Happies Endings!

If you really believe in something it will come to you. That is the law of attraction. Your thoughts radiate out into the world as frequencies, and they attract all other things with the same frequencies.
Paulo Cohelo said it in The Alchemist. I was skeptical.
Rhonda Byrne showed it in The Secret. I was still skeptical.
And then, my Shahrukh said it.

"itni shiddat se maine tumhe pane ki koshish ki hai…
ki har zarre ne mujhe tumse milane ki saazish ki hai!
Kehte hai… agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaho, to poori kaynath use tumse milane ki koshish mein lag jaati hai…"

And I finally believed it. It all about hope.
Hope and faith. Of course it makes a difference when he says it, eyes moist, dimples playing hide-n-seek with the cheek, hair falling on his face and most important of all, conviction in his voice. :D
But back to the point, it's about your belief. In your capabilities, in your dreams, in yourself. Believe in yourself and the world will have no choice but to believe in you. It doesn't have to work out instantly. But work out, it will. Negative thoughts attract negativism and positive thoughts attract positivity. So be positive. Difficult? Ya… specially because those names that you feel like calling people who stress you out are definitely not an indication of positive thoughts! But hang in there buddy, for Shahrukh says it will work out, so it will!

They say that you need darkness to develop a picture out of a negative (okay well… ok inn those ancient times when digicams were still unheard of, it did) so when God sends darkness in your life, he is actually preparing to present you with a beautiful picture. In the end, it all works out. And if it doesn't work out, well… then it's not the end!

"… humari filmon ki tarah humari zindagi mein bhi, end mein, sab theek ho jata hai… HAPPIES ENDINGS! Aur gar theek na ho, toh who the end nahin hai… pichchar abh baaki hai dost!"

Until next time…

Lesson Number One.

The first lesson that i learnt in MBA - dont put up anything ona slide that you semi-know.
people can be *!#$%^&* enough to ask about it (wrongly) and then tell you in front of the prof and the whole class that "you are wrong, actually."
I learnt a lot of subjects and a lot of gyaan but this is definitely lesson number one.

Untill next time...

A Slice of Heaven

Considering my "healthy" nature (arre bahi, khaate peete khaandaan se hai…) I am forced out of my house every (almost) morning to go and run and become a little less healthy.

Being the nice, obedient girl that I am, I go.
Okk..the real reason I go is that is, I go = mom quiet + sister give chocolate + dad give ice cream. Initially I used to sleep walk, but one day I wasn't that sleepy, and I opened my eyes to look at the place that I would walk-jog-run-pant like a dog in.
And this is what I found.
When I took off my headphones that were blaring energetic morning radio shows, I heard all possible birds that I could (well… all the possible birds I could hear in Mumbai!) : crows, mainas, parrots, sparrows, one-for-joy-two-for-sorrows and some that I couldn't name. And instead of getting irritated at the cacophony, I was mesmerized. It was the most "alive" sound that I have ever heard. After that day I started sleeping early and stopped carrying my earphones.
Everytime I go there, everytime that I think about it, only one thing goes on in my head like an old tape recorder stuck at a particular point: this is a slice of heaven.
My slice of heaven.

Until next time…

Why

Why.

It is my favorite word and favorite question.
Today, I'm applying it to my currently favorite theory, the "theory of death"
Weird one, this "theory of death" is. It says, "All who are born must one day die; the means of which are variable."

My grandfather died when he was just 78. Can you imagine?
I hadn't. And suddenly, before I knew it, he was gone. All I got was a phone call. "Tell Papa to come home immediately…"

And I'm still wondering… "Why?"

I still remember the walks we used to take to the see to sea. He was fascinated by it. We used to go and sit by the sea side, and he used to tell me stories about pre-independence days, about his struggle in life, about how he managed a family with only 10 rupees in his pocket, about how he built that quaint blue house, the same one that I spent all my summer vacations at, brick by brick.
I still remember his toothless grin (without his dentures) and his toothy laugh (with his dentures).
I still remember the way he used to tease me and call me a fat monkey… fat for obvious reasons and monkey for the antics and nonstop jabbering that I used to do.
I still remember the pains he used to take to get his grandchildren to speak their mother tongue, sindhi.
I still remember what he liked to eat and what he didn't.
I still remember the last time I saw him.

You know, you never know that last time you see somebody, that it is the last time you are seeing them. I didn't either. All I knew was that something was holding me back that day. I never want to leave that house once I go there, but that day I really didn't want to leave. Didn't realize then that it was my internal sixth sense going off, trying to tell me that "this is the last time you'll see him."

And then I wonder. Why. Why do I still remember? Why can I still hear his voice sometimes? Why does some random bald head on the road look like his very adorable bald head? Why did he die? Why does it still, after six years, hurt so much? Why.

And as the usual case is with my "why's", I get no answers. He stares at me, smiling, from his photograph hung on the wall, but says nothing.

I just want to tell him that I love him and really miss him. Anyone who can communicate to spirits in the next-world please do this one favor for me. Please.

Until next time…

Dont Touch Me

"Dont touch me!" he shouted and jumped back from me.
Why?
Because i am suffering from cunjunctivites. In the middle of exams, thats another thing.
I was shocked at his behaviour. I mean, come on. Cunjitivites for godsake, not AIDS or something!
If this is the way people in this country treat people who are suffering fro cunjunctivites, then its no small winder how they treat people with aids. Snatching a daughter from her mother because "she is not fit to be a mother, as she has AIDS..."
what crap.
forget being a bit understanding for it feels like there are a 1000 pins pricking the eye, along with acid pouring out of it. travelling over 25 kilometers (one way) on top of that for an exam, without studying, and the first thing i get to hear is "Dont Touch Me!"
after hearing tht i really felt like stickin my finger in my eye, and then sticking it all over his eye. but for tht i would have to touch him. and i dont touch dirty things.
3 things for you mr VIP Frenchie:
1.grow up. money isnt everything. get some brains.
2. who said i'm interested in touching you, in the first place? as i said, i dont touch dirty things.
3. GSAT. (this seems more contagious in class thn cunjunctivites!) ;)

until next time...

I Me Myself

I Me Myself.

I am not what I was.
I was a care-free,
Happy-go-lucky,
Superbly energetic extrovert,
Waiting eagerly, the next day to see.
Today I am a cynical,
Energy-less,
Introvert,
Closed to everything around me.
I hated solitude, loathing to be alone.
Today I seek solace in it, running away from the drone.
I could mingle with any tom-dick-harry,
Genuinely because I wanted to.
Today I close myself to people around me,
Not wanting to talk, not interested in extra burden to carry.
I used to let everyone close.
Today not many cross the barriers that arose.
I am myself
Only sometimes.
And I don’t know why
I have become like this.
My old self doesn’t like my new self.
Really wondering many a time.
But you know what?
My new self doesn’t care about that.
“Get over it.” She tells me, “I have done no crime.”
I haven’t backed off from any challenges.
Yet.
I won’t in the future either.
But my way of looking at things,
My behavior,
My attitude,
Everything has changed.
The famous spark of my eyes has died,
Flaming very rarely, if ever.
I wait for the day, oh so feverishly
When I will be me again.

Until next time…

Counting

Three years.
I don't know about anyone else, but I counted.
Each second.
Each minute.
Each hour.
Ech day.
Each month.
Each year.

And i still am.
Counting.
Waiting desperately for it to end.

Until next time...

Cracks

The pressure is building.
The wall is breaking.
The cracks are appearing.
And the ego's are flowing.

Wow. What fun.

Untill next time...

I’m lovin it!

 

I went. I saw. I was conquered. Chak de…I loved it!! It has two of my favorite things…shah rukh and India! And of course the girls. I mean, what can I say… I loved it! And that I am still loving it! It has nothing that a shah rukh movie has, and yet everything that makes a shah rukh movie that: a shah rukh movie.
Komal Chotala… my kiki… J Well, sort of. Just that she's a bit sweeter. (komal, not kiki! :-P) what attitude man. And that punjaban…forgot her name…mom says I'm like her. Big and hot tempered! :-D
What can I say… mother dairy ka dhoodh piya hai…kuch toh asar hoga!

We need movies like this. Ones that inspire you to do something for your country. Ones that are realistic almost to the point of believing. Ones that have loads of shah rukh in a white shirt and aviator glares. And blue jean also! (dirthy girl! :-D)
this is one movie that I am definitely adding in my DVD collection. Waiting desperately for the original DVD's to come out. (specially the ones with the exta stuff which means extra shah rukh!)

It's Over

THE THURSDAY. Its over.
phew!
its been an eye opener, to say the least.
don't even have the energy to type anymore.

Until next time...

2067

India completed 60 years on independence on August 15, 2007. The newspapers as usual had something special set for that day’s front page. One of them had this whole graphic of India in 2067, 60 years later. Fancy planes instead of cars and new bio-fuels and trans-galactic food and god knows what-not!
I got a little excited that wow, I’ll get to see all this and was animatedly discussing this with a friend, when he pointed out “Honey, you won’t be alive in 2067. You’re 23. 60 years later you’d be 83. That’s a loooong time for anyone to live!”
This realization has depressed to the pits, and I’m moving about blaming my bad sad mood on the economics professor. I mean think about it. You are going to die one day and then you’ll be…well…gone! I know it sounds crazy but I really don’t want to die. I want to see the fancy planes and the parking problems that come with them and of course I want to know if trans-galactic food comes in chocolate flavor and whether it too is fattening. I even tried telling myself that The Bhagvad Geetha professes that the day you realize you are mortal, and are going to die one day, is the day you’ll start living life truly. But nothing seems to work on my mind. I am literally dreading living this moment because it has brought me one moment closer to death.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not some freak (read:girl) who does not want to age and let wrinkles et all spoil her beauty. Please. I hardly even care. But what I am concerned about is that this moment that I had today, this day that I spent with my family, it’s over. It will never come back. And that scares me. Maybe I am scared of the future, so as to what it will bring and where I will be. Maybe. But I definitely know that today where I am, how I am, with who all I am: I am fine. And I DON’T want this to change.
Change.
I never did like this change – thingi anyways. Everything is going fine and along comes change, and well, changes everything. Anyways that is not the point here.
And then there is that other thought which is more depressing and more likely to come true.

Until next time…

Ramaa and Ritikaa.

She is a 21 year old, with an 11 month old child. She has returned to her parent’s house, after 3 years of trying to live with the man her parents married her off to. He turned out to be a wife-beating alcoholic who is a mama’s boy and will listen to any crap his mother will tell him about her. Her parents have refused to keep her in their house any longer: a married daughter has no place in their house. Temporarily living with her sister, she manages to feed her baby by working domestically in houses like mine. She has no clothes of her own, they didn’t let her take any when she was leaving, and she starts her day everyday hoping that today maybe her husband will realize his mistake, his responsibilities and come and take her home, where she belongs. She is Ramaa.

She is a 27 year old, with a recently aborted fetus. She has returned to her parent’s house after 6 months of living with the rich prick her parents married her off to. She was 3 months pregnant when she aborted her child. Her husband, who had separated from his parents recently, was under stress due to his new business and was fighting with her a lot. She couldn’t take any more of his verbal abuses and moody behavior. So she called her dad and he immediately sent her an air ticket and a doctor’s card. She wakes up every day, ignoring her husband calling on her cell, but still at times finds herself wondering what it would have been if their child had been born, if they were still together. She is Ritikaa.

Two people I came across recently, whose story moved me. I feel sorry for Ramaa, because life was a bit too harsh on her, and sorry for Ritikaa for her parents were a bit too soft on her.

This proves one thing that I always believed to be true. Not that all men are B**t**ds, that too, but that relationships anywhere need a lot, and I mean a lot of understanding, communication, and most importantly trust. Without these things, a relationship cannot survive for long. And the incurable romantic in me wishes to add: let’s not forget the romance.

Until next time…

Who knows…?

Who knows…?

Who knows when we all will meet again?
Who knows whether those days that were, will they ever come again?

Two years of my life I spent with them. Each person a unique character, contributing in their own way to my life in those two years. And now, we are all moving on… moving apart.

Why is that when you finally accept people you have met, as your friends, you have to move, to make more new friends?

Jeevan ke safar mein raahi,
milte hain bichad jaane ko.
Aur de jaate hain yaadein…
Tanhai mein reh jaane ko.

Whoever wrote this song sure knew the ways of life.

You meet new people, you are reluctant to let them get too close – after all, they all are not going to be there for ever, the last ones didn’t either – but then after time, you get to know them, they get to know you and then one day you wake up to realize: you have new friends! Friends in the true sense, people you have been sharing your life with. How, when, where did they cross the line of acquaintances and become friends you can’t say for sure. But they did, that you can feel for sure.

Santosh’s sms today snapped me to the realty that I will never meet all these people all at the same time, how we were, ever again. And I don’t know why, but it brings tears to my eyes. I met them as co-workers, all out on our first jobs, but I leave them as friends. Very good friends. And I’m aready missing them.

Saalon baad na jane kya sama hoga,
Hum sab doston mein na jaane kaun kahan hoga,
Fir milna hua to milenge khwabin mein,
Jaise sukhe gulaab milte hain kitaabo mein.

To all of 20-point from your one and only HR… sometimes remember me.


Until next time…

Love Is...

I entered this for a 10-line poetry competiotn somewhere...the title was "Love Is..."

Love is...

Love is like a bright flame,

Burning those who dare to go near.
Love is like a complex game,

Where the rules are never clear.

Love is like a walk in the rain,

That drenches you from top to bottom.

Love is at times the biggest pain,

For it makes you feel so rotten.

Love is but the most important thing,

A song which everyone must atleast once sing!

until next time...