Rains and a Cough

So it's been raining. Sporadically. Its sunny one moment, & pouring the next. And this sporadicity (it's not a word, but I made it up coz it perfectly explains the point I'm tryin to make) has been continuous, pun intended. On Sunday I went with kiki for a bike ride, assuming a nice warm sunny morning was perfect for it. And on the way back, got caught in this –did I mention, sporadic- rainfall. More like bucket-fall of water. But whatever. Have been coughing since, shivering a bit at night, and still feeling hot when I wear my windcheater and walk in the rain. (Which by the way is a necessity, as you don't get a rick from andheri station to chakala, and I do have to get to work right?)

The cough has intensified into a relapse of the stomach infection I had last week (if ur thinking how, join the club) and I now currently am battling 2 infections with one very weak immunity system. Not to forget that my sinus usually acts up in the rain and is waiting for like the one more time that I get drenched (which is inevitable, as I have to not only walk to office from the station but also walk back from the office to the station in the evenings, each trip taking 25 minutes on an average; and I can't possibly be that optimistic to think that it will never rain at any of these 2 times on all the days left of the monsoon season) post which it too will unveil its ugly face.

It's good in a way. All the coughing has hurt my vocal cords and I now sound like a frog. Gives them poor lonely souls on the road some company.

Croak Croak

Until next time…

Kaisa khuda hai tu…

Manga jo mera hai,

Jaataa kya tera hai,

Maine kaunsi tujhse jannat mang li.

Kaisa khuda hai tu,

Bas naam ka hai tu,

Rabba jo teri itni si bhi na chali.

Chahiye jo mujhe karde tu mujko adaa.

Jeeti rahe sultanat teri,

Jeeti rahe aashiqui meri,

Dede mujhe zindagi meri, tenu dil da vaasta…

Until next time…

Tenu Dil Da Vaastaa

Baksha gunahon ko,

Sunke duaon ko,

Rabba pyaar hai tune sabko hi de diya.

Meri bhi aahon ko,

Sun le duaon ko,

Mujhko woh dila maine jisko hai dil diya.

Aas woh,

Pyas woh,

Usko de itna bata.

Who jo mujhe dekhke hase,

Panaa chahoon raat din jise,

Rabba mere naam kar use, tenu dil da vaastaa…

Until next time…

Affected

An incident occurs in your life, and you get affected. You face it, what other choice do you have. So you face it, live with it, deal with it, accept it. You live through it, bear the brunt, face the side effects, and let it affect you. And then you think it over. You feel a joy at having survived it. You feel strong.

But it's a false alarm. That one incident can and will affect you for the rest of your life. It will come back to haunt you again and again, making you weaker at every instance, till it eventually breaks you down. It will make it a point to affect all the important issues/people in your life, obviously in a negative manner, and be at it regularly till you don't give up and bow down.

Till you don't break. Till you don't shatter.

Is this even legal? How many times is one incident allowed to affect your life? Is there no law protecting us against the atrocities of such incidents? Are people not allowed second chances anymore? How much does one thing you did in the past matter so much in your future? Isn't the past supposed to belong in the past, and the future be a new beginning?

Apparently not.

Until next time…

Parents

Parents. The ones who raise us from tiny babies into full grown adults. The ones who feed us when we can't feed ourselves, the ones who fend for us when we are barely able to open our eyes.

Parents.

But then, we grow up. We have a mind of our own, choices of our own, decisions of our own, in short: a life of our own. And they have a plan of their own.

What we should eat, what we shouldn't eat, what we should study, what we shouldn't study, how we should study, how we shouldn't study, who we should be friends with, who we shouldn't associate with, who we should marry and who we shouldn't marry.

No matter, that it is our life that is in discussion here. What matters is their approval. I agree that they have our best interest at heart, but somewhere I feel that it is tainted with a bit of selfishness. "what will people think…" or "how could my child do this?"

How far should a parent control a child's life? Especially after the child has reached a certain age (25 good enough?) and is mature enough to make his/her own decisions. This is a debate that has raged on for ages, and is of more relevance in a country like India, where the culture doesn't permit a child to go too astray from the parent's aspiration. There are advocates on both sides. I'm not saying that a child should rebel all out and do what he pleases. But I'm also saying that some decisions should be left to children, especially after they reach a certain age.

I've been a victim of this parent-pressure many a times. Sometimes it's been my parents sometimes it's been someone else's parents. Either ways, it's my life, my mental peace, my happiness that gets affected in the end. When will they realize that?

Until next time…

A Bored Poem - Written long ago…

Once upon a time

In a land far away

There was a sleepy village

Whose name was Jilmanway

 

The people of that village

Were always sleepy and droopy

And the children there had no toys to play with

So they played with dogs that had names like floopy

 

One fine day

When everyone was sleepy and taking a break,

A little boy called Andre

Suddenly became wide awake

 

The people then got worried

Wakefulness did not make them happy

For when someone awakened

They forgot to be sleepy

 

So they told little Andre

"Go to sleep, o little one"

For if u r awake in the day

For u night and day will become one!

 

But little Andre was adamant

He didn't like being sleepy

And so he went to the playground

And played with his cat Freepy

 

Andre and Freepy

Played the games of fun

And then evening came

And down went the sun

 

Tired and hungry Andre went home

And threw his dirty clothes in a heap

He then ate his supper: pasta from Rome

And promptly fell asleep.

Then the people of Jilmanway

Learnt an important lesson

That more than sleep, children need to play

And to discuss this, they had a discussion

 

"If Andre can play and then sleep

Then this the way I'd like to keep"

Said his father, his mother nodded and added too

"And I think this should be followed by you"

 

So everyone agreed to this one thing

And then every morning bells began to ring

All children went out to play

And the parents worked the entire day

 

The sleepy town of Jilmanway

Was not so sleepy anymore

The people went to work, the children to play

And so they renamed it as activity-ray.

 

Until next time…

Dalaa Kya?

Dalaa.
Vote.



Until next time...

I Wish

I wish i was there too, calling out "Motu",
Running away from your tickling fingers, running towards u to hug u.

http://bikramsnehi.blogspot.com/2009/04/revisiting-quad.html

Until next time...

Euphoria and a Gas Balloon

There is a hope.
There is a begining.
There is a ray of light, in the the absolute darkness.
There is a life.

After all.

As the car stopped at a red light, she looked outside the window to see a blue gas balloon slowly float up to the dark sky. For a moment, it was her and the ballon. No noise. No euphoria. No music. No talking.
Just her, the ballon, and a feeling to finally, finally, coming home. Of being satisfied. Of being at peace.
As the light turned green, and the balloon faded from her sight, she was pulled back into the noise, the happiness, the din of a bunch of friends chattering away to glory. She dived back in, head-along. After all, she had the last 3 months of being quiet to make up for.

Until next time...

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...