoy them before they get enveloped by the velvety darkness of the night.

P.S. Take a break. Take time to “…stand and stare….” . Go and get yourself a railway ticket to a place you’ve always wanted to escape to. And rediscover the delights of the train journey.

…..So, what happens when your gym doesn’t have a restroom?

2008-07-19T20:09:00.001+05:30

Date: 15th June, 08

For the past 4 months now, I have been frequenting the gym every weekend, with my good friend, Anu.

Now if you had ever seen me, you would have almost choked to death in shock or a fit of laughter, depending on how you’d take the aforementioned piece of information. I belong to the tribe of size-zero things, who never seem to gain an ounce of weight, no matter how many ice-creams or black forest pastries you catch us hogging. If I were any thinner, I might as well become invisible to the naked eye.

So it is of endless amazement to people that I could go to the gym and still not evaporate into thin air. For the benefit of those of you who are beginning to think that you knew me, but not well enough to know that I am the gymming sort, let me assure you, I visit the gym not to bend iron, but to attend the salsa classes held their.

Today would have been no different from the rest of the Sundays, had I not felt this gnawing hunger. As I hadn’t eaten a morsel of food for the past 4 hrs, we stopped at a crowded place in Jayanagar - Cool Joint ( that place still offers grub that is good value for money inspite of the soaring inflation levels) and quickly grabbed a paneer sandwich. Just as Anu was getting her bike out of the parking lot, a Maruti car stops right in front of us, effectively locking us in the parking lot and the dunce driving it, steps out and disappears God knows where! Exasperated as I was, I lost my cool. If it was me in Anu’s place, I might as well have banged right into the damn car to get out of there. Just then, the dunce returns and starts moving his car. I began berating him for having the nerve to park his car, bang in the middle of the road, at a crowded place like that on a Sunday afternoon. The cheek that this nut had, he retorted that he had done us a favour by not delaying us further! Just at that very moment, when my temper was threatening to make me look like a beetroot (albeit a thin one, mind you!), the Gods decided that they would give me some fun and excitement for the day, and sent me their winged messenger- a crow - who promptly embellished my black track pants ( not just any track pants, I got them recently from Weekender, and they cost me a bomb!), with what else, - crow shit.

This was the 2nd time in 25 yrs of my existence that I was being blessed with this incredibly loathsome organic matter from the heavens (I ‘ll spare you the details of the first experience for now).

I managed to wipe off most of the substance or whatever you’d want to call it ( as I’m trying to make this is family-oriented blog, let’s stick to calling it “the substance”), spread and got rubbed in. Needless to say, it looked ghastly against the black background.

All I had was around 20 mins before my scheduled time at the gym and I had no time to go back home and change. Most importantly, (and as the title suggests, the # 1 reason why you are reading this extract of my ramblings) the gym doesn’t have a restroom!!

Have no doubts, this is not one of those seedy, smelly, ill-ventilated gyms that have sprouted by the dozen in every nook and cranny of Bangalore. This is one of the reputed ones which attracts sophisticated, classy people, like yours faithfully, from as far as 12-15 kms. Good dance floor, passable acoustics, fine ambience, beautiful crowd and great views (was referring to the views from the windows, for the benefit of those with an over-active imagination) , but NO RESTROOMS! Small price to pay, some would say, especially if the trainer, or the dance instructor, in my case, is a hot bod!

So there I was, wondering where I could wash this substance off me. The thought that immediately came to mind was that I could perhaps wash it off at the small eatery opposite to the gym but I was doubtful if the stall-owner would welcome someone using a good amount of his stock of drinking water to wash something off the trousers.

Then I remembered this very reputed, 3-4 star restaurant, just next to the eatery. A naughty idea was beginning to take shape. I got Anu to stop at this restaurant, inspite of her efforts to make me drop the plan (one of her arguments being that there was no plan). She kept saying she didn’t have the confidence to do it. I just told her to stick to me and to let me do all the talking.

So we let the valets direct us to the 2-wheeler parking lot and trotted up the steps confidently (or at least pretended to), to a “Good afternoon, Madam” from the “Air-India -Maharajah” styled guard. The moment we entered, a packed dining hall greeted us, with several maitre-des rushing around taking orders. One of them approached me immediately and I asked for a table for 2. For the first time that day, I heard sweet words when the maitre-de said that we would have to wait for at least 30 mins. Great!, half an hour would be more than enough time for me! We walked across the dining hall to a small passageway that sort of doubled as a waiting lounge. There was a family of 4 already waiting there. I left Anu there and without a word, rushed to the tiny, one-person-only washroom. I had not even managed to clean up half the mess when a lady almost barged in. In the confusion, I promptly dropped a whole load of water on my pants (sorry, pun unintended!). I desperately began to dry my pants when I heard another bang on the door. Realising that I must be holding up someone in urgent need of the rest-room, I quickly wiped off as much of the mess I could and got out. To my chagrin, there was no one waiting outside the door.

Now that I had already stepped out into waiting lounge, I could see another maitre-de trying to talk to a wide-eyed, white-faced Anu. I rushed to them and repeated that we wanted a table for two. This time the maitre-de was ready with a response. With a grin that threatened to reveal his all of his toothy wonders, he said there was one ready. The smiles disappeared from our faces. It was a pure stroke of luck that this fellow seemed to have remembered something urgent at that very moment and quickly disappeared before we could respond.

All this was being played out under the very observant gazes of the family that was waiting there. Realizing that it would all look very fishy to that family if we just walked out from there, we sat down, without a clue as to what we were going to do next. Then dear old Anu, ( bless you, my dear!) came up with a brainwave. She said suddenly, “Give her a call and ask her if she will be late,”. If it was anybody with a lesser presence of mind in those circumstances, they would have surely balked out. My mind reeling under the surprise on hearing Anu talking gobbledy-gook, I must have said, “She will be late,” or something to that effect. After some uncomfortable minutes, during which the family was unashamedly staring at us with increasing curiosity, I got up, as if in a trance, and walked out into the dining hall, with a startled Anu, fast behind me, still imploring me to “Give her a call”.

Now, let me tell you, I am by no means a person who can keep a straight face in a comic situation. I’d die if I didn’t break out into uproarious laughter on hearing a PJ. You know how some people’s laughter is so very infectious, you will automatically start laughing, without a clue as to why you are doing so, on hearing them laugh so heartily. Well, I am one of these people having an unstoppable and contagious laughter.

Now, the laughter inside me was swelling up with every innocent-sounding “Why don’t you give her a call?”, from Anu. I had to let something out for fear of exploding into laughter. So I muttered, “ Who do you want me to call, dear?”. This was the last straw. I almost sprinted out of the dining hall, across the very puzzled guard and down the steps and burst out laughing.

I’m sure the guard and the valets became very, very suspicious when they saw us high-fiving and laughing our heads off. It was with great effort that we managed to walk back to Anu’s bike and get out of there before somebody called up NIMHANS to pick up 2 wackos who were literally going mad with laughter!!

I know you need time....

2008-05-07T23:39:00.000+05:30

So I’m waiting…..still waiting
It’s been days, and weeks,
Weeks, that have turned to months.
Waiting for you to open up
Waiting for you to return.

How long will it take
For you to muster the courage
And take those steps
Towards me again.

How long will it be
Before you find an excuse
To tease me, to make me blush,
To make me laugh again.

How long will it take
For you to get over the past,
To forget those last moments
Spent beneath the stars,
And to laugh over those last words we shared.

How long will it be
Before we share,
Our “crappy” chats again,
Before you message me,
Twenty times a day, again.

How long will it take
For you to return,
To be your usual self,
How long will it be
Before we meet again.

I’ve grown weary of the stolen glances,
The hidden smiles, the expectant looks.

How long will it be,
Before you smile at me again
How long will it be,
Before you talk to me again.

I want you to know—
I’ll be waiting,
Waiting for the coldness to pass,
Waiting to feel the bliss that once was.
I’ll be waiting,
Waiting for us to be friends again.

Spring of 2008

2008-04-06T11:52:00.004+05:30

Time: Feb…Around 1 week to go for V- day.

There’s something magical in the air- almost stifling in its intensity yet refreshingly light. Misery bordering on maniacal depression and yet intertwined with indelible joy. A sense of euphoria, yet tinged with pain.

As I sit in front of my much abused machine, life that has changed and the lives that I have discovered in the last couple of months, each with one common thread, come to mind…

The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of- Blaise Pascal

It didn’t take long for what started off as an innocent school romance to grow into an abusive, monstrous relationship for Anu. Everytime she ended up with a bruised eye or a bleeding upper lip, she would resolve never to get back with him again. But all would be forgotten everytime he came back with those tear-filled eyes, pleading forgiveness.

Three years and nothing much had changed in their relationship. Fortunately, she realised that she must end it and has stuck to that resolution for some time now.

Last week, one of her friends, someone who, by Anu’s admission has the reputation of being a playboy and who she more than likes, proposed to her in true filmy style- in front of his parents, on one knee.

Anu is on Cloud 9 now. Having known Anu as a person who gets carried away by the ups in life, and also knowing that Love is blind, her friend Priya hopes that this time round, she is in a truly happy and long-lasting relationship.

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love– Albert Einstein

Priya was once asked a question by a person she regarded as her friend, philosopher and guide, “ Don’t you have any boyfriends?”. To which she replied, “ No, not boyfriends, but I have many good friends who happen to be boys.” Touché. That was a long time ago.
Priya is still the kind of person you want to pour your heart out to, just after a couple of meetings.

More than once, Anu has asked her if she is it was just friendship that she shared with her friend Rahul. Priya, always knew that the answer was a “No” but also wondered if she would ever meet anyone who would regard her more than just as a friend.

After going through a harrowing time of her life, during which both Siddharth and Rahul proved to be the best of friends that one could ever have, and literally being given a new lease of life, Priya met him. Just when she felt she couldn’t be happier in life, she was embarking on the best and the most magical time of her life.

It hardly took a week or so for them to become close friends. He began to trust her to such an extent that he began to seek her advice on many personal matters. Together, they were the recipe for total fun and madness. People who Priya when she was with him, felt she transformed into a totally new person- crazy, demented and so very different from the old, grandmotherly Priya that they had come to know.

Priya didn’t realize what it was during those couple of months when she came to know him.
It was only when she moved away, that she began to realize what it was that she felt for him. Some of you may raise an eyebrow at the thought of somebody falling for someone in just 2 months and may even label it as a mere crush. But sometimes you know what it is when you meet the right person. You really don’t need more time and nor do you need to know anything more about the person. You just know and the more you ignore it or try to talk yourself out of it, the more you are just deluding yourself.

Now that Priya accepted that it was no more friendship, at least on her end, she felt she had to tell him the truth in the hope that if nothing at all, it might atleast put an end to the thoughts in her mind which seemed to get directed to him all the time. She was surprised with herself and almost shocked but she had to admit that she was getting crazy about him.

Every minute that she spent with him, there was something that kept accusing her of being dishonest with him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him telling her about his latest blind date and asking her advice on how he must proceed, knowing that he was daft when it came to women. Priya decided that the only way to end this was to come clean with him. After pouring out her predicament to the (thankfully much saner) Ghaza, who gave her the required dose of courage, she told him one evening.

His reaction was close to what Priya had expected. The first reaction was one of shock and helplessness. Priya told him immediately that she understands if the feeling is not mutual and if they could still be friends. The poor chap, totally overcome with this sudden turn of events, blurted that yes, of course, they could still be friends.

Over the next couple of days, his reaction turned to anger, than to a “it-happens-in-life” attitude and then finally into indifference. He began to avoid her and had somehow convinced himself that the best way to deal with this would be to consider her as nothing more than a stranger.

Priya was heartbroken for a while. She had her fair share of sudden bursts of tears at times and places that would have embarrassed her under any other circumstances. Other times, she went through a daily routine like a zombie. At times, she had a mad urge to throttle him and couldn’t even bear to hear his voice. One morning, she just woke up and decided that this cannot go an forever and that it is high time she moved on.

Today, both of them still become a little conscious when they are around each other. Their interactions, which often used to last for hours, are now limited to a perfunctory “Hi” and “How are you”.

Priya knows that one day she will look back and laugh at what has happened but right now, all that she wants is to be friends with him again. Priya is a smart girl. Friendship or not, she knows it is best to move on.

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.—Aeschylus

It would be an understatement to say that Rahul is a hybrid version of Jim Carrey . Among other things, he is a flirt of the first order and has more than one funny bone. Naturally, he has always been a “Hit” with the girls. People ( note, it is not just women) love spending time with him and would agree that the best way to do so is to listen to him narrate his infamous (mis)adventures with girls, the pranks he has played on them and the punishments he has had to suffer, in return.

As the No. 1 prankster of the group, he has often made Riya the butt of his jokes. Soon after Rahul met Riya, he realised that Riya wasn’t just one of the several other girls that he had played pranks upon. After going through the rigmarole of “She’s just a sweet (not to mention, stunning!) girl”, and “ We’re just friends”, and “It’s just a crush maybe- just a passing phase”, he acknowledged that he couldn’t keep deceiving himself forever.

Strangely (so he thought), once he admitted to himself to that he had feelings for her, he found it harder to speak candidly to her as he once did. He tried ignoring her. At times, he pretended she was a stranger to him, in the hope that his “extra” feelings for her would evaporate, leaving behind the friendship which started it all.

Some of their mutual friends began to notice this change in Rahul whenever Riya was around. He would behave coldly towards her, not even acknowledging her presence and at other times, realizing it was stupid of him to treat her that way, would go back to being friendly with her, only to keep oscillating between these two sets of behaviour. Needless to say, this oddity still confuses the poor girl.

It has been close to 2 years since then and Rahul has still not told Riya how he feels about her. Yes, he is a chicken-hearted, as you can expect all love-struck guys to be when it comes to expressing their love.

At the age of 16, Rahul secretly opened the bag of a girl who happened to be his classmate and got a burning, red cheek as the reward for this very enterprising task. He once slapped his dance partner on a Dandiya night (she went on to become his sister-in-law, but let’s keep that story for another time) with broken spectacles and another swollen red cheek ( which fast became his trademark feature) to show for it.

You would think that for someone like him, 2 years is more than enough time to come clean with his girl. The only thing preventing him is that he feels Riya would never say “yes” to him even if she did have any feelings for him. Rahul is aware that in the past, when Riya liked another fellow, she still had to break off with him coz her parents wouldn’t agree to their relationship. Rahul has realized that Riya would never say “yes” to him as her parents would never accept anyone outside their community.

Rahul has sobered a lot in these 2 years. People attribute it to the “effect of tides of time”, but they will probably never get to know how an incredibly mature, sensitive and sensible person has grown inside the carefree, ever-joking, “life-is-a-play” attitude Rahul.

Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction - Antoine De Saint-Exupery

Ghaza is someone you would call a “classic, traditional, no-nonsense belle”. A very down-to-earth person who has been a pillar of support for her family – a working mother, a brother who is yet to come out of his teens and a father who has had to retire from his once active life due to his ailing health.

Ghaza met Praveer around 5 years ago. Praveer was the one who approached her and tried to get her to accept him. He waited long for Ghaza, who, knowing the implications of a cross-community, cross-cultural relationship very well, felt it was best to give it time and not to rush into things. But his patience and perseverance finally won over Ghaza.

For the past 3 years, Ghaza has been trying to get her parents’, especially her iron-willed Mother’s approval for the relationship. Her mother has almost disowned her and Ghaza cannot even remember when was the last time her she had a heart-to-heart talk with her Mom. Her ailing father still nurtures hopes of his first-born returning to them and of being wedded to a nice obedient chap hailing from their community. But too much time has passed and too many things have been said and done.

Ghaza and Praveer have decided that, as waiting is not taking them anywhere, it is best for them to tie the knot.

Ghaza still has many unanswered questions about how life would be after the marriage.
The religious and cultural gap between the world that she was raised in and the world that she will be living in after wedding is too wide and it unsettles her. Knowing that she would never have her family’s support once she takes the final step, she is scared to ask herself if what she will do if she is unable to adjust herself to her new world. These and many other questions have risen of late but Ghaza knows that tying the knot is the only step ahead. Turning back was never and is still not an option.

Ghaza has told Priya that she hopes to get married to Praveer in the next couple of months. Priya can only hope that the love that has thrown Ghaza into this whirlpool shows her the way to navigate out of it successfully.

*************

……Change is in the air. The harshness has melted into a soothing warmth. The leaves have fallen and new ones are waiting to take their place. Times are no longer as we had known them to be. Lives are changing and so are the people.

……..Buds and flowers are beginning to adorn the skeletal trees. Long before you know it, these withered, bare branches will be crowded with flowers.

The lives of these 4 individuals will never be the same again. Many more springs will come and so will the winters. It is only the most blessed of us who find their true love and who have the courage and gumption to proceed with it. To the less fortunate, as somebody once said, “ First, all relationships are with yourself – and sometimes they involve other people. Second, the most important relationship in your life – the one you have, like it or not, until the day you die- is with yourself”.

Crystals on the Window

2008-03-27T18:45:00.002+05:30

The growing rustle of the windswept leaves,
The soothening chill of the strengthening breeze,
The threatening weight of the nimbus sheets,
The expectant calm, the vanishing heat.

The roar, the rumble, the celestial drumroll
The spears of lightening that escape from the heavens

The patter coming down from the skies
The sweet fragrance that has begun to rise,
The dust that has begun to settle
The freshness that has begun to emerge.

The wetness of the raindrops on the cheek
The nip in the air that excites you, that covers you whole.

And then they appear
Before you know,
A thousand in a second
And then some more,

Quivering with every breath you take
Shining like translucent pearls,
Almost dancing to the rhythm of the rain,
They show you a thousand images,
Varied colours, in their tiny spheres.

They shine, they shimmer, in all their glory
For the moment is theirs
And they might be gone too soon
But it is always worth the wait,
In my solitary state
To look up and see
The shimmering, the ethereal,
The wondrous Crystals on the window.

"Love doesn't make the world go 'round; love is what makes the ride worthwhile." What can I say, Franklin P. Jones stole my words.

2008-02-08T20:29:00.003+05:30

Disclaimer: The characters, thoughts and feelings expressed in this piece are definitely not fictional and any resemblane to any living person(s) is purely intentional. If the reader has never been madly in love with anyone before, it is strongly advised that he/she does not read anything further.

Was it love at first sight? Naah—certainly not that. But perhaps within the first month of meeting him, I knew; I was in love-perhaps my first true love.

I think he was a bit surprised when I first said “Hi” to him. It was the jaunty kind of “Hi”, definitely not one that you would expect when meeting someone for the first time. Given the fact that I have starting trouble, especially when it comes to breaking the ice, I was surprised at myself for the way the first words came out—so unhibited, like I had known him forever. And the first time I saw him—the face that stays with me every night before I drift into sleep, the face that I see the first thing in the morning, the face that is with me in all my living moments, a face that I want to have before my eyes for the rest of my life…

….That shy smile, those big, bright eyes, the almost-formed dimples, the broad brow and the a-little-too prominent nose. I have became a slave to this image -one that binds me and enslaves me by re-appearing not just in my dreams but also in my waking hours. My eyes seem to be seeking and finding him everywhere—beside me in the cab when I am returning home, when I see the colour red(his favourite), when I am eating a pastry(his favourite too)-there he is giving me the smile of his which makes me wish that time stops andl all the mundane activity of life freezes in time…so that he can take me out of the cab by my hand, splash a bit of the colour red on me and whisk away the cherry topping on the pastry…..

In the beginning, I wrote it off as a crush but it grew and as much as I tried to ignore it, the deeper and the more special it grew. Every gesture of his is so very endearing. His disorderliness, his goofiness, his child-like appreciation for things which excite him, his pretence of superiority whenever he is proved wrong in any matter, his wise-cracks….We are poles apart in may things—he cries seeing emotional stuff in the theatres. He runs away from classics in Eng. Literature, as much as I love them. He is a fan of the s(h)elf-improvement books and I couldn’t detest them any more than I do now. He does zany things and would make every effort to amlify the efforts he puts into them, just to annoy me—he will blow loudly through the straw into the juice-filled container so that it makes a ripping oaring sound. He will try to floss with any sharp object that he can lay his hands on. But these things just don’t seem to irritate me as much as they would if anyone else was doing them.

All this M&B prattle would make one wonder if this love thing was happening both ways. The answer is –I don’t know! I’ve been a coward everytime it came to making aware of his aware for me. It is not the fear of rejection. Rather, it is the uncertainty of how things might work out if at all we discover our feelings for each other. Where does it go from there? Am I ready for a relationship? Is he ready for someone like me in his life? I come with a lot of baggage and my life is certainly not what you would call ordinary. Would he be able to make the changes in his life that any person who wants to have any kind of intimate relationship with me would have to make? Thousands of answered questions like these logging my brain which make me want to chicken out from telling him how I feel about him every time I decide to come out in the open.

Perhaps, slowly, I ‘ve begun to realise that true love doesn’t require acceptance or acknowledgement of any kind- not from society or even own’s own ever-rationalising-mind. It never demands receiving anything at all. It’s not necssary for the peron whom you fall n love with, loves you back…

The magic of love is that it creates a heaven for you on earth, a feeling that makes you fall in love with the air around you and the wind blowing in your hair. Suddenly, everything from the tiniest of the flowers to the early morning sunray that beams in through your bedroom window, and all the zillions of particles in it, seem to be dancing away to the tune of your love. Suddenly, all those lyrics in romantic songs-one’s that you once brushed away calling them silly, mushy, seem to make sense.

The truth is that I love him and this is something that nobody can take away from me। I love him with all my heart and soul and will love him forever. This love will remain with me- perhaps for as long as I continue to breathe or until cupid strikes again- if at all there is an “again”.

I know, “forever” is long time। But I also know that Love Conquers All. Even Time.

Sports is not sporting any more

2008-02-03T12:35:00.000+05:30

Do you remember the days when as a kid, you got together with the other kids from the neighborhood and spent hours playing games like hopscotch, lagori, cricket or kho-kho. If anyone cheated or called each other names (which we often did), it was soon forgotten and everyone including the defaulter would be back in the game, enjoying every moment of it with un-ending passion.

Cut to the present day where we are no longer children. Many of us still indulge in sports- some professionally and others as spectators – but all with the same, if not greater, un-ending passion. The one big difference is something that we exhibited in our childhood but seldom do so now- sportsmanship.

Sportsmanship in sports has never been in lesser display than in recent times. The latest racial abuse row that kicked off during the India-Australia Cricket series, is ample evidence of this fact, where a referral to the word “monkey” snow-balled to a racist issue.

What is it that we have lost over the years, that makes seasoned players like Zidane to head-butt a payer of the opposite team in a world-cup soccer game? Why is it that even extremely talented sportspersons like Marion Jones feel the need to succumb to doping? What has gone so grievously wrong in sports today that has prompted Anil Kumble to make the statement, “ ..only one team was playing in the spirit of the game…”?

Agreed that the scenario is not the same today as it was years ago. All major sports tournaments involve min-boggling amounts of money- one of the repercussions of which, is the mounting pressure on players to outperform their opponents, many a time, comprising the spirit of the game.

Sports has become such a cash-rich venture that the endorsements of sportspersons piggyback their performance. In such a scenario, it is but natural for any human being, leave alone our celebrity-status sportspersons, to get carried away by the competition. The trappings of all this wealth and fame have made us forget that the mark of a true sportsperson is the spirit with which he/she plays the game.

The heightened media-scrutiny is another major factor that has led to this paradigm. It not only relays an amplified version of the behaviour of the players (both on and of the field), but also defines their actions into slots like “mild” or “offensive”.

The media is also responsible for sending out wrong signals by publicizing and at times even “glorifying” the display of un-called for aggressiveness on the field. It is indeed a sorry state of affairs that virtues like patience and respect for fellow-players are no longer as saleable as “offensiveness” or “boorish” behaviour is.

Sledging and other such un-gentlemanly activities are no longer scoffed at but are becoming increasingly accepted as game-playing tactics. Competition has been driven to such dizzying heights that players no longer feel secure nor do they have any faith in their hard-honed talent but are taught to rely on strategies such as “intimidation” and mental degradation of their opponents to gain an edge over them. But has anyone ever thought of coaching or merely advising our sportspersons on how to play the game with sportsmanship?

It is the need of our generation, as well as those to come, to revive long forgotten virtues like showing respect for the opposition, cultivating love of competition (as against love of winning), the value of trying ones’ best and most importantly, how to lose and win graciously.

It is high time we thought about where, the increasing intolerance and un-provoked aggression on the playing field, is taking us to. For this, we only need to look back into history to the time of the ancient Greeks who began the first Olympics with a view to celebrate the cultures of the people of various lands. Their custom of crowning the victor with an olive branch is symbolic of their faith in sports as a hope for a peaceful and better future. The great Pierre Fredy, Baron de Coubertin, father of the modern Olympics, sought sports as the way to bring nations and the youth of the world together and thereby dissuade them from fighting each other in war.

Fred Perry, the legendary Tennis player, once said, “Tactics, fitness, stroke ability, acceptability, experience and sportsmanship are all necessary for winning”. This is what we need to stress upon today where we no longer see the spirit of chivalry and the glory of sport on the field.

To quote Grantland Rice, the American sports columnist and author,

“ For when the one great scorer comes
To write against your name,
He writes not that you won or lost,
But how you played the game”

A light of hope has been blown away

2007-12-30T10:35:00.001+05:30

Date: 27th Dec., 2007

Today is undoubtedly, one of the saddest days in the history of the world. A day, when a bright beacon of hope called “Benazir Bhutto”, has been extinguished forever.

It is said that Benazir wrote about her entry into politics, in her autobiography as- “ I did not choose this. Rather, this chose me” . Today, after being regarded as a hope for a safer and saner future to millions of Pakistanis, hope for a more stable South-East Asia, and above all, hope for peace in today’s war-driven world, she lies bullet-ridden, sharing the fate of so many of the best thinkers, politicians and statesmen that the world has seen in the last 50 years.

The single-most attribute for which she will be remembered is definitely her courage. Raw courage that made her return to her country when many others, more experienced than her, shuddered to set foot in the living hell that Pakistan has become today.

There are not many men, leave alone women, who have the mental strength to make a heroic, historic speech, holding back tears, and vowing to root out terror and dictorship just 24 hrs after seeing ones’s closest aides being blasted to pieces, knowing well that the scattered limbs on the blood-soaked street could have easily been theirs. Benazir was one such exceptional lady.

A brave woman, who went through a lot of personal and public tragedy but who never failed to channelize the pain and loss into a force to reckon with, when it comes to the anti-terror war or the pro-democracy rebellion in Pakistan.

A role model for not just the millions of relegated Muslim women across the world, but also a leading light for each and every conscientious citizen of the world to fight against what one believes to be wrong.

A braveheart who came out of exile because her love for her homeland and concern for its future, far outweighed her fear of assassins. Benazir was the rightful heir of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and a commendable bearer of the Bhutto legacy. Indeed, an era has gone with the death of the Daughter of the East.

I feel like Forrest Gump sometimes…….

2007-12-19T20:44:00.000+05:30

…when I stop at a traffic-signal sometimes and I see those malnourished girls aged 3-12, begging, being shooed by every motorist. And badly wanting to improve their plight, but all I do is thrust in their hands, the toffee that I find in my pocket.

… when I go to the meeting after lunch, having relished chicken kababs, a nice, juicy sliver of which, is stuck between my buck teeth and I wonder why everyone’s got a ‘I’m –gonna-get sick-any-moment’ look on their face once I start talking.

… when I saw my one-time best friend get in the front of the mike at the elocution competition, holding my speech in hand, when in fact I was the one chosen by a forum of teachers and students to represent my class.

… when people just refuse to see the wise, matured-beyond-the-years me that is held captive in a body of a teenager.

… when I’m lying sick in the hospital, not knowing whether I will survive the next 48 hrs and I hear that a healthy, young person ended her life because she was wasn’t well-prepared for her 12th Std. exams.

… when I look at someone who’s made it to the IAS and wonder if I threw away my true calling by chucking my IAS dream at 21—a dream that I had nourished since the age of 7.

… when I look back at my school-days, when so many girls treated me as more than a confidante and wonder why I never considered them as best friend material, and why on earth I had that blinkered attitude when it came to friendships.

…. When I look at my school and college mates now, all happy, some settled in their dream jobs, some married and some even with twin babies, if I ever have it in my destiny to enjoy the same.

Yes, there will be many more times when I will feel just like Gump. I hope that the little good that I have ever done in my life, knowingly or unknowingly, will pay off in the end, just as it did for Gump-myHero.

Dreams--The kind that you get when you are in Zzzzz-Zzzzzz लैंड.

2007-12-12T22:40:00.000+05:30

I've had times when I've almost been scared to sleep at night for fear of getting nightmares। And there've been times when I couldn't wait to get to bed. Needless to say, my dreams have always reflected my fears, hopes and most of all my moods.

In school, whenever I used to read Enid Blyton's books, I used to get these dreams that I call " the bollywood masala" type dreams--full of energy, heroism and excitement, where you are either trying to escape from something or are trying to get hold of something and you finally do succeed. The really strange thing about them is that whenever I get caught by the villains in the end, (I know this sounds crazy) I sort of rewind my dream and direct it to end in the way I want. I've enjoyed these kinds of dreams so much that I wake up with the feeling of having conquered the world. At times, I've even gone as far as cursing mankind's advancement in technology for not yet having developed a machine that could capture our dreams in technicolour so that we can see them afresh the next day with our eyes open. Come to think of it, if such a machine comes out in the market, it would win the gadget of the decade award, hands down. It would be the x-ray machine of the subconscious. Employers would use it to weed out people with criminal intentions and hire only the most ambitious and pleasant people. The first people to buy them would of course be shrinks. They would put their victims to sleep and then watch what is going on in their inner world. But I of course would buy the gadget to make blockbuster movies out of my technicolour dreams.

I've had my share of the odd, weird dreams as well. The one that I particularly remember is the one in which my surgeon( one of the most reputed surgeons, mind you) was dressed up in a bright blue-floral Hawaiian holiday t-shirt with shocking pink shorts. He was doing a weird jig, with a cocktail in one hand, with the other hand on his hip and trying to swirl around like a ballet dancer. Unfortunately I woke up before I had the chance to see him fall on his face. I've never been able to figure out what exactly was going on in my subconscious mind that night.

Someday, when there is hopefully the x-ray dream machine around, I will keep a record of these dreams, and become another Farah Khan!

Role Models

2007-10-19T21:56:00.000+05:30

Saturday, September 22, 2007

I think I was 10 or 11 years old, when somebody first asked me who my role model was.That set me thinking. I never considered any particular person as my role model till then. Anyway, was it necessary to have one? But I decided that if at all I had to have one, it better be my Grandmother, who always gave so much more to others than she ever received. I’ve always felt that she deserved a lot more happiness- something which she never got either from her parents or her husband.

As Igrew older, I realised that there are role models all around us and that you don’t have to go looking for one. Every individual who has overcome the odds in life, every single person who has succeeded inspite of the seemingly impossible circumstances is a role model. Even the very grass beneath our feet can be our role model—ever noticed how it springs back even after you have stepped on it, almost flattening it? It will grow back, vibrant in the sunshine and swaying ever so lightly in the breeze – even after you have uprooted it for the umpteenth time.

Having been a conscientious student and a topper throughout my schol-life, my Commerce teacher, Mrs. Biljee once asked me in my last year at school, what made me the person I was. More specifically, she was interested in learning what my parents did(or did not do, for that matter) to make their first-born such a success.

My parents, have always led well-disciplined lives.I had pondered over the answer to this question several times before and I promptly answered that I have been very lucky to have parents who are good disciplinarians. They laid down the rules for us, pretty early on in life and taught us what is good and bad in life. More importantly, they instilled in us a sense of self-discipline.

Today, while I was watching a show on T.V., on how an increasing number of parents are spoiling their children and ruining their future, I began thinking about this subject again. My parents never really spoilt any of their 3 daughters nor were they overly strict with us.Yes, they did draw the boundaries very clearly but at the same time, let us be ourselves. They’ve always wanted us to be independent individuals and pushed us to that end, at the risk of appearing to be harsh and heartless. During the years, there have been several times when I’ve envied my friends because they had parents who were more like friends to them. It took me some time to realise that what my parents did then, is what has made me the strong person that I am today.

But then, today it hit me that there is more to it than just that. My parents never actually told me that one has to be honest and generous to the less privileged. I don’t remembering them ever telling me that it is important to be hard-working and resilient to reach my goals, to achieve my dreams.

Then what exactly is the secret that has made me the person I am today? It has taken me a very long time-24 years to be precise-to figure that out.

My parents were, are (and I know will always be) honest, kind and hard-working people themslves. They never preached to us the importance of saving money. We learnt to respect money because we saw our Mom and Dad, both of whom came from small towns, and had a backgrund that was far from being enviable, struggle to make enough dough to raise 3 well-nutured kids. I have seen my father(who hails from a remote, nondescript village) sweat and toil for over 30years and save every penny to build our own home-his lifelong dream. And I know that the single-most valuable thing that my father can leave behind for his daughters is the goodwill that he has earned from all those people who have known him to be one of the most selfless, trustworthing and perseverent people ever.

I realise now, that all along, I have unconsciously imbibed the values and principles in life, seeing Mom and Dad lead their lives. My sisters and I have been emulating them without realising that they are and will forever be, our role models. Of course, I will still quarrel with Dad for the T.V. remote and will chide him for his lack of orderliness. I will continue to have a difference of opinion with Mom every now and then and may not talk to her for hrs, or even days at a time. But that doesn’t really change anything. I’m glad and proud to have the parents I do.

Thanks Mom and Thanks Dad for being the best role models one could ever have.