Belated Happy April Fool’s Day

It was a dry one this year, April fool's day. No pranks, no fun. No mood, no need, no inclination.

But I made up for it.

It so happened that a friend of mine (promised him, wouldn't mention his name!) missed April fools day by one day when he was born. So I called him to wish him a very happy birthday today. And ended up giving myself a belated happy April fool's day instead! He didn't recognize my number (landline) and as the usual habit of making a fool of people who aren't smart enough to recognize my voice, I took his case too. I pretended to be a relationship executive from a well known MNC bank, and after identifying myself (with a pseudo-name, of course!) went on to wishing him a very happy birthday. After that, I informed him that he was chosen to become one of our esteemed HNI clients, and so I wanted to come and meet him today itself personally. I also mentioned that I would bring cake and flowers. This flattered the guy to no end, and he was all shy-blushy-flattered. To his credit I must mention that he said that there was no need for the cake etc, but he would like to know the features of this HNI-Account that I was offering him. I was on the verge of mentioning a free trip to Bangkok (his favorite holiday destination) when I couldn't hold it any longer and burst out laughing!

Needless to say the next 10 minutes were spent in him trying to convince me that he knew this was a prank and that he reacted in such a manner because he did know someone with the same name as the pseudo-name that I chose and that he was an HNI client with his bank already and also pointing out numerous times that he did refuse the cake and flowers; and me not believing one word of what he as saying and laughing non-stop!

After a long time I laughed. So hard, my stomach hurt because of it. And for once, I welcomed the pain in my stomach and the water flowing out of my eyes. I gave him only my best wishes, but in return he gave me a happy day in between these dark, gloomy days. For that I can never thank him enough. May god give him all that his heart desires, even if it is only a preeti (pretty) banker chick that brings him cake and flowers!

Here's wishing him a very happy birthday, and me a belated happy April fool's Day.

God knows, I needed it.

Until next time…

A Mid-Summer Night's Dream

The summer breeze,
In the day, In the night.
A clear blue sky,
Dotted with clouds pure white.

Sitting in the shade of those big green trees,
Sipping the lemonade, enjoying the mangoes.
Chasing my sister around the swings,
Falling down and scraping my knees.

Gone are those days,
Gone are those trees.
Gone is that childhood,
Leaving an emptiness in its place.

Gone is the carefree attitude,
Along with the sound of the ocean so serene.
A sigh, A wish, A longing for it,
But all that remains is a mid-summer nights dream.

Until next time...

Bitter-Sweet

Two years went by, and I didn't hear a damn footstep. Two years ago I came here, hopeful, dreams in my eyes and determination in my soul. Today, two years later I leave with dreams unfulfilled, but head held high, and determination intact.

I always knew this time would end. I also thought that I wouldn't regret its end, wouldn't be sad by it. But I was wrong. I am sad. I feel something but I don't understand why, for this place hasn't really given me much; not even a job which was the primary motive for coming here in the first place. I feel like I am leaving behind a part of me. Is it apprehension about leaving a way of life that has become a routine and going into a world of uncertainty, of no rules? I don't know. I don't think it's only that. I think that somewhere this place stole a small part of me. It stole it and hid it somewhere and even though I search desperately for it, I can't find it.

Looking back I see a presentation, like one of the many I have made here. The only difference is that this one is in my head and the slides consist of memories. Like photographs taken, freezing that moment for eternity. My interview. The first class. The first friend (pink!). The first fight. The worst professor. The best professor. Sleeping on the first bench (yes, I did!). The numerous presentations. The horriblest (word coined by me, it's just most horrible in one word) exams. The egos. The misunderstandings. The friends (yes, I did make them. Even after believing that after a certain age you can't make friends, I made friends here. Friends I will cherish, and miss. Friends I never thought I would make). The travelling. The bitching! The giggling. The timepass. The competition. The fighting. The bamboo trees behind Nescafe. The thawing in the sun. The freezing in class. The canteen tea. The station road paani poorie. The rides in the car till dadar station. The coming to college in a car on Sunday mornings. The late night classess. The early morning classess. The diet lunches. The sharing of the salad. The end.

The very expectedly abrupt end.

kahin to dil mein yaadon ki ek suli gad jaati hai,
kahin har ek tasveer bohat hi dhundhali padh jaati hai.
koi nayi duniya ke naye rangon mein khush rehta hai,
koi sab kuch paakar bhi ye mann hi mann kehta hai.
kehne ko saath apne ek duniya chalti hai,
par chup ke is dil mein tanhai pannti hai.
bas ya-aa-aad satth hai, teri ya-aa-aad saath hai.
teri ya-aa-aad saath hai.
main jahan rahoon, main kahin bhi hoon,
teri yaad saath hai.

How many of these people will remember me? How many of these people will I remember? When will we meet again? Will we all meet again, at the same time? Why am I feeling bad? Am I the only one feeling bad?

Whatever happens, I won't forget these two years. If nothing I'll have a lot of memories.

Bitter-sweet memories.

Until next time…

I am Bombay

A piece of fiction – an excerpt from the diary of "Mumbai"

 

I am the city of dreams, the city of hope, the city of glitter, and the city of gutters. I am Bombay, or rather now, Mumbai. There are many that come to me with dreams in their eyes, with hope in their soul and with nothing in their pockets. Some come here and some are born here. I take each and every one of them into my arms, welcomingly and try to accommodate them as much as my over-stretched resources allow me to. I stick with them through thick and through thin. I make each one of them a part of me. Some become successful, some become famous, and some remain like the gutter-creatures that they were born to be.

But all of them hate me.

And I don't understand why.

Is it my fault that all of India finds only me to come to, to fulfill their dreams? Is it my fault that the very people who are in-charge of my welfare mistreat me, abuse me, and think about their publicity and pockets? Is it my fault that I am not built to handle such a large and ever-growing population? Is it my fault that everyone takes everything shamelessly from me, but no one remotely even thinks of returning to me – and that too not for me, for the million others like them who are going to come to me? Is it my fault at all?

I let 18million (and still counting) people walk over me every day. I have let them cut across my body to let them build their so called railways. I feed them. I take care of them.

And what do I get? "Bombay, oh I hate this city!" – echoing everywhere. Be it the film star, or the student, or the slum-dweller or the businessman. They all forget that they are what they are – good or bad - somehow, because of me.

Then why don't they leave me, I wonder. If I am really as bad as they portray me to be, then why do they still tramp over me every day, struggling to fulfill their dreams? Why don't they just pack their bags and take their family someplace else, that they think is better than me?

Maybe because deep down, they know, that there is none other like me.

For all I do for you, all I ask of you is acknowledgement, if not appreciation. At least don't bad-mouth me. I can hear you. All of you. And it hurts every time I hear those words. If you think that wherever it is that you come from is better than me, please feel free to leave. I will miss you, that is for sure for I have made you my own, and it does hurt when a part of me leaves. But if you are really as miserable here as you sound, then it is best that you leave. I can assure you one thing though; you will never forget me. For as I said: there is none other like me.

Until next time…

A Table, a bottle of Toner & some Tea…

There is this fundamental question that has raised its head in my life. How much is too much?

How much do you adjust/ compromise/ change yourself for the convenience of others? Any relationship requires compromise, I agree. But I also agree that every person has a right to be themselves too. What I mean is that how far does "I'm like this only, take it or leave it." Go. How far should you let it go? If the other person can have the balls/ guts to say this, why can't you. Well, you can. But I don't. Not that I don't have the balls/courage. But I don't want to. It will cause an unnecessary fight, and the worst thing is that it's not one person. It's a bunch of them. And I really can't afford to fight with a bunch of people in my life. Do they expect all people to accommodate them like that? Or is just me. Why do I let them push me? Why do they not get pushed when I try? Is it worth fighting for? Why can't someone (anyone!) do something simply because I want it? Why is that I always have to deal with their "them-ness" but they can't deal with my "my-ness"?

I'm sorry; did I say one fundamental question?

I know the title has nothing to do with the content; but the content has everything to do with the title.

Until next time…

 

Attention, Change & Concealment

It doesn't bother me when a considerably new friend stops giving me bhav. But it does bother me when someone I have known for years suddenly realizes that it has been years and hence stops taking me seriously, and not giving me bhav and taking me for granted in general. I don't want to be the centre of the world's attention, but I do want to be someone's centre of attention. But apparently, this concept is too difficult for people to understand.

How much can you change overnight? Enough to shock everyone who knows you into speechlessness? I don't think anyone can change so drastically overnight. It's a gradual process, one that may have been brewing for years but has only just begun burgeoning. Till where it will go, will end on a high or a low, only time will tell.

When someone starts acting differently from what has been their standard behavior, it makes me wonder whether this new them is the real them or the old them was the real them. If the new them is the real them, why did they conceal it or so long (and how!). And if the old them was the real them, then why are they acting so bloody different!

I really don't like change, don't I?

Until next time…

 

Something Better…

Once in a while,

There comes along,

This thing that you wanted,

For which your heart does long.

 

You work,

You pray,

You slog you butt off,

And you wait for that day.

 

And when it comes along,

It brings with it,

The unexpected situation that you never thought of,

And with a shock your confidence takes a hit.

 

You wonder why,

You wonder how,

No matter how much you wonder,

Nothing's going to change now.

 

What you need to realize,

Is that what you want is not what you get,

What you get is what you deserve,

Something Better will come along, for it is not over yet.

 

Until next time…

Blue Eyed Boy

He's got a paunch, well hidden, but a paunch nevertheless; huge butts, a cute smile and the most mesmerizing blue eyes you have ever seen! From far you can't make out that they are blue, but when you get close enough to notice, you don't just notice, you notice! They are deep, blue and very very pretty. The moment you look at them , they take your breath away. You have to concentrate on breathing, you're that awed.

He's the new blue eyed boy, man rather, in my life and after so many years I have a full blown crush - on him!

Sigh …The world seems to be so much more prettier…

Until next time…

Lost & Found

Lost: one Diamond earring

Found: my old love for bicycling

It was a lucky earning, and not keeping the loss of monetary value in mind, it represents, at least to me, loss of good luck which I desperately need at the moment. I can't remember the exact moment it fell off my ear and neither the place. My mother discovered at the dining table that I was wearing only 1 earring and even after hours of frenzied searching and turning the house upside down I couldn't find it. I was even game for tracing my steps back till I reached college and wherever else I went, but didn't as my parent saw no point in it. At night I dreamt about it: it was lying just within my reach but I couldn't grasp it or that it kept appearing and disappearing as I went to pick it up. I even thought in my dream that this was all a bad dream and it would be over when I got up as God can't be so mean to me in one day! But sadly, it wasn't so.

So to get me out of my depressed sulking, kiki, my darling sister took my cycling. It was at 7 AM and I still hate her for that, but other than that it was good fun! We rented a couple of bicycles and raced around on the Malabar Hill Slopes. The weakling that she is, she lost and was usually far behind me, panting, and trying to catch up. My shouting out: "kick kiki, come on!" had little effect on her speed and more on her disposition towards me! Today morning I remembered what it used to feel like, all those years ago, when as kids we used to cycle for hours and hours. It used to feel like I was flying, the wind in my hair racing along to wherever I want to go. That love for cycling gradually led us to getting mopeds, and once we had mopeds, our cycles rusted away unnoticed for over 12 odd years. In fact I wasn't even sure I still remembered how to ride a bicycle, but apparently there are some things you don't forget and riding a cycle is one of them. Hopefully, we will go back and cycle regularly (only after kiki can walk straight, she seems to have overdone her capacity!)

Until next time…

Prancing Pigeons & Lost Opportunities

Another day, another story.

Of prancing pigeons and lost opportunities.

There are other better things in the world, I'm being told. Repeatedly. So I guess there must be, and I'm going to vie for them. Let the ones gone not matter anymore, as mattering won't change anything really. It is disappointing, and I would be a big liar if I said that it weren't. But hey, disappointment can be channeled into motivation and I'm going to try to do that. Something better does await me, and find it I am going to. And you - yes you - reading this – don't feel bad for me. I will do better than this, I know it and you should too.

Courting pigeons can be a funny sight, and got a laugh out of me even when I was at my lowest. Outside the window of the first floor of the Westside Café at Kala Ghoda there is a parapet, and on it were 2 pigeons. The male was following the female for quite some time irritating her to the core. And when she finally showed interest by fluffing herself up completely he had second thoughts (men, I tell you – all the same in any species!) and started acting pricey. It was a funny sight, watching a fully fluffed up pigeon running after another pigeon that was chasing it just minutes ago!

Until next time…

Good Old Me

okay then.
i'm still the old hyper-paranoid me.
not chilled a bit.
shit.
am i screwed or what.

until next time...

A New Day Has Come

I like to think that my life is a book, and each year is a chapter in it. At the end of every year, I take stock of what happened and what I learnt from it; and look ahead and prepare for what will come. As my birthday and the end of the year, English-calendar-wise, fall within 15 days of each other, I have usually conducted this take-stock-and-look-ahead exercise at the beginning of the year. This year too, I look back at the year gone, closing one chapter of my life, and start a new, and fresh (BGO*!) one.

The past year was mostly routine; consisting of travelling, college, studies, exams, CGPA's and a bit of fun squeezed in here and there. In the last two or three odd months I realized that in my single-minded dedication to reach a goal set long ago, I had become the very stuffy, almost sadoo to a certain level person that I kept teasing other people to be. I realized that I should have some fun, and really, "take a chill-pill!" (In the very famous words of my Shahrukh…). So I did. For example, I got screwed in an exam, the outcome of which is still unknown, and apart from a bit of bathroom tears I was cool (which is a really big deal for the old hyper-paranoid me! Trust me. The old hyper-paranoid me would have wailed like a banshee and taken the roof over her head, literally, ending up making everyone's life as miserable as she thought her life to be.) This year was also one of lost friendships found again, and final goodbyes to old dead friendships. And of course, how can I forget. It was the year in which I started losing weight! Not much, but definitely a satisfactory and pleasing start. This was also the year of suffering, trauma and pain for every Bombayite. The fright, the terror, the fear lingers in every heart, but we move on. Our spirit is injured this time around, but we are healing. Slowly and steadily, like the Turtle.

Enough about the bygone. Now, about the one ahead.

Even though I don't like to plan life, I do like to look at the broad expected aspects. The problem with planning life, I think, is that it seldom goes the way you planned it, and that can be a bit of a rude shock, as I've already discovered. But nevertheless, some things you don't plan for, you know they will happen. Like a job. The coming year will be the start of my so called career. Apprehension clouds this matter obviously, as there is no job in sight; forget about it being the right one. But I have kind of settled with God and Destiny on this one. They have got me this far, and they will get me ahead. The apprehension's still there, though. It is also the year in which I plan (oops?) to make some headway on the "I'm-single" part. Marriage? Engagement? Haven't planned that much in detail. But I'd like for something to happen. More weight loss, definitely needs to happen, and I hope that this coming year will be the one in which I finally can reach my target weight and stop losing weight and start maintaining it. (As you can see, all my talk about not planning life etc was bullshit.)

All said and done, it's a new day, of the new year. One year gone by, and another one knocking at the door. So let's say bye and hi in the same breath, and let's keep the peace and hope alive.

Happy New Year.

Until next time…

*BGO = Blinding Glimpse of the Obvious.

"I Dont Know Why I Exist, Actually..."

25 years of my life done.
More than one-fourth my life lived.
Not much to show off, except an amazing amount of wonderful memories: most happy; some sad.
There comes in a point in life when you wonder: "I dont know Why i exist, actually..."
for my proffessor it came when he was in class teaching us a couple of weeks ago.
For me, it came today.
So.
why do i exist?
what is my life purpose?
what have i done till now?
what am supposed to do in the future?
will i be able to do all that i'm supposed to?

so many questions - and no answers yet. 25 years of life done and no answers yet.
not that i was looking for them or something.
but now, i guess that i am looking for them, they will be even more difficult to find.
but these 25 years were, if nothing, fast; fun and memorable.
all i can hope for is that the next 25 are the same, if not better.

happy birthday, babe.

until next time...

Strength

strength is what lies within you,
it comes out with situations, old or new.
"i'm not strong enough to take this..." in vain you moan,
for that decision is HIS and HIS alone.

until next time...

DдsVIDдйIYд

The best goodbye ever.

Very few people are lucky (or are they?) enough to know that they are going to die – and that they should now live life as they always wanted to. Now Death and I, we've never really gotten along. I have major issues with dying. Not as much as me dying, as my near n dear ones. But this movie got me thinking – what would be my 10 things to do before I die? Because, issues or no issues, I have to die one day, right? The sooner I accept it, the better it is for the people around me (kiki, for example- who thinks I have gone mad because all I can think of nowadays is this and wishes real bad that I'd stop bugging her with questions regarding it). Have you ever thought about it? If suddenly you were told that you had say two-maybe-three odd months to live and then – puff! It was over. Your chance at life had come and gone. In that situation, what would you do? What are the things that you absolutely must do before you die? For we live only once, right?

You know, my SRK said –

"hason, jiyo, muskaraon… kya pata kal ho na ho… "

As much as it pains me to point out that he was wrong, I still do. Because I know, kal nahin hai. There is always a tomorrow, one that never comes. So instead of laughing, smiling and in general being merry today because I don't know if there will be a tomorrow, I think that we should smile, laugh and in general be merry today because we know that there never will be a tomorrow. Every day we have a today, and that is what we should live. Each day, for its own. As for me, I'm alive today, my near n dear ones are alive today and that's all that should matter to me. Instead of wasting today, moping about what may happen tomorrow I have to learn to enjoy today. I have to get over my fear so that I can enjoy whatever precious few (according to me) moments I have been allotted.

As for my 10-things-to-do-before-dying list? Well, I'm seriously thinking about it. Its work-i-progress. I will make a list, and maybe even out it up here.

Maybe you should think about it too.

Until next time…

And Again…

I sat in front of my computer screen for over an hour, trying to type something – anything – to express my feelings on whatever has happened. But I just couldn't. I realized that I was speechless, that there were no words to describe what I was feeling: anger, sadness, relief, guilt and something that goes much deeper than all this. This is not the first time. I know that this is also not the last time, though I hope that I am wrong in this prediction. But this is definitely different.

After 40 hours, This is not yet over.

The previous times, Bombay and its famed Spirit fought back. Head held high with a kind of defiance in the eyes: Do what you want; I am not scared of you. But this time, somewhere, that Spirit has been dented. It has not shattered completely, thank god. But the cracks have appeared. The head is willing to bow: if only to make it stop. The eyes still look up, but the defiance has faded, leaving in place a tear-filled plea:

STOP.

Please.

There are hardly any people on the roads, and almost everyone is walking around with a vacant look in their eyes, the trauma not receding a bit, because well, it's not yet over. Today, even the sun is not out, like an indication that even nature knows it's meant to a bleak, gray day: a day for mourning. The intermittent sound of choppers flying above my building interrupts my thoughts, and I pray as each chopper passes by: Let this one be the hero, let this one be the one that ends it.

In these 36 hours I have realized one more thing: what it feels like to live in a war-ravaged country or state. Not completely, and again for that I thank God. But now I know, first hand, what it can feel like. I went out for a walk yesterday, tired because of lack of sleep, nonstop television watching for almost 24 hours, and frantic channel switching. With the depression adding to my fatigue a breath of fresh air seemed like a good idea. But I couldn't last more than fifteen minutes. After fifteen minutes of continuously looking over my shoulder and jumping at the tiniest loud sound, I was done. I was ready to run back home, for I just couldn't make myself believe that I was safe. I wanted to run home, shut the doors and the windows, and hide under my bed.

I was scared.

I am still scared, and hence I haven't ventured out since then.

The more desperate Bombay seems to be for this ordeal to be over, the more is seems to drag on. And for most of us, there is nothing we can do. Nothing but watch T.V., behave like an ostrich by hiding, and pray. Pray real hard, and hope that someone somewhere answers our prayers.

Until next time…

Dor

Rishtey natey chaahat yakeen,
In sab ka daman ab chak hai...
Samjhe they haaton mein hain zammen,
Muththi jo kholi bas khak hai
Dil mein ye shor hain kyon...
Imaaan kamzor hain kyon...
Nazuk ye dor hai kyon...

Until next time...

Carefree

It feels good to just let go of all restraints, and just be carefree. It does wonders to the soul. Unfortunately, its not always possible to do so. Responsibilities always play the villian and more often than not we cant afford the luxury of being carefree.
but its a darned good feeling, i tell you!
I felt it for a while today, and man...did it feel good or what! Almost as good as thawing in the sun after freezing in a very cold room...almost!
Wish life was so easy all the time...
No tensions, no headahes, no responsibilities, no fights...
No nothing... only carefree...


Until next time...

Choice

this one, again, is for biks...

A day will come when finally he will have no choice...
he will have to hear the plea of your inner voice...
she will come to you, come on her own...
for fruits always grow on trees whose seeds have so painstakingly been sown!

until next time...

Tagged AGAIN!

Q> List 5 things that you want to say to people but never will. Don't say who they are.

• I love you – don't ever go anywhere.
  
• I hate you, get lost and don't come back!!!!
  
• You bitch – why did you do that???
  
• I ate a chocolate after dinner
  
• I ate a chocolate before dinner too!!!
  

Q>Five Things I'd Love to Do before I Die:

• Eat unlimited chocolates
  
• Go all the way!!! ; )
  
• Color my hair - pink!
  
• Lose a LOT of weight
  
• Buy my mom a Skoda
  
• Buy my dad a house
  
• Buy my sister a PSP
  

[I'm bad at math?? : ) ]

Q>Five Things I Will Not Do Even If It Kills Me:

• Stop eating (yummy) food
  
• Beg and plead for love
  
• Drugs
  
• Pre marital sex
  
• Eat snails/cockroaches/snakes etc
  

Q>Five Things I Do When I'm Away From The Public:

There is a reason I do it when I'm away from the public!

• Snort, When I laugh... !
  
• Burp
  
• Yawn with my mouth open
  
• Talk with my mouth full
  
• See how fat my stomach looks in the mirror, by imitating a pregnant woman-pose!
  

  
   

Q>Five Favorite Sentences (most often used):

• Whatever!!!
  
• Don't know, don't care!
  
• Good, good – I like it, I like it!
  
• Get lost.
  
• I'm hungreeeeeeeeeeee……
  

Q>Five Things that'll Make You Wish You Didnt Do, If You Did:

• Smoke a cigarette
  
• Say something I really didn't mean
  
• Eat a chocolate after dinner, when the dietician has strictly forbidden it…
  
• Give away my turtles to someone… : (
  
• Let my parents down, in any way
  

5 people I tag:

• Kiki (please, do mankind a favor and fill this!)
  
• Subodh ( same as above!)
  
• Ankur
  
• Damodar
  
• … … …

Tagged!

This one is for biks…

 

Q.1. what have you realized recently?

 

A:> if you lose weight, and get too happy about it: it all comes back!!!!!!!! : (

 

Q.2. Have you given your first kiss away?

 

A:> tricky question! If I haven't, and say no I haven't given it away, then I'm giving it away now - right??? So – no comments!

 

Q.3. If you were stranded on a deserted island, which would be the 11 blog buddies you would take with you?

 

A:> why only blog buddies? Well ok, Biks, saira, Subodh (though he wouldn't come, he never goes anywhere!), rohan, kiki, zach braff (I'm his buddy, I don't think he thinks the same though!!), damodar, ankur, that's eleven… (I'm worse thn biks at math…so sue me!)

 

Q.4. Where is the place you want to go most?

 

A:> GOA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Q.5. If you have one dream to come true, what would it be?

 

A:> go on a very long world tour, backpacking alone (ya, alone n me kinda weird , but ya), and spend enough time in every village/city/town of the world to learn about its culture, food, and people!

 

Q.6. Do you believe in seeing the rainbow after the rain?

 

A:> oh yes – I believe it brings good luck!!

 

Q.7. What are you afraid of losing most now?

 

A:> my family.

 

Q.8. If you win a million dollars what would you do?

 

A:> put up a chocolate factory and make my mom the chief chef!

 

Q.9. If you meet someone you love, would you confess to him/her?

 

A:> been there, done that! ; D

 

Q.10. List 3 good things about the person who tagged you.

 

A:> oh god , no!!! I've done enuf biki-ego-massagin to last me a life time!

Anyways, if u insist (I think this is THE reason he tagged all of us, so tht he cld hear more praises…)

a) good listener/shoulder-giver (!! )

 

b) Seems to have his feet on the ground

 

c) very clear about what he wants to do, and what he doesn't. well, to me atleast he seems clear!

 

Q.11. What are the requirements that you wish from your other half?

 

A:> hmm…

Very seldom in life do you get what you demand. Nevertheless… here goes…

• Emotional, and able to display it!
  
• Funny…
  
• Cute.. : )
  
• Romatic
  
• Food junkie!!!
  
• Loves to travel as much as I do
  
• Likes me the way I am, no questions asked. (that's a tough one, coz I'm quite a work of art!!)
  

 

Q.12. What type of people do you hate most?

 

A:> Hypocrites definitely, people who play unnecessary politics all the time, and people who have shrill voices (can't stand them!)

Q.13. What is the one thing you cannot live without?

 

A:> my family.

 

Q.14. If you have faults, would you rather the people around you point out to you or would you rather they keep quiet?

 

A:> point them out, but NICELY…

: /

 

Q.15. Missing Question… (biki…very bad at math!!)

 

Q.16. Are you a shopaholic?

 

A:> yaaaaaaaaa!! Window-shoaholic, at the least!!

 

Q.17. Find a word to describe the person who tagged you!

 

A:> weird!!!!! : D

 

Q.18. If you have a chance, which part of your character you would like to change?

 

A:> my paranoia… I get too freaked for too little!

 

Q.19. What's the last shocking thing you've seen or heard?

 

A:> a homeless little rag-picker girl (of around 6 yrs in age) shitting on the road, and using a sharp stone to clean her bum.

Ouch.

 

Q.20. Would you rather have love but no money or money but no love?

 

A:> I think these two things cant be mutually exclusive. You need a decent amount of both to live comfortably. But if push comes to shove, it will be love. But t will be a very strong love to overpower the need for money( as in whatever is needed for te basics also)

 

 

 

I tag : anyone who reads this!

 

Until next time…

Silver Lining

When the world seems blue,
When the skies are grey,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When you find nothing new,
In this world that was once so gay,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When you've done all you can,
And you don't have the strength to do anything – even pray,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When you feel like crying all the time,
And look at smiling faces like they're committing a crime,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When in a crowded room you feel alone,
And you don't know why, but you do know you mourn,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When your life, at best, seems to suck,
And about it no one seems to care a fuck,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When the situation seems bleak,
And your conscience falls weak,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When you feel like you can't breathe,
You can't face the music, can't take the heat,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

When you fee like all is lost,
And you can't get it back – not at any cost,
Look around for a silver lining,
There has to be one.

After all is said and done,
And you've exhausted all other idea's – for their money given them a run,
Look around for a silver lining,
For there always has to be one!

 

Until next time…

 

 

 

 

Tell Me Your Dreams

One of my biggest dreams shattered today.

1. My dream company.
   

And people wonder why I hate September's.

 

Until next time…

Toilet Paper

Disclaimer: the following is a narrative of what the author witnessed in person, consists of explicit material and is not meant for the weak hearted. Only the strong hearted may proceed, and that too at their own peril.

She must've been around six years, seven at max. An angelic, cherubic faces and bright eyes, accompanied by dirty, unwashed hair, one short shirt on her torso, and no underwear is what made up all of her. Her supposed-to-be-rosy-but-were-muddy-brown cheeks were caked with a fine line of dust, and if you looked carefully, you could see a few tear-stains too. She was chasing a flying piece of paper that the wind had caught, oblivious to the world around her including passer-by's staring at her semi-nudity. Suddenly, she stopped mid-run and squatted down on the ground, just about two feet away from where my car was parked, and to my absolute horror, started shitting!

Ya. I know.

I was appalled too. I mean here we were, making a serious effort not to the litter the roads, trying to push India to really become Incredible India, and there she was, shitting right in the middle of the road!! Whereas first I was going to approach her to give her a sandwich that was left over in my Tiffin, I now approached her with the self-righteous, moral-policing intent of admonishing her for the odious task that she was still performing. Before I could reach her, she got up. Apparently, she was done. She started walking, and I nearly fainted of disgust. She wasn't going to even clean herself! What a filthy creature. And to imagine, my heart went out to her initially. Totally repulsed by her actions, I gave up the intent of even going near her, when I saw her squat again. This time, she didn't shit. Instead, she picked a handful of medium-sized stones, quickly sorted through them, chose one, and wiped (rather scraped) her bum with it. Then she scraped her hand with the same stone, tossed it aside, and ran off, presumably finding something else to play with. I now wonder how she decided which stone would hurt less than the other.

I was still appalled, but this time at myself and my alacritous condemnation of her and her actions. Hindsight made me realize that she had no other option.

None.

Nada.

Zip.

I mean if she really wants to shit, where will she? In the public toilet that charges as much as her one-time meal would cost? (The same ones that you can smell miles off.) Wouldn't she rather use that money to buy another meal for herself? Can you imagine how much a stone hurts in one of the most sensitive places of the anatomy?

We want Incredible India, India that will go places and take us with her. But conveniently overlook the fact that today's India is a coin with two sides. One side shines with all its might, boasting of healthy economic growth, an emerging market, The India Inc: alluring the world to come and bask in its glory. The other side is rusted to a degree far greater than the other side shines. It desperately tries to hide the millions that can't be fed or housed, or even get accounted as citizens. In contrast to this rust, the shine fades into nothingness.

This country has a long way to go in becoming what it aims to become. And so do its people, especially the self-righteous, moral-policing fools who have a home to live in, a toilet to shit in, and of course smooth toilet paper to wipe their bum with afterward. A complete change in the attitude is required, and unless that happens, India will continue to be what it is, and stay where it is.

Until next time…

Sometimes

Sometimes, your expectations dont get satisfied.
sometimes, you wonder why what you expected didnt happen.
Sometimes, the only thing you can do is nothing.
Sometimes, you have the capability to understand why is it that your expectations are not getting fullfilled.
Sometimes, you dont.

Sometimes, you realise that nothing in life is the way its supposed to be.
Sometimes, you wonder: why me?
Sometimes, you feel the tunnel has no end.
Sometimes, you see a small flame.
sometimes, you get surrounded by the fire.

Sometimes, you think you are the king of the world.
Sometimes, you think life rocks.
Sometimes, at times like this your world shakes.
sometimes, it leaves you upside down.
Sometimes, it just doesnt bother.

Sometimes, you feel particularly blue.
Sometimes, you feel: no one loves you.
Sometimes, all you crave is a big bear hug.
Sometimes, all you need is someone to make you hot coffee in a big mug.
Sometimes, all you get is ice.

Until next time...

Choices

I have been wondering for the past couple of days, what is the point of living? I mean, we are born, we spend our childhood with our parents, we grow up, we get married, leave our parents, have children, we watch them grow up, watch them leave us, and then while doing all this, one day we die. So it's established that one day we all die. But what of the time in between being born and dying? Can't we decide how we want to spend that time? I mean, after all, human beings are supposed to be free creatures, right?

So, let's assume that we were all given the choice to choose one point in our lives to freeze time and live in that phase. I would choose my school days, carefree, fun, and assuredly with my mother. No tension of getting married and leaving her and all that. Would that be just fine? But then, I wonder, what if she were given the same choice, and she chose a similar phase in her life when she was in school and with her mother? I wouldn't even get a chance of being born! Or what if there was a better time ahead, one that I unknowingly chose not to even give a chance? I would never know!

So, Maybe there is a point to all this, after all.

And suddenly the question changes from which phase to choose to whether we should be given such a choice at all.

What would you choose? To get a chance to make this choice, or to live life one day at a time and take all its surprises, good or bad, in your stride? Would it be any fun to live like a teenager all your life, and never get a chance to make your own decisions? Or would it be fun to be a teenager all your life and just not have any responsibility on your shoulder? And if you chose a particular phase, one that you like, is it necessary that all people around you will also want to be in that phase? Maybe it wasn't such a good time for someone else. Maybe that's why God decides all this.

There are still some choices that human beings are incapable of making, and that's where God comes into picture. What do you think he does the whole day anyways?

But he has left one choice to you. You can choose to kill me for such a horrible post, or you can choose to try to understand what I'm trying to say.

So, what will it be?

Until next time…

Judge-Mental

I believe that people should not judge other people, but sadly ended up doing it so myself.
Maybe assumptions should be clarified.Maybe i shouldnt be so mental about perceived judgements.
Maybe.
The best thing between friends (I realise now), is clarification.
Knowingly or unkowingly, i hurt you, and i'm sorry.

until next time...

Being Biki

Disclaimer: This write-up is solely based on the perceptions of the author and should not be taken too seriously, as in the words of Mr. Ramji, perceptions are like shadows and you can’t fight with shadows.

There is this guy in my class, the place where I’m doing my MBA, and his name is Bikram.
He too is doing his MBA there.
He is a weird character, and like most weird characters, he is adorable too.
His pet names range from bikini to biki to biks, and he doesn’t care a damn as to what people call him, he responds just as nicely to any name.
He usually keeps to himself, and his earphones, and if he does indeed venture out in class to speak, he ends up having an argument with the prof (in a lungii) over something as profound as love.
Profundity is his favorite pass-time, and he has an absolutely different pov for everything in this world.
Sometimes you can really widen your thinking-horizons by listening to him as he brings into perspective what I like to call, the third side of the coin. Most of the times, you tend to disagree violently, because as we all have been taught, a coin has only two sides, and stubborn that we are we just can’t agree that it may even have a third side.
Being what it is that he is, mostly you end up leaving it at “Let’s agree to disagree.”, but you can’t budge him from what he thinks, for the love of anything.
He never forces his views onto anyone, and doesn’t let the opposite happen either.
He just goes on arguing his case non-stop until you either agree, or give up, or agree to disagree.
He gives you a fair chance to convince him of your pov, he’s that magnanimous, but very few people do actually manage to change his view on anything.
He walks around carrying a ladies hand bag (of a lady friend, not his, of course!) because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, and turns a deaf ear to what people think, and what they perceive it to be.
Stubborn? Maybe.
He likes to write, and has a damn good rhyming sense.
Sometimes he even has a streak of humor while writing. (Sometimes. Mostly, it’s either Poona or some profound topic).
He loves Poona, his hometown to pieces, and will fight till eternity proving it is better than Bombay. (Which it is not. But I humor him sometimes, only so that he’d shut-up about it!)
He’s a food lover, a Jughead reincarnate, and much to the dislike of people like me, does not put on any weight, no matter how much he eats. Mac D’s, Vertigo @ Mocha, and Omelets happen to be some of his favorites that I know of.
To see a list of all his favorite food items, and restaurants, you need to buy a copy of Rashmi Uday Singh’s latest edition of The Good Food Guide. I can bet my last rupee (which in such market conditions is a BIG deal!) that 98% of the restaurants listed there will also figure on his favorites list.
He claims to be his own critic, much in line with his “I’m entitled to my views” policy.
He’s a darn good listener, and he never judges people.
But he also expects people to not judge him, or anyone else.
Over-optimistic? Maybe.
He pretends to be lost, indecisive, a person who does not know where he is going.
But, in fact I have never met anybody who is as sure about who they are, what they are, and what they want to do. (Except maybe this another fellow I know. But he doesn’t count, as he’s’ 24 going on 55.)
He may not know it at a conscious level, but sub-consciously he knows what all he (biki, not 24-goin-on-55) doesn’t want to be, and thus arrives at what he wants to be by method of elimination.
He needs to figure it out at a conscious level though.
He’s going to flip about this write-up, even though he pestered me to write it, and disagree with a whole lot of points.
After reading the previous statement, he’s going to deny flipping over it, and maybe (if I’m lucky) he won’t disagree with most of it either.
He’s also going to be laughing a lot when he reads this.
You will definitely like him when you meet him, but it is very difficult to be like him.
You need to be the biggest bhukkad, with a really big appetite, amazing listening skills, an established, unshakable view on everything in the world, in love with The Joker (Heath Ledgers, god bless his soul, to be precise) of the latest batman movie, and never ending love for Poona to be like him.
That’s all it takes for Being Biki.

Until next time…

p.s: Biks, this one’s for you dude! And as much as it will piss you off, you are not allowed to comment on it here, at least until the comments cross, say 10. What you can do is mail this to anyone and everyone you feel like, and ask them to agree/disagree and leave their comments!! : P

Being Cyrus

There is this guy at my current workplace, the place where I’m doing my summer internship, whose name is Cyrus.
He too is doing his summer internship there.
Most (actually all) other summer interns here (no one else talks to him, not even his Guide. He just gets handed a new book to read every time he goes into The Guide’s cabin.) call him Complaint Box, and there is not one minute when he is quiet. He is continuously talking about something and everything and nothing.
Most people avoid him, and he, in return, persistently tries to make friends with everyone.
He’s got a decent look about him, having been a Gladrags model and all, looking twenty-one but going on twenty-seven, and has an opinion about everything on the face of the earth.
He also, does not hesitate in letting anyone with anything that resemble ears, know what his opinion on anything on the face of the earth is.
Most (actually all) his opinions, as you must have understood by now, are of the cribbing variety
He thinks that the suburbs (Bandra, to be precise) is the right place for his dream home (Carter Road to be even more precise, I mean if he can then why cant I. Be precise that is.), and Head of Treasury at any company that has an office in BKC is his dream job. (This you learn within 5 minutes of meeting him. Actually make that 2.)
If he wants to go home, he pesters you to pretend to be sick and leave, so that he can pretend to be chivalrous, and pretend to drop you home. (Within 1 day)
He does not like the taste of the food at the office canteen, or the sandwichwala down, or the dosawala down, or the udipi nearby (which happens to be Kamat, The Kamat, world famous in Bombay for its finger licking food) or even the bananawala (who sells bananas. Normal bananas.)
He thinks (loudly) that running for the shelter, when it is raining, is stupid, as “after all, it’s just water, not acid or something,”
He thinks that just because he thinks that running for shelter when it rains is stupid, so should you.
He thinks a lot of other things, but I’d have to be him to mention them all here.
If you have a lot of patience, you might even like him.
But it’s very difficult to be like him.
You have to be the most obstinate, ignorant, opinionated, arrogant, persistent, and talkative (lets not forget that!) person in the whole wide world, who does not have anything remotely similar to taste buds.
That’s all it takes for Being Cyrus.

Until next time…

Remember

Now I remember why i didnt bother to be extra friendly for over four years.
Thanks, to everyone who helped remind me.
Time to become like that all over again.

Until next time...

Attack !!

I’m being attacked.
This is the fifth time in three days that I have been shat upon (By a bird. Clarification for people with overactive imaginations)
Any idea on how to avoid birds that are hell bent on shitting on you (and only you, even if you are standing under a tin-roofed shed)?

Until next time…

Shattered

She watched him walk off, until the tears in her eyes blurred her vision. Even after he was long gone, she stood rooted at that spot, staring after him, unmindful of the passer-by’s staring at her, and the tears that were flowing so freely. She was standing at the turning of the road, and the traffic, as usual was not much. She remembered the day she met him here for the first time. They didn’t want anyone in office to know that they were seeing each other, and hence had decided to meet here at the corner of the road, far away from prying eyes and gossiping colleagues.
Since then, for two years, everyday (except Sundays) they met here, coming and going separately, taking the utmost care that no one ever saw then together.
Which is why she couldn’t tell anybody what he had dome to her. All she could do was cry, cry and cry.
And cry some more.
Besides that she was helpless.
She couldn’t understand that how could one person, the same person make her feel like such opposite things.
First, make her feel like a queen, like the center of his world, like the most wanted person on earth (in a good sense), like the most loved person in the world, like the prettiest girl in the world, like she deserved better than him.
And then, like the scum of the earth, like the most selfish person on earth, like the worlds biggest loser, like the worlds ugliest girl, like he deserved better than her.
Someone passed by in a blue shirt, and through her blurry eyes, she caught the color blue. He had a blue shirt, in which she thought he looked really good.
A Honda Civic zoomed by. His favorite car.
How was she to live without him, when each and everything she saw reminded her of him?
Did he not remember her when he saw chocolates in a shop (her favorite), or when he saw a swift (her favorite car)?
How could so calmly say such horrible things without batting an eyelid, when the mere thought of those things made her weep like a baby?
A thousand other questions bombarded her head, answers to which she didn’t have and would never get.
After all, it was over.
After 2 years, 5 months, and 28 days.
Just two days short of their two and a half year anniversary.
She would have o return that ipod she bough him.
May be not.
Maybe she would keep it as a reminder of all the good times.
Or as as proof of her stupidity.
She was jolted out of her thoughts, finally, by a rubber ball that hit the windshield of a car parked nearby. The glass shattered and fell like crystal snow everywhere.
The loud accompanying noise is what broke her thoughts.
She looked at the glass, and thought of her heart.
Both shattered.
Only, her heart made no noise and it was irreparable.
Until next time…

So Much For Your Promises

I have always found promises to be an interesting topic, and yesterday when the topic came up with a friend, we had a good debate over it. She believes that if a promise is made it should be kept, and hence she rarely makes a promise to someone. I believe that it is not always possible to keep a promise, for life has certain plans of it’s own that we know naught about. And no matter how good our intention is to honor the promise, sometimes it just can’t happen!
So I believe that you should try. Kyonki koshish hi kamyaab hoti hai... promises are toh meant to be broken!
(I have a feeling of déjà vu, which means that I have already written this in some other blog. If you have read it already... read it once more!)
I have had many experiences in this chotu sa life of mine. In some I have been unable to honor the promises I made and in some, I was at the other end – someone couldn’t keep a promise they made. And most of the times, the person who had promised, was not at fault. Life was at fault.
Life.
My favoritest topic.
(I know... I know... favoritest is not a word in the English dictionary. But it is a word in my dictionary so learn it. It refers to the top-most thing in the list of your favorite things, when ranked in an descending order of preference – that is, the most preferred among preferences)
But we’re not doing life here, as of now. We’re doing promises.
The question that arises is, should you make promises and try to fulfill them and if not possible, then break them, or should you not make promises at all.
Guess the answer is a personal choice.
My answer, you know: try, try and try harder. And if not happening, sorry boss, better luck next time. No need to get your knickers in a twist and all because you couldn’t fulfill a promise. It’s not the end of the world. You will get another chance, another promise.

“So much for your promises.”
- Kitty in Ptolemy’s Eye, when Nat promises he’ll be back and then goes and dies.

Until next time...

Angels & Demons

I met him about a week back, and that too quite by chance. It was my first time, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I certainly didn't expect liking him within 10 minutes of meeting him. But like him, I did. Of course I had my qualms, and rightly too. I mean – who ever likes a demon? A Demon!! Well, I did, and I still do, even though my association with him is long over. I am talking about Bartimaeus, Sakhr al-Jinni, the Serpent of Silver Plumes, N'gorso the Mighty, and my favorite – Rekhyt. And I met him in the triology, aptly titled, The Bartimaeous Triology, by Jonathan Stroud.

Bartimaeus proves throughout the three books that no one is good and no one is bad. We are all shades of grey – a little good and a little bad. Not one person I know can claim that he has never been bad, ever (except one, but then as I keep telling him, he's damn weird!) A Demon is supposed to be bad, right? Damn right, he is. All the stories we heard as kids about demons in hell who would roast you on a fire if u weren't a good girl (thanks to my teachers at Villa Theresa Convent School) had it imprinted in our brains that demons are bad. And in this book too, there are bad demons. And then there is Bartimaues. I'm not saying he was an absolute angel or really sweet or anything like that. In fact, if my mother ever heard me talking as sarcastically as he does, she would definitely think I was a demon! And he does his bit of bad and maybe even enjoys it too.

But inside that essence, underneath all those forms he took, there was something good. Even though he was a demon, he could be trusted. And that is what made me like him. Yes, he had a good (OK amazing) sense of humor; his sarcasm was top-of-the-order and he was cute (in a demonic kind of way!) But the real reason I liked him was that he was good, even though he was supposed to be bad.

We don't have to be what society expects us to be. We have to be what we want to be. It should necessarily be like this, but sadly it is necessarily the other way round. Expectations of what we are supposed to be and how we are supposed to behave run our lives. Agreed, that society has some rules to live in, like wearing clothes, and these should be followed. But doing something because it is expected of you, even though you don't want to? Like - "What will people think if I do this? I really want to but I cant!" Now that I don't agree with.

If you really want to do it that badly, then do it. Be prepared to face the consequences, and know well in advance what you are getting into. And if then, you still want to do it, then go right ahead! Don't care a damn what the world thinks or how pinky aunty will gossip about it to all other aunties of the building. She doesn't think before gossiping so as to "what will everyone think if I gossip so much?" Then why do you bother! As the people at Nike believe – Just Do It!

Ok – we went off on a tangent there – sorry. Back to Bartimaeus. If a so-called demon can find it within himself to be good to his master – someone who has enslaved him, I'm sure we all can. It doesn't take too much, and if you do it his way, it doesn't even hurt your ego! And if you have an image to maintain, as Bartimaeus (the other djinn would give him hell if they ever found out that he was nice to his master) you can be good discretely (or bad - depending on what you are right now!) Nathaniel didn't even know for a long time that Bartimaeus actually liked him (well kind-off!)

Until next time…

 

Why I Speak my Mind And Do As I Please

Because i dont give a rats ass so as to whether people think i am a "subservient suck-up" sucking up to profs for marks.
Because i know myself, I know that i DONT do it, no matter what people think.
If i like a person, and if he/ she happens to be a prof or if i respect teachers or if i like to answer in class or if i get the highest marks - it's not my fault. I talk to them because i like doing it. Not because i get more marks by doing it. You dont get the highest marks by "sucking up"
You get marks by studying, attending regularly, maybe even mugging. Prof's are not that dumb so as not to see through someone's sucking up act if they are doing one. Marks are not alloted for how nice you were to the prof or how sweet you were. they are alloted for the stuff wrtitten in your answer paper, the content up on ur slide during a presentation, and the depth of the knowledge you have about it. Somehow' profs have a way of knowing who has worked hard and who hasnt worked at all.
You dont get marks because if u attend the prof likes you, or if u dont attend u'll get rusticated - but because if u attend u will learn all that the prof has to teach:which is my main aim for being here. Unfortunately my dad daoesnt have all the money in the world to ssquander off 5 lakhs and have me behave in such a manner. This is where my self respect lies. When my father looks at me, he doesnt regret anything and i mean anything about me. My self respect lies in my father's pride. Definitely not in letting him down - bothering him for things that I am capable of getting myself, or should be.
My career doesnt depend on my sucking up skills. It depends on my capability.
I'm not talking arrogance here. I am saying that somethings are more imoprtant than a smile (huge or otherwise) on your face. Like a smile on your parents face. Like realising your responsibilities in life, and rising to fulfill them. Like letting go of your much coveted carefree-ness so that someone else can be carefree. And anyways, the smile that fulfilling your responsibilities brings to your face outlives the one brought about by carefree-ness by eons.
In short, I am what i am , on your face.I dont be nice to people on their face to get something from them and then say horrible things about them behind their back.
Until next time...

Shadows

Exams are over, and after sleeping for 10 hours straight I did what I really wanted to do: read a good book. At the insistence of a friend, I picked up A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, and finished it off in one non-stop go of 6 hours.

Does the above sentence seem like a dream come true to you? Hardly, right? I mean what's there in that sentence that's even worthy of being called a dream?

The "doing-what-i-wanted" part.

The story is about two women protagonists from Afghanistan and how their lives changed because of the turmoil that the country was in from the eighties till the early 2000's. They went through the Communist rule, the jihad, the Taliban, and what not. I'm not going to give you the story or a review of it here. It's a good book, maybe brilliant even. But if you want to know more about it, read it. What I want to talk about here is what has been in the whole book, like the far-away smell of rain just before the monsoon: always there but never in-your-face.

It's a well established fact, at least for me, that life changes in an instant. I've been there-done that, so I know it only too well. And after things change we wonder: what why when where how and all other possible questions, trying to find answers to what-if's and but's. Everyone in life has problems and everyone has eyes only for their problems. We tend to forget the good things that we can still enjoy, because of the bad circumstances that we find ourselves in.

Leaving the house when you want to, eating 3 square meals a day, wearing the kind of clothes that you like, living with your family, living in land that is not constantly war-ravaged, where you don't have to go to sleep everyday wondering whether you'll be alive the next day or no: these are a few things that we tend to take for granted. This is the way people in Afghanistan have been living for the last three decades or so. We're talking about three square meals a day? Sometimes I have six. My problem feel so inconsequential compared to what these people have been through. Not one family, I repeat, not one family has been spared the ordeal of seeing a loved one die. Some have seen their entire families being obliterated. And they still find the courage to move on. What right do I have to complain about my problems? I have a roof over my head, a loving family, food to eat as and when I want, whatever food I want, clothes to wear, the kind and color that I want. I even have the right to tell my father, when I don't agree with what he's saying, "Dad, what crap are you saying." And that too in so many words. Women in Afghanistan didn't even have the right to look into a man's eye, forget not agreeing with him, and that too, definitely not in so many words! They'd probably get beaten till they bled to death, and then the man would go around saying that she deserved it anyway. This is a not a man versus woman, and woman is suppressed but still better than man naari mukti morcha that I usually support. This is much more than that. This is about humanity, about strength and about shame. There are people out there who have problems. Real problems. Death due to starvation, being abandoned by family, being orphaned, being in a war-torn country etc. Let's not belittle their problems by giving our inconsequential problems so much importance. So big deal if life is not what it used to be. At least there is still life. So what if you don't have that much money as much as you'd like. At least you have your family. Intact (touch wood) and all yours.

Children being orphaned at the age of 16, going from being a teacher's daughter brought up in a relatively modern way to being a shoe-maker's wife, a man who is over30 years older than you. Can you imagine yourself in that kind of situation? And worse yet, can you imagine still living, everyday, for the sake of your unborn child. A sixteen year old – a child herself – sacrificing peace in the form of death for her own child, choosing to face abuses and get beaten up every day, only because the child has no fault that it was born. And I crib because life's been a little unfair to me? Am I shallow or what. These people go through pain every day. They have nothing to fall back on, no support system. No food, no family, no future. And yet they have hope. And we? We have a family, we have food, we have clothes, and we have everything. But no hope. Only despair. I need that job. I want that promotion. If I don't get that raise, I won't be able to buy that nice expensive car that I've wanted all along. I want- I want- I want. All the time. Never looking at what I-have.

Words fail me now, to describe the shame that I feel; the guilt for being so shallow. For being ungrateful of whatever God has given me: always mourning what he has taken away. For thinking that a small hiccup in life is the end-of-the-world. For always seeing the thousand shadows, instead of seeing the thousand splendid suns that caused them.

What is worse is that even though this book, its story, has touched a nerve, all I can, or rather will, do about it is cry when I read the book, and write a blog about it.

Somehow, I really don't think I like myself today.

Though nothing can bring back the hour,
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower,
We shall grieve not, rather find,
Strength in what remains behind…
-Wordsworth

Until next time…

Hey Girly

After 24 years of living like a tom-boy, and refusing to do any beauty-thingi's, I finally went to the parlor to get my hair blow-dried. Usually I used to go there just for a haircut, in and out in like 10 minutes max. But considering that the occasion demanded that I look a little presentable (had to get a photograph clicked for the placement brochure) I realized that since nothing else about me can be made beautiful in such short time, might as well do something to the damn tangle on my head called hair. So I sat there, let her pull on my hair with a brush made of pig hair (eewwww) simultaneously attacking it with a blast of hot (very hot) air, actually paid her a bomb for it and left looking nice. Really nice. Finally I understood why all models have hair while I had a tangle. Because they did this pulling-hot-air torture regularly. But it was worth the pain. My hair was shining, all lustrous and curling a bit at the ends and all nice and voluminous as compared to the flat thing I had to make do with regularly. This whole exercise made me realize that why exactly do people take the pains to look good. (People as in girls). I never really got the hang of wasting hours in front of the mirror to apply makeup but in such a way that your face looks natural and devoid of any make up. (Rather not put it in the first place right?) Or this blow-drying routine that many of my friends follow regularly. (I mean its pig hair, for god's sake, if not the pigs!) But now I get it. Looking good, or rather feeling that you are looking good, does wonders for your confidence and mood. Just feeling that I was looking nice that day actually made feel like a princess. It made me wonder exactly why I lived a tomboyish life for 24 years where I could have felt like this every day.

I introspected (big word na?) to realize that the answer was very simple: it's just not me! Ya its expensive ( oh boy o boy… very expensive) and time consuming but people who really want to get it done get it done. I'm just not one of them. I don't need to do this to feel like a princess, I can just talk to my dad and feel like that. :-D
But I don't condemn this whole routine as much as I did when I hadn't gone through it myself. Typical me, judging without experiencing. I am a bit more tolerant to people who love makeup and hair do's. But I am not one of them. It felt nice to be a part of their world for those few hours, but it felt even better to be back in my world today morning when I left home with dripping wet hair, falling flat on the sides of my face.

Until next time…

Domestic (Un)Help

I never ever thought that this would be a topic of discussion for my blog. I mean who talks about domestic help anyways? Old boring aunties and my mother: that's who. And now I belong to one of them (either category is as scary as the other so I can't decide; you take your pick). But after having walked the walk (read: doing my work on my own) I feel the need to discuss this very important issue. And by work I'm not talking about small things like serve my own food and put my clothes neatly. I'm talking about the big stuff: like sweeping and washing clothes and all.

What happened was that one fine day, moushi (that's Marathi for aunty, and that's what we used to call her as is the norm with maharashtrians) decided that she'd had enough working and wanted to now rest at home and so she stopped coming to work. No intimation, no nothing. There should be a law against this, like the one on the corporate world: one month's notice is mandatory. From either side I agree, but a law for sure. So. Moushi stopped coming and my house went for a toss. Mom works (doctor) and so everyone leaves by like 9.30 and so most importantly, everyone was expected to put in their bit till a new domestic help was hired. Mom took the kitchen, kiki took the making-the-beds (which she doesn't do anyways. she just pulls the bed sheet extra tight so it looks made: the cheat!), dad took the "general supervision" (????) and I got stuck with the sweeping-the-floor and washing the clothes. (Thank GADGET-GOD we have a washing machine and one that is as of now working, and still continues to work despite me operating it for the last 3 days: guess he finally had some pity on me!). Sadly we do not have a auto-sweeper (has anyone invented one yet? I'm not talkin vacuum cleaner: doesn't work for India. I'm talking like an automatic-wet-floor-sweeper.)

This whole episode made me realize that domestic help though is called help – can be quite an un-help (a word coined by me that means in short: opposite of help). They have their own tantrums (holiday tomorrow or I quit; tea+breakfast or I quit; raise pay or I quit: u get the point) and they have their own moods and they have their own politics (this is my sister's husband's sister's daughter's father's son's wife. Hire her instead of your current maid for xyz work or I quit!). True, they are the ones that literally run the house, and true that if they decide that nothing should function in the house then it won't. Makes for almost blackmailing – do what I want or I quit! And as far as I can see there is only one solution: legalize the whole damn procedure, all the way from hiring to firing to quitting. Like a domestic-help act or something. And make sure that people follow it so that we poor kids, so unaware of all these hassles do not have to face the trauma of doing work (until we actually get married: which is another trauma in itself and an issue to be discussed at a later time!)

Anyways, go-to-go now: washing machine's beeping! Hail Gadget-God!! :D

Until next time…

Gadget-God

There is some God up there, in charge of all gadgets and electric thingies who does not like me. We never got along, them electric gadgets and I. it all started when I was in my first year of engineering. We were supposed to write programs in the lab as practical assignments and then take printouts of the same. It was one of those dot printer LX-something-something. It used to print everybody else's programs properly, sometimes even extra dark. But the moment it was my turn something would khiskao its silly brain and it would stop working. Sometimes the ribbon was screwed, sometimes the paper would get jammed and most of the times the problem was unexplainable. It would just stop. Phhooossshh… a noise like that and there you go. Nothing and I mean NOTHING could make it work. And then the printer and PC at home started acting up. Just getting hung for no rhyme or reason and behaving in general very difficult.

This week after all my gadgets (no re, not those gadgets!) stopped working I started thinking. Cell, laptop, earphones, T.V… you name it and it's frigging not working! Then I realized that there is some force that can't be reckoned with: some God up there who just does not like me! Kiki says that there is nothing like a Gadget-God and that I am plain simple electronic-gadget-illiterate! But I beg to differ, and have decided that I am going to donate a mouse (the electric variety and not the animal variety) or something like that (am still trying to locate a temple of Gadget-God) so that my bad luck goes away and he likes me again.

And if that doesn't work out, then I'm going to hire a gadget-manager who can manage all my thingies (as in GADGETS!) for me! Someone, who knows how to talk their talk and walk their really irritating walk. I know that would be conning them, not really letting them know that it's my work being done, but I guess they leave me no choice.

Until next time…

I'm Back!

Its been a long while and i have no excuse: just too lazy! So thanks biks, for finally making me realise what i was missing and making me get back to it! As of now nothing special as such, just a few lines that i wrote here and there...
**********************************************************************************
One Moment
One Moment. Thats all it takes. For anything to happen. For you to go from riding a bike to lying on the road. For replacing a smile with a tear. For it to go from all-ok to oh-shit.For your world to go upside down.For you to realise that all it takes is one moment. Its like life is moving in slow-mo and eternity gets captured in that One Moment.

**********************************************************************************
Nothing.
A Friend of mine told me over a very cheesy Mac D veggie burger that he was so content with life that nothing got to his head, and that he was at absolute peace with everything. The first thing that came to my mind, and i told him that, was that it was the effect of the food! But then on a serious note: imagine. Being so content that nothing, absolutely nothing gets to you! Not even a bad exam, not even a good exam, not even a friendship gone sour, not even an amazing connection with that special someone. promotions. losses. achievements. Nothing.
And then, that line that anthony (not marc, not the other one) has made so famous came to my mind.
"Nothing? Then nothing shall come of it!"
And i started thinking, again. If nothing gets to you in life then where do you get in the end? Nothing getting to us is as good as nothing motivating us. And nothing motivating us means that we're not getting anywhere in life. To get somewhere in life, you need to be motivated, to feel that pinch a little bit, to feel that jealousy that makes you work harder. Atleast i do.
Maybe i can be so content after a certain stage in life, but as of now: give it to me baby!!!!!
:D
**********************************************************************************
Dreams Unlimited
If there's one thing in life that is unlimited, its dreams. You can dream all you want to: no taxes (as of now - lets see what this budget brings!!) no restrictions and no issues.
Not necessary that all your dreams will come true. Maybe (depending on your imagination) none of them will. But you can still dream. I remember some of mine - ones that got lost god-knows-where with the winds of time. From not too long ago (considering that i am only 24) but sure feels like (considering that i've lived a lot of life!)
Some were typical girly ones: cute romatic boyfriend (in retrospect: cut out the CUTE!!) :D
smoot relationships and unconditional love - like the gift of maggi characters. (ya rite!)
Some were overly ambitious: smart career woman. travelling the world. loads of money [:D]. people running around me.but still gt loads of time for family! (dream hai! sab chalta hai!!)
Some were downright childish!my own chocolate factory with only one buyer: Me!! Unlimited free movie tickets at the snap of my fingers! ( i know, i know - i already said no restrictions!)
and beat tis one: insatnt weigt loss - and i mean instant!!
Most of these never came true, and some wont for sure. i know some wont, but there's still scope for some of them (i mean the way medical science is advancing: instant wt loss doesnt seem that far!) . And these unfulfilled dreams do not stop me from dreaming more new better more imaginative dreams - so here's to Dreams Unlimited! Cheers!!
**********************************************************************************

Until next time...
(I promise it'll be sooner this time!)

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...